#ignore me typing lazily

[kumakuma-circus]

ok this is just random ass rambling but like. it feels like kujikuma's in a weird spot where it's like. ppl like it n ship it. a decent amount even i'd say given that the content it does have gets decent traction. but they dont like it enuff 2 actually like. MAKE stuff 4 it. yk. like. teddie n rise aren't suuuuper popular characters (unfortunately). so obv a ship that's just the 2 of them isn't gonna b 1 a lot of ppl r super passionate abt. idk. just smth that's been ruminating in our mind 4 a bit.

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[honeipie]

can i request kuroo x reader? they get ready for bed together in the bathroom and then have a little make out session in bed. nothing smutty just some kisses maybe a few hickies if you want 🥰🥰🥰

routine

kuroo x reader

synopsis: you and kuroo take in the domestic feel of getting ready for bed together

w/c: 651

authors note: thank you for the request!

“ugh, i hate that you take longer in the bathroom than i do. you’re such a girl” you groaned leaning on the door.

“well you could always come inside. couples usually do that”

“yeah but you’re peeing. i don’t wanna watch you pee”

“you know, some girls would pay to watch me pee” he flushed the toilet moving over to wash his hands “you’re telling me you get this whole show for free and you don’t even want a peek?”

you opened the door face scrunched up in disgust “i will look down there any other time. but if we’re in a bathroom i’m not” making your way over you grabbed your toothbrush hands brushing as he grabbed his.

“you’ve already broken that. remember that one time on our honeymoon. they had this rain shower that hit just-“

“okay! yes! thank you i remember that. i remember it very well..” he grabbed the toothpaste putting it not only on his toothbrush, but yours as well. this was when he finally noticed your choice of pajamas.

“the hell are you wearing?”

you were dressed in a dark blue hoodie, an all too familiar one to him. on the back it had hinata’s name and jersey number on it.

“.. a hoodie?”

“yeah but it’s not the right teams hoodie”

you rolled your eyes with a smile “tetsu you work for the volleyball association. aren’t you supposed to be rooting for all teams?”

“nope! i work for the japan volleyball association. that’s brazil. plus i don’t like having another guys name on you”

“it’s your hoodie!”

he mocked your words before placing the toothbrush in his mouth. you scoffed giving him a light shove.

“don’t be like that!”

“jush brush your teef” he jumbled out his words through the foam. you started to brush your teeth contently beside him. it didn’t take long before his hand was lazily resting on your waist.

it felt nice. the two of you doing these types of things together. being honest, kuroo never knew if he wanted a life like this. stuck in some routine with a person when he could be out partying in some VIP lounge with his friends. though now that he was actually here with you, the person he loved more than anything, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

the two of you finished up in the bathroom moving into the bedroom. you immediately got under the covers while kuroo shed his shirt throwing it to the floor.

"damn you couldn't even wait for me?" he mumbled climbing right on top of you.

"nope, bed was too comfy to ignore"

"i'm comfy too y'know"

"says the guy laying on me instead of the other way around"

you raised an eyebrow at him making him roll his eyes "shut up" you giggled at his sass. he moved his head up so he was face to face with you "i love you"

"i love you more"

he leaned into your smiling face, catching it in a kiss. it started off slow but he quickly got impatient. you could feel the coolness of his hands running up your sweatshirt. he moved his mouth from yours to your neck.

everything was going smoothly, just tiny kisses being peppered across your neck until-

"tetsu!" you yelped pulling him away "did you just bite me?"

kuroo scoffed trying to fight your grasp "no!.. i nipped you" he took his thumb rubbing the slightly red spot "sorry about that, but at least that one kid from your job will stop hitting on you now"

your body relaxed again feeling him rubbing the spot "he's not a kid, he's just an intern with a lot of questions"

"yeah, a lot of personal questions"

"oh my gosh i forgot to tell you. he asked what i was doing tomorrow and-"

"that's it i'm biting you again"

"but you didn't let me finish!?"

[butterflytint]

birthday boy

Summary: how the jjk men have birthday sex (p.s. it's their bday)

Pairings: jjk men x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, sexual content, morning sex, missionary, oral (giving and receiving)

a/n: i wrote this a while ago for gojo’s bday but never got around to posting it…let’s pretend it’s still his bday

Satoru Gojo

He's a light sleeper so he ends up waking up when you press a soft kiss to his forehead in the morning. With a sheepish smile, he wakes up, his eyes hardly opening.

You wish him a happy birthday, kissing his lips.

He deepens the kiss, lazily throwing an arm around you and before you know it, you’re having sex first thing in the morning.

“-Toru—I had a whole morning planned—ah—I was going to make you breakfast before I gave you your present—it’s why I woke up so early.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, his breaths shallow and his strokes deep. His blue eyes flick up to your face, watching you struggle to take his cock. He can’t help but crack a crooked smile, his snowy hair falling over his forehead.

“Baby, you’re so cute—thinking I need anything else when I’ve got you.”

The smooth talker he is, you don’t even bother arguing as he flips you over, getting on top.

He beams at you brightly before kissing your lips, “Best gift I could’ve asked for.”

Suguru Geto

He comes to pick you up for “dinner”  which is actually a surprise party you and his friends had planned. Your plans go up in smoke when he sees you in that dress he likes.

You barely make it past a “Happy Birthday” before he’s inside your apartment and shoving the door closed behind him. All the while, he wears a smug smirk, seemingly unsuspecting.

Except you know him all too well, already knowing what was going on in his head.

His lips are on yours and he’s groping at you like he’s never touched you before—or that he’ll never get the opportunity to ever again.

You giggle, “Suguru—we have to go—we have a reservation.”

“The reservation can wait,” the reservation being all your friends waiting for the birthday boy to arrive.

You don’t even argue any further before he has you pressed up against the wall, hand slithering up your thighs to drag your underwear off.

Next thing you know, he’s got your legs wrapped around his waist as he’s ploughing his cock in and out of you.

“Can’t believe you were gonna keep me waiting all night for my present.”

“I was—was gonna make you—work for—for it,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his dick prod deeper inside you.

“On my birthday, too?” he scoffs jokingly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart.”

You claw at his shoulders, gasping for air before your arms wrap around his neck. You bury your face in his shoulder, ignoring the constant notification pings coming from your expectant friends.

Kento Nanami

He’s the type of guy to go about it in a classy way.

He insists on taking you out on his birthday.

When the two of you come back home, you let him unwrap his present (you in a brand new lingerie set).

He’s very tender and gentle with you most the time but on his day, he lets YOU take care of him.

He groans as quietly as possible as you trail soft kisses down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt before kissing down his muscly chest. You work to unbuckle his pants, his eyes growing hazy with desire.

He tips his head back as you finally wrap your lips around his cock, flicking your tongue over the tip. Your hand wraps around his dick from the base, sliding it up and down his length. And he can’t help but buck his hips into your hold.

When you pull your mouth off, a desperate whimper escapes him as he flicks his gaze back down to you.

“Happy birthday, baby” you smile.

Toji Fushiguro

He has you on your back, face buried between your legs while his large hands grasping your thighs enough to bloom everlasting bruises on them.

He can’t help but grin when he pulls whine after whine from you.

Birthdays were never a big deal to him. Why should anyone care so much about getting older? It only reminded him that he was yet another year older than you.

But when you’d treat the day like it was a special occasion—getting all giddy to make him dinner and get dolled up in that lacy dress he loved, kissing him a little extra too, he was so fucking happy to have been born after all.

And no way in hell was he going to pass up the opportunity to unwrap his present after dinner.

He pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, wanna hear you scream my name, baby.”

He nearly melts when you whimper, your chest heaving in heavy breaths as your eyes met his.

He lowers himself again, his fingers spreading your folds, his tongue flicking over your clit as you screamed out his name just as he asked.

“There you go, pretty girl,” he chuckles, eating you out because he prefers that over cutting a piece of damn cake on his birthday.

[sleepyjuice]

Request, after fratboy!jj writes your name on his dick (with sharpie ofc like a dumbass) you help him get it off but the stimulation makes him cum

EEEEKKKKKDJ his dumbass!!!!

“Why the fuck did you use sharpie?!”

“You know, I didn’t think that part through.”

You rolled your eyes for what was probably the twentieth time in the past ten minutes as you walked back into JJ’s bedroom from the slightly disgusting frat house bathroom carrying a warm, wet washcloth with soap.

“You gotta admit, it’s hot though, right?” He grinned at you as he sat on the foot of his bed, clad only in a t-shirt and his boxers.

“Yes,” you sighed, kneeling down by JJ’s feet as you gestured for him to pull off his boxers. “But the fact that you used permanent marker is not. I don’t even think it’s gonna come all the way off.”

He obliged, pulling his boxers off and revealing his soft dick, your name big and bold along his shaft. This was such a JJ thing to do and you could tell his intentions were to make you feel special in his own JJ type of way.

“Well, just do what ya can,” he looked down at you with an endearing smile. “Totally worth it though, got you on your knees for me.” He half joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes once again, swatting his bare thigh as you grabbed his cock, feeling it immediately begin to stiffen, growing harder by the second.

You couldn’t help but blush. Regardless of the situation, the fact that you just had to get on your knees and lightly touch your boyfriend’s dick to get him hard made you feel all warm inside.

With a fake annoyed hum, you began gently rubbing the washcloth along JJ’s cock, careful to not be too rough and hurt him but using enough pressure to hopefully make some progress on removing the ink.

JJ’s stomach tightened immediately as you worked away on his dick, swallowing thickly as he attempted to keep his composure, even though at this point, he was fully hard.

“Well, I guess it is easier with you being hard…” you mumbled, staying focused on the task at hand. You really did not want to have sex with JJ while there was sharpie on his dick, so the sooner you got it off, the better.

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response, his fists clenching the sheets at his sides, his breathing becoming a bit heavier the more you rubbed his cock.

The warmth and the wetness of the washcloth was a nice enough feeling on its own, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him, brows furrowed in concentration and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was getting off on this was bringing him close to nutting all over your hands.

And that’s exactly what happened.

“I think it’s starting to— oh!” You gasped as JJ let out a loud and shaky moan, his eyes widening as he met your shocked expression, taking you by complete surprise as he came in thick spurts all over your hands as well as the washcloth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, reaching down to cup your face. “I didn’t think— yeah… felt so good, baby, ‘m sorry.” He apologized, squeezing your cheeks lightly in his large hands, his own face slightly flushed, eyes glossy as he finished coming down from his unexpected orgasm.

You were quiet for a moment before you giggled loudly, shaking your head at your boyfriend as you wiped your hands clean with the apparent magic washcloth.

It was hard to ignore the blood that rushed to your center, thighs clenching absentmindedly as you fully realized everything that had happened. You just accidentally made him cum.

“JJ—“

“I know, I know,”

“Hey. That was hot, you’re fine, it’s okay.” You giggled again, but spoke firmly to assure him. You knew he was embarrassed and nervous he had upset you, but you weren’t upset in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked lazily at you, his demeanor shifting once he realized you weren’t upset, rather the opposite.

“Yeah, but don’t get all cocky, you just nutted from me cleaning your dick.” You challenged, slowly standing up.

“Valid point.” he reached for your waist, pulling you onto the bed and laying you onto your back. He lowered himself onto his stomach, quickly reaching for the hem of your soft shorts and sliding them down your legs.

He positioned himself between your legs, his face inches away from your pussy as he spread your thighs, the only barrier being your quickly dampening panties.

“Let me say thank you for doing such a good job then.”

[fluffylino]

minho helps you let out your pent-up emotions

-contains mature themes

"you've been having an attitude since morning" minho hissed out, hips brutally thrusting into you.

"that isn't your p-problem" you practically shouted. body squirming from how much he had edged you.

minho's face morphing into an annoyed expression. your stomach doing flips when he shot you a glare.

you didn't mean to shout. he had unknowingly hit that spongey spot inside of you.

saying sorry was too late now. you had your pride. yet you were still scared of how he'd react.

"it is my fucking problem" he answered back, sitting on his haunches.

"if you're in pain. im in pain"

staring down at you. lazily thrusting inside of your sopping heat.

"start talking" you threw your head to the side.

whenever you got like this he'd make you open up. you were the type to keep things to yourself.

and minho knew about it.

you had even asked him to help you talk more about your feelings. why you had gotten so worked up. and snapped at him when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

"no..." you mumbled, eyes watering. he sighed, pushing his hair back.

"fine. be that way"

"i'll just fuck it out of you"

stifling your moans against your arm when he used all his strength to rail you. his hand roughly pulling your arm that was covering you mouth.

"m-minho" you mumbled, trying to look at him. but he ignored you. choosing to keep his eyes fixed on where he entered your cunt.

"minnie"

tears welling up in your eyes. a few slipping out. why wouldn't he look at you.

you deserved to be treated like this. he didn't deserve to be the brunt of your outburst.

his fingers reaching up to hold your waist. making you meet his thrusts. you felt like all your pent up emotions were letting loose. thighs trembling.

his eyes finally meeting yours.

he cooed.

"there we go..." a feeling of accomplishment in his tone. you were crying. broken sentences.

"n-not studied...exam"

he understood. humming in response. exams were in a month and you were stressed. you'd kept procrastinating until finally you were pacing.

it was all your fault. minho seemed to notice how you fell into a dark place.

choosing to ask you. yet you yelled at him. you didn't mean to hurt him. it was all a mistake.

"what do you have to say to me?" he whispered, just for you to hear.

"m'sorry. i didn't mean to be rude.."

"no more thinking now kitten. im here" you sniffled. feeling much better after he accepted your apology.

whining as he pulled out completely.

"get on top" he instructed, sitting upright. successfully pulling your limp body on him. gently lifting you up and sliding right back in.

"always so tight for me" he moaned out. you grinded down on him. letting out little noises as he made you ride him. hands firmly holding your waist.

lips kissing up your neck and gradually going lower. until he mouthed at your tits. sticking his tongue out playfully to toy at them. eyes locked onto yours with a flirty glimmer in them.

"h-hurts" you mumbled, thighs aching. you tried though to keep your composure. how could you let him do all the hard work.

instantly his hands slid down, kneading at your thighs. easing out your tense muscles.

"relax for me" he said in a hushed tone. practically melting against him. his dick still in you.

"let me take care of you princess"

.

.

.

[earlysunshines]

you bewitch me (every second you're with me.)

hufflepuff!danielle marsh x slytherin!fem!reader; angst, fluff

synopsis: danielle is stubborn. that’s a fact. her friends tell her to stay away from you—you’re the epitome of a slytherin and bad news as a whole. but danielle, being herself, does not listen whatsoever, which somehow works out in the end.

warnings: i don't know enough ab harry potter to be writing this ; or maybe i do ; slow burn ; anything that comes w harry potter idk ; reader has terrible parents, reader has LORE ; theyre so smitten and soft for each other im gonna sob ; everyone but hyein are around the same age but lalala older and younger sides of the grade exist ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: fun fact i am a slytherin but the first time i took a harry potter sorting thing but every other time i got slytherin and i just took one and i am still slytherin so ignore the slytherin hate in this bc its WRONG slytherins r FIRE!!! omg also bruh my obsession with (these types of titles)... they're always dani too LOL. ALSO i rly liked writing this and spent a lot of time this is another favorite of mine.

danielle marsh embodies the spirit of a hufflepuff down to the bone. she’s friendly, easygoing, and effortlessly kind. ask anyone about danielle, and you'll hear nothing but glowing praise for her.

her personality and liveliness are the reason she’s friends with people from other houses. her best friends, hanni and minji, are ravenclaws that were drawn to her radiance from the moment they bumped into each other before being sorted into their houses. five years later, the trio is still inseparable, whether it’s studying, practicing spells, or even mentoring an underclassman they’ve unofficially adopted—hyein.

“so, how was your first week back?” danielle asks as hyein lazily kicks a crumpled-up piece of parchment along the floor.

“ugh, i can’t keep up with professor bae,” hyein groans. “she’s already assigning work during the beginning of the term. mind you, it just started.”

minji chuckles, patting the younger girl on the back. “it only gets worse from there, but you’ll get used to it! you had her last year and you survived. plus, you’re a third year now! third-year transfiguration is much more interesting this year, you actually learn spells that aren’t turning bugs into… bigger bugs.”

“yeah but transfiguration as a whole is going to kill me.” hyein sighs.

“hey! don’t talk like that… i’m always here to help you with anything hyein. professor bae is nice once you get under her skin. she just has a unique teaching style.”

hanni, who’s rolling her eyes at danielle, chimes in, “that’s easy for you to say dani, every professor loves you. even professor seong likes you. he hates everyone.”

danielle just giggles, shaking her head. “well, he’s a tough one, but if you just did his work and participated—”

before she can finish, minji–who’s been walking ahead and distractedly watching danielle—turns a corner and collides head-on with someone. there’s a thud as books clash onto the ground, and minji stumbles back, wide-eyed.

“i’m so sorry—” minji blurts out, bending down to pick up a fallen book before freezing mid-motion.

the person in front of her is you. 

y/n l/n. 

you stand there, calm and unflinching, though your gaze is sharp as it lands on minji, like a dagger pointed right at her. your expression is unreadable, jaw tightening just slightly as you flick your wand to retrieve your fallen book. 

minji opens her mouth to apologize again, but her voice falters. 

it’s danielle who cuts in, stepping forward with her signature brightness to interrupt the tension in the air. “hey, excuse me, you just bumped into my friend—” 

before she finishes her sentence, hanni elbows her sharply, and your piercing gaze shifts to danielle. for a moment, you study her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if searching for something beneath her easy smile.

the corridor feels heavier, and quieter, as you finally give her one last look before walking past without a word. the group is left frozen in place, but danielle turns around to call out for you again.

“hey! excuse—” hanni elbows danielle once more, giving her a serious look. 

you don’t even turn at the sound of danielle’s voice. your posture is perfect as you continue to walk, your steps echoing throughout the hall.

“dani, are you crazy?” hanni breaks the following silence, scolding her with a voice that’s barely above a whisper. then, she turns to the oldest of the bunch. “minji, you just—”

“i know,” minji mutters, her eyes narrowing at your figure before you turn the corner, disappearing into the next hall.

danielle blinks, confused by her friends’ reactions. “what’s her deal? who was that?”

hanni spins around, grabbing danielle’s shoulders like she’s trying to shake sense into her. “dani, danielle, are you serious? that was y/n l/n.”

“oh, her? she’s the keeper for slytherin, right?”

“yes, but dani. is that all you—?” minji cuts herself off, her tone urgent before she continues, “she’s the slytherin. like, the epitome of a slytherin. she’s smart, sharp, and cold as ice—allegedly. plus, no one’s ever seen her smile unless it’s during quidditch. i know i haven’t.”

“so?” danielle shrugs, and a giggle slips from her lips. “she’s just like us, no? a slytherin, sure, but still. i mean they always stray from hufflepuffs, i’ve heard some things but i never took them that seriously…”

“you don’t get it, danielle.” hanni then turns to hyein, “i mean i’d understand if hyein didn’t know her, she’s only a second year but we’re literally in our sixth year and you don’t—” hanni groans, gripping danielle’s shoulders tighter. “her family is like, insane. her parents are famous pure-bloods, super influential at the ministry of magic, and filthy rich. their legacy at hogwarts is well-known, they have an effect on some of our curriculum bro. and? y/n is scary. did you see her?”

“she’s not scary,” danielle argues, brushing off hanni’s dramatics. from what danielle saw, you were simply just a girl. a slytherin girl with an intense look and a rude approach to others. nothing crazy. “she’s not all that from what i can tell, not from moments ago and her quidditch matches.”

hanni grabs danielle, hugging her and setting her forehead on one shoulder exasperatedly as she closes her eyes. “you’re crazy, danielle.”

“completely insane,” minji agrees, though her voice still holds a hint of awe.

meanwhile, hyein, who has been quietly observing, adds her own input. “she did seem kinda scary.”

danielle sighs, shaking her head as the group begins walking again. “you all are being ridiculous. she’s just like anyone else, i bet. who cares what her parents do, we’re all equals.”

but even as she says it, she can’t help but think about how your eyes lingered on her, as if peeling back the cheerful exterior to find something underneath. something about it unsettled her—but she’d never admit it out loud.

“i don’t think she would see you as one.” minji admits, biting the inside of her lip. “she’s not friends with any muggles—she’s only interacted with pure-bloods from what i can see. the only person she’s around and actually talks to, maybe even friends with, is haerin, who’s from a very prestigious family.”

danielle understands the implications in minji’s response. danielle is muggle-born, but that doesn’t mean anything to anyone that knows her. she excels in her classes, especially potions and defense against the dark arts. could you really be so uptight to not see that she’s an equal? danielle would be mad, but she seriously can’t believe it.

“well that’s a flaw on her end.” danielle huffs, crossing her arms.

“considering her lineage, what can you do?” hanni sighs.

—

the next morning, herbology feels oddly quieter than usual as danielle takes her usual seat, surrounded by her friends. she glances at the row of ravenclaws and slytherins across the greenhouse, her stare lingering on you before quickling flicking away when minji nudges her.

“are you seriously looking at her again?” minji whispers, raising an eyebrow. 

the seating for the class—if not each class—was usually grouped by house, with a few groups of mixed others. minji, hanni, and danielle usually stick together, however. the three are pretty much inseparable, and most are aware of it.

“i’m not,” danielle whispers back, though the slight heat rising to her cheeks betrays her.

danielle has never been that interested in you. she’s aware of your reputation due to a brief overhearing from some other hufflepuffs and a few gryffindors, but she never cared enough since you two were never within proximity. maybe she cared just a bit when you would prevent her house from scoring during quidditch, but it was never that deep.

ever since that encounter, however, her curiosity has definitely piqued. and since she’s a hufflepuff, there’s nothing that could suppress that curiosity.

you stand at the far end of the room, posture as perfect as possible with an unreadable, stoic expression painted on your face. even as the greenhouse buzzes with chatter, you stay just how you are, solitary. she watches you flip through your herbology textbook casually, and yet, it somehow feels intimidating. 

on your end, you’re a sentence in when you feel someone's eyes on you. turning to your right, you catch the eyes that you felt, and they’re from no one other than danielle marsh. the same girl from yesterday. you’ve heard of her, but only that she’s like any other hufflepuff, that she’s the hufflepuff.

when professor seo clears her throat, everyone quickly redirects their attention and quiets down. 

she goes down a list of names, some of the pairings playing out just how some would like, one of the pairs being hanni and minji. some of them were terrible, such as soobin and beomgyu who would most definitely break something.

but the pairing that really turns heads is the last.

“and lastly, miss marsh and miss l/n.”

the silence that follows is deafening. all eyes flicker between you two, most of them staying on danielle. a wave of whispered speculation ripples through the room, and even haerin, who rarely reacts to anything, looks slightly taken aback. her gaze darts between you and danielle, then lingers on you while she studies your own reaction.

danielle blinks in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. her eyes don’t steer away from you, she’s expecting some kind of protest or hesitation, but you simply gather your materials and walk over to her table with the same unbothered composure. everyone’s eyes follow you.

you place your book on the table, then sit down right next to her. danielle swallows lightly, feeling the weight of your presence. for someone so calm and quiet, your proximity feels overwhelming.

when everyone pretends to get over your pairing, professor seo goes over the lab.

the task is simple enough—repotting mandrakes—but the tension in the air makes it anything but easy. danielle steals another glance at you, trying to make sense of the sharp edges of your personality. you’re intensely focused, your hands moving with practiced precision as you handle the plant with care. 

“you’re staring,” you mutter quietly, not even lifting your eyes. this is the first time danielle’s ever heard you speak, and your voice isn’t as scathing as she thought it would be. 

danielle jolts, nearly dropping her towel. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”

that gets your attention. you raise a brow, finally meeting her eyes. there’s a beat of stillness between you, the air thick with something unspoken. your expression remains calm, but there’s a clicker of something beneath the surface—maybe it’s interest. maybe,

“you never apologized to minji,” danielle huffs firmly, though her cheeks betray her with a subtle blush. “i mean, you just walked away. like it didn’t matter. you could’ve at least said something.”

you tilt your head slightly, taking her in. her determination is… unexpected, and so is the way she doesn’t shrink under your scrutiny. “i see,” you reply evenly, turning back to the task. 

“that’s it?” danielle presses, slight frustration bubbling over despite how composed she seems. “you don’t care at all, do you?”

you glance at her again, your expression still neutral. “should i?”

“most people would.” she counters, her gaze steady now, no longer flustered.

you study her for a moment longer, the corners of your lips twitching just barely. something about her surprises you, catches you off guard. people usually tiptoe around you, wary of your reputation. but danielle doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. she looks at you as if none of it matters.

no one’s ever looked at you like that, no one other than haerin.

“you don’t care about my reputation, do you?”

“should i?” danielle almost mocks you, her voice firm. “because i don’t.”

for a moment, silence hung between you. your lips twitch again, ever so slightly.

“then care about the mandrake instead,” you simply say, turning your attention back to the plant. “it might cry, and its cry is fatal.”

danielle blinks, momentarily thrown off by how calm you are about everything, but she doesn’t back down. she focuses on the task, her frustration slowly morphing into something else while she planted the other mandrake. 

across the room, minji and hanni exchange glances, whispering to each other as they watch the interaction unfold. 

“she’s actually holding her own,” hanni mutters, wide-eyed. “she’s insane.”

“i didn’t think she had it in her, especially after we scolded her like that.” hanni replies, both of them utterly captivated.

as the two of you worked in tense silence, danielle couldn’t help but wonder: why did you intrigue her so much now? it’s not like she ever noticed you like that before. maybe it’s because you’ve broken the silence and she’s gotten a glimpse of who you are.

and why, despite everything, did you seem just a little impressed by her too?

—

chatter spills throughout the hallway as class ends. you’re walking beside hyein, her presence comforting and a contrast to the buzz around you two. as you two make your way down the hall, she suddenly starts,

“how was your lab?” she asks, “with the hufflepuff.”

“ah,” you mutter, recollecting everything—from her confrontation to how well she handled the mandrakes. “danielle is… interesting. she’s good at the labs, at least.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you hum, “what’s got you so curious?”

“i think everyone is curious. l/n and marsh, what a combination.” a faint smirk pulls at haerins lips, you roll your eyes at her.

a few more steps down, you feel a tap at your shoulder. both you and haerin turn, surprised to find danielle standing there with her a friends a few paces behind her. you tilt your head slightly.

“you’re not as bad as everyone paints you out to be.” danielle says, her voice steady. you swear there’s a hint of mischief in her eyes. 

your expression shifts for a split second—just enough for danielle to notice the faint twitch of your features—before you return to the practiced stoicism you wear so well. narrowing your eyes, you tense your jaw, measuring her.

and then, she smiles. not a mocking smile or anything meant to provoke—it’s genuine. warm, even.

a low sigh escapes your lips, your shoulders relaxing by the smallest margin. you glance at minji, who’s right behind her. she stiffens slightly when you make eye contact, clearly caught off guard by the directness of your gaze.

“i’ll watch where i’m going,” you say firmly, voice even, before turning away. 

haerin gives the trio a lingering glance—danielle with her bright grin and her friends with their stunned, wide-eyed expressions—before following after you.

as you disappear down the hallway, danielle’s grin only widens. behind her, hanni mumbles, “i have to be dreaming.”

danielle doesn’t reply, her gaze fixed on where you’ve just vanished around the corner. and as you do, aware that you’re not in her sight, haerin starts to speak to you again. “what was that about?”

“i–” you begin, sighing again. “i bumped into the ravenclaw—minji. danielle kept bugging me about it, saying i should care and apologize for bumping into her friend.”

haerin’s eyes widen again, she looks at you in disbelief. “she’s got guts.”

“i know.”

—

danielle marsh really does have guts. 

the next day during herbology, professor seo doesn’t assign pairings. instead, everyone has the opportunity to pick whoever they want. minji and hanni usually pair themselves up due to convenience, since they’re in the same house and all. danielle, on the other hand, would pick liz or sunoo, two hufflepuffs she also gets along with quite well. 

but something churning in her nerves pushes her out of her seat before she even realizes it. she moves toward the opposite side of the room and no one really pays attention at first, not until it’s clear where her destination is.

she stops in front of your desk. her strong, lively presence makes you glance up and you meet her eyes. she’s staring at you with a neutral expression (though there’s always a very faint smile on her lips) before a small grin forms.

you tilt your head and raise both brows just barely, as if asking her what do you want? through a simple look. it conveys the question perfectly, silently.

“let’s be partners,” she says, her tone casual. the words shock the few that are eavesdropping. 

you turn to haerin briefly, who’s watching with mild interest but says nothing, leaving the choice entirely to you.

danielle notices a flicker in your eyes, something she can’t pinpoint. 

“okay.” you reply, standing to meet her level as if it were a challenge. she smiles wider, her confidence unwavering, and you exhale just slightly, your jaw loosening.

from there on out, there’s whispers and mutters shared throughout the room. who wouldn’t gossip considering the pairing that was willingly put together? 

the task at hand was much more complex now, the duos in the class having to put up with venomous tentaculas. their writhing vines and snapping leaves demand quick reflex and unspoken coordination. you and danielle still had your tension, not knowing each other well, but there was this weird amount of trust. and the trust went a long way, the two of you handling the plants with ease. 

when one of the tentacula lashes out, it’s sharp teeth glinting, danielle’s uses a spell to restrain it in an instant. you pause, meeting her eyes briefly, the faintest hint of gratitude crossing your features.

then you return to your task without a word, your hands steady as you document the plant’s behavior.

why did danielle suddenly pop into your life—six years into being at hogwarts?

and why don’t you mind in the slightest?

when the lab ends, you and danielle are the first to finish. instead of going back to her side of the room, she walks over to the slytherin side and sits down right next to you. her curiosity is radiating.

“you’re good with plants,” she says, breaking the silence.

you don’t respond immediately, your attention still on your notes.

“worked with them before?” she asks.

“rarely,” you reply, flat but honest.

“you’re a natural.”

silence stretches out again, but danielle doesn't waver.

“not much of a talker, are you—”

“why are you so insistent on pestering me?” you cut her off, glancing at her finally. your voice isn’t sharp, but it’s more resigned like you’re genuinely curious.

her grin returns, but softer this time. “because i don’t think you’re everything your reputation says about you. and i want to know why.”

you blink, caught off guard, though your expression remains steady.

she’s ridiculous.

her words settle somewhere in your chest, unfamiliar yet oddly weighty.

“what makes you think i’m nothing like what everyone says?” you murmur, looking her dead in the eye and testing her resolve again.

“well, i’m going to need evidence to figure that out.” she says without missing a beat.

you nearly smile at her audacity, but instead, you pick up your quill, turning back to your notes. danielle doesn’t leave, her presence steady beside you, as if she’s already decided she’s staying.

—

haerin meets you back at the dining hall during lunch, sitting down beside you as you look over a few pages in a textbook that professor seong decided to assign.

“you’re always studying.”

“and i’m always top of the class, haerin.” you respond teasingly, one corner of your lip turning up just a bit. 

“i guess you’re right.”

haerin takes a bite out of the protein on her plate, some type of seasoned chicken, and you munch on broccoli as you observe your surroundings. near the end of your table, heeseung, one of your least favorite slytherins, is joking around with his friends. he’s probably boasting on about something uninteresting. 

past your table is the hufflepuffs table, and of course your look manages to land right on danielle—who’s right across from you, basically. you immediately look away again, down at the book on the table, but haerin is observant.

“danielle.” haerin says simply.

“what?”

“what’s with you two?”

“nothing,” you’re quick to answer her, shaking your head slightly. “she just… doesn’t care about my reputation.”

“i figured. seems you don’t care whether she’s in your bubble or not either.”

“what do you mean?”

“something tells me you’re not against her presence—her.”

“you’re being ridiculous.”

“i’m not. you didn’t ignore her, you spoke to her and agreed to be her partner. why is that?”

you think about it for a second, you can’t pinpoint it. “i— i don’t know.”

“you stuttered.”

“haerin.” you groan, looking at her with defeat. “let’s save this for when we’re alone. please?”

“fine.” she complies, taking a bite of chicken. 

you glance at danielle once more, then to haerin, who’s poking at something on her plate. why is she so curious anyway? haerin’s always been nosy, but not in the same way as those pretentious slytherins are. she’s just observant and always wanting to know more. her nature helps her out with that. 

danielle’s the first person you’ve let into your life like this, well, not in your life, but in your ‘bubble’ as haerin says. why do you do that? maybe haerin’s playing mind games with you. could it be because you didn’t partner with her? maybe she’s—

“i’m not jealous, by the way.”

woah.

“what? what are you even saying?” you brush her off, eyeing her from the side.

“just curious, not jealous.” haerin repeats. “i don’t mind working with wonyoung at all. if anything, i think it’s great you’re branching out—even after what heeseung did for your rep.”

you give her another good look, watching her turn back to her plate and bite into her chicken almost like a feline. 

she’s something else.

—

“i can’t believe you’re willingly partnering with her in not one, but two classes now.” hanni says, half baffled and half amazed as she walks beside danielle.

what she’s referring to is the fact that danielle had decided to pair up with you during potions class. everyone in the class reacted the same way—eyes wide, shushed whispers, and going stiff at the sight of danielle approaching you. 

hanni nudges her, eyebrows raised. “seriously, what’s the deal? you’re one of the nicest people i know. that everyone knows. y/n is… she’s, well—her.”

danielle adjusts her bag on her shoulder, shrugging lightly. “she doesn’t seem that bad, and from my time with her she really isn’t.”

“bro, there’s a rumor that she shoved some first year when we were third years because they were in the way. i mean, we’re lucky she didn’t do that to minji. and also, she’s friends with heeseung. you know how he is.”

“those are rumors.”

“sure, but you’d have to be malicious to get a rumor like that. that’s like me pushing hyein because she decided to breathe near me.”

“that’s ridiculous.”

“danielle, her parents are batshit insane.” hanni says a little more seriously. “i’m just trying to look out for you.”

“well i appreciate that hanni, thank you.” danielle says, smiling. “but honestly, i really like working with her. i think we make a great team and… she’s not all that bad.”

hanni stops walking, staring at her as if she just grew another set of eyes. “you like working with her?”

“i do.” danielle stops too, turning to face hanni fully. “she’s focused, efficient, and knows what she’s doing. i mean, did you see how she handled the venomous tentacula last week? she barely flinched. even if she is as evil as you say, she’s a really good student.”

hanni crosses her arms, still unconvinced. “okay, but what about the part where she’s basically nonverbal? or how literally no one in the class wants to go up to her by themselves? not even slytherins.” 

danielle laughs softly, the sound light and unbothered. you’re just… quiet. you’re really not that bad, and you don’t have much venom in your tone. you’re like a snake with dull fangs.

“maybe she’s just not used to people actually trying to get to know her. you should give her a chance.”

hanni looks skeptical, but there’s a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. “you’re telling me you know how to get through her scales?”

“i wouldn’t say that,” danielle says, smiling again. “but i do think there’s more to her than what everyone says. i mean, does anyone really know her?”

“no…” hanni shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “only you would willingly do this. god, i bet you’re just trying to spice up your last years here.”

“maybe,” danielle says, her grin widening as she starts walking again. 

—

for the next two weeks you and danielle voluntarily partner up during herbology and potions. you do it because she’s a great partner, and she does it because she just loves to talk to you. sometimes you think that she could make conversation with a brick wall.

your marks are high, and everyone is getting used to your weird dynamic a little more. there’s less shock each time you pair up, less whispers, and less of every look that comes with. 

the two of you even grow acustomed to working together, being able to predict the others next move and building your collaboration skills. it’s odd, yeah, obviously. but you’re comfortable and excelling in each task, so who are you to complain?

—

after potions class everyone gathers their materials before heading out. danielle waves to her friends, telling them she’ll meet them later. they look at her skeptically, shrugging and saying goodbye before danielle starts walking over to the exit without them,

you’re halfway out the door when you hear a voice—bright and cheery as usual—then turn to see no one other than your hufflepuff partner.

“hey,” danielle greets, suddenly appearing at your side.

you glance over, surprised, not uttering anything in response. there’s only a slight twitch in your brows, but danielle doesn’t seem to mind.

you both head out together in the hall with your books in your hands while you make your way to the dining hall. danielle starts to speak first, “that class was interesting, don’t you think? professor kim has a unique teaching style that i like very much. and potions in general, they’re cool, aren’t they? wow, the one we had to learn was difficult but cool. the ingredients were all so rare and mingled with one another so strangely.”

you don’t reply, but your silence isn’t unfriendly. you listen instead, the faint twitch of your lips and slight softness in your gaze betraying that you don’t entirely hate her rambling. 

danielle doesn’t seem to care whether you respond or not, continuing on, “i think it’s my favorite class—well, maybe tied with herbology. no wait, im lying, it’s definitely care of magical creatures. i loooove animals. what about you, do you have a favorite?”

you don’t answer, and not because you’re being your usual self, but because you’re really trying to think of which class you like the most. to be fair, it might just be defense against the dark arts or transfiguration, classes where you use your wands more. but before the silence can stretch further, and before you can utter something in return, an unwelcome voice cuts in.

“didn’t know you started letting mudbloods talk to you.” heeseung sneers, stepping in front of you with two of his friends behind him. “what are you doing with one of them.”

danielle freezes, her cheerful expression dimming slightly, and something flickers in her eyes–hurt. 

a nerve in you tightens. before you can stop yourself, you scoff and deliver a retort without thinking. “none of that concerns you, heeseung. maybe you should focus on balancing on your broom instead.”

he flinches, the sting of your words evident in the way his jaw clenches. he’s known to have a poker face, or something intimidating to most, but you know him like the back of your hand whether he likes it or not. for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something back, but then he thinks better of it. 

you’re scary to everyone. even him. especially him. he hesitates before muttering, “whatever,” and brushing it off like it doesn’t bother him. “the team needs to gather to talk about the game tomorrow. don’t keep us waiting because of a mudblood. know your worth, l/n.”

the word ‘mudblood’ tightens your nerve further. you narrow your eyes at him, already annoyed, and he takes the hint, leaving with a muttered curse under his breath.

danielle looks at you, her brows slightly raised. and for the first time you witness her hesitate before speaking, “you’re friends with him?”

“no.” you don’t elaborate on it, instead you give her a glance that lingers for a moment too long. something about the way she looked a little hurt earlier still bothers you, though you don’t know why. 

“see you later,” you say politely before turning and heading in the same direction heeseung did. 

as you walk away, you feel a strange, nagging irritation—not just at heeseung, but at yourself.

—

haerin watches you stare at the ceiling for about five minutes before deciding to poke you.

“what’s going on with you?”

“nothing.” you lie.

“you’re disassociating.” haerin points out, then moves over to sit at the edge of your bed. “do you want to tell me? or do you want to bottle everything up like always.”

you sit up at her words, giving her a look that has a tinge of hurt and defeat. you look down at your mattress for a moment before looking back up at her. she tilts her head, you sigh.

“heeseung is a prick.” you say, though a little too calmly for your burning hatred for the guy. 

“nothing new.”

silence passes on for a few seconds before you continue,

“he called danielle a mudblood right in front of her.” the word doesn’t slip off your tongue easily, it feels wrong just saying it. “what’s wrong with that— ugh.”

“why do you care?”

you snap your head to meet haerin’s gaze. “what? what kind of question is that?”

“one that you should answer.”

“i— i don’t know? you don’t call a muggle a mudblood in front of them. that’s so rude.”

haerin narrows her eyes at you, seemingly studying you. it’s scrutinizing. and almost as if a lightbulb has just lit up above her head, she says, “you care about her.”

“what?”

“danielle.”

“why would i? we— we’re just partners.”

“but you want to be more than that; you want to be friends with danielle.”

you don’t respond, insetad, surrendering under her eye contact. she raises her brows and you lay down in bed again, shutting your eyes.

“she’s… nice.”

“then be friends with her y/n.” haerin urges, “she wants to be friends with you.”

“it’s not that simple—”

“it is. danielle goes out of her way to talk and be with you, but you’re the one making it impossible.”

you don’t even try to argue back with haerin—she’s right after all. it’s just, you don’t know how to do all this friend stuff. haerin’s the only one you could converse with freely due to her similar nature, which is the complete opposite of danielle, who’s the sun, and in contrast, you’re like the moon.

plus, heeseung just made it ten times harder for you. everyone has this idea that you and him are good friends, and that’s only because your parents are good business partners that also happen to have dinner with one another from time to time. this drags you and heeseung into the same orbit, which feeds the illusion of a bond that doesn’t exist.. 

the truth is, he’s the bane of your existence. 

heeseung has been in love with you since your second year, but when you rejected him and decided to show platonic interest in others—he completely ruined everything for you.

not many knew much about you back then, not until heeseung revealed your parents’ connections and influence, your lineage, wealth, and even spread rumors about you. he painted you as some carbon copy of your parents, and people believed it just because of your demeanor. plus, you were naturally smart and had the same look as your father, which added on to the ‘slytherin stereotype’ that everyone placed on you. 

heeseung ruined your chance at being even a little normal. he screwed your chances at a normal social life. you lost the few friends you made, it took a long while to make a new friend, a real friend. now he’s called your new potential friend—or even someone you’re able to be casual with—a mudblood.

—

the whole day consists of danielle not being her normal self, not even during your herbology lab. danielle loves herbology. 

her signature smile isn’t on while tending to the plants. instead, she’s focused and attentive like usual, but without the liveliness and infatuation. you don’t say anything to help the tension, simply staying quiet unless it’s needed. she utters something here and there, telling you to be careful due to the plants nature and its venom and whatnot.

you want to ask if she’s okay, but it’s out of character for you. what if she keeps giving you the cold shoulder even after that? what if you say something wrong, or maybe—

“hey, be careful with your finger.” danielle snaps you away from your thoughts. “it has a long reach for it’s bite.”

you nod at her. “right, thanks.”

she offers a small smile and it gives you a slight push to keep it up.

…

the thought of danielle being hurt from heeseung’s words gnaws at you even after your class with her. her energy from before lingers in your mind during lunch, and even during your last class before your game.

it’s then that you realize: you cannot play while being this bothered. 

and maybe haerin was right, maybe you do care for her. there’s no harm in caring anyway, which leads you to where you are right now.

before the quidditch game, you spot danielle lingering near the stands. her expression is soft, distant, and nothing like her usual self. you can’t bear to see it. something pushes you to walk up to her when no one isn’t paying attention, catching her by surprise as you drag her over to someplace private even though your team is already gathering in the stadium.

“don’t let heeseung’s words get to you.” you say firmly, looking her in the eye. “he’s a terrible person. you shouldn’t take anything he says to heart.”

danielle blinks, startled by your directness and the fact that you have started the conversation and approached her instead. your tone has something in it—sincerity, maybe frustration—that makes her listen carefully.

“you’re a great person,” you add, though quieter than before. “way better than someone like him in every way.” your voice softens when you say it, and there’s a vulnerability in your look. “i don’t want his words affecting you at all. i… i was so overwhelmed because your smile wasn’t as bright and wide today.”

her lips part as if to respond, but no words come out. she’s processing your words, you just called her smile bright? you step back before she can figure out how to respond. your voice drops to a lower register as you finally add, “i have to leave. just… don’t let him bother you. he’s the reason we lose points anyway.”

danielle smiles and your jaw relaxes. with that, you turn and rush toward the pitch, your quidditch uniform swishing behind you. danielle watches you disappear into the crowd of players, her heart thudding unevenly in her chest.

when the game starts, her eyes stay on you. usually she’d be focused on kazuha or jake, two of the best players for hufflepuff, but she’s so intent on watching how you move. your actions are effortless and precise. you’re observant and quick to prevent chasers from scoring; danielle’s never really paid attention to your work on the field until today’s game.

the match is long, intense, and draining. you can hear the crowd roaring with every near miss or scored goal. sweat builds up on your face as you move from goal to goal, not letting a single chaser score. 

danielle focuses on you, revelling in the flash of raw emotion when your teammates score against hers or when you manage to prevent hufflepuff from scoring. she wants to see your lips turning upwards up close and in person, not just from the stands.

by the time the game ends, danielle’s admiration for you has grown into something more. it’s undeniable and reeling, something she can’t quite ignore. your talent and unique demeanor inevitably tugged at her, but also the way you saw her. you took the time to spare assuring words, something you wouldn’t do for anyone else. you spoke to her like you were willing to chip your walls down a bit.

—

danielle takes a bigger leap and sits next to you next herbology class. she’s smiling wider than last time, you can tell she’s back to her usual self. it brings a feeling of relief.

haerin is sitting with you and witnessing the whole scene. danielle smiles at her too, and oddly enough the younger girl nearly smiles back. haerin tightens her jaw to fight it.

danielle turns to you, suddenly saying, “you did well last game! but ugh, hufflepuff was so close…” 

you look at her and she’s giving you those puppy eyes as she waits for a response, which makes it really hard to stand your ground. you don’t know what to say, how to respond, and really how to formulate a response that’s not boring or generic.

you feel haerin nudging you with her knee under the table, then shoot her a quick glance. she puts her chin on her palm as she raises a brow subtly, but very much noticeable to you. you tighten your jaw before attempting a response.

“barely.” harsh. you wonder if anything you say won’t be laced with something negative.

much to your surprise, danielle smiles, letting out an amused giggle. “wow, is the win getting to you?”

“no.” you scoff, “hufflepuff was barely scoring. they scored twice.”

“how humble of you.”

“it’s just the facts, danielle.” you shake your head, and when you look at her again, her smile is from ear to ear.

she’s successfully created a conversation, and neither of you wants it to stop.

before you both can continue, a loud smack of a textbook hitting a desk is heard. everyone looks toward the front of the room, meeting the professor as she starts the lesson—just when things were on a roll. you bite the inside of your lip in defeat.

—

haerin walks with you after all the classes are done and you both catch up on what’s gone on through the day. the sun hits her skin as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“an underclassman bumped into me earlier,” she says, her voice light with amusement. “she apologized by giving me a pack of gummies and rushing away. she was probably running late.”

you chuckle. “peach gummies… let me guess, you didn’t waste a second before you ate them all.”

“of course not,” haerin replies with a shrug, her tone playful. “finished the whole packet during the class before this.”

you laugh quietly, shaking your head as you turn the corner together. the carefreeness fades. when you and haerin notice a scene simultaneously. much to your dismay, heeseung is at the end of the hall with his two friends you couldn’t care less about. they’re in front of a group of four girls, they all look visibly uncomfortable. one of the girls catches your eye immediately—danielle.

before haerin can even react, you’re already striding forward.

“mudbloods like you,” heeseung starts, stepping up. “need to know their place here.”

you don’t care to hear the rest of what he has to say before stepping in between him and danielle, who he’s in the middle of conversing with, and seemingly size up with him. heeseung is taller to the point where you have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his gaze, but still, he immediately seems to back down when you lower your chin. your eyes drill into his.

“y/n.” he bites down on his teeth, then smirks just barely. your brows furrow and your lip quirks to a faint expression of disgust.  he chuckles, looking you up and down. “what, you’ve gone soft for a mudblood and her measly friends? what’s gotten into you l/n?”

“get out of their way.”

“what would your parents say?”

“i’ll cast a spell that tangles your limbs if you don’t get out of my face right now.” you say sharply. you lean a little closer near his ear, nearly whispering, “what would your parents say if they found out how desperate you are to ruin the l/n’s daughter's social life because you can’t handle rejection?” 

heeseung watches you pull back, looking at him with nothing but resentment. his smirk slips from his face and he stiffens. he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, scoffing and tilting his head at his friends before backing off. 

as he retreats, you turn back to danielle and her friends, their expressions a mix of shock and relief. haerin looks equally stunned, her brow raised as she observes you silently.

you give danielle one last look before motioning for haerin to continue on with you, but before you can even step away, danielle grabs for your wrist and tugs lightly. the warmth of her skin catches you off guard, and so does the soft urgency in her voice.

“wait,” danielle begins. “thanks.”

haerin is looking at you intensely—from what you can see in your peripheral— which urges you to respond, “heeseung is a parasite. don’t let him talk to you like that.” before gently pulling your hand away from her grasp.

danielle grins again, her expression softening. “hey, you busy?”

“what?” you ask, caught off guard.

“my friends and i are going to study together, wanna join?” her question is abrupt, out of nowhere, and you have not prepared for it. you’re left momentarily speechless. haerin, who has been watching the interaction like a hawk, clears her throat just as one of danielle’s friends—hyein—chimes in.

“wait a second,” hyein says, pointing at haerin. “you’re the girl from earlier! peach gummies!”

haerin blinks, caught off guard. “oh. that was you?”

hyein grins. “yeah. sorry for making you drop your books, and thanks for not getting mad.”

the coincidence seems to diffuse some of the lingering tension. you and haerin exchange a brief glance, silently agreeing to go along with the invitation.

“alright.” you say finally. her friends look a bit skeptical, but danielle lights up. 

the group moves to the library, settling into a quieter corner but not without earning a few looks from the odd mix of individuals. books and notes are spread across the table as conversation flows between the girls. danielle ends up sittign across from you, her focus flitting between her work and sneaking glances your way—just to make sure you’re doing alright, that’s all.

meanwhile, haerin and hyein hit it off unexpectedly, their conversation sprinkled with playful remarks about their earlier encounter. 

the quiet hum of the group’s murmurs and faint rustle of parchment as you all settle into conversation in between studying. haerin and hyein are seated across from each other, fully engrossed in a lighthearted debate about their favorite snacks.

“peach gummies are the best,” hyein insists, tapping her quill against the table for emphasis. minji raises her brows at the loud noise. “sorry—” hyein apologizes, “but anyway, they’re fruity and chewy—what could top that?”

haerin tilts her head, her expression as composed as ever. “they’re good, but i like the caramel sweets better. they’re something to savor during boring lectures, and they taste great with many things.”

hanni, sitting beside hyein, chimes in, “okay, but chocolate frogs? iconic, come on now.”

“overrated,” you say without looking up from your notes.

you shrug, looking up now with a smirk threatening to form. “milk chocolate is too sweet. dark chocolate has more depth.”

minji nods in agreement. “she’s not wrong… dark chocolate is way better.”

hanni narrows her eyes playfully. “this is such a slytherin take. dark, less sweet, come on.”

you raise your brows in mock offense, leaning back in your chair. “slytherin? really?”

danielle giggles softly, and the sound draws your attention for just a moment. it’s light and warm, and you find yourself nearly smiling—something small, fleeting. but danielle notices, her gaze lingering on your with a touch of awe like there’s a slight sparkle in her eye. it’s as though she’s just uncovered a secret.

the conversation shifts back to haerin and hyein, the youngest of the bunch, while the upperclassmen actually study.

“you’re so pretty, it’s unreal.” hyein says suddenly, her voice filled with sincere admiration. “teach me.”

haerin blinks, caught off guard, but her lips curve into a small, genuine smile. “that’s… sweet of you to say. no one’s ever said that to me.”

her rare smile draws a full grin from you. haerin’s reserved nature mirrors your own, and seeing her relax enough to enjoy herself feels strangely gratifying. and the fact that someone else has complimented her so sweetly when no one else dares to do so, it deepens the turn of your lips. hyein is such gryffindor material.

only danielle catches you smile, her chest tightening as she observes the once-in-a-blue moon sight. it’s warm and brief and a flicker of something unguarded—vulnerable—but to her, it’s mesmerizing. it makes you even more admirable. if she could frame the moment, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

(that must be weird, danielle thinks. there’s fireworks going off in her head, for some reason.)

“alright,” minji says, breaking the moment with a teasing grin. “but seriously, if we’re ranking snacks, the red bean dorayaki is so on my top five.”

the conversation continues, lighthearted and easy, but danielle can’t stop thinking about how lovely your smile is, even if it was fleeting. her heart flutters for some strange reason.

the chatter fades into the background as you push back your chair and stand, brushing off a stray crumb from your knitted sweater. “i’ll be back,” you mutter, directing the comment vaguely toward haerin, who briefly glances and nods.

the quiet of the library reaches a near silence as you navigate the towering shelves, the scent of parchment and ink filling the air. your fingers trail along the spines of books as you scan for the title you need. it doesn’t take long before a familiar presence is felt by your side.

danielle steps into view, her footsteps light as she comes to stand beside you. she doesn’t say anything at first, just mirrors your movements, her gaze flitting over the shelves as if she’s searching for something as well.

you glance at her, surprised. “need something?”

she shakes her head, her lips curving into a small smile. “just wanted to tag along.”

you hum, not entirely convinced, and return to scanning the shelves. when you spot the book you’re looking for, you reach out to grab it, your fingers brushing against the rough, aged spine of the book.

“you’ve got a lovely smile.” danielle says suddenly, her voice soft and clear as day.

the comment catches you off guard. you turn your head sharply to look at her, your fingers still resting on the book. you heard her perfectly, but still respond, “pardon?” and maybe it’s because you don’t believe it.

“you should smile more,” she continues, her tone casual as her fingers glide across a line of books. there’s a hint of sincerity in her eyes when she meets your gaze again, her finger landing on a text with a leather spine. “it suits you.”

heat rises to your cheeks and there’s nothing you can do to stop the faint blush spreading across your face. unfortunately for you, the light from the large windows at the end of the aisle shines on your features and gives danielle a perfect view of your flustered state. you quickly pull the book off the shelf, turning so danielle can only see the side of your face in an attempt to cover your reaction.

danielle’s smile widens, her eyes filled with amusement. “that’s cute,” she teases, tilting her head slightly. “didn’t know you could be so shy this easily, miss slytherin.”

you huff, avoiding her gaze as you tuck the book under your arm and start walking the other direction. danielle trails behind briefly,  then falls into step beside you.

“we never got to continue our conversation about your game,” she says, sparking conversation. 

you roll your eyes, though your lips twitch with the threat of a smile. “slytherin won. it wasn’t even close.”

danielle gasps in mock offense, clutching at her chest as if you’ve just knocked a bludger toward her. “are you always this insufferable? maybe the rumors about you are true…”

insufferable? if anyone else were to utter those same exact words, you’d spell them. but danielle earns a small chuckle. “only when hufflepuffs make it easy,” you reply smoothly, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye “your seekers and beaters were having trouble—so were your chasers.”

she narrows her eyes at you, but the playful glint in them is unmistakable. “we’re going to destroy you in the next match. kazuha has just been… out of it.”

“right,” you drawl, the corners of your mouth tugging into a toothy smile. danielle has the same exact smile when she notices yours.

as the two of you stroll through the aisles, your conversation flows naturally (but still quiet and on the reserved side), dipping between friendly jabs and earnest remarks. danielle is still talking much more, but you’ve always been on the quieter side, the dynamic fits. besides, you like listening to her—you could listen to her for hours, you think. the tension from earlier dissipates, replaced by something comforting and quiet that feels easy.

for a moment, as danielle laughs at one of your dry comments while approaching the group's table, you wonder how she manages to make even the smallest moments feel magical.

…

you and haerin nod your heads at the others before parting from the group and walking toward the slytherin commons. you notice a small smile from haerin as you two walk back, but you don’t mention it. it seems that haerin’s found a friend, someone other than you. someone other than superficial, stuck-up pure bloods in your house.

meanwhile, danielle and her group walk with hyein to drop her off at her common room first. 

“y/n isn’t that bad, actually.” hyein says throughout the conversation. “and her friend is cool, i like her. i think we can be great friends.”

minji nods. “maybe danielle was right. she’s… really normal. nothing like the rumors…”

“yeah, even i felt kind of at ease. she just kept to herself most of the time. it seemed like she was just there to… i don’t know, be with us. she didn’t mind it.”

danielle beams, “i told you! she has some of those slytherin stereotypes, but she’s really sweet.”

“maybe you’re not insane.” hanni snickers, grinning at her best friend. “i’m down to hangout with her and the fifth year she’s friends with.”

the group continues on, dropping off hyein before they walk danielle last since hanni and minji are in the same house. when danielle is inside, she returns to her bed and lays flat for a bit. she reminisces, enjoying the alone time she had with you and your stance in a group setting. you’re quiet, and observant. that makes you all the more interesting—especially when you decide to speak.

danielle’s spirits are lifted at the prospect of having someone like you in her life.

—

as the year continues, both you and danielle grow closer. 

she learns to slither under your skin, getting you to open up more than before. it starts with the little things, like you admitting that you could care less about certain topics in herbology, visibly showing your annoyance whenever you see heeseung, and even telling danielle brief anecdotes about him during your younger years together. she learns your favorite color, and how it’s actually the color yellow, which might be the reason you’re so tolerant of her. she learns that you’re a sucker when it comes to your pet cat, and that the rumors of you having a venomous snake are completely wrong. she learns a lot about you, but nothing is that deep or personal.

(“he’s shy. he doesn’t like to leave my bed, but he always gets his exercise walking around the commons when everyone is away.” you explain. 

you pull up a small picture you keep with you at all times, a small square photo of your black cat. the quality of it is alright, but it’s enough for danielle to notice how green your cat’s eyes are.

“that’s a slytherin cat.” danielle says firmly, clicking her tongue. “everything about him screams it.”

you chuckle lightly, rolling your eyes. “and what if he’s a hufflepuff?” 

“then i’d take wonderful care of him.”

“i don’t think haerin would like that… she gets jealous.”)

you learn more about danielle too, like how she has an older muggle sister back home with a passion for music, her grandparent’s dogs that she misses, her parents whom she cherishes. everything about her upbringing screams loving, which is probably why she’s full of love herself. she tends to drop stories during herbology about her scary encounters with the plants you deal with, and stories about how it took her a while to get over her fear of being a witch. 

“odd things would happen to me while i was in primary school,” danielle says one morning as you walk to class. “books would float, i could see fairytale-like animals—weird stuff. then i got a letter from some school in scotland—hogwarts—and now i’m a witch.”

you nod, and she continues. that’s how it usually goes.

“i was so scared. for a moment i thought i lost my whole life because i was able to use magic. i mean, i didn’t know a single person who was a witch or wizard. i think i sobbed my eyes out the night before getting on the plane here. they were so puffy the morning after.”

you frown, looking at her with concern. “really?” you ask.

“yeah.” danielle admits. “i decided that there wasn’t anything i could do, i mean, i accepted it—i willingly went to hogwarts after all, even if it was new and terrifying. it felt so scary but so… right? eventually i really wanted to be a witch, but i also had so much fear in my bones. but hey, i put on a smile and made some good friends here. you can’t get over your fears without friends, no?”

“i—” you never really had that many friends until danielle. even before her, it was just haerin. maybe she’s right. “i guess so.”

the two of you walk into potions together, settling into your usual seats by the window that always shines perfectly on danielle. the slight frizz of her wavy hair stands out in the afternoon sun, and her brown eyes light up the room. something you’ve realized after being friends with danielle is that she’s a wonderful sight.

“hey, danielle?”

“yeah?”

“how far is your home? i don’t think i’ve ever asked.”

“you couldn’t tell by my accent?” she teases. “i’m from australia. not too far from sydney actually, a city called newcastle.”

you freeze. “what?”

“newcastle, it’s a bit north—from sydney i mean.”

danielle tilts her head as she notices the change in demeanor. it looks like you’ve seen a ghost, which, isn’t anything special in hogwarts. scratch that, it looks like you’ve just seen a dementor. she turns around to see absolutely nothing, then turns back to you, who seems a bit out of it.

“hey, you alright?” danielle questions, placing her hand on yours and leaning forward slightly. 

the warmth radiating off her hand snaps you out of it immediately. you nod, then stare at your hands a bit too long. “y-yeah, i just, i just remembered something.” you choke out. “sorry.”

“aw, it’s nothing. i thought you saw a ghost, or something scary like a dementor.”

you smile softly, shaking your head and turning to your parchment. “right.”

other than being closer to danielle, you’ve also built a bond with her three friends. you and minji have a very friendly dynamic, with you two treating each other as academic equals—even playful rivals—due to your high markings. hanni, on the other hand, got comfortable with you as soon as she realized there was nothing to be scared about. hanni is known for being a tease, to you and minji especially. and hyein. hyein certainly is something else. she’s this ball of energy that even danielle can’t keep up with sometimes. she’s bright, cheerful, and somehow exactly what haerin needed to start opening up—being her true self. haerin talks more now, even laughs, and it’s mostly because of hyein and the rest.

the change is unexpected and scary, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. sure, others are critical and still surprised even when winter break nears, but you don’t mind. they’re still scared of you anyway, mainly because heeseung is trying to tear you down. as long as you have you friends.  

for the first time in your six years at hogwarts, you truly feel at home. you feel alright—to an extent.

—

the end of the term is in less than two weeks, which means everyone will be home for the winter. 

your ‘home’ isn’t really all that. there’s no family that awaits, only maids and butlers that greet you with the most respect possible. they’re lovely, of course, but going back to a monotonous life after a life-changing semester brings your spirits down. 

it’s not hard to hide how you feel, but when it’s danielle, it’s much more difficult. she can notice the slightest change in your mood just by the twitch of a lip or the octave of your sigh. she’s attentive, especially when it comes to you.

which is why she’s off to find you not too long after you leave early from a study session, a flicker of hesitance in your features when you were packing your things.

danielle can’t reach you when you’re nowhere to be found, and she can’t ask anyone since they avoid you like you’ll snap any second. she checks near the entrance to the slytherin commons, then some of the halls, and even the classes you two have together. danielle ends up with no sight of you.

not even a second later, a location pops up in her mind,

you always mentioned how much you liked astronomy, even if it wasn’t your favorite. you’d mention how often you frequented the astronomy towers to clear your mind and have some peace when you were troubled, and how it was your favorite spot on campus. 

and when she arrives, it’s not much of a shock that you’re sat down staring out at the sky. 

she walks over and sits next to you, and it seems that you don’t mind from the way you keep staring out at the clouds painted by the sunset. 

“i was looking for you.” danielle says softly, looking out in the same direction. “why’d you leave so early? i missed you. i wanted you there, i always do.”

the words hit your heart weirdly, like daggers being pushed into it but it doesn’t hurt in the way it should. it’s… nice?

you don’t respond for a moment, swallowing shallowly before ending the silence. “i just needed to think.”

“about?”

“too much.” you mumble. there’s too many things racing in your mind: going home, the possibility that your parents will be there, being away from danielle—that one is the worst—and newcastle. newcastle has been lingering in your mind for a while and it’s because of loosened ties. “is your hometown nice?’ you ask out of the blue, catching danielle off guard. “what’s it like?”

“why do you ask?”

“just curious.”

danielle scoots closer so your shoulders brush. she continues to look out as she explains, “well, it’s beautiful. the people are lovely, and the coast is jaw-dropping. i especially love the nature. and also being with my family. i can’t wait to go back.”

a smile graces your lips, it’s bittersweet, sad, and all too much. “that sounds nice.”

“yeah. it is.”

a stretch of quiet takes place, one that danielle doesn’t interrupt. the moment seems too intense, and she can sense that you need it.

“i’ve always wanted to go.” you say quietly.

“you should.”

…

“danielle.” you start again.

“hm?”

“when you told me you were from newcastle, i felt a wound open.” you begin, turning to face her now. “someone i—someone i know lives there.”

“oh,” danielle meets your eyes—-there’s regret and longing. “is that so?”

“yeah.” danielle reaches over for your hand, holding your fingers in her small hands as if she knows whats going on in your mind. you take a deep breath before continuing, “someone i need to apologize to.”

“what?”

“some of the rumors are true, you know. i had a habit of pushing others away, usually not in the nicest ways.” you purse your lips. “i was… i was cruel. until you came into my life i just… i don’t know. i was worse than i am now.”

“y/n…” danielle holds your hand a little tighter, squeezing it reassuringly. “it’s fine.”

“i used to have a thing against muggles. there wasn’t a valid reason for it, i just did.” you admit, your voice so fragile with regret that even the slightest sound could break it. “i’m sorry. it eats up at me, what i used to think and even say sometimes. ever since i met you it’s just… been a guilt weighing me down.”

“that’s not the case now though.” danielle assures. “it’s okay. i know there’s a reputation for muggles that isn’t the best, but as long as you’ve seen through that… it’s okay.”

“are you sure? could i really be changing?” you suddenly ask, vulnerability taking over. “i’ve spiraled so much these days. i keep thinking about if i’ve changed enough, if i deserve to be friends with the rest and most importantly you.”

“y/n, what are you even saying?”

“i don’t know.” you sigh, putting your face in one hand. “sometimes i wonder if i should be able to even be friends with you guys—minji, hanni, hyein, haerin—mostly you. i’m just… i’ve made a lot of mistakes, danielle.”

“and you’ll make a lot of memories to make up for those mistakes in the future. you can’t be stuck on your past.” danielle says, taking your hand off your face and making you look directly at her. “it’s okay, y/n.”

you look at her in a new light now. the words come out of her mouth softly, comfortingly. it seems that everything will be okay because of the way she speaks. and the look in her eyes, the sudden movement of her hand cupping one of your cheeks—it makes you see her differently. 

before your sixth year with her, your heart was parched. dry. dull. it’s like a wave of something warm and soothing has washed over it, giving it a reason to pump and feel. 

“thank you.” you practically breathe out after staring at her in awe. you shake your head now, retracting from her out of instinct. “i’m sorry, i don’t know what got into me.”

“it’s okay to feel.”

“i know, i just—” you cut yourself off, deciding not to finish your thought and instead responding, “i can’t believe you walked all the way up here.”

the astronomy tower isn’t hard to reach. the top of the tower, where all the pretty sights and rougher winds blow are. it’s late now, the sun nearly hidden by the horizon, the winds ruffling your hair a bit more noticeably—and danielle is right there with you. did she really walk up all this way just to see you?

she shrugs. “it’s not too bad.”

you chuckle to lighten the mood. “i’m not letting you walk back down—not at this hour.”

“well i figured i’d walk down with you.”

“so you came here without knowing for sure that i’d be here? danielle…” you sigh, standing up and walking over to your broom standing up against the stone. “let me take you down.”

“on the broom?”

“would you rather we jump off…?” you question with a slight teasing tone. 

danielle rolls her eyes. “you’ve got jokes.”

“i’m still learning.” you say before motioning her over. your broom hovers and you get on, using the tilt of your head as a signal for her to get on. she sits behind you, her hands immediately snaking over your waist and linking with one another to tighten her hold. you feel your stomach doing all sorts of twists and tricks, so you laugh to cool your nerves. “scared?”

“no,” danielle is only lying a little.

“i’m here. just hold on tight.” you look back at her, giving her a reassuring look. she smiles, putting her head on your back and squeezing tighter. 

“i trust you.” she mutters into your robe.

you nod, taking off slowly, but picking up the pace shortly after. instead of darting straight down, you take a more leisurely route over the lake, which urges danielle to pull away just a bit to get a glance of the moonlit river. she smiles as you hover over the water, your reflections rippled on the surface. how wonderful, danielle thinks. 

she rests her head against you again with much more comfort and less stress now. she uses you as a sort of pillar, a headrest as she holds onto you. you smile when you feel her arms tighten, not wanting the moment to end.

it doesn’t take long before you reach a certain window near the hufflepuff commons, helping danielle off and into the building. she dusts her robe as she glances back out, giving you a bright smile. 

before she closes the window, she peeks her head out. “i enjoyed that, thanks.”

“yeah, no problem.” you say, adjusting your seating on the broom.

danielle holds onto the window frame before she adds, “you can always talk to me, y/n. i care about you more than you know.”

your lips purse into a smile, your jaw relaxes, and you nod. “yeah, thank you. i hope you know that i feel the same.”

and with that danielle grins widely, before closing the window, leaving you outside and in place for a good minute to process everything. you think about how easy it is to be vulnerable around her, how easy it is to be you, and how content you’ve been feeling ever since she’s been in your life. it’s then that you realize what you feel for her is too strong to keep in the back of your mind. and it’s just as scary as it is strong and overwhelming.

—

when finals come around, you’re spending a lot more time away from danielle with your head in the books. this isn’t only because of finals, it’s also because you’re going to have to go home soon. “home.”

the cherry on top is that heeseung is coming with since your parents are going to have dinner together, catching up and discussing the term—but mainly business. you don’t need any spell or scroll to predict your future, you already know there’s only sorrow ahead. so for now, you’ll focus on passing your classes, mainly so you can have some time with danielle.

throughout this time, you and danielle share a lot more moments alone. walking in the empty halls after class, meeting before quidditch matches, and even when you’re not physically next to each other, there are those shared, knowing moments of eye contact from across the dining hall. 

the worst moments, though, are during quidditch matches. you figure she’s doing it on purpose, to distract you with her big, brown, and sparkly eyes so hufflepuff can score. second to this might have to be during class presentations; sometimes you’re up in front of the class and folding just because danielle’s eyes meet yours.

but now that’s come to and end, since finals are all over and everyone is stress free for the break. everyone but you.

danielle makes you forget that you have to go home with heeseung tomorrow. she’s dragging you by the hand, her skin soft and warm as always, and leading you somewhere ‘special,’ as she says.

“it’s way better at night,” she says matter-of-factly. you chuckle, following her down a little trail that’s on a hill right outside the woods. 

she sits down right on a big boulder, scooting over and patting down space for you before looking right up at the sky. the stars are scattered over the dark landscape, shining and dimming right before your eyes. you glance back at danielle for a moment, noticing how she shines just a little brighter than anything up there.

“at my house there’s a balcony that gives a really great view of the stars, the city, and everything that’s pretty.” you break the silence. “i live in oxford, so there’s always something going on in the town. lights still shine in the streets, sometimes i can hear the faint tune of street music from my house that’s up on the hill.”

“that’s lovely y/n.”

“yeah, but,” you look down at the gravel under your feet. “that’s the only good thing about home.” 

danielle frowns, grabbing your hand with hers. “hey, maybe one day you can come over to my hometown. maybe this summer?”

you smile at the idea, being with danielle someplace far from home. anywhere with her would be nice. “i’d like that.”

she sighs happily, leaning on your shoulder and tensing up a bit. “it’s cold.” she giggles, “still haven’t gotten used to the winters here. it’s never colder than ten degrees back home, and that’s in the winter. when i go back it’ll probably be twenty degrees minimum.”

a small frown takes over, you slip off your slytherin scarf and adjust it to cover danielle a bit more. it fits her quite well. “keep this on for now. i’m, um, used to this weather since i live in england.”

“did you always live there?”

you shake your head. “no. i’ve moved around a lot because of my parent’s work, but it got tiring. they purchased a place for me.”

“all for you?”

“yeah. i…” you don’t know how to word it. “i guess they just care about me when i’m doing something that fits their image. oxford is very academically rich so… they thought i’d flourish there, kinda.”

“y/n…” danielle frowns, moving her head away so she can look at you with a sort of pity. you’re not really fond of the look until she holds your face in her hands and it’s far too intimate to the point where your heart is beating against your ribs. “parents shouldn’t be like that.”

you don’t respond, instead tearing up just a bit. danielle sees your waterlined eyes, then pulls herself closer to embrace you in a hug. you freeze in the moment, but immediately after you completely melt against her. your hands press into her curly hair a bit, your nose in the crook of her neck as you sigh,

“i don’t want to be away from you, danielle.”

“then come with me.”

“i can’t.” you say defeatedly, feeling your heart sink.

—

the next day, danielle gives you a big hug in front of heeseung before you two depart. heeseung grills you about your friendship with a “mudblood” the whole way back to your home. it’s not the longest journey back on the train, but every second spent with him around makes you want to cast a menacing spell.

and when you arrive back at your place with heeseung trailing behind, you speedwalk toward the entrance and head to your room as quick as you can, eager to stay away from him. you get at least two minutes of peace before it’s interupted again, hearing someone shout your name from the first floor.

you walk down the steps hesitantly, now clad in more formal attire. you’re met with your parents, who don’t even smile at you, and heeseung’s as well. you nod at them politely, moving over to stand beside your parents before everyone meets at the dining table.

not a word is uttered from you the whole dinner. heeseung sits across from you, which makes the expensive dish on the table unappetizing. your parents discuss some business, something about funding for the ministry of magic and hogwarts—you could really care less.

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when your name is suddenly called, shooting your head up at the person who said it: your father.

“i would assume your term has been going remarkably well, yes?”

you nod. 

“top of the class?”

you nod again.

“you should ask her about her social life, sir.” heeseung butts in, making your head turn sharply at him. you meet his eyes, which are piercing right through you. don’t, you try to say silently. heeseung simply smirks, taking another bite of his steak. “she’s made new friends.”

“is that so?” your father says with a hint of venom. “that shouldn’t be a problem, unless they’re distractions.”

“they’re not.” you assure firmly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“a muggle.” heeseung practically spits. “she’s made a muggle ‘friend.’ a hufflepuff, might i add.”

everyone at the table has their attention on you now, confusion and near disgust in their features.

“what are you doing talking to such individuals?” your mother scoffs. “a hufflepuff? why are you wasting your time talking to those at the bottom of the chain?”

“they’re not.” you reply with a surge of confidence. “they’re driven and excel in their classes. this ‘hufflepuff’ is more of a wizard than half the stuck-up slytherins.”

“pardon?” your dad says, seemingly seething. “how dare you speak on your own house like that?”

“are you mad at me for telling the truth? how about you ask heeseung about how he’s been doing in his classes—or how he never fails to give up points in quidditch.” you say angrily, standing up now. “don’t act like you care about me in the slightest when i’m just a mere business strategy, something to keep the family name going.” you set your utensils down, pushing your chair in before walking off. “i’m leaving. thank you for the dinner.”

—

you get into a heated argument with your parents after, something about how you’re too pure for muggle filth. it disgusts you, makes you want to throw up. they tell you that you need to focus on your studies and stop fooling around, and you respond with silence.

an even more severe argument with heeseung starts not so long after. your wand had been at his throat, your words deathly, threatening. he’s never seen you so serious, and you’ve never seen him so scared. it was quite a start to your so called ‘break.’

the rest of the winter was spent alone. your parents left with a disappointing energy lingering around them, one that made the maids and butlers shiver. you didn’t mind, though, because what could they do to you? not much, for sure. 

you spend time painting, a little hobby you picked up as a kid when studying became boring and repetitive. it was your comfort zone, something you could do for hours on end and the best part about it was that you were quite excellent with the brush. and through everything you were doing to pass time, danielle was on your mind. you missed her, you missed her more than anything and it physically pained you.

—

one night, just past the middle of the break, an owl shows up at the balcony you had told danielle about. you’re stargazing when the brown feathered bird shows up holding an envelope, dropping it on the ledge before departing with a chirp.

you quirk your brow, reaching for the envelope and opening it curiously. there’s a colorful piece of paper inside with a variety of stickers adorning it. you smile softly—maybe the first smile the whole winter. well, other than when you would catch yourself grinning while thinking about your memories shared with your friends, with danielle.

the letter reads,

hi y/n! i hope you’re doing well :)

i miss you a lot! so much. i’m back home spending time with my family, some old friends, and hanging out near the coast or the little trails. i often find myself thinking about you, if not all the time. i wish you were here right beside me. but we’ll see each other again soon!

i hope you’re doing well, tell me how oxford is! i heard it’s quite scholarly over there, haha. i told my father that you live there and he looked shocked! he seemed in awe. i really hope you’re alright, i wish i were with you. 

the main reason i sent this was because i couldn’t stop thinking about you. it feels off being without you. let me know how you’re doing, i hope this reaches you well. newcastle is pretty far from oxford, but this owl (according to a wizard i met at the post office—the magical one, of course) is quite the traveler. apparently that little guy can travel across the world in just a day! how wonderful is that?

anyway, after you’re done reading this, i hope you’ll send a response back. i miss talking to you, i miss you (as if i haven’t said it enough). let me know how your break is.

yours truly,

danielle marsh <3

p.s. there’s some pictures i took on the disposable! and i snuck a little timtam in there–an australian little treat. it’s dark chocolate, just how you like it miss slytherin ;)

a wide grin spreads across your lips as you read through, and then you read it again, and again, and again… lingering on each moment she says “i miss you.” and that’s truly because you miss her too, maybe more than she misses you.

you pull out the other items in the envelope, three pictures that all have little notes on the back. the first image is the beach, it’s beautiful and bright. it reads “my favorite place :)” on the back. 

the second image is of a town. there’s buildings and shops in sight that glow in the sun, and everything about it seems warm and comforting. on the back, it says “a lovely place for a stroll and some yummy ice cream, crepes, acai bowls—really anything sweet and delicious! they have a place that sells some wizarding food, but it’s only accessible to people like us. i went in briefly, they have chocolate frogs!”

and finally, the third image is just a picture of danielle with some slim fit jeans on, a slim fit t-shirt, and a denim hat posing with a peace sign. she’s smiling brightly, making you do the same, even chuckling. the background displays some sort of body of water, maybe a lake, and the sun is setting in the background. you can’t help but stare a little longer at her, thumb brushing over her face lightly.

“when i took this, i imagined you right there next to me. that’s why my smile is so bright.”

the maid catches you smiling at the letter, and as if it were contagious, she finds it spreading to her too.

—

your next winter break activity is in session. you take the maids and butlers by surprise by throwing on a coat and your comfiest dress pants as you tell them, “i’ll be back by the evening,” and leaving with a wave, a smile, and an odd spark in your eyes.

the first stop is your favorite library. you walk around, memories flooding in as you scan the shelves. you often frequented the romance section, always getting lost in various novels and pretending to not be enamored by the tales. you sneak a picture of the main area where the university students always studied. it’s large, beautiful, and meticulously arranged to captivate anyone at first glance. 

the next stop is a little park area that you would sketch at. it’s sunny, which is rare, so you take the chance to capture the once-in-a-blue-moon moment. the sun is a contrast to the naked trees, the lingering snow from days before, and everything that could paint the scenery mellow. it’s pretty, it’s wonderful, it’s like danielle.

you walk around and around trying to find another place, but there are too many options. you’re also a bit tired from walking all around the city, making your way through the city and its shops until the sun starts to descend slowly.

when you get back home, the maids and butlers greet you respectfully, asking questions like “do you need help with your coat?” and “how was your day, miss?” which you respond to casually. after your term at hogwarts, all this respect threw you off, especially since you’re not that prestigious in your eyes. you’re just a seventeen-year-old girl, really.

as the sun disappears, you stand at your favorite balcony looking over the city. it’s quiet, you like that. the chill of the winter tints your cheeks, nose, and ears pink as well. there’s tranquility in moments like these.

the idea hits you while the stars shine above. you reach for your digital camera, then call for a maid. she’s there to assist as fast as she can, wondering what she can do to help. you catch her completely off guard when you ask for a picture, simple as that.

“is that it miss?”

“you can call me by my first name. and yes, that’s all.” you assure, nodding at her before walking back to the balcony. “i just need it to catch the view well, and myself i suppose.”

next thing you know you’re standing by the edge, leaning against the sturdy guard. you position yourself, but hesitate a bit.

 “is this alright? i just need my waist and up—i think. do you have suggestions?”

the maid halts for a moment, then motions with her hand. “miss—ah. i mean, y/n. scoot this way a bit?” she suggests, so you scoot to the left a bit. “there. the view is much more visible like that. are you ready?”

“yes.” you answer. you offer a big, toothy smile and look at the camera. it flashes, you blink, and then you walk over. “did it turn out alright?” you question, “do i look nice?”

“y/n, you look wonderful.” she gazes at the picture in admiration, grinning to herself upon seeing your rare smile. “you have a wonderful smile.”

“is it… pretty?” there’s a lack of confidence in your question to which the maid responds with a nod.

“very beautiful, dear.”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, a sigh of relief. “that’s great.”

—

a few days later danielle is sitting on the rocking chair on her porch. there’s a vhs tape connected to her headphones, something old and nostalgic from her dad’s drawer. she’s looking out, not at anything in particular, and thinking of you.

and as if the universe read her mind, an owl stops by. it sits on her mailbox, chirping once and catching her attention immediately. she walks towards it, then grabs the envelope sitting in its beak. it hums when danielle pets it fondly, praising it before it flies away. 

(danielle still doesn’t know how it’s possible for these owls to travel so far… maybe it’s the magic?)

she sits back down where she was before, thankful for the light above her porch illuminating everything. she opens the envelope, taking out a piece of parchment and three printed photos. the corner of her lips tug upwards almost immediately. 

danielle opens the letter first, her smile widening when she sees the proper, perfect handwriting.

dear danielle,

i hope this letter finds you well. 

i hope you’re alright. i received your letters not too long ago, and they really made my night. i really appreciate that you took the time to create and send that to me. i love it. 

these days i find myself thinking of you all the time. i can’t help but miss you every second, as crazy as it sounds. we’ve only been friends for a bit, but i hope you know that you’re one of the few people i cherish the most. i appreciate you more than letters can express. 

my life isn’t too crazy. i’ve been studying, reading, and painting—a hobby of mine that i haven’t shared with you yet, i think. anyway, i just wanted to say i miss you. i already said it, but i really do. thinking of you is getting me through this break.

i hope you like the pictures i sent. oxford isn’t as exciting as australia, at least in my opinion. but there are places that i adore, and so i wanted to share them with you too. enjoy. 

yours,

y/n l/n

then danielle flips through the pictures, all while grinning like an idiot with a strangely warm flutter in her chest. she looks at the first one, a picture of a library and a note on the back that reads: my safe place. it’s huge here, and the books are lovely. i think you’d get lost here, haha.

the second picture is of some park, the sun shining beautifully in the background. on the back it says, “oxford isn’t usually sunny. i’m lucky i was able to capture this sight. the sun reminds me of you.”

and the third picture makes her eyes slightly waterline. she’s looks at you posed in your balcony with a beautiful backdrop of stars, the city in the background lit up with small dots of light from lamposts and buildings. and you. wow, you. 

danielle stares for a good moment. your cheeks and nose are a bit red, most likely from the cold. your smile cools her down when the summer breeze blows. she’s never been so captivated before, not by someone's smile, words, or anything like that.

you’re something special, danielle says silently to herself.

—

you’ve never been so excited to go back to school in your life. 

platform 9 ¾ is filled with parents and their kids bidding farewell before the next semester starts. you’d be by danielle’s side in a heartbeat, but the exchange students from abroad have to take a different type of transportation. 

haerin, however, manages to find your seating area despite not having contact with you the whole winter. she sits right in front of you in the booth, giving you a small smile. you mirror her.

both of you catch up briefly, listening to her talk about her trip to korea and the states. you tell her that you didn’t do much, just painted and walked around.

(leaving out the part about danielle and your letters. something in your chest tells you she’d tease you about it, or make some comment that makes you rethink a lot of things.)

the trip to hogwarts isn’t long, but it seems like forever in this specific moment. 

when you reach the campus, you get off quickly with haerin. you two walk beside each other, your demeanor is less intimidating and more eager. there’s a relaxation in your features that wasn’t there before, making you seem a little less like your rumors. haerin laughs when you scan the area intensely.

you don’t see danielle as everyone piles in, you don’t see her in the dining hall—somehow—but you do run into her once all the ‘welcome-back’ ceremonies are finished. the two of you catch each other in sight simultaneously, visibly lighting up before rushing over to hug one another. 

danielle crashes into you, her arms wrapping around tightly. “oh my god! you’re alive! i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, danielle.” you mutter into her hair. she smells like violets, daisies, vanilla, and everything nice. 

—

the rest of the year is fine. it’s great. better than great.

it’s not just because heeseung is out of your life, barely making eye contact with you or even interacting unless it’s against his will. but the fact of the matter is: you and danielle are glued to the hip, seriously. you’re always with one another, especially during your classes and really anytime that’s not spent away. she rambles, you listen. you stare, she still rambles. it’s a routine, it could be a lifestyle for you, that’s for sure.

throughout your year, there’s something that wasn’t there before. or maybe it was, but just not palpable like now.

haerin is the first to notice. she catches your stares while the teacher is talking, how your fingers somehow end up twirling a piece of her hair without thinking, how soft your gaze gets with danielle. she notices everything. 

it’s not just you either. danielle stares at you like you’re the world, looks at you like you’re more precious than anything in the universe. she’s touchy too, in general but especially with you. she also looks at your lips from time to time, compliments you differently than the others, and there’s even moments that are really questionable. there’s something there, something more than friendship in the air. 

haerin fully realizes it when the class is outside to meet a hippogriff. on the way there, haerin catches danielle plucking a flower from the ground and putting it in the pocket of your robe. you do the same, but instead of placing the flower in her robe, you brush her hair behind her ear and place it right there.

a lightbulb shines above haerin’s head: you two are in love.

—

“y/n,” haerin asks one afternoon as you walk down the corridor. “how do you feel about danielle?”

“oh, she’s lovely.” you mutter softly. “why?”

“how do you feel about her.”

“haerin, what?” you raise a brow, looking at her skeptically. 

“what do you feel while you’re around her?”

you find yourself blushing and looking down at the ground. “um. well, happy? i don’t get why this is—”

“what else? i know there’s more.”

“haerin—” you start, but sigh. “she’s nice. i like being around her. i don’t know what you’re getting from this.”

haerin stops in her tracks, making you turn around when you’re two steps ahead. she’s giving you this scrutinizing gaze, looking through your skin, past your bones, into your heart. 

“you like danielle.” she states. “you love her.”

you’re quick to defend yourself. “what kind of assumption is that?” you scoff, shaking your head. “you’ve gone mad… haerin. let’s get back to the—”

with a swift movement, haerin uses her wand to cast a spell on you. it makes you shift over to the wall, your back pressing against it harshly with added pressure. “don’t give me that.”

“what’s gotten—”

“you deserve to revel in these feelings.” haerin says, stepping closer. “i’m sick and tired of you ignoring things like this. first it’s being friends, then it’s opening up, and now? y/n, you two are such stark contrasts that it only makes it all the reason for completing each other.” 

you shiver, and so does your breath. haerin’s noticeably shorter than you, but it feels like she’s towering over you with her stern tone and serious look. you gulp. she’s not wrong, when has she ever been? it’s sudden, out of nowhere, and really shaking you up. it takes a while for you to process.

“so what if i’m in love with her?” you nearly whisper. “my blood is tainted, poisoned, and undeserving. being friends with danielle is enough. i don’t need to be pursuing further, i’ll taint her too. she’s pure, sweet, and everything i’m not. i can’t do that to her haerin. it doesn’t matter what i feel.”

“well it doesn’t matter what you think of the matter.” haerin pushes her wand right on your sternum, making you stiff in place. “stuff like this isn’t avoidable. it’s inevitable.”

you bite down and tense your jaw before breaking eye contact with haerin, feeling defeated. 

—

the crowd is roaring while gryffindor and slytherin dual on the field. it’s a highly anticipated match since the rivalry is tense, so each and every house is invested. danielle seems to be distracted from the fact that one of the slytherin’s had just scored, because she’s watching you display that small, signature smile that occurs every time slytherin gains a point.

minji and hanni are next to her, somehow managing to sit with a different house with the help of hyein. danielle’s attention is on something completely different, which is noticeable when she doesn’t cheer when everyone else does or looks on edge when things get heated. her friends catch on quickly, exchanging a knowing look as they lean forward, their expressions mixed with curiosity and mischief. 

“are we watching the same game?” minji asks right into danielle’s ear. “because it seems like something—someone else has gotten your attention.”

hanni laughs, nudging danielle by the shoulder. “you’ve had your eyes on slytherin’s keeper the whole game.”

“i— no!” danielle responds defensively. “i’m not. the game is so… entertaining.” she adds, trying to lie her way out.

“who scored last?” minji asks, to which danielle responds with a clueless look. she opens her mouth to speak, but nothing slips from her lips. she frowns.

“right…” hanni teases. “you’re in love with her, aren’t you?” 

“i’m not in love with her!” danielle responds, shaking her head. she rolls her eyes before insisting, “let’s just watch the games. you guys are being fools.”

“uh huh.” minji snickers.

throughout the game, danielle really tries to focus on whatever is going on. heeseung is floating around or whatever, nearly scoring and then not. one of the gryffindor’s, jungwon, scores and you look all angry when he does so. it’s mildly attractive to danielle, and it shouldn’t be. but the way you bite your lip out of frustration and fly back to your position—yeah, it’s got her attention back on you for the rest of the game again.

…

after the game, danielle meets you down near the field. she’s with minji, hanni, and hyein, who’s found haerin along the way. 

you emerge from the exit, your uniform slightly battered, your hair ruffled, and skin shined with a thin layer of sweat. there’s something about it that makes danielle’s knees slightly weaker. you make eye contact with her then, the exhaustion in your features slipping away and a more relaxed, but still stoic, expression on your face. your lips nearly curl into a smile.

“great game!” danielle beams, walking over to you.

“i could’ve done better.” you sigh, disappointed by the loss. gryffindor won by a mere ten points, a score that you nearly prevented. “it was alright at best.”

“don’t be so harsh on yourself. you’ll get it next time.”

“yeah, for sure. we’re going against hufflepuff. there’s no way we’ll win.”

“hey!” she playfully punches your shoulder, making you laugh quietly. “you only won by twenty points last time.”

“and we’ve always won against you guys.” you say brazenly. 

“whatever.”

“right. well, i’ll see you later. i’m gross at the moment.” you mumble, running a hand through your hair and the action itself makes danielle blush. “bye.”

“bye.” danielle bids farewell with a smile. she turns back to see her friends—including haerin—giving her a knowing look. there’s a heat in her cheeks that’s visible, earning a pair of raised brows from minji and hanni.

she’s not beating any allegations.

—

by the time your sixth year ends, the feelings you two harbor are almost unbearable. you can’t stop thinking of her, glancing at her lips, absentmindedly playing with her hair—and too much more. it’s clear as day to your friends that there’s something more, but you can’t do that to her.

danielle’s been fond of tracing patterns into your skin during lectures—under the table of course, where not a single person will notice. you get used to the feeling of her fingers on you since she’s so touchy. you also learn that the dip of where your neck starts is danielle’s favorite place to lean on. its really overwhelming, this ‘friendship’ that’s been blossoming into something dangerous.

and what’s more dangerous is that danielle doesn’t forget her suggestion from before winter break. she says to you one day during a group trip to hogsmeade, while you’re trailing together on your own away from the group, “come to australia with me.”

it takes a moment for you to respond, but you eventually do so. “i thought you would’ve forgotten about that.” you wish she had, even if you certainly hadn’t.

“never. i’ve been thinking about it all semester.” she admits bashfully. “i want you to come.”

“danielle…” you trail off, kicking a stone on the ground. should you be able to do so? or would your blood taint the ground that her sun shines on. the ground that she shines on. “i, i don’t know.”

“what’s stopping you? is it that person you mentioned”

it’s a lot. you want to spill everything out: the conflicted feelings, how shameful you are to be you, and everything else that’s scattered throughout your mind and tormenting you. maybe it’s internal, maybe everything is just in your head. being with her at every location she sent in the envelope sounds like a dream. still, something is gnawing at you from the inside. “there’s… there’s nothing.”

“then come.” she says it like you have no choice. you really don’t have one when she gives you that sincere, longing look. 

her eyes seem to shine, glowing under the rays that brighten her features. you can’t help but sigh, “alright.”

—

the end of your sixth year is a bit more overwhelming, much more emotional for sure. everyone is focused on what they can do for their future, their plans for the new year, which means everyone’s bracing for big changes. 

your friend group bids their farewells, wishing you a wonderful summer and hopefully for everyone to meet at some point before the upperclassmen’s last year. danielle is at your side whole time, the farthest she would be is arms length while she’s hugging everyone before walking off with you.

you’ve bought the tickets for the flight back to newcastle, which almost didn’t happen because danielle nearly fought you for it. you had to explain to her that it wouldn’t dent your pockets—your parents’ technically—multiple times before she calmed down. 

the two of you board together, blending in with the muggles and catching a few older wizards here and there. danielle gets the window seat and you sit in the middle. the universe also seems to adore you, making it so that there’s no third person in the row. just you and danielle. 

the plane starts to shift, then it rolls forward, faster, and starts to take off. 

…

everything around you is muted as if the world has lost it’s color. you turn around trying to make sense of everything, but your environment is still like an old, faded photograph. it seems like you’re in the middle of a scene, not part of it but watching like an invisible bystander. you feel powerless, you can’t move.

a woman appears first, her silhouette framed against the backdrop of a coastal town. there’s a baby girl in her arms, the expression on her face is a mix of resolve and heartbreak. you blink and the scene changes immediately, your father—or at least a younger version of him—standing tall and cold. his voice is sharp as he dismisses the woman and her child.

“this,” his eyes dart between the woman and her child. “cannot go on. we’re cutting ties, no questions asked. my relations with a muggle like you can’t be revealed.”

his words sting even though they’re not directed at you, and the finality in his tone sends a chill down your spine.

the woman doesn’t argue. she clutches her daughter tighter, walking away without looking back. even in your place, you can feel the weight of what was left unsaid, the bitterness and pain that she’s carrying. your father shows no remorse, watching until they disappear, then turning and walking back into the shadows.

the scene shifts abruptly, and now you see the girl. she’s older, around eleven, standing at the entrance at hogwarts in her hufflepuff robes. her dark eyes are identical to yours, and right now they’re filled with wonder and nerves. her mother’s encouragement echoes faintly in the air, but it’s her determination that shines the brightest. she strides forward, her head held high, and you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride.

time skips again. the girl grows up before your eyes, excelling in her studies, earning her prefect badge, and finding joy in the company of a slytherin girl whose hand she holds with quiet affection. yet, there’s a shadow that follows her—a secret she keeps buried deep. there are times when she’s looking into the mirror, her dark eyes staring back, and you can sense her bitterness toward the man who abandoned her, the man whose features passed onto hers. she has only heard of this man from her mother, seen him in old pictures and articles, but still, there’s a strong resentment.

soon, she’s at the corridor at hogwarts. it’s eerily quiet, the torches casting a light that flickers on the stone walls. your father is there, older now, but no less imposing. the girl rounds the corner, her robes swishing softly. when they lock eyes, both sets widening at the same time, the resemblance is striking—so evident that it momentarily stuns them both.

your father asks, “who are you?” his voice low and sharp.

her response is firm, the kind of tone that eliminates any doubt. “i think you know the answer to that.”

the silence between them is suffocating, and your father’s face hardens as if refusing to acknowledge what’s in front of him—who’s standing right before him. he turns on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving the girl standing alone. her shoulders straighten, and though her expression stays calm, you can sense the hurt radiating off her.

the dream shits once more. the girl is older now, maybe in her early twenties, smiling softly as she tends to a row of vibrant plants in a greenhouse alongside her fiance–the same slytherin from before. it warms your heart just a bit. they work together easily, the love they’ve built together and partnership palpable in the way they move around each other.

but then, a wizarding newspaper flutters into view, the headline catching her eye: “l/n’s revolutionize wizarding curriculum with bold new reforms.” as she studies the accompanying photo, her gaze sharpens. your face—from when you were around twelve or so—stares back at her, animated within the frame. your dark eyes, so much like hers and your father’s, flicker with life. the girl’s breath catches.

again, the scene dissolves. you look around to see a large estate, your family’s home in oxford. the woman stands at the door, hesitant but determined, her wand tucked securely into her coat pocket. she knocks, and the sound reverberates like thunder on a stormy night. 

you’re pulled closer now, the dream drawing you into the moment. your point-of-view is switched, now you’re transported to a memory you remember in fragments. you’re thirteen and waiting for the butler to open the door, curious as to who’s here so abruptly. your parents are in the dining room, so they don’t see the woman walking through. she looks curious, hurt, and when her eyes land on you—there’s a glint in her eyes.

“i think i’m your sister.” is the first thing she says. she says it as if sighing from relief, like dots have connected into one big picture. 

she walks closer, you hesitate and step back. there’s something in her look that reassures you, gives you a sense of comfort and security. the butler quickly rushes over and grabs her wrist, viewing her as a threat until you motion for him to back down. 

“that’s not possible,” but in the moment, you really think it is.

before she can add on, your father appears. he’s seething. 

…

you jolt awake, your chest tight and heart racing. you place your palm over your head, shut your eyes, and attempt to calm yourself down. you stay in place as the revelation presses down on you, the pieces of your family’s secret suddenly so much clearer. 

you figured out about your secret sister in that moment during the dream, remembering it much more clear now. you remember your dad scolding her, nearly hitting her until she draws her wand out. you shiver remembering everything. 

she’s the person you should have apologized to as soon as she was sent out. you remember the longing and care in her look when she turned back to see you one more time, then left without another word. you wanted to run out after her, apologize for not doing anything, and simply talk to her. that woman is your sister, the sister you played bystander for while your father yelled the most unorthodox curses at her. 

now you’re on the plane back to where she lives, which you only know because she managed to slip a small note before she left. an owl delivered something that same night, only a note with a number and an address. you rub your face with one hand, realizing that the other is occupied.

looking down just a bit you catch sight of danielle. she’s fallen asleep next to you, her breathing slow and steady, her head resting on your shoulder comfortably. her arm is linked with yours loosely, and you instinctively move it to hold her hand again. her touch is calming, making you forget your dream just a bit. a surge of confidence courses through you, urging you to press a light kiss on her head.

you fall asleep quickly after that.

—

you land without any detailed dreams. danielle stretches her arms before you two wait to leave your seats and grab your luggage. she walks down the aisle first and you follow her out, hands meeting one another once you’ve stepped into the airport.

shortly after (almost too quickly) you meet her parents. they’re bright and cheery just like her—parents beaming like this had been foreign to you. they greet you kindly, hugging you as if they’d seen you before. you melt into it, tears welling. 

the drive back isn’t too long and you enjoy every second of it. danielle’s pointing out some of her favorite aspects of the scenery, sharing some short stories, and her parents start a simple, yet lovely, conversation that everyone joins in on. you’ve never felt so at ease.

when you get to her house (danielle had to fight you (again) to convince you to stay there. you argued that you could spend the whole time at some hotel, but danielle did not approve at all) she leads you in happily. she leads you to her room which sparks the revelation that you’re going to be staying in her room. most likely sleeping in the same bed as her. your heart rate speeds up. 

she helps you with your luggage, setting it down in the corner before flopping onto her mattress tiredly.

“it’s so great to be back.” she sighs joyfully. “come lay with me.” and you do so, setting yourself down delicately since you’re terrified of disturbing anything. 

“we’re sleeping… together?”

“yeah, on my bed.” danielle turns her head to meet yours. “it’s a queen, so it’ll fit us wonderfully.”

for sure, but there’s a light hunch that tells you danielle is going to be in your space. you’re not sure if you can handle that while conscious.

“it’s comfortable. your room, your family, um, everything.” you mutter.

“that’s how it is here.” she mumbles quietly, staring at your lips dangerously. you bite down before looking away, getting up and examining her room to save yourself from the strange feeling in your stomach.

“your room is really nice. it’s so you.” you say as you look over to plants on her windowsill with leaves that spill onto her shelf. it’s quite saturated, bright, and lovely. it really is her. the scent of it is also just like her—sweet, floral, and soothing. “makes mine seem a little dull,” you add, picturing the monotonous space for yourself back home.

“i bet your room is lovely.” she argues while sitting back up. “hey, let’s go eat something. i think my mom saved us some yogurt and fruit. we can make something yummy for that! oh, i wonder if we have granola…” she’s already up and going, urging you to follow her out.

—

time spent with her is extremely calming. there’s a unique peace that comes with following her around, conversing freely, and staring at her face when she’s not looking. the thud in your heart is always banging against your chest when she’s near, always warming your cheeks up. you try not to mind.

(you focus on the way danielle interacts with the cashier, handing her a few bills and smiling from ear to ear. she compliments the cashier, spreading her contagious bubbly energy. everyone is smiling: danielle, the cashier, and you. 

danielle has this weird thing where she can light up the room by just breathing in it. she steps in and it’s sunshine and rainbows.)

but even through these moments there’s always a lingering weight. the dream you had on the plane still sticks, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t searched for the address on the sticky note you received from your sister. it’s a twenty-minute drive from danielle’s place and closer to the beach, practically on it actually. the proximity keeps you awake at night even when danielle sleepily drapes her arm over your body while unconscious.

one night, when danielle’s closer than before—you notice that she’s always closer with each night, her head resting on your arm and hand brushing against your forearm this time—you’re unable to sleep. you keep your eyes closed for the longest time, try counting sheep, thinking of the good, and still, you’re fully awake. it’s terrible since the sleepless nights start to seep into the day, your energy lower with every twenty-four hours that pass. danielle notices, but you make excuses saying it’s the time difference despite adjusting the second day in.

the real problem is that your sister is here. you’re up late at night thinking on what to say to her, how to apologize, and whether you should see her or not. 

your curiosity gets the best of you.

you slip away from danielle slowly, replacing yourself with two of her pillows before heading out. the door creaks and so does the floor, but everyone seems to be deep asleep. and so, you head out the back door, call a cab that surprisingly is still available at two in the morning, and head to the address you’ve memorized from reading it over and over and over.

…

the cab dropped you off quicker than the gps said it would. the house in front of you is on the smaller side, perfect for a family of three or four (if the two are willing to share a room). the wind brushes through the greenery that decorates the house, emphasizing the beauty of it. 

you walk up the steps, though not without hesitating, and stop at the doormat. you raise your fist to knock lightly, second guessing because one: it’s late. and two: you’re terrified. your heart is beating out of your chest and not in the way that it does when danielle’s around, you might hurl.

but before you can even move your hand, the door opens. a woman appears in a tank top and shorts, the same woman from your dream.

“you’re actually here,” she looks at you in shock, though there’s a sense of relief, maybe joy even. “you have dad’s eyes.” she says lightheartedly. 

your lips part as if to say something, but you can’t. you stare at her, she has dad’s eyes too. she has a lot more than just his eyes. there’s also a youth to her features, dark hair tied up into a lazy bun, and a face that screams ‘family.’ there’s also tattoos on her skin, small ones of plants, and others that you can’t make out in the dark. you also notice that she’s a bit shorter than you, maybe shorter than danielle.

“come in,” she says, opening the door wider and gesturing with her hand. “it's chilly this time of the year, especially at night. our seasons are flipped compared to europe’s.”

you nod, walking inside. she turns on a light and the earthy tones of the house are all visible now. the light is warm, dim, and highlights her features more as she sits down on the brown couch. you opt for the singular seat diagonal from her. 

“tea?” she asks, to which you shake your head. she smiles softly, examining you close. “you’re not much of a talker, are you?”

“i just… don’t know what to say.” you admit, your voice low. “how did you know i’d be here?”

“i had a dream.” she starts, “you were in it. you were the main character actually. i was a bystander as i watched you roam around newcastle with this girl, and then i saw you on the way here. dreams are magical like that. everything is.”

you nod, taking everything in. you still feel stiff, but not out of place.

“do you remember me?” she asks.

“i do.”

“that’s a relief. i wish i’d gotten the chance to talk to you more before… father intervened.”

“i’m sorry.” you suddenly say, feeling helpless. “i should’ve done something. i wanted to. i tried to push that moment down and i just couldn’t. it used to linger in my head and mock me. even while i was here i couldn’t sleep knowing you were here. i’m sorry, i should’ve stepped in—”

“hey, hey.” she reaches over to pat your knee, then stands. “come with me to the kitchen, i’ll make you some tea.”

now you two are in the kitchen. she’s leaning against the counter while pouring some hot water into a mug with chamomile in it. she hands it to you, you take it and stare at the water. she sips, then continues.

“don’t be sorry. it’s not your fault. there wasn’t anything you could’ve done anyway. you were young and it was all abrupt.”

“i wanted to run after you. i just wanted to talk to you even for a bit, but i couldn’t find the confidence to.”

“and that’s okay.” she assures, sipping again. “your father is azazel l/n. his first name is evil itself.” she says half-jokingly. “speaking of names, i never knew yours. it’s funny, kind of, how i have a sister and know nothing about her. not even her name.”

“it’s y/n.” you state plainly, sipping on your tea for the first time. 

you’ve known that you had a sister ever since that moment, even your father couldn’t deny it. you had asked him who the girl was and if she really was your sibling, to which he responded with a blunt “it’s not a matter you should focus on,” which basically meant “yes.”

“beautiful name.” she says. “my mother named me after a flower that can bloom at night.”

“primrose?” 

“close! it’s jasmine, although i’m impressed with your guess.” she giggles while looking at you with a love in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. “my mom named me after it because she really likes the tea, but also because even in darker moments, i can still bloom.” 

“that… that’s really beautiful.” you respond with admiration. “i um, i had a dream on the plane about you. i know it sounds weird but, i don’t know. i think your name suits you very well from what i’ve seen.”

she smiles then. you catch yourself grinning just a little bit too.

the rest of the hour is spent catching up. your sister asks the questions, you answer. the two of you find yourselves back on the couch sitting next to each other now. she’s reminiscing back on her years at hogwarts, laughing about how quick the sorting hat was to put her in hufflepuff. her radiant energy is so similar to danielle’s that it’s almost uncanny. she tells you about her time growing up as a muggle and slowly learning she has something else in her blood. she tells you about your father, her mother, and everything outside and in between. she tells you a great amount.

but there’s something different in her expression when she starts to talk about her wife. her smile grows, she relaxes into the cushion, and her tone is much more… adoring.

“we met during our second year. i almost ran into her with a broom and she got real mad at me.” she laughs, shaking her head. the moonlight’s rays seep through the windows and reveal the faint blush on her cheeks. “i did everything i could to apologize to her, or at least get her to smile. she was so blunt and, well, slytherin back in our earlier years. i got through to her eventually, and we became really good friends. there was a terrible divide with the houses back then, so it shocked everyone.”

“there was?”

“yup. and this leads to when i realized i was in love with her. she was so different, i mean, all the slytherin’s i knew would kind of bully me. i was strong, so i endured it easily. one time a slytherin was real mean to me, so mean that my wife stepped in and gave that guy a good punch to the face. she looked back at me then and i realized how much she meant to me.”

“was that it?” you question with a curiosity that wasn’t in your previous replies. “what else made you realize.”

“i think i’ve always been in love with her, maybe since i nearly crashed into her.” she chuckles. there’s stars in her eyes and she sounds like a romance lead. “you don’t really realize it until, well, it hits you like a bludger. my friends noticed before me though, there’s a look that gives it away.”

“a look?”

“yeah. like heart eyes in those cartoons. hey, you seem real interested in this.” she giggles, then turns her head as she sits up with a realization. “are you in love with someone?”

you blush. “what? i don’t— i’m—”

she notices how easily you’re flustered upon hearing the question. you’ve only met briefly and have shared your life stories in the quickest way possible, maybe that one is a little more personal. so she saves you from short-circuiting. her question is answered with your reaction anyway. 

“i’m only teasing.” she says, yawning. “hey, it’s late. i can drive you back to where you’re staying. is it a hotel?”

“oh, no. i’m staying at a friend's place.”

“ah, okay. let’s get you back, it’s four and you’re still awake.”

—

your sister stops right in front of danielle’s. on the way back she’s asking about your studies, your friends, and a lot about you since she had talked about herself more at her house. you answer casually and yet your sister seems amazed. you laugh for the first time and your sister revels in it. your heart feels heavy with something you’ve never felt before. you assume that it’s the feeling of what it feels like to be loved unconditionally, with no expectations or anything, just love that exists because you’re family.

“hey, tomorrow—or, well, today—come over to shop. it’s down the road from my house, a ten minute walk down the right. maybe less than two kilometers? just walk down, and when you see a ton of plants you’ll know where you’re at.”

“i will. i’ll have to ask my friend, i think we’re hiking or something until late afternoon.”

“that’s perfect then!” she beams. “bring something to swim in, the beach is a short walk from there. bonding time, you know?”

“yeah, got it.” you mutter. “i’ll see you.”

“see you, my little sister.”

you give her a hug and she smells exactly like her name—jasmine. she bids you farewell and you do the same, then head towards the back of the house to come in the same way you left.

when you reach danielle’s room again, the door creaks just as it did before. you cringe at the sound, which is much louder than before. danielle shifts just barely, but it seems like she’s still asleep. you get into bed, moving the pillows you used as a replacement and slipping back to the same position you were in before.

“where were you?” danielle says softly, sleepily. “the pillows aren’t as comfy as you.”

shit. you’re caught off guard, feeling your throat close up a bit. “i, um.” you try to find words, but it’s hard to explain years of a secret all while danielle pulls you closer like you’re her teddy bear. “i went to see my sister.” you say, because what else is there to say. 

danielle stays silent for a bit before snuggling even closer. “okay.” she murmurs against your skin. “tell me more tomorrow.”

“okay danielle.”

—

tomorrow comes, you’re in the car with her parents and squished with her and her sister in the back. her parents hum along to the song on the radio and her dad talks about how he wanted to buy it on vinyl when he was a teenager.

during the hike you often get alone time with danielle. she doesn’t question the whole sister ordeal and instead takes as many pictures she can of you, but eventually she does mention it.

“so, you really have a sister?” she questions as she takes a picture of the view, looking into the screen of the digital camera to take a look.

“yeah.” you reply while staring out into the distance. “she invited us over to her shop, if you’re willing to go with me this evening.”

danielle looks up and right in your eye. “i’m willing to go anywhere with you.”

—

the walk from your sisters house to her shop is just above ten minutes, which gives you enough time to explain the sudden information about you having a sister. danielle frowns hearing some of the parts, especially anything including your dad, but smiles when she hears about the reconnection—and how much you look up to her despite only knowing her very briefly.

the building is surrounded by plants, there’s even plants decorating the exterior as well. the sign on the door reads ‘closed,’ but when you approach and knock twice, jasmine is right there to open it for you.

“there you are!” she greets, then looks at danielle. “you must be y/n’s friend, yeah?”

“yup! i’m danielle, nice to meet you! she told me about you on the way.”

“wonderful! come in, come in.” your sister directs you two inside. both of you are immediately struck with awe upon seeing the beauty of the interior. it’s green, bright, and smells wonderful. there’s a variety of plants that danielle’s eyes sparkle at, she even makes that high-pitched sigh she usually does when she sees something cute or cool. your sister smiles, nudging danielle. “you can explore all you want, we’re closed. there are wizarding plants in the back portion of the place if you want to check them out, but be careful of course.”

danielle nods eagerly, it’s cute. you grin as you witness her curiosity get the best of her, watching her happily.

your sister notices this, narrowing her eyes slightly while a subtle smile tugs at her. 

it isn’t long before you meet her wife, who’s taller than your sister but still shorter than you. she has softer features but more serious energy, a slight contrast to your sister. she greets you warmly as if you’d met her already. and then you all head out, but not before danielle snaps a few pictures of both muggle and wizardly plants.

your sisters wife luna (her name a perfect pair for your sisters) shares a few stories about your sister, herself, and really just anything. she talks less than your sister, but everything she says is worth listening to. you all find yourselves at the beach not too long later, setting down a blanket before your sister runs off with her wife hand in hand. 

it’s then that danielle urges you two to do the same, grabbing your hand and pulling you up on your feet. you giggle before running toward the water, with her, your feet sinking into the sand where the waves brush over. danielle’s talking about how nice the water and weather are, or something. you really can’t tell because she looks gorgeous in the moment. you can’t believe she just looks like that without trying. 

“tired?’ your sister asks as she sits down next to you on the towel. you two are watching as luna takes pictures for danielle, helping her with poses and timing each jump before capturing the moment. “you should get lots of sleep tonight.” your sister advises.

“i will.” you respond, your gaze still on danielle.

your shoulders relax, your eyes soften, and you smile to yourself. jasmine nudges you, making you hum in response.

“you’re in love with her, i can see it in your eyes.”

“what?”

“that’s the same look i gave and still give my wife.” she chuckles, turning back to look at the two. “she’s just as in love with you.”

“you don’t know that.”

“i can tell just by how you two interact. she reminds me of how i was back then.” your sister sighs. “and she’s looking at you now,” you turn to look over, and your sister is right. danielle is looking right at you, walking up and waving for you to come over. “go take a picture with her.”

“do you really think she likes me too?”

“she doesn’t like you, y/n. she loves you. i don’t think just anyone brings their friend over for the summer—well, winter—back at their home. she adores you, i can see it in her eyes too.”

you give her a skeptical look, pursing your lips and sighing before you get up. you give your sister one last remark, “i trust you.”

she laughs. “i’m glad.”

—

after the sun completely sets, your sister and her wife tap out early. they tell you they’ll wait back at their shop and say they had to clean up a bit—but you can tell there’s another reason they left you alone in the look they exchange. 

now it’s just you and danielle sitting on the towel covering the sand. your hands prop yourselves up and you two are staring towards where the sky meets the sea. it’s a little cold, so you give danielle the light jacket you brought. 

“i’m really glad you came, even if you weren’t a hundred percent sure you wanted to.”

“i— what?”

“you hesitated. you always do.” she says plainly, crossing one leg over the other. “but i’m glad you went through for me. i appreciate it. you mean the world to me, you know?”

“you mean the universe to me, danielle.”

“yeah?” she questions, turning to look over at you, her eyes glossy with the moonlight.

you nod. your fingers crawl over just barely to meet hers. “i just, i think about a lot of things and most of the time it’s you. you’re someone i’ve grown to care about a lot. i don’t think i’ve met anyone like you.” you begin, voice soft, fragile, and sincere. “you made me realize that there’s a lot of good in this world. there’s a lot of good in my life that i never knew could be there.”

“there’s good around us all the time. i’ve always been surrounded by that, but when i ran into you i knew there was ‘great.’”

you chuckle, then. it’s a weird statement, but so sentimental that your heart aches a bit. 

“y/n.”

“yeah?”

“i always thought you were really cute.” danielle is staring down at the sand now, growing shy. “you’re the prettiest person i’ve ever met, inside and out.”

“i think that way about you too.”

“really?” she asks.

you nod. 

“danielle.”

she hums.

“i love you.” you breathe out, “i love you more than anything.”

danielle responds by leaning in for a kiss. all you can imagine is doing this over and over again for the rest of your life—her lips on yours, hand on your cheek, and scent overwhelming your senses. for the first time, there’s not a single doubt in your mind, nothing to make you spiral, just the thought of her and her only. 

she pulls away to smile at you. a small smile, which is rare for her. but this one is a little toothy, and similar to a warm embrace. you lean in again, then, and kiss her once more.

“i love you too.” she says while her hand slides down to the base of your neck and yours tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “i’ve loved you since the first time i caught you smiling in the library.

danielle eagerly presses her lips against you again, albeit a bit more aggressively this time. her arms wrap around your neck and she keeps you close, your forearms holding both of your weights as you kiss and kiss again. and this is what love is, you think. it’s the prettiest girls lips on yours, her wavy hair in your hands, her muttering something adoring in between kisses, and everything else that happens with danielle. 

—

you spend the rest of the break with your sister, her wife, and most importantly danielle. the two of you frequent their shop, the beach, and danielle’s porch. 

the porch is freeing, you spill secrets and confessions that have been sitting inside of you waiting to be released. you tell danielle that you don’t really care about whatever your last name holds, about your passion for painting, and how you want to live a relaxed life. nothing big like your father. you tell her about how the sorting hat nearly sorted you into hufflepuff, and how you managed to get sorted into slytherin all because of your determination to make your father proud. you tell her about regrets, worries, goals—everything. and danielle listens, she listens to all of it while her hand is linked with yours, or her head is on your shoulder. or both.

danielle’s there for you and you’re there for her.

then the break ends, your days of freedom and messing around—and nights spent unable to part from one another, hands roaming and lips puffy. you two bid farewell to danielle’s family and yours, then head back on the plane back to hogwarts. you don’t have a strange dream this time. everything you’ve been spiraling about isn’t a worry anymore. you’re content. you’re happy. you’re ready to face anything that’s in your way.

—

your last year of hogwarts starts off with your friends pretending to be surprised that you and danielle finally confessed. haerin teases you, but not nearly as much as hyein and hanni. they especially tease you when danielle is caught giving you a peck on the cheek before and after classes when you two have to part ways. it’s grueling sometimes, but who cares.

heeseung is out of the picture. he ignores you completely, but there’s a slight air of jealousy that comes off of him. you couldn’t care less, not when danielle is always at your side.

and time flies quickly, the end of your last year coming to an end. hyein is devastated that her friends are off to the real world, but of course you all assure her it will be alright. the six of you spend your time goofing around here and there, sneaking out, hiding in corridors before the janitor catches you—just living. you never would’ve guessed that you’d make it here, that you’d branch out and turn out completely opposite to how you started.

when you graduate, you cut ties with your parents completely. they’ve never supported you unless it was in their favor. of course, they were furious. they scolded you, expressed their disappointment and everything else. you simply took it and left with your things, moving on with your life without them. your life with danielle and people who loved you unconditionally.

—

—

—

you’re nineteen now and living with your sister in the spare room of her house. your room is cluttered with various art supplies—acrylic paint, oil paint and pastels, canvas’, pretty much everything you could find in the craft store. fortunately, you’ve made a good amount of money with your hobby, selling a few pieces online and at flea markets by the beach. a few of your works make their way over to your sister's building, hanging above tulips and beside mandrakes.

your days are peaceful, with no OWLs to prepare for, and nothing heavy on your shoulders. the most you worry about is figuring out which movie to watch with your girlfriend or what you should cook for dinner on certain nights—scratch that, the biggest worry is definitely the possibility of the tentacula in your sisters backyard snapping out of nowhere.

but really, you’ve spent your time painting, creating, and loving. everyday is spent with danielle, you make sure of it. she has her own mug in your sisters place, a signature side on your bed, and the biggest space taking up your heart.

“i just remembered something,” you mumble to danielle. the only sound heard is your breaths mingling together while you two are tangled in danielle’s bed. 

“what?”

you laugh lightly. “remember that rumor about me pushing a girl? i think it spread during our third year or something.”

danielle’s drifting off to sleep, her head on your chest, blinking slowing down—but she still hums in response. 

“it wasn’t a girl i pushed—it was heeseung.”

you feel danielle giggling against you before she shifts over to press a lazy kiss on your neck. “that’s so dumb.” she mutters almost incoherently.

“yeah. i just remembered it randomly.” you respond, the drowsiness getting to you. “am i keeping you up?”

“no,” she sounds like an alarm had just annoyed her awake. “i like when you talk like this.”

“you like it so much that you’re about to pass out?”

“mm.” she sighs, shifting one more time before pausing completely, the only movement being her heart against her chest. 

how this happened is still a blur, your time with danielle and her charm that reeled you in (maybe she casted a spell on you, you think. but then you think again: she is the spell). but when your days end like this, with her sprawled over you; there’s no one else that could bewitch you like her.

[yaniluvs]

“nerds don't date , right?” ⎯ how to lose a bet and your heart in seven days.

[ 정인 ] ✷ ‎. . things just get more interesting when you're fake-dating the hot nerd and are involved in a bet with him.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , forced proximity , classmates to lovers , uni au , fake dating , skz ensemble . 64OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. suggestive , as of now . ┆ 📹 ⋮ a y.jg mini series .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihi >< so like, part two hehehehhehehe. this turned out to be literally double the wc from the previous one..... oh and i just crossed 8OO followers???? what???? like two posts ago i crossed 7OO, oh good lord, thank you so much!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

read the previous chapter here.

you had never seen jeongin this stressed in your uni year.

it had been barely a day since the dinner, and he was already acting like his life was spiraling out of control. not that you blamed him—you were a handful, after all. but still, the man looked like he was fighting for survival, while you?

you were thriving.

not only were you fake-dating him in front of his family, but thanks to him, you also had the perfect bet to keep things interesting.

and now? now, you were at the usual café on campus, sitting comfortably with your group—felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho—while absolutely basking in the aftermath of your deal with jeongin.

the blonde leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "so let me get this straight," he began, voice amused.

"you made a bet with the yang jeongin—topper, nerd, absolute try-hard—where you get to flirt with him for three whole months, and if he falls for you, you win?"

you grinned, stirring your latte lazily. "mhm."

ryujin raised a brow. "and if you lose?"

you waved a dismissive hand. "then he gets to ignore me forever, i guess."

yeji snorted. "as if he'd actually do that. boy’s definitely gonna lose."

minho, who had been silently observing all this time, sipped his americano before finally speaking. "you're really confident, huh?"

you flashed him a smirk. "min, have you met me? of course, i'm confident. i know he’s gonna fall for me. i learn from the best, you know."

felix grinned. "well, duh. everyone loves you."

yeji smirked. "hyunjin and jisung sure do."

ryujin laughed. "oh yeah, didn’t hyunjin say you were literally his type?"

you shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "maybe."

felix gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "oh my god. is this why jeongin is acting so feral? is he jealous?"

"no, he’s probably just pissed that i exist."

minho scoffed. "that’ll change soon enough."

"exactly," you said smugly. "so, obviously, i’m winning this bet. there’s no way i’m falling first."

your friends exchanged looks, all of them barely holding back their very obvious amusement.

"sure," yeji said, lips twitching.

"of course," ryujin agreed.

minho sipped his drink again. "i totally believe you."

felix just grinned. "this is gonna be fun."

meanwhile.

jeongin had never been this mentally exhausted in his life.

one dinner. one stupid dinner. that was all it was supposed to be.

now? now he was fake-dating y/n in front of his entire family and locked in a three-month bet that would undoubtedly ruin him.

and to make things worse? jisung, seungmin, hyunjin, aeri, and yunah were not helping.

"bro," hyunjin was saying, leaning against the café booth with a stupid grin, "you’re done for."

"over. finished." jisung added, looking way too entertained.

jeongin shot them both a glare. "i am not going to fall for her."

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. "really?"

seungmin, ever the realist, merely sighed. "jeongin, have you met y/n?"

"yes, seungmin," jeongin deadpanned. "i have. unfortunately.*"

yunah giggled, twirling her straw. "she’s really pretty, though."

aeri smirked. "and hot. and cute. and bold."

hyunjin nudged jeongin. "she literally calls you 'hot nerd.' i would’ve folded instantly." he said, dramatically putting a hand on his heart while pretending to faint.

jeongin shot him a disgusted look. "you have no standards."

jisung snorted. "and you have no chance."

"i hate all of you." (and we're back !!)

"no, you don’t," jisung said, grinning. "you hate that you know we’re right."

seungmin nodded. "statistically speaking, you're screwed."

"oh my god," jeongin muttered.

jisung clapped his hands together. "alright! place your bets! how long do we think it’ll take for jeongin to fall first?"

"two weeks," hyunjin said immediately.

"a month," aeri guessed.

yunah smirked. "three weeks, max."

"one week," jisung announced proudly.

jeongin slammed his drink down. "i hate every single one of you."

almost a week later.

you found jeongin in the library, because of course you did.

dressed in an oversized cream sweater, silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his nose, black slacks, and expensive-looking loafers, he looked annoyingly good for someone who spent all his time studying.

unfortunately for him, you were here to ruin his peace.

sliding into the seat across from him, you grinned. "morning, iyennie."

jeongin didn’t even look up. "no."

you gasped dramatically. "no? that’s all i get? where’s my 'good morning, beautiful?' my 'you look stunning today, y/n'?"

jeongin exhaled sharply. "why are you here?"

you leaned forward on your elbows, smirking. "to see my lovely boyfriend, obviously."

jeongin twitched. "we are not fake-dating at uni."

you shrugged. "doesn’t mean i can’t flirt with you."

jeongin dragged a hand down his face. "i hate this bet."

"you literally proposed it, genius."

his jaw clenched. "i hate you."

you batted your lashes. "no, you don’t."

jeongin physically recoiled. "oh my god."

across the library, hyunjin and jisung sat at another table, watching the interaction with matching grins.

hyunjin nudged jisung. "one week?"

jisung smirked. "one week."

. . .

“i’ve decided that i’m going to end you.”

jeongin barely looked up from his notes. “cool. try not to be too obvious about it.”

“no, really,” you said, leaning forward across the library table, resting your chin on your hands as you stared at him. “i’m going to make your life miserable.”

jeongin finally glanced up, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. “isn’t that what you’ve already been doing?”

you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “wow. that was hurtful, iyen.”

jeongin twitched. “stop calling me that.”

you grinned. “make me.”

his fingers curled around his pen, and for a second, you wondered if he was genuinely considering launching it at your forehead.

the library was quiet, aside from the occasional whispers of students flipping through books, the dull hum of the air conditioning, and the muffled sounds of footsteps against the carpeted floor. your table was nestled in the back corner, surrounded by towering bookshelves and dim lighting that gave the whole setting a very academic romance kind of vibe—not that jeongin would ever admit that.

and, of course, the two of you weren’t alone.

like said earlier, across from you, at another table, were felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho, watching with way too much amusement.

they can't miss good entertainment, right?

and a few tables away, jisung, hyunjin, seungmin, aeri, and yunah, were also watching with expressions that ranged from entertained to downright smug.

because, honestly? no one believed jeongin was going to win this bet.

not even jeongin himself.

"are you done?" he asked, voice clipped, flipping a page in his notes.

you smirked. "not even close."

leaning back in your chair, you crossed one leg over the other, watching him with open interest. he was dressed as he always was—annoyingly fashionable for someone who didn’t seem to care about fashion. a fitted black turtleneck, an oversized houndstooth blazer, tailored slacks, and his signature silver-rimmed glasses that rested so perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

his black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all morning (which, knowing you, he probably had).

"you know," you mused, tilting your head, "if you weren’t so insufferable, i’d probably have a crush on you."

his pen hovered mid-air, his lips parting slightly before he turned to glare at you. "what?"

you shrugged. "what? i’m just saying. you’re kind of my type. hot. smart. dresses well. severely grumpy. i like a challenge."

jeongin’s eye twitched. "w—"

"oh my god," hyunjin suddenly groaned from across the room, throwing his head back. "can you two just kiss already?"

jeongin immediately choked on air.

your lips twitched as you turned to hyunjin. "not yet, jinnie. i have a bet to win, remember?"

hyunjin smirked. "oh, you will win. no doubt about it."

jisung laughed. "he’s already halfway there."

"this is a library, hello?" the librarian hissed.

"but we're the only ones here, miss y-"

jeongin slammed his book shut, stood up, and turned to you with murder in his eyes. "we’re leaving."

you blinked innocently. "we are?"

"yes." he grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from your seat, ignoring the very loud, very obnoxious oooohhhhhs coming from both friend groups.

felix gasped. "look at him. so dominant."

"i didn’t know he had it in him."

"they grow up so fast."

seungmin merely shook his head, unimpressed. "he’s just running away."

jeongin glared at all of them before practically dragging you out of the library.

now playing, if you love me by colde

the late afternoon sun draped the campus in warm, honey-colored light, stretching long shadows across the pavement. the air was crisp but comfortable, carrying the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee from the campus café nearby. a few students walked past, caught up in their own conversations, but none of them paid much attention to the very mismatched pair walking down the sidepath.

jeongin was suffering.

because you were practically dragging him.

"y/n," he grumbled, his arm stiff as you held onto his wrist. "why are you like this?"

you hummed, pretending to think. "born this way, i guess?"

jeongin sighed, shaking his head. "no remorse. none at all."

"absolutely none," you confirmed cheerfully, still leading him forward.

he didn’t know where you were taking him. you probably didn’t either. but that didn’t seem to matter to you. it was just one of those things—where you decided something, and everyone else just had to go along with it.

he really should have thought this through before making that bet.

the sky was beginning to shift into soft hues of orange and almost blue when jeongin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and immediately stiffened.

his mom.

he stopped walking so abruptly that you almost crashed into him.

"whoa—" you blinked at him. "what’s wrong?"

he held up a finger. "be quiet."

you snorted. "like hell."

"y/n."

you grinned, unbothered, as he answered the call.

"hello?" jeongin said, his voice immediately shifting into something softer, more polite.

"oh, jeongin! how are you, sweetheart?"

you gasped dramatically beside him. sweetheart?

jeongin shot you a look. a warning. a plea.

you ignored it completely.

"hello, ms. yang!" you chirped before he could stop you, leaning in way too close to the phone. "how are you?"

there was a pause on the other end.

and then—

"oh, y/n, dear! how lovely to hear your voice!"

jeongin closed his eyes. no, no, no—

you beamed. "aw, you're so sweet. it's lovely to hear yours too!"

jeongin wanted to die.

his mother laughed. "such a charming girl! i hope my son is treating you well?"

you turned to him with the smuggest smile, tilting your head. "oh, he’s wonderful, ms. yang. so sweet. so attentive."

jeongin gave you a blank stare, deadpan. you? a menace.

his mother sighed happily. "ah, that's good to hear. oh! that reminds me—jeongin, darling, you haven’t forgotten about next weekend, have you?"

jeongin blinked. "uh… next weekend?"

you raised an eyebrow, watching him.

"the family gathering, jeongin!" his mom continued. "your uncle’s wedding anniversary celebration. you have to come. and of course, you must bring y/n!"

jeongin froze.

you?

you? (i'd be offended)

he turned to you so fast you almost thought his neck might snap.

you, on the other hand, were staring at him with way too much excitement in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay neutral. "oh… right. that."

you leaned in, lips parted in interest.

ms. yang laughed. "don't tell me you forgot?"

jeongin exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his temple. "i… might have."

you gasped. "baby!"

he glared.

"oh, don’t worry, dear," his mom said, brushing past his frustration entirely. "it’s going to be a lovely event! you must come with him, y/n! i won’t take no for an answer."

your grin widened.

jeongin knew that look.

it was the look of pure evil. the look of someone who had just won. (no he just read too many comics)

you placed a hand over your heart, feigning surprise. "oh my gosh, ms. yang, really? you’d want me there?"

"of course!" his mother said immediately. "you’re practically family now!"

jeongin almost choked for the umpteenth time that day.

you looked so pleased.

"well, in that case," you said sweetly, "i’d love to come. wouldn't want to disappoint a lovely lady like you, ms. yang."

ms. yang sighed, completely oblivious to his suffering. "wonderful! oh, i knew i liked this girl!"

jeongin shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. why him?

"alright, sweetheart, i won’t keep you two," his mom said. "make sure to text me later, okay?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, still trying to process what had just happened. "bye, mom."

"have a good evening, ms. yang!" you called cheerfully.

the call ended.

silence. and then—

"you evil, evil woman," jeongin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you grinned. "aw, is my baby upset?"

"don’t call me that."

"oh, but i must," you teased, tapping his arm. "we are dating, after all."

jeongin groaned.

you rocked back on your heels. "sooo. a family event, huh?"

"shut up."

"your entire family is gonna be there?"

"y/n—"

"and your relatives?"

jeongin exhaled slowly, praying for patience. "yes."

you beamed. "god, i love this bet."

jeongin stared at you. "why are you enjoying this?"

you shrugged. "because you're not."

his eye twitched. "i hate you." (.........yeah, yk the drill)

"you love me."

"shut up."

you giggled, nudging his arm as you started walking again. "come on, hot nerd. we have so much planning to do."

jeongin sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he followed after you.

he wasn't going to lose this bet.

he wasn't.

but, why did it feel like you had already won?

—

the city was beginning to glow.

golden streetlights flickered on, one by one, casting soft halos onto the pavement. neon signs buzzed to life in the distance, painting the skyline in hues of red, blue, and green. the cool evening air carried a mix of scents—freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the faint spice of street food stalls setting up for the night, and something softer, like rain on warm pavement.

and in the middle of it all—you and jeongin.

he was still following you, albeit begrudgingly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"are you actually planning on telling me where we're going?" jeongin asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

you only grinned, walking a little ahead of him, as you turned around, still walking backwards, facing him. "nope."

he sighed. "of course not."

as the two of you had left the campus a while ago, jeongin had expected you to stop at the nearest café, maybe a convenience store. but instead, you kept walking. past the busy streets, past the familiar landmarks, past the places where most students usually hung out.

and now?

now, you were leading him through quieter roads, where the buildings weren't as tall, where the sky was starting to open up above you, where the city lights didn’t drown out the stars entirely.

it was weirdly peaceful.

not that he'd admit it.

"you're too trusting," jeongin muttered, watching as you walked ahead of him without a care in the world.

you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "oh? and why's that?"

"you’re just… walking around at night, alone, dragging me—your supposed fake boyfriend—to some unknown location." he narrowed his eyes. "for all you know, i could be leading you into danger."

you let out a soft laugh. "oh, please. if anyone’s the danger here, it’s me."

jeongin rolled his eyes. "right."

"you think i'm scared of you, topper?" you smirked, nudging his shoulder. "you’re, like, the least threatening person i’ve ever met."

"good," he said flatly. "that means i can stop pretending to tolerate you."

you gasped dramatically. "so rude! and here i was, thinking we were bonding!"

"bonding?" jeongin scoffed. "you kidnapped me."

you hummed, tilting your head. "wouldn’t call it kidnapping. more like… involuntary adventuring."

"that’s literally just a fancier way of saying kidnapping."

"details, details." you waved a hand dismissively, your bracelets jingling softly.

jeongin shook his head, but there was a small—very small—curve to his lips.

for a while, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence. the only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement, the occasional passing car, and the distant chatter of city life.

"you come here often?" jeongin asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

you glanced at him, slightly surprised by the question. "hmm?"

"wherever it is we're going," he clarified, watching your expression closely. "you seem… familiar with the way."

you hesitated for a second, but then you smiled. "yeah. i do."

he studied you, noticing how your fingers fiddled with the strap of your bag—a small, almost absentminded gesture. "alone?"

"sometimes." you exhaled lightly, looking up at the sky. "other times, with my friends."

jeongin didn’t miss the slight shift in your tone. it was subtle, but it was there.

"and tonight?" he asked, glancing at you. "why me?"

you turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze.

and for a moment—just a moment—you didn’t say anything.

the city lights reflected in your eyes, turning them into something almost ethereal. the night breeze played with the loose strands of your hair, making them dance against your cheekbones. there was something unreadable in your expression, something jeongin couldn’t quite place.

but then— you grinned.

"because i felt like annoying you," you said simply.

jeongin blinked. and then scoffed. "wow. and here i thought i was special."

"oh, you are," you teased, looping your arm through his before he could react. "you're my favorite victim, actually."

he stiffened. "y/n—"

"you’re warm," you interrupted, pressing closer. "a human heater. i should keep you around more often."

jeongin let out a very long sigh, tilting his head toward the sky like he was asking some higher power for patience.

"you're insufferable," he muttered.

"and you are cute."

"shut up."

you giggled. "ooooh, that blush is telling me a different story."

jeongin groaned, refusing to meet your gaze. "i hate this bet."

"you love this bet."

he side-eyed you. "you know, i think you might be evil."

you only winked. "oh, honey. i'm very aware."

and the walk continued like that—small banter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of hands when neither of you were paying attention.

jeongin hated how natural it felt.

hated how easy it was to talk to you.

hated how, despite himself, he was actually curious about where you were taking him.

he didn’t get attached.

he didn’t, right?.

but with every teasing smile you threw his way, with every time your fingers lingered against his, with every moment you laughed at something he said—

he started to wonder.

maybe jisung had been right.

maybe this bet was a really, really bad idea.

the view you chose for me

the path sloped upward, curving gently along the hillside. the city behind you had slowly started to fade, the buzzing neon signs replaced by the soft hum of cicadas, the distant rustling of leaves, and the whisper of the evening breeze. the sky above stretched out like a painting, shifting from the last golden hues of sunset into the deepening blues of twilight.

jeongin slowed his steps, glancing at you. "are we almost there?"

"patience, iyennie," you hummed, walking ahead with a skip in your step. "good things take time."

he rolled his eyes, but a small, amused exhale escaped his lips.

then, finally, the world opened up.

the trees thinned, revealing an expansive hilltop that overlooked the city. a vast, open field of wild grass spread around you, swaying lightly in the wind. the horizon stretched endlessly, where the last golden threads of daylight kissed the deepening night. below, the city twinkled like scattered stars, a soft, pulsing glow of blues, oranges, and whites.

and above, the first stars had begun to appear.

tiny, glimmering specks against a sky that seemed endless. wisps of deep indigo melted into shades of violet, streaked with soft pinks from the remnants of the sun. there was something ethereal about it—something quiet, untouched, almost unreal.

jeongin exhaled, barely noticing how his breath caught for a second.

you, on the other hand, stretched your arms out with a dramatic sigh. "isn't it beautiful?"

he glanced at you.

the wind had tousled your hair, strands of it floating like silk against the dim light. your face, turned toward the sky, was bathed in soft twilight, the shadows curving gently along your cheekbones. your eyes reflected the distant stars, and when you smiled—

your lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin, and your eyes crinkled into tiny crescents.

something in jeongin’s chest lurched.

"yeah," he murmured before he could stop himself. "it is."

you turned to him, blinking. "see? told you it was worth it."

jeongin tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. "it’s… alright."

you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. "wow. that almost sounded like a compliment, yang."

"don’t push your luck," he muttered, walking past you.

you grinned, plopping down on the grass before patting the space next to you. "sit. enjoy the view."

he hesitated.

then, with a small sigh, he sat down beside you, the grass cool beneath his palms. the air smelled faintly of earth and rain, the breeze gentle as it curled around both of you.

a moment passed in silence, the two of you simply staring at the sky.

you reached into your bag, pulling out a small snack box.

jeongin glanced over. "what’s that?"

"food, obviously," you teased, opening the lid. inside, neatly packed, were a few triangular onigiris wrapped in seaweed. "can't survive without snacking every moment,"

you picked one up and held it out to him. "here. i made these this morning."

jeongin blinked. "you cooked?"

"is it so surprising? i'm a good chef, i'll have you know." you frown, and wiggled the rice ball in front of him. "c’mon. try it. first time making them, so i need honest feedback, topper."

he hesitated, eyeing you for a second before reaching out to take it.

and that’s when it happened.

you looked at him—waiting, expectant, your expression filled with the kind of excitement that was so genuine it almost startled him. the soft glow of the evening light traced the edges of your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the arch of your brow, the slight parting of your lips. your lashes cast tiny shadows against your skin, and when you smiled, your dimples deepened, your eyes turning into crescents once again.

jeongin—

forgot to breathe.

for a fraction of a second, he didn’t care about the stupid bet. didn’t care about the fake dating, or the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed by all of this.

all he could think about—

was how pretty you looked.

and then—

you turned your gaze back to the sky.

the moment broke, like ripples in a pond.

jeongin blinked rapidly, forcing himself to look anywhere else. he bit into the onigiri, trying to act normal.

it was good.

really good.

but he wasn’t about to inflate your ego, obviously.

"it’s… okay," he mumbled.

you frowned, clutching your chest. "just okay?"

he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m just being honest, like you asked."

you narrowed your eyes, then suddenly leaned in closer, way too close. "are you lying?"

jeongin stiffened.

you were right there, inches from his face, eyes locked onto his like you were searching for the truth. the scent of vanilla and something faintly floral drifted from you, and jeongin—

had to grip his knee to keep himself from leaning back.

"i—" he swallowed. "no."

you hummed, tilting your head. "hmm. suspicious."

then, before he could react, you grinned.

"well, i think i did an amazing job." you leaned back, stretching your arms behind you. "maybe i should become a chef. quit university. open a cute little café. i’d call it ‘y/n’s love bites.’"

"love bites?" jeongin actually choked on air this time.

"hey, careful!" your eyes widened, your hands immediately burying into your bag, pulling a bottle out. you hand it to him, after opening it.

"what? is it not a nice name?" you pout at the look he gave you after gulping down the entire bottle, still coughing.

"really though? love bites?"

"mhm." you laughed. "because.. love bites. and because i’m good at biting. and love. and actually, love b-"

"god forbid a man wants to have a snack in peace."

you burst out laughing. "jeez, relax, iyennie. i’m kidding."

"you’re really insufferable."

"and you are fun to tease." you winked.

jeongin groaned, looking away.

but his ears—

were very, very red.

—

the stars were out in full now, scattered across the endless stretch of the night sky. the city below twinkled in response, as if the lights of the world and the heavens were competing for brilliance. the grass beneath you both was soft, slightly damp from the evening air, but comforting in a way that made neither of you want to move.

the silence between you had settled into something familiar—not awkward, not tense. just there. a moment where neither of you had to fill the space with meaningless words.

but then again, you’d never been one for silence.

"so," you started, shifting slightly so you faced him, "i realized something."

jeongin barely glanced at you, still watching the stars. "what?"

"i don’t know anything about you."

he raised an eyebrow. "you know plenty."

"mm, do i?" you leaned back on your palms. "i know you're stinky smart. i know you have the ability to make even professors shut up with a single argument. i know you have the fashion sense of a pinterest model and the patience of a grandma stuck in traffic."

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "that’s oddly specific."

"am i wrong?"

"…no."

"exactly." you grinned before tilting your head. "but i mean, i don’t know you. like, i don’t know what makes you tick. what makes you.. you. i don’t know what you wanted to be when you were a kid, what your childhood was like, what your favorite memory is."

jeongin stayed quiet, eyes flickering toward you briefly.

you rested your chin on your knees, watching him. "i wanna know."

"you’re way too curious."

"and you’re way too closed off."

he sighed, shaking his head. "you don’t need to know all that. we’re only dating in front of my parents. not here."

"yeah, well, i want to get to know you," you said simply. "and this is completely unrelated to the whole fake dating thing. it can be platonic, you know? i just think it’s unfair that you probably know way more about me than i do about you."

jeongin looked at you, thoughtful. "do i?"

"you tell me, topper."

his lips twitched slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he was considering something. then, with a small sigh, he leaned back on his elbows.

"alright. what do you want to know?"

your eyes lit up. "anything?"

"within reason."

you hummed, thinking. "okay. what did you want to be when you were a kid?"

jeongin let out a short laugh. "you’re gonna make fun of me."

"oh, now i really have to know."

he rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. "i wanted to be a detective."

your eyebrows shot up. "no way. detective yang jeongin?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered. "i used to love mystery novels as a kid. thought i’d grow up solving impossible cases, catching criminals, the whole thing."

you grinned. "that’s actually kind of cute."

he scoffed. "yeah, well, then i realized i’d have to deal with actual crime, and i was like, ‘yeah, no thanks.’"

you burst out laughing. "you wanted to be sherlock holmes but without the danger?"

"pretty much." he shrugged. "so i settled for something else."

"which is?"

"business and english."

you made a face. "oh so we're almost twinning?"

"i thought you knew?"

"um no? we barely share any other sessions, only sometimes, business."

"well that's because we have different batches, genius."

"huh. when's yours?"

"at nine."

you clicked your tongue. "good lord, typical topper behavior."

he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "alright, your turn. what did you want to be as a kid?"

you hummed. "i went through so many phases. i wanted to be a singer, a poet, an author, a fashion designer, a painter… i was all over the place."

jeongin’s eyes softened slightly. "you’re still kind of all those things."

you blinked, caught off guard, ready to fight. "excuse me?"

"no, i mean, you write. you sing. you compose. you’re always dressed like you just walked out of a magazine." his voice was casual, as if he wasn’t just casually complimenting you without thinking.

and for some reason—

your heart stumbled a little.

you quickly recovered, clearing your throat. "well. somebody is paying attention."

he smirked. "unfortunately."

you gasped, nudging his shoulder. "and here i thought we were having a moment."

"you should know better by now," he teased, but there was something gentle in the way he said it.

you huffed dramatically. "fine, whatever. but i thought walking out of a magazine was your thing?"

"i wouldn't mind someone appreciating fashion, darling."

"...moving on. next question. what’s your favorite memory?"

jeongin hesitated for a second. then, with a small exhale, he said, "when i was ten, my family took a trip to japan. we went during the cherry blossom season, and i remember standing under this huge tree, just watching the petals fall. it felt like…" he paused, searching for the word. "magic."

your lips parted slightly.

for a moment, you could see it—ten-year-old jeongin standing under a sea of pink, eyes wide with wonder, cherry blossoms falling around him like soft whispers of a dream.

"you still remember it that vividly?" you asked softly.

"yeah." he looked up at the sky. "some moments just… stick with you."

your chest ached a little at that.

you didn’t know why.

you shook off the feeling. "well. that’s a very wholesome memory."

he smirked. "what were you expecting? something embarrassing?"

"maybe," you admitted, grinning. "but i like this one, too."

a comfortable silence settled between you again.

"what about you?" he asked.

you blinked. "huh?"

"your favorite memory."

you smiled slightly, hugging your knees. "i have a lot of good ones. but, if i had to pick, maybe…" you trailed off, thinking.

jeongin waited patiently.

you finally spoke. "back home, we used to have power outages a lot. and whenever that happened, my mom and i would sit outside with candles, just talking. we’d make shadow animals on the wall, tell stories, and drink warm milk while waiting for the lights to come back."

jeongin listened intently, his expression unreadable.

"it was such a simple thing," you murmured, "but it always made me feel.. safe."

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

then, finally, he said, "that sounds.. comforting."

you glanced at him.

there was something warm in his eyes, something quiet and understanding.

and for the first time that night—

you weren’t thinking about the bet.

you weren’t thinking about how you were supposed to be fake dating in front of his parents.

it was just the two of you.

sitting under the stars.

sharing pieces of yourselves you never expected to.

and somehow— it didn’t feel fake at all.

it was peaceful.

you were still determined to learn everything about him.

not just for the bet.

not just for fun.

but because, if you were honest, he intrigued you.

and you always liked figuring people out.

so, after a few minutes of silence, you spoke again.

"so," you started, shifting slightly to face him, "we were talking about memories."

jeongin glanced at you. "we were."

"you know what we weren't talking about?" you raised an eyebrow. "your love life."

he scoffed. "love life? who said i have one?"

you gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "wait, no way. don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend before, iyennie."

"i literally told you i've never been on a date.. like on day one." he shot you a look. "also, don't call me that."

"i think you know that i don't believe that," you grinned. "also, i will always call you that."

he exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting ever agreeing to this conversation. "i’ve had one."

you perked up. "so you did!" your eyes lit up with curiousity. "so, one? as in, just one?"

"yeah."

"how long ago?"

he hesitated for a second. "three years."

your mouth dropped open. "damn, that’s—wait. that means you’ve been single since you were—"

"yeah, yeah," he cut you off, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just… haven’t really been interested in dating since."

"interesting," you mused. "so what happened?"

jeongin sighed, clearly debating whether to answer.

then, after a moment, he said, "she was.. nice. we just weren’t meant to be, i guess."

you narrowed your eyes. "that’s such a boring answer, yang. give me details."

he smirked slightly, shaking his head. "you’re really nosy, you know that?"

"and you're really secretive." you tilted your head, watching him. "it’s okay if it.. ended badly. you can tell me."

he was quiet for a beat, then finally spoke.

"it wasn’t bad, exactly. we just had different priorities," he admitted. "she wanted a lot more attention, a lot more time together. and i was…" he paused, exhaling. "i was too focused on school, my goals. she got frustrated. said i didn’t care about her enough."

you hummed. "did you?"

he frowned slightly. "i did care about her."

"but maybe not in the way she wanted," you guessed.

jeongin gave you a look, as if surprised at how quickly you caught on. "yeah."

you nodded, thoughtful. "so, you’re the kind of guy who expresses love in actions, not words, huh?"

he blinked. "i guess you could say that."

"noted." you grinned. "i’ll expect a bunch of favors and free tutoring sessions as proof of love."

he rolled his eyes. "we’re not in love."

"not yet," you teased.

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "you really think you’re gonna win this bet, huh?"

"oh, i know i will," you said smugly. "face it, topper, you like me."

"i tolerate you," he corrected.

"that's what they all say," you laughed. "give it time."

for a moment, he just watched you, his gaze unreadable. then, shaking his head, he muttered, "unbelievable."

you turned your attention back to the sky. "alright, next question."

"you’re not done interrogating me yet?"

"of course not. i’m just getting started." you shot him a smirk. "so, mr. future ceo, what’s something you’re actually passionate about? like, not just academically."

he hesitated.

you raised an eyebrow. "you do have hobbies, right? you don’t just study for fun?"

"of course i have hobbies," he muttered.

"well?"

"…i like music."

you blinked. "wait, really?"

he nodded. "yeah. i don’t do it as much now, but i used to sing trot with my grandparents all the time when i was younger."

you stared at him, genuinely surprised. "you? music?"

"what’s so shocking about that?"

"i don’t know! you just seem like ‘i only study and occasionally judge people’."

"well, i do judge people." he smirked. "i also kinda life photography, for some reason."

"really? so he likes singing and photography? what kinds?"

"mostly landscapes. architecture. things that don’t move too much."

you hummed. "so, no people?"

"not really." he glanced at you. "though… i think i’d like taking pictures of someone if they were interesting enough."

you tilted your head. "like who?"

for a second, jeongin didn’t answer. his eyes flickered over your face, something unreadable in his expression.

then, with a small smirk, he simply said, "dunno. haven’t found them yet."

your stomach did a weird little flip.

you cleared your throat. "huh. well. you should show me your pictures sometime."

he shrugged. "maybe."

you nudged his shoulder. "that means yes."

"that means maybe."

"sure, sure." you grinned before shifting topics. "alright, what’s your biggest ick in a person?"

he smirked slightly. "besides you?"

"rude," you huffed.

he pretended to think. "probably… people who pretend to be someone they’re not."

you nodded. "yeah, i get that. fake personalities are exhausting."

"what about you?"

you didn’t hesitate. "people who can’t communicate."

jeongin raised an eyebrow. "that’s… a very mature answer."

"right?" you sighed dramatically. "like, if you have a problem, just say it. why do people make everything so complicated?"

jeongin chuckled. "agreed."

there was a pause before you added, "also, people who wear socks to bed. they scare me."

he burst out laughing. "what? why?"

"i don't know, it just feels wrong!"

"you’re insane," he said, shaking his head.

"maybe. but at least i’m not a sock-sleeper."

jeongin laughed again, and for some reason, the sound made your chest feel warm.

the conversation continued, shifting from childhood stories to embarrassing moments, from random questions to deep musings.

at one point, you found yourself just… watching him.

the way his dimples appeared when he smiled.

the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

the way his gaze softened ever so slightly when he looked at you.

and maybe, just maybe—

you were in trouble.

but you weren’t going to admit that.

not yet.

for now, you were just a girl sitting under the stars with a boy who was supposed to be your fake boyfriend.

and yet, somehow—

it didn’t feel fake at all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[boyfhee]

✶ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY !

jealously looks good on them

pairing enhypen x reader / fem reader in hoon's genre fluff warnings kissing in jake's, ignore the typos pleek notes happy reading ^^ requested

HEESEUNG

you know he's the jealous type just three days after dating him. it's in a fun way— of course. despite being the jealous type he doesn't overdo it ( or at least tries not to. ) you're gushing about your favourite character from a show or a celebrity you like and he's sulking on the inside.

“byeon wooseok is hot but not hotter than me. right, darling?” he would ask the moment he catches you watching the edits of the actor on tiktok. with eyes fixed on you, his lips morph more and more into a pout when you take more than a few seconds to respond. “i can't believe this,”

you watch him sit on the far end of the couch, away from you, refusing to spare you a glance even though you know his attention is on you. “c’mon hee, are you jealous of an actor? he doesn't even know me,”

“well, good for me because with how pretty you are, he will definitely fall for you if he gets to know you,” he replies through a frown, eyeing you through his peripheral gaze, arms crossed. it only makes you laugh at how cute he can be sometimes.

“and i'm in love with you so it doesn't matter,” and he's back to normal, crawling to your side and wrapping his arms around you. you just have to remind him that every time jealousy gets the best of him, even though he already knows it; but he likes to hear you say it. 

JONGSEONG

jay thought it would be cute to ask you out on a little convenience store date until your neighbour's son crashes it. well, not literally since he only happened to be there at the store. however, despite all, being the person he is, he doesn't think much of it.

that is until that guy decides to follow you around throughout the time you two shop. even when you two make it to the counter, he's next to you, talking to you and you're responding nicely, considering he's your neighbour.

“um, we're dating,” he says with an awkward smile when that guy asks if you're single. and jay has always been patient but he grabs the shopping bags and your hand, and walks out of the store with the speed of light.

“you can let go of my hand,” you laugh at the look of pure jealousy on his face. it's not really obvious, but you can see it. you've known him long enough to know how he is when he's jealous.

“nope,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers with your own while you two are walking back to his place. “not until we're home,”

JAEYUN

he thinks he's being subtle about it but you don't miss the way he keeps scooting closer while you're texting a friend. he's not trying to peek, he's trying to get your attention.

“who even have you been texting for so long?” he asks after a few seconds, sitting lazily next to you on the bed with a faint pout residing on his lips.

“my friend. it's her birthday soon and she wants me to go shopping with her,” you don't even look up at him as you respond, smiling at your phone screen. he stares at you for a brief second before laying down with a slight whine.

“you're leaving me,” his words reach your ears and you turn your head towards him, brows furrowed. “i need to die,”

and the ‘j’ in jake stands for jealousy, it was never a secret. however, you didn't expect him to act like this right now. “jake, it's not that serious,”

“it’s four in the evening and not a single kiss today,” he sits up and says with a dramatic gasp— eyes wide open as if the situation is oh so scandalous. he sighs, putting a hand on his chest, shaking his head. “i'm afraid this is my last day. any last words?”

and you chuckle, putting your phone away before scooting closer to him and cupping his face, pressing his lips against his. “you're so dramatic,” 

SUNGHOON

sunghoon was all up for an evening stroll around the campus after classes but definitely didn't appreciate the transfer student from your class ruin this little date.

subtle glares and his fingers intertwined with yours, and yet that guy couldn't catch a hint. sunghoon knows he's hitting on you, perhaps you do too but knowing how nice you are, you can't be rude when all that guy is doing is complimenting you. so, he'll do it for you— sunghoon is going to eat him up.

"i know, right? my girlfriend is the prettiest girl on earth. and guess what? she's smart as hell— i love my girl. oh you want her number? well, she's mine," all in one breath, followed by an awkward silence and sunghoon's prideful smile. "now, me and my girl have somewhere to be so if you'll excuse us,"

he doesn't even give a chance for your classmate to speak, walking away while bringing you along with him. as funny at it is, you know he wasn't taking any of it.

"was all that necessary?" you ask, fingers still laced with his as you two walked down towards an ice cream parlour.

"what's necessary is for us to get married," he says it in the most casual way, getting you your favourite ice cream flavour and handing it too you. "too many guys looking at you. i can't take the risk,"

SUNOO

"i thought you're no longer in touch with him," sunoo says quietly when you bid your goodbyes to your friend, holding your hand as you two walk back to your class together.

"yeah, but we're classmates so it was unavoidable," you respond with a smile, looking up at him. it only takes you a fraction of the second to notice the troubles expression on his face, behind the smile. "what's wrong?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, the smile getting wider but it's only an attempt to throw you off the topic. "nothing,"

"sunoo," you stand in his way, hands on your waist, looking at him with a cheeky grin. it's not often you catch sunoo with such an expression. "are you jealous?"

"i'm not!" he quickly defends himself, eyes going wide and cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. however he sighs, giving up the very next second. "well, maybe a little. he's your ex after all,"

"he was my friend before we started dating," and you couldn't help but chortle at his actions, nodding as you get back to holding his hand, this time a bit more firmly than earlier. "besides, i have you now,"

"right," he couldn't help but smile at your words and pulls you a bit closer to him, speaking with a triumphant grin. "you're too good for him anyway,"

JUNGWON

jungwon has been watching you for fifteen minutes now, laying on the bed, eyes squinted at you. "do you remember you have a boyfriend?"

"of course, i do. why would i forget that?" you furrow your brows at his question, looking up at him briefly before looking back at your boyfriend's pet dog.

"i don't know, seems like you did," he sighs, getting off the bed and sitting next to you on the floor, looking at his pet dog. "i called you over to spend time with you. not to watch you play with maeumi,"

and you laugh, caressing maeumi in your lap while looking at your boyfriend with a teasing grin. "i can't believe you're jealous of your own dog,"

"and what if i am?"

"it's a bit silly," you nod, the smile never leaving your face. "it's cute," his eyes follow your actions as you lean down to plant a soft kiss on maeumi's head and then lifting him up slightly. "but can you really ignore this cutie?"

and that was the end of his patience. jungwon gets up, picking maeumi before putting him away in the living room. "yeah, he's going up for adoption,"

"jungwon!"

RIKI

"he's so ugly," riki comments bitterly as you walk out of your class, eyeing one of the classmates you've been talking to while he was waiting for you in the hallways. "what a creature,"

"creature?" you repeat his words in disbelief, even though it's not really unusual for him to say that. "riki, that's my classmate. he was giving me yesterday's notes,"

"yeah, he's still ugly," he shakes his head, scoffing, grabbing one of your hands while sliding the other in the pocket of his pants.

you simply laugh at his words as you both get downstairs, a few students passing by you two, rushing towards the school exit. "you look stupid when you're jealous,"

"jealous? me?" he scoffs yet again, a prideful grin on his face as he stops in his tracks, looking at you. "you have quite an imagination,"

"what i have is a jealous boyfriend who sucks at lying,"

and who even is he kidding, because both of you know he's the more jealous one between the two of you. about the lying part. . .he's not too sure. "well, at least i look better than him, don't i?"

you nod, tip toeing slightly to kiss his cheeks, still holding his hands in the process. "the best,"

[callmeagardengnome]

❤︎ office affairs ❤︎ | SONG MINGI

pairings ࿔ mingi x fem! reader

genre ࿔ office au, non-idol au, romance, SLOWW BURNNN

synopsis ࿔ working for a job promotion is the smart thing to do, but working to make song mingi fall in love with you is way more fun.

w.c ࿔ 8.1k

c.w ࿔ suggestive but no smut, mingi likes thighs woops, mutual pining (?) reader watches anime, reader also wears pencil skirts a lot of the time, this is an IT company, light swearing, alcohol, kiss scene

author’s note: this took way too long to finish but im glad its done! also rmbr to like and repost!

not proofread!

other fics

the moment your eyes found song mingi, you knew that he was the one.

okay, ‘the one’ might be extreme, but he definitely caught your attention on your first day.

you applied to ‘ATECH’ after graduating from college, hoping to land a job in one of the top IT companies in the city. you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time learning how to code and develop software, so imagine the joy you felt when the job offer finally appeared in your inbox.

“over there are the bathrooms,” your boss, hongjoong, said as he pointed to a set of doors at the end of the room. “and this is where you’ll be working,” he patted the desk.

“thank you,” you smiled, letting out a quiet groan as you set down the heavy box in your arms.

you looked around. the office was pretty normal, each section had desks right next to each other with the company-issued computer sitting on each one.

you turned back to your desk, your eyes landing on who your deskmate would be - and you swear that your breath was taken away within a second.

he was the definition of your type: neat, built, handsome.

not to mention the way his glasses sat on his face or the button-up shirt he wore that had his sleeves rolled up slightly, exposing his defined forearms. he looked good. impossibly good.

“mingi will be showing you the ropes of the company,” hongjoong began, giving mingi a sharp glare when he was about to protest. “don’t hesitate to ask him for help.”

you nodded. “got it,” you replied, settling into the swivel chair at your desk.

as hongjoong walked away, you heard mingi mumbling something under his breath, but it was too soft for you to catch. he quickly returned back to his work, typing on his keyboard at speeds you didn’t know were possible.

“hey,“ you spoke up, sitting up straighter. “i was wondering if you could help me with-“

“-ask him,” mingi muttered, barely looking away from his computer screen as he pointed lazily to a guy at the next table.

you blinked. “but hongjoong told me to ask you?”

mingi sighed, finally stopping his typing to face you. “i don’t know why he did that. i’m not anyone special, i’ve just been working here for a while.”

mingi then pushed himself back slightly so that you could see who he was pointing to. “wooyoung’s the manager, you should be asking him on how things work.”

“oh.. okay,” you replied slowly. “mingi-“

“-mr song,” he corrected, cutting your sentence short again.

you raised an eyebrow, looking down at the polished nameplate on his desk that read out, ‘SONG MINGI’.

“right.. mr song,” you nodded slowly. “i guess i’ll just do that.”

you ignored the weird exchange and began to unpack your things. after sorting out everything, you decided to find this ‘wooyoung’ guy mingi was talking about earlier - it was actually easier than you thought since he was talking pretty loudly with the person next to him.

you took a deep breath as you walked over to his section, feeling your palms sweat as you wiped them on your pencil skirt. “hey uh..” you trailed off as wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“you’re the new hire?” wooyoung blurted out in surprise as he looked you up and down.

he then blinked and shook his head. “wait shit- that sounded bad.”

wooyoung turned his chair around to face you, waving his hands defensively. “sorry, we don’t normally get girls here- you know, it’s IT. not that it’s never happened but they’re usually.. a lot older.”

“cool..” you chuckled awkwardly, offering a polite smile as you were unsure of how to respond. “well, mr song said that i should ask you for help.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened even more than before. “mr song?” he said a little too loudly, making a few people glance in your direction - though wooyoung didn’t seem care. “did hongjoong tell you to call him that?”

you shook your head. “no? he corrected me when i called him by his name.”

“oh…

my…

god.”

wooyoung busted out laughing. “i’ve never heard anyone call him mr song- even jongho doesn’t! and he just started working here last month!”

“wait really? then why-?”

“-it’s definitely a kink thing,” wooyoung muttered to the guy next to him, who you now noticed was watching the whole interaction.

“what was that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nothing, nothing,” wooyoung waved it off, still chuckling. “anyway, this is yeosang. if you ever need anything just come to either of us. we’ll help you out.”

yeosang nodded politely, giving you a small smile. “nice to meet you. welcome to the company.”

“thanks..” you responded, bowing slightly. “nice to meet you too.”

soon enough, you found yourself sitting between them - with wooyoung desperately trying to teach you the company software (though he was messing up terribly) while yeosang corrected him at every step, trying to fix his mistakes. the two eventually got into a mini argument as you sat there awkwardly, watching two grown men argue on whether to press the ‘s’ or ‘z’ key.

you eventually spaced out, looking around the office. your eyes landed on song mingi once more, watching how focused he was on whatever he was doing.

the more you looked at him, the more boxes he ticked in your books. but this rigid character of his was going to be an issue if you wanted anything to happen. you cracked your fingers, and only one thing was on your mind as you turned away from mingi.

you were going to break through that ‘serious’ personality of his.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you’ve learnt two things about mingi during your first month of working at ATECH.

number one: he seemed pretty reserved - at least, when you’re around.

it was a little odd. whenever you were nearby, mingi was quiet, silent even. but the moment you were out of sight or busy, laughter would erupt from his table.

you had a pretty important deadline coming up and you needed to work on it with your full attention. you put on your bluetooth headphones and got straight to work. the music did help you focus, but unfortunately, your headphones died with a loud beep.

annoyed, you took them off, moving to grab a wire to charge them when suddenly - you heard something. talking. coming from none other than your deskmate, mingi.

“no- you don’t understand, the fight scenes are incredible!” mingi exclaimed, almost jumping off of his chair. “the animation alone is on another level.”

“overrated,” jongho countered, smirking as he leaned back. “mingi, i don’t know why you keep recommending anime to me. i only watched one episode because you forced me to.”

mingi rolled his eyes. “you don’t get it- episode four is gonna change your life.”

it took everything in you to not laugh out loud. you’ve never seen mingi so passionate about something - and it was about anime of all things.

not that there was anything wrong with it - hell, you watched it. it’s just that seeing mingi so invested and defensive was.. kind of cute. maybe you should give the show a go.

but in the middle of mingi’s rambling, jongho yawned and suddenly glanced in your direction, giving you a friendly wave as his grin widened. “hey ‘___’.”

mingi froze mid-sentence, his hands moving to his keyboard almost instantly, the rant coming to an awkward halt. he quickly straightened his back and cleared his throat, acting as if nothing had happened.

jongho raised an eyebrow, clearly holding in a laugh. “you done with that deadline?” he asked.

you blinked. “uh- yeah almost,” you replied with a nervous chuckle.

you turned back to your work quickly, trying to refocus on your attention to your work but it was pretty difficult to ignore the scene playing out beside you.

from the corner of your eye, you could see jongho trying, and failing, to hold in his laughter, his shoulder shaking as he repeatedly hit mingi who was frantically typing on his keyboard like he was trying to forget what happened.

jongho wiped the imaginary tears from his face. “i’ve never seen you like this before.”

number two: he was definitely single.

thanks to your friendship with wooyoung and yeosang, you were spending almost all of your breaks together - which meant that you were always finding out new things about the office.

as the three of you settled down in a nearby food court, wooyoung started yet another rant about the office, but the topic eventually shifted to your coworkers and somehow mingi.

“he’s probably never felt the touch of a woman,” wooyoung snorted, leaning back into the chair.

yeosang immediately smacked wooyoung on the arm. “don’t say that, he’s our friend..”

“..but yeah, that’s probably true,” yeosang shrugged, slurping the noodles in his bowl.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “you guys make it sound like he’s so strange.”

“he is. he’s so weird around you,” wooyoung said, waving his fry around. “i swear- it’s like he’s never met a girl that can code or something.”

you sighed, stirring your iced coffee. “maybe he’s shy.”

“shy?!” the both of them exclaimed in unison, their wide eyes blinking at you.

“he is not shy,” wooyoung emphasised, to which yeosang nodded violently to his statement.

wooyoung took a sip of his soda before clearing his throat. “you should’ve seen him before you got here. he’d laugh at every dumbass joke we made. and now? he’s basically a robot.”

yeosang made a sound of agreement, wiping his mouth before adding, “i mean- he’s probably not used to women being in the office.”

“yeah, especially if they're young and actually, you know-” wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning another smack from yeosang.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up.”

wooyoung shrugged with a grin, taking a bite out of his fry. “i’m just saying it how it is.”

you chugged your iced coffee. “is there anyway i can- i don’t know, get to know him better?” you asked as you looked at your coworkers. “how do i make him…”

you trailed off, resisting the urge to ask ‘how do i make him like me’, knowing that wooyoung would probably make fun of you.

you sighed, settling for a, “how do i make him not a dickhead?”

“i mean…” wooyoung bit his cheek, quickly glancing at yeosang before turning back to you. “you could try making out-?”

“wooyoung!” yeosang exclaimed. “we need to give her actual advice. she’s gonna be working here for a while.”

“fine, fine,” wooyoung rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you. “honestly? you want to get closer to him?”

you nodded, maybe a little too eagerly, making wooyoung smirk as he continued, “just talk about anime. trust me, once he gets started, he won’t shut up.”

you and yeosang chuckled. “noted,” you smiled.

“i’m being serious,” wooyoung leaned in even closer, his eyes bigger than before. “i would love to see the look on his face when he finds out that girls who code and watch anime exist.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

even though the whole office knew how awkward you and mingi were around each other, it wasn’t enough to stop hongjoong from pairing you two up for whatever work he had.

the two of you were tasked with test-running the company’s latest software before it was handed off to the client. you spent the next hour sifting through its features and finally, you found a bug.

“mr song,” you called, barely looking away from your screen. “can you come here? i found something weird.”

mingi rolled his chair over to your desk, glancing at the screen as you hovered your mouse over a link.

“so when i click here,” you explained. “it brings me to an error page. i tried all the reboot methods and it still won’t work.”

mingi leaned in a little closer to see the issue. “okay, that might be because-“ he began, but suddenly started to trail off.

you raised an eyebrow, noticing how he wasn’t really looking at the screen anymore. you followed his eyes and realised that his gaze had dropped, landing on your legs.

more specifically, on the way your pencil skirt had ridden up a little when you crossed your legs.

you swear that you could see the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks as he stared - and it took a moment for him to catch himself.

“you good?” you tilted your head.

his head snapped back up, eyes wide as he cleared his throat. “shit- sorry,” he stammered, sitting up straighter in his chair as he quickly focused on the screen. “i was just.. thinking.”

you nodded, biting back a smile. “right.. thinking hard about that error, huh?”

“y-yeah,” he stuttered, his words rushed now. “it’s probably an issue with the script- i’ll need to check this out with yunho.”

“sure, you do that,” you replied with a grin, watching as he walked away hurriedly, running his fingers through his hair.

but of course this wouldn’t be the last time you caught mingi like that.

during meetings when the two of you were forced to sit next to one another, you began to notice the way his eyes would drop down whenever you crossed your legs.

or sometimes, you would adjust your skirt and you would feel his attention drifting towards you, only for him to blink repeatedly and turn back to the discussion. it wasn’t obvious, but it happened often enough for you to catch on.

you didn’t want to be delusional. what were the chances that the hot guy in your office you liked was actually interested in you?

you decided to wait for the perfect opportunity to test the theory - and fortunately for you, you didn’t have to wait long.

you were both working late and mingi sat at his desk next to you, trying to explain his thoughts on the layout of the software.

mid-conversation, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms behind your head with a soft groan. but while doing so, your pencil skirt rode up - a lot.

you pretended like nothing happened as you absentmindedly nodded to whatever he was saying. you could see mingi’s eyes shift downward, his sentence cutting short.

“what were you saying?” you asked, stretching a little more as if the movement was completely natural. you watched as mingi blink back to reality, processing what you said. “you were telling me about the layout.”

mingi cleared his throat, his eyes darting up to your face, then back to his screen when he realised he trailed off once again. “uh- yeah, the layout. it’s good.. it’s just that um- we need to fix the code if we want it to be usable.”

you could see his leg bouncing under the table as he turned back to his computer, his typing slowing down.

“are you okay, mr song?” you asked innocently, drawing out his name just a bit, watching his reaction worsen - his blush deepening and his hands coming to a stop, hovering above his keyboard.

“i’mfine,” mingi said quickly, pushing his glasses back up. he started to type on his keyboard once more, completely avoiding eye contact with you.

you smiled to yourself, giving him a hum of acknowledgment as you turned back to your screen.

so he likes thighs, huh?

oh this is getting fun.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

mingi might actually be going insane.

he never realised how bad he was at talking to women - at least, not until you joined the company.

working at ATECH for six years taught him to keep his distance with new hires. watching friends come and go because of the draining job made it seem pointless to make friends with people who might disappear at any moment.

you were no exception. to mingi, you were just another person behind a computer. so even though you were seated right next to him, he barely made an attempt to acknowledge you. what was the point when you’d probably be gone soon? at least, that’s what he told himself.

mingi didn’t want to get attached.

he had to draw the line somewhere. he’d already betrayed his own words of ‘not getting close to anyone new’ with jongho, who only joined a few months ago yet managed to find himself a soft spot in mingi’s heart.

that was already enough for mingi to double down on his ‘professional’ act to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

when you started, he would give dry answers to whatever questions you had, hoping that you would keep your distance from him. but for some reason, the more he avoided you, the more he found himself paying attention to you.

not to mention how you were insanely gorgeous - which messed with him. a lot.

when you first joined, mingi was confused of why you picked IT to be your job of choice instead of modeling, acting or anything of that sort. but he quickly understood why you entered the industry when he saw the way you coded. it was way beyond any expectations he had.

so not only were you impossibly beautiful, you knew how to code well.

whenever you had to work together or you had a question to ask him, mingi would catch himself straightening his back, doing anything to hide his image of being the nerdy, anime obsessed guy in the office.

mingi knew it was ridiculous. he barely knew you and yet he felt this insane urge to impress you. he didn’t even know why he told you to call him ‘mr song’.

he had never done that before. it just slipped out, like he was trying to seem professional. though, it just made things more awkward.

but the worst part of it all would be those pencil skirts you always wore to work.

you seemed to have a wide range of them, he noticed. some days they would be neutral colours, some days they would be bright and patterned.

he never thought that something as simple as a pencil skirt could derail him of all the thoughts and human decency in his mind. yet there he was, looking at the way your things pressed against each other as you shifted in your chair or how the fabric lifted up ever so slightly-

-god, he felt like a pervert.

he didn’t know exactly when he started to pay attention to your attire or how your skirt hugged you in a way that left him stunned. was it when you had to work together on that one test-run? or during all those boring meetings the company had?

well, not that it mattered. all mingi knew was that he wanted- no, needed to stop being distracted by you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“shit, i’m late for work,” you muttered through your teeth as you turned off your alarm. you quickly put on your clothes, grabbing your bag as you slammed the door open and headed out the house.

you unfortunately reached the office half an hour late. you were nearly out of breath as you rushed to your desk. as you slid into your seat, you noticed mingi’s gaze on you, looking.. relieved?

you logged in, pretending not to notice his eyes on you. you began to get started on your work, hoping to make up for lost time.

but just as you began to focus, wooyoung strolled over to you, leaning against your desk with a smirk.

“you’re late,” wooyoung tilted his head.

you looked at him with a deadpanned expression. “you’ve been late three times this week.”

wooyoung grinned, grabbing a random chair nearby and plopped himself between you and mingi. he began to talk about some ‘crazy’ thing he was going to do on the weekend, acting as a podcast as you coded.

just then, wooyoung’s attention shifted to your phone, which suddenly lit up with a notification, revealing your lock screen - a character from the anime that mingi had been talking about.

“wait..” wooyoung leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “is that anime?”

you glanced down at your phone, nodding. “yeah, i’m kind of hooked right now.”

wooyoung raised an eyebrow, turning to mingi then back at you. “don’t tell me he converted you into one of his anime minions..” he pointed to your deskmate.

mingi sputtered, completely thrown off by the conversation that he was suddenly involved in. “what? no, i didn’t- she just-“ he stumbled over his words, his face heating up.

you smacked wooyoung’s arm. “i did hear him talk about the show, but i got into anime itself on my own.”

jongho, who happened to pass by your desks as you said that, stopped. “you guys are talking about anime?” jongho looked at mingi with a wide grin on his face. “didn’t know anime recs were the new pick-up lines these days.”

wooyoung smirked as he leaned closer to mingi. “so she’s a weeb and can code. mr song, does that do anything for you?” he teased.

mingi’s face was now a shade of bright red and he kept his eyes locked onto the computer screen, avoiding any eye contact. “i didn’t even say anything to her about it..” he mumbled.

after wooyoung and jongho continued to tease him, they eventually walked away to do their own work. you glanced over at mingi, tilting your head when you realised that he had already been looking at you.

he turned away quickly, clearly flustered as he muttered, “don’t.. don’t listen to them.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“have you done the surveys hongjoong sent in the group chat?” you spoke up, your voice echoing in the quiet office.

mingi blinked. the two of you had to work overtime again to complete a piece of software that a client wanted. he didn’t even realise how late it was until he looked at the time.

“he sent surveys?” mingi asked, raising an eyebrow.

you nodded, holding out your phone to him. “its all about ‘staff satisfaction’ and other bullshit like that. he’s forcing everyone to get it done quick so you should get started.” you turned back to your computer, putting your phone on the desk.

mingi watched as you returned back to work, but there was one thing that he couldn’t get his eyes off of - your lock screen.

he couldn’t stop thinking about how you were paying attention to that conversation. he had to admit that the fact that you actually took his recommendation did make his heart flutter slightly.

mingi’s fingers rested on the keyboard. ‘don’t say anything,’ he told himself. but then again… you liked anime?

his mouth moved before he could even think. “did you finish episode four yet?”

you looked at him, not knowing what he was referring to until you saw that he was staring at your phone screen. “mhm, i actually finished episode six yesterday. i can’t stop watching it.”

“wait, six?” he turned his chair to face you completely. “so you saw the fight scene right? and that whole backstory part?”

you nodded excitedly, matching his enthusiasm. “yes! and the twist with that guy’s brother? insane,” you replied.

“right? i told jongho it was genius,” mingi continued, words spilling out of him way faster that he could control them. “and there’s this one part- wait i can’t spoil it.. uh, but just know that it’s a whole new level.”

only now and then mingi realised how ‘out of character’ he got with you, especially when he saw the way you were watching him. your eyes sparkling with interest as you leaned in, actually listening to whatever he was saying.

and for a second, he couldn’t look away.

his heart stuttered and suddenly, he was back in his own head. what was he doing? he forced himself to turn back to his computer, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“well- uh.. anyway. we should probably get back to work..” he said, leaving you confused of what made him stop.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“alright, i think that’s everything,” hongjoong said, shutting his laptop. “you guys can head home.”

the sudden meeting your boss called dragged on a lot longer than anyone thought. so the moment it ended, everyone around you got up immediately, hurriedly packing their things.

suddenly, hongjoong realised something. “oh, i need someone to print out these reports by tomorrow morning.”

you barely had time to react before his eyes landed on you, then mingi who was almost out of the door.

“mingi, you’re familiar with the printer setup right?” hongjoong asked with a smirk. he then turned to you. “this is a good chance to teach our new hire how we handle our documents.”

both you and mingi let out identical, disappointed sighs - your frustrations perfectly in sync.

everyone, including you, knew that the printing room was a nightmare - old, dusty, falling apart and tucked away in a corner of the office building that was farthest away from the entrance.

“of course,” mingi muttered, his voice flat. “the printing room.”

hongjoong gave a shrug. “it’s not that bad,” he said, obviously lying.

you swore quietly but gave a polite nod to your boss. “got it. anything else?”

“nope, just the reports. shouldn’t take too long,” hongjoong replied as he grabbed his things, heading to the door. “thanks guys!”

with a collective sigh, you took your notepad and followed mingi - who was already sluggishly moving his feet to the printing room.

he pushed the door open, the musty smell of old paper and ink greeting the both of you instantly. “why hasn’t anyone fixed this place yet?” he asked, mostly to himself as he used his hand to cover his nose.

you stepped inside, wrinkling your nose. “because no one comes here unless they need to?”

“right,” mingi muttered. he flipped the light switch, the fluorescent bulbs taking a moment to stop flickering.

the room was cramped and small. dust floated lazily in the air and the ancient printer hummed ominously at the end of the room.

“let’s get this over with,” you said, putting your stuff on an unstable metal shelf.

mingi took out his phone, looking for the files that hongjoong sent him. he glanced at the printer, then at you as he sighed. “i can load the paper. you can.. figure out how to make the rest work.”

“gee thanks,” you said sarcastically as you rolled up your sleeves.

mingi eventually taught you how to use the printer, which took a lot more steps than its modern-day versions. the sounds of each page churning out filled the silence in the small room.

when it was done, you reached for the stack of printed sheets as mingi went straight for the door.

but just then, there was a metallic clatter. you turn around to see the doorknob lying and rolling on the ground.

“you’re kidding me,” mingi muttered. he crouched down to pick it up, but the doorknob was useless. the door was jammed shut. completely.

the room was barely big enough to fit the both of you and now you were stuck here? it couldn’t get worse than this, could it?

mingi sent a text to yunho to come to the printing room to let the both of you out. even though he already heading home, he told you both to be patient while he made his way back.

soon enough, the both of you settled on the floor to wait. mingi sat with his knees close to his chest. when you sat across from him, your knee bumped against his, making him freeze slightly.

you crossed your legs, adjusting your skirt as you do, but you catch mingi glancing before quickly looking away, pink dusting his cheeks.

he cleared his throat, reaching for a nearby clipboard on the shelf and offering it to you. “uh, you can use this if you uh- if you need to cover up or anything..”

you raised an eyebrow, a smile forming on your face. “thank you,” you said, accepting it.

the room falls silent once more and the buzzing of the lights above began to become louder.

mingi shifted a little, clearly hyper-aware of how close you were. you could hear his breathing getting faster, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

after a while, he fumbled with his phone, typing another message to yunho. you watched as his fingers tapped quickly on the screen, slipping a couple of times.

you bit the inside of your cheek. “do i make you uncomfortable?” you asked once he slid his phone into his pocket.

mingi’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes widening as they met yours. “what?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

you leaned back against the wall. “do i make you uncomfortable?” you repeated.

“nono, of course not,” he said hurriedly, his eyes locked on the printer.

“are you sure?” you raised an eyebrow.

“i-“ mingi rubbed the back of his neck. he shifted in his spot once more, though his knee bumped into yours again - making him jump slightly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on,” you grinned. “you barely talk to me unless you have to, and when you do, you can’t even look at me- like right now!” you giggled as you watched his eyes dart around the room.

you fiddled with the printed papers. “i’ve seen how you act around your friends. you’re fun, you’re loud. so why are you so quiet now?”

mingi opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. his hands fidgeted with his shoelaces, his jaw tightening. finally, he let out a soft sigh and glanced at you - for just a second.

“i don’t know,” he admitted.

“you don’t know?”

“i mean-“ mingi stuttered, his eyes on the door. his lips were pressed into a thin line and his shoulders slumped. “i guess- i just don’t know how to act around you…?” he said, already regretting his words.

mingi wiped the sweat off of his forehead, adding onto what he said. “you’re just different from the people i’m used to.”

you nodded, giving him a smirk. “ohh, it’s because i’m a girl right?���

“nonono it’s just-“ he said quickly, his ears turning red. “you’re uh..” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “you’re uh- focused? yeah.. and you’re good at what you do. that’s all..”

you let out a soft laugh, making him look at you nervously. “is this your way of saying you respect me or something?”

his cheeks flushed. “you can say that..”

“hmm.. okay okay,” you hummed, trying to suppress a grin. “so if that’s all..”

you leaned in closer, “..you wouldn’t mind if we went out for lunch together right?”

mingi blinked. “like with wooyoung and yeosang?”

you shook your head, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “just us two.”

“well..” mingi looked at the ground, trying to find the words in his brain. “aren’t most places far away?”

“there’s a manga cafe nearby. it’s pretty cute and has a decent menu.”

his eyes widened at your suggestion. “a manga cafe..?” he repeated.

you shrugged. “i thought you’d like it.”

“i do,” mingi muttered, clearly unsure of how to respond. “you don’t think it’s weird? not a lot of people like manga.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “i don’t find it weird.. do you not want to go?”

mingi immediately straightened his back, his blush deepening as he stumbled over his words. “what? no- i do-“

you laughed, cutting him off. “relax.. we’re friends right?”

you could see a smile forming on his face as he nodded. “yeah.. we’re friends.”

suddenly, you heard a chuckle from the other side of the door as it creaked open. yunho stood there with a grin, leaning against the doorframe.

“sorry it took me a while,” he said, giving mingi a knowing look. “getting cozy?”

mingi’s flustered expression turned into a glare as he stood up, brushing the dust off of his pants. “just let us out.”

yunho moved aside, watching as his friend walked hurriedly towards his desk. “hope you two had fun,” he winked.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you leaned back into your chair, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “you know, i just finished the season this morning.”

mingi’s head shot up, his eyes wide with excitement. “really?” he asked, mid-chug of his drink.

“yeah, i was up all night watching it. i even got a little emotional at the end,” you replied with a nod, causing mingi to flash you a grin - one that you’ve never seen before.

the cafe around you had walls lined with manga shelves. the faint music of anime soundtracks playing in the background. the decor was adorable and you had to resist the urge to take a photo of every corner of the cafe.

the two of you continued talking and for once, it didn’t feel awkward. mingi seemed more relaxed, even joking around with you at times - but of course, he still had a habit of looking away whenever you made eye contact with him.

as the clock ticked closer to the end of your break, you stood up and pointed to the manga shelves. “i think i’m gonna grab something before we head back,” you said, wandering over, mingi soon following behind you.

“i don’t know what to pick,” you admitted, tracing your fingers along the spines of the books. “you got any ideas?”

his face lit up as he reached for a manga volume. “this one is really good. the world-building and plot is great. and the characters? the way they develop over time is just-”

mingi went into a passionate ramble, flipping through the pages as he spoke. you leaned against the shelf, listening to him as you bit back a smile.

suddenly, he stopped, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “sorry, i got carried away.”

you shook your head. “no you didn’t. i’ll take it,” you said, taking the book from his hands.

mingi blinked, stunned. “really?”

“yeah,” you replied with a grin. “you obviously like it, so it must be good.”

he stood there, a little speechless as you walked towards the register.

as you passed the manga to the cashier and reached for your wallet, mingi suddenly pointed to a random corner of the cafe. “woah what’s over there?”

you turned your head, confused. “what are you-”

before you could finish, you heard the tap of a card on the card-reader. turning back, you saw mingi sliding his card back into his pocket, acting like nothing happened.

you stared at him in disbelief. “..did you just pay for that?”

“would you be angry if i did..?” he said slowly, taking the bag where your manga was from the cashier.

you sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “no, but i can pay for my own things.”

mingi grinned. “maybe next time.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

it had been about two months since you and mingi started to eat lunch together. at least once a week, the two of you would grab a meal and talk about work or a new anime that either you or mingi were hyper-fixated on.

to be completely honest, mingi was pleasantly surprised at how your conversations evolved. what used to be a little awkward and dry now felt natural and easy.

mingi cracked his fingers. his screen had been glaring at him all morning, the same error popping up no matter how many times he rewrote the code. he leaned back into his chair, rubbing his temples in frustration.

“hey,” your voice pulled his attention away from the screen. “what do you want for lunch today?”

mingi blinked. “shit- i’m sorry,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i can’t go today. too much work to do.”

you didn’t seem bothered by his response. instead, you tilted your head. “okay, then what are you craving?”

“uh... something light, i guess?” he replied hesitantly, unsure of why you were asking.

you just nodded, grabbing your phone and standing up. “be right back,” you said, leaving before he could question you further.

when you returned about 20 minutes later, mingi stared at you in disbelief. you set down a steaming cup of noodles, his favourite chips and a coffee.

“w-wait,” he stammered, immediately reaching for his wallet. “how much was it? let me-”

“-it’s fine,” you interrupted, brushing his offer off. “just eat before it gets cold,” you slid back into your seat.

mingi stared at the meal infront of him, his heart racing in a way that he couldn’t explain. it wasn’t just the food (though that definitely played a part), but it was the fact that you knew and remembered his favourites. you even went out of your way to do this without making it a big deal.

‘that’s just what friends do,’ he convinced himself as he took a bite out of his food. but when he glanced over to you, the butterflies in his stomach told him something that he wasn’t ready to admit.

not yet, anyway.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

you were busy testing out a software when jongho appeared, dragging a chair behind him. he sat it in your section, right between you and mingi.

“guess what,” jongho began as he faced mingi. “i finally got that place i was looking at.”

mingi turned away from his monitor, eyebrows raising slightly. “oh? that’s cool. congrats man.”

“thanks. i’m thinking of having a little housewarming thing this weekend,” jonogho continued. “nothing big, don’t worry.”

mingi nodded, leaning back into his chair. “sounds good. let me know what time.”

it wasn’t until then when mingi noticed that you were listening in into their conversation, your fingers paused over your keyboard. his eyes darted to yours for a moment before he spoke. “do you want to come?”

you blinked, your eyes shifting to jongho. “i mean.. do you want me there?”

jongho shrugged. “yeah, you’re cool. bring wooyoung and yeosang too.”

mingi didn’t say anything, but the way jongho gave him a knowing look didn’t escape your notice. you bit back a grin, nodding slowly. “alright, i’ll be there.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

“damn you look good,” wooyoung said, looking you up and down.

you raised an eyebrow. “what are you talking about? i’ve worn this outfit to work before.”

“yeah but the work air does you dirty,” he said, earning him a smack from yeosang.

“focus,” yeosang said, pointing to jongho’s door. “who’s knocking?”

“not me,” wooyoung shook his head quickly. “i already carried the chips here. i’ve done my part.”

you scoffed. “you brought two bags and i’m pretty sure you ate one of them.”

“they’re big bags, okay?” wooyoung defended.

yeosang sighed. “fine, i’ll-“

before he could knock, a deep sigh was heard on the other side of the door. the three of you exchanged a look with each other before the door swung open.

wooyoung and yeosang, who were leaning against the doorframe, stumbled forward and landed infront of jongho’s feet.

jongho stepped back, opening the door wider. “welcome.”

you blinked, giving him a smile. “hey, jongho.” carefully, you tiptoed over the two fallen bodies on the ground as you entered the apartment.

the apartment had a warm and cozy feel. there was a decent amount of fake plants and the furniture looked new but comfortable. the dining table was lined with snacks and the kitchen counter was filled with a surprising amount of alcohol.

you walked over to yunho and mingi who were already standing around the kitchen. you waved to yunho before turning to mingi and giving him a quick hug.

mingi froze for a bit, though he quickly recovered, his response stiff. “uh- hey.”

jongho clapped his hands to gather everyone’s attention. “alright, don’t get too comfortable. let me show you around.”

he led the group on a small tour around his apartment, showing off his bedroom, bathroom, living room and office space - he even had a guest bedroom.

after the tour, you found yourself back in the living room, chatting with yunho and mingi.

“so how’s the project going?” yunho asked, taking a sip from his drink.

“not bad,” you replied. “it’s a lot of coding but i’m enjoying it for the most part.”

mingi nodded. “yeah, and you’re good at it,” he muttered quietly, mostly to himself.

you glanced at him, giving him a smile. “thanks.”

the tips of his ears turned pink and he quickly turned to yunho, who was trying to hide a smile behind his glass.

after a while, you wandered over to the snack table where yeosang and wooyoung were hanging out.

“chips are food,” wooyoung said angrily.

yeosang sighed, turning to you. “this is his third bowl.”

“it’s a party,” wooyoung shrugged. “i’m living my best life.”

before anyone could say anything, jongho’s voice was heard from across the room. “wooyoung!”

wooyoung froze, a chip halfway to his mouth. “what?” he shouted back.

jongho stood by the door, his arms crossed. “tell me why there’s a group of at least 15 people outside my house saying that there’s a party here?”

wooyoung chuckled nervously, clearing his throat. “um.. about that..”

jongho’s eyes narrowed. “don’t tell me you-“

the doorbell rang and before you knew it, a large group of people poured in, loud music taking over the entire space.

wooyoung scratched the back of his neck. “i may have uh- spread the word a little.”

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

the house grew loud, music bouncing off of the walls as laughter filled every corner. you squeezed through the crowd, heading over to the kitchen for another glass of soju. but when you reached, your eyes landed on mingi who was downing many shots of alcohol.

“heyheyhey, stop,” you said, stepping forward and gently taking the glass from his hand.

mingi blinked at you, confused, his cheeks pink. you looked at him with concern. “what’s going on? why are you drinking so much?”

he mumbled something incoherent, rubbing his forehead. without hesitation, you hooked your arm around his and tugged him toward the hallway. “you’re sitting this one out,” you said firmly, guiding him into the guest bedroom which thankfully, was unoccupied.

closing the door behind you, you made him sit on the edge of the bed. mingi groaned and slumped down, half of his body dangling off the bed while his upper body rested against mattress.

you sat on the bed next to him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” you asked softly, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“...i don’t like people,” he mumbled, his face half-buried in the sheets.

a small smile tugged at your lips. “it’s okay. i get it.”

“i like you, though,” his said, his voice muffled but clear enough to make your eyes widen in shock.

“wait, what?” you blurted out, staring at him disbelief.

mingi got up abruptly, sitting on the bed properly like nothing happened. “why did wooyoung bring so many people? this isn’t a party party,” he said.

“i.. i don’t know,” you stammered. “can we go back to what you said before-”

“i didn’t finish the code i was supposed to give hongjoong,” he interrupted, looking at you with glassy eyes. “am i getting fired?”

you shook your head. “no, he gave you until next month to complete it. can we-”

“-i haven’t eaten pasta in so long,” his voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

“i’ll get you pasta tomorrow,” you said quickly, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

mingi’s face lit up. “really?”

“yes,” you nodded.

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, the muffled noise of the party bleeding through the walls. soon enough, you finally spoke up. “hey.”

mingi turned to you, his eyes a little clearer now.

“when you said you liked me,” you began cautiously. “what did you mean?”

“that i like you,” mingi said plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well, yes, but,” you cleared your throat. “as a friend or-”

“i like your eyes,” he cut in, his gaze locked onto yours. “and your nose.”

you blinked, stunned.

“your lips are pretty,” he added as he leaned in slightly. “and so are your outfits.”

“i-”

“i like your voice,” he continued. “and the cafes you bring me to.”

your heart raced as you stared at him. “...is this the alcohol talking?” you asked weakly.

mingi tilted his head, reaching up to touch his mouth like he was checking for something. “i’m pretty sure i’m the one talking,” he said, completely serious.

a wide smile broke across your face. “you’re cute.”

“me?” he looked behind him, seeing if there was someone else in the room.

“yes, you,” you laughed softly.

mingi’s face flushed a deeper red - whether it was from the alcohol or your words, you weren’t sure.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you once more and you could tell that mingi was beginning to sober up. he shifted slightly, his movements becoming nervous.

“i’m sorry,” he began, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t apologise,” you said.

“but i made you uncomfortable- oh my god i made you uncomfo-”

“i like you,” you said, pulling him out of his spiral.

mingi froze, his eyes wide. “are you serious?”

you nodded.

“b-but you’re so..” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours. “..pretty.”

“thank you,” you said, your heart fluttering. “though i think you’re really downplaying yourself.”

“why would you like someone like me?” mingi asked, his voice a whisper.

you shrugged. “for all the same reasons you like me.”

“because i watch anime?” he asked, confused.

“that’s a bonus,” you grinned.

the next thing you knew, your hands brushed against his, lingering for a moment as his eyes shifted to your lips. it was such a simple action and yet it sent your heart in circles. slowly, he leaned in closer, his warm breath against your skin.

“are you really okay with this?” he asked, worried that you were playing a prank on him.

you looked into his eyes, your voice soft. “i’ve been waiting for this.”

then mingi’s lips were on yours.

it was soft at first. but the second your hand found his jaw, tilting his head slightly - something in him changed. his hand was on your thigh, his fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt like he needed to hold on or risk floating away.

your hand moved to his chest and you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm. mingi’s other hand found your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“mr song,” you mumbled against his mouth, the name drawing a low groan from him.

“god- you’re so perfect,” he muttered, the grip on your thigh tightening, his thumb tracing the seam of your skirt, sending shivers up your spine.

you lost track of how long you stayed like that. the music from outside faded into the background and the room slowly disappeared from your mind.

and then the door slammed open.

you and mingi jumped apart, faces flushed and breaths uneven. just then, wooyoung stumbled in, his arm draped lazily around a girl.

“oh my god,” wooyoung’s eyes widened, darting between the two of you with unhinged glee. without waiting a second, he whipped out his phone and snapped a picture before slamming the door shut - his loud voice echoing the hall. “i knew it! i knew it! i knew it!”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands as you got up. “this bastard-”

“-hey,” mingi caught your wrist, his fingers gentle but firm as he tugged you back toward him. his face was still flushed and his lips were slightly swollen, but his voice was soft. “don’t focus on him. focus on me.”

your heart skipped multiple beats. you nodded, letting him guide you back into his arms.

this time, the kiss was much slower - no rushing, no interruptions, just the two of you. his hand returned to your thighs, this time squeezing it lightly, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

when you broke apart, his eyes studied your face, his thumb gently tracing your lips. you brushed away the stray hairs that stuck to his forehead, adjusting his glasses which were lopsided.

“was i good?” mingi asked nervously.

“of course,” you giggled, your cheeks warm. “way more than good.”

he let out a sigh of relief. “i’m glad..” he said softly. your words made him smile, the stress in his shoulders easing.

“if wooyoung posts that picture..” mingi said, leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw. “..i’m deleting his league account.”

any and all feedback appreciated <3 remember to like and repost!

[princessbrunette]

Mid argument with rafe and you tell him “Fine, i don’t care anyway, cause you’re not invited to my birthday party.” even though he’s literally funding the whole thing, and he’s just like “i really don’t give a fuck.” and now you’re crying cs wdym you don’t care about my birthday party ?!?? - 🍄

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🐼🎀˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

you’re hot, overstimulated, pissed off — there’s clothes all over your bedroom floor as you rifle through them — looking for that one specific top and rafe has the audacity to just stand there, being so rude and then checking his phone mid argument whilst you talk to him.

“sorry was i meant to ignore the text from my dad just to stand here n’listen to you whining?” he drawls, gum smacking as he chews— fingers typing away at his screen. you sigh, heat rising in your chest from your own anger.

“you’re just being so mean and so unhelpful!” you yell, half turning around to look at him.

“so mean and so unhelpful!” he whisper yells mockingly albeit distractedly, fingers still not quitting their incessant typing. his attention is finally regained when a balled up pair of socks just miss him from your poor throw. he snorts, glancing up at you. “oh we’re throwing shit now? okay.” he nods in faux understanding, lips turned down.

you scramble to your feet, panting — clearly enraged. your brain rifled for the most hurtful thing you could think of in that moment, to try and get a reaction.

“you’re not coming to my birthday party anymore!” you explode, eyes wide and fists clenched at his sides. he stares blankly at you for a moment, still chewing but he doesn’t even seem fully there, brain somewhere else.

“the… the party that i’m paying for?” he raises his eyebrows.

“you’re not. coming. uninvited.” you spit, begging for some kind of emotional reaction. the final straw is when he continues to type, shrugging a shoulder.

“yeah uh, i think i’ll survive.”

devastated, you burst into tears. he really seemed to not care for your outburst — and the one time rafe wasn’t having an emotional reaction was the time you were trying to press for one. you were disappointed in yourself, but over everything just tired and overwhelmed. surprisingly, you hear him sigh and he steps through the mess of clothes scattered around you in piles.

“jesus.” he mutters before squatting down to your side. “hey, what— what is this? what are you crying for huh?” he dips his head, trying to catch your eye.

“you’re mean! and you don’t even care about my birthday party.” you sniffle into your hands, undoubtably a snotty mess. he presses his lips together, shuffling to a more comfortable spot before pulling you against his side.

“i do… i do. just figured i’d let you have your little tantrum. not tryna be the bad guy here, a’ight?” he exasperated, finally catching side of your damp cheek and wiping at it lazily with his thumb. “you don’t need to be doin’ any of this shit right now.” he gestures around you. “what you need, is to go lie down n’have a nap. you’re tired.”

“what i need is for you to be nice to me for once.” you sulk, sparing him a glance through wet spiky eyelashes.

“i’m being nice… okay? i’ll — i’ll come with you. just… chill. yeah?” he gives you a friendly little jostle with his hand on your waist and you sniff, not totally hating the idea of a nap with rafe. “alright. c’mon.” he stands up, and pulls you up by the hand before instantly lifting you beneath your arms to carry you on his hip. “s’like looking after a toddler sometimes. jesus.”

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🐼🎀˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (three)

requested here; (one); (two)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (the duff inspired) word count: 5.4k

You hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen the other day.

It was supposed to be all part of the game, of the plan.

You just wanted to learn things properly. Right? But you knew, you had wanted it, and worse, you had liked it.

God, what the hell were you doing?

He was Rafe Cameron. Cocky, rich, your nightmare with a reputation that should have sent you running in the opposite direction. And yet, here you were, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours, wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled back. If you hadn’t let the spell break.

"Focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head like you could shake him off too. You had bigger things to worry about—like Nate.

Remember Nate? The whole point of this was to get him to notice you, to finally realize that you were more than just the girl he studied with. You weren’t supposed to be getting caught up with Rafe Cameron’s sudden vulnerability or, God forbid, catching feelings for him.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you turned down the street toward your apartment. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the thought of Rafe stayed with you for hours, sneaking its way back in every time you thought you’d pushed it out for good.

What was it about him, anyway? He was hot, sure. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was seeing something deeper. Like there was more to this than either of you were willing to admit. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were starting to want him to see more.

By the time you reached your door, you had spiraled enough to know you needed a distraction. So you did what any girl in your situation would do: you grabbed your phone and texted Harper back.

You: Movie night better include wine. Lots of wine.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Harper <3:  “Already taken care of, babe. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little better. It was exactly what you needed. Maybe after a few glasses of wine and some cheesy rom-coms, you’d finally stop thinking about that stupid kiss.

As you closed the door behind you and flopped onto your bed, your phone buzzed again. Expecting it to be Harper, you lazily reached for it, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Rafe’s name instead.

Rafe: got your notes ready for tomorrow? or should i just show up and charm my way through it?

You stared at the screen for a second, unsure whether to laugh or throw your phone across the room. Why did he always have to do this? Act like nothing had changed when everything felt different?

Not that you were any better.

Finally, you typed back.

You: “depends. can ur charm get you through an entire chapter on portuguese colonization?”

His reply came almost instantly. Like he’d been waiting for yours.

Rafe: “we both know my charm can get me through anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the stupid smile tugging at your lips.

You: “let’s not test that theory. see you tomorrow.”

You tossed your phone aside, willing yourself not to overthink the fact that just seeing his name pop up on your screen made your heart race.

You were going to get through this. Nate was your goal. This thing with Rafe was just a detour. A very distracting, very complicated detour that you’d handle... eventually.

But tonight? Tonight was for your girls, your movies, and drowning out the chaos in your head with as much wine as it took to stop thinking about blue eyes and stupid smirks.

Later that night, you found yourself sprawled out on Ava’s couch, surrounded by blankets and popcorn, watching some cheesy rom-com that Harper had picked out. The glow of the TV cast a soft light over the room, but your mind was still elsewhere. Even with your best friends beside you, laughing and making snide comments about the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It wasn’t just the kiss—although that had definitely been messing with your head lately—it was everything. The way he’d been acting, the things he’d said, the stupid nickname that you couldn’t seem to shake. Harper and Ava had a point, but they didn’t know Rafe like you did. Not anymore, at least. You’d seen sides of him recently that no one else had, and while you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, there was something there. Something more than just the cocky rich boy everyone saw.

You sighed, reaching for another handful of popcorn, but Harper, ever the perceptive one, caught the look on your face before you could hide it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging your leg with her foot. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Yeah, you’ve barely roasted this movie,” Ava added, throwing a piece of popcorn at you. “That’s not like you.”

You didn't want to get into it, “Just tired, I guess. Long day.”

Harper wasn’t buying it, though. She turned the volume on the TV down and sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, spill. This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

You groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Can we not talk about him ?”

“Nope,” Harper said, yanking the pillow away. “Not until you tell us what’s going on. I know a liar when I see one."

Busted.

“Did something happen?”

You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. They were your best friends, and you knew they only wanted what was best for you. But the whole thing with Rafe felt complicated, like more than just a stupid crush. Still, you couldn’t keep it all bottled up forever.

“Fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “There was... a kiss.”

Harper’s jaw practically dropped. “A kiss? With Rafe?”

“When did this happen?” Ava demanded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I was scared!” You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again as you thought back to that moment in the library, “He knew I never kissed anyone and offered.”

“Wait, what? Your first kiss was with Rafe freaking Cameron?”

Ava gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “He offered? What the hell does that even mean? Did he just, like, present his lips to you like some weirdo?”

You groaned, wishing you could shrink into the couch and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that, okay? We were talking, and it came up. I told him I hadn’t kissed anyone, and then he was all, ‘I can fix that,’ or something. It just... happened a few days later.”

“So, what was it like? Was it good? Did he use tongue? I need details, girl.”

Harper elbowed her. “Ava! Let her breathe, she’s clearly still processing.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more as you fidgeted with a loose string on your sweater. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was good, okay? Really good. But it’s Rafe, and now everything’s weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harper’s expression softened,  “Okay, I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You’ve hated Rafe for, like, ever, right? And now, all of a sudden, you’re kissing him? What about Nate?”

“I know!” you groaned again, throwing your head back against the couch.

Ava looked like she was about to explode. “So... do you like him? Because it sounds like you’re starting to like him.”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t supposed to like him. It wasn’t part of the plan. But then he had to go and be all... different. Like, he’s still Rafe, but sometimes he’s—I don’t know, sweet? Ugh, that sounds ridiculous.”

Harper sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Babe, if you’re getting all messed up over a guy like Rafe, this could be a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. You didn’t want to like Rafe. He was the last person you should be catching feelings for. 

“Guys like him? They’ll pull you in, mess with your head, and leave you confused as hell.”

“I know,” you said, hating how true that sounded. “But it’s not just that. There’s something else. Like, when we’re alone, he’s— I don’t know. He lets his guard down, and I see a side of him that I don’t think anyone else does. He's weirdly honest."

Harper raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not catching feelings?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t even know anymore. I thought this was just a stupid kiss, but now it feels like everything’s different. And it’s so dumb because I should be focused on Nate!"

Ava and Harper exchanged a glance, both of them looking concerned. Harper was the first to speak.

“Okay, maybe this is a sign you need to figure out what you really want. Do you want to keep chasing Nate, or... do you want to see where things go with Rafe?”

You blinked, the question hitting you harder than you expected. What did you want? Nate had always been the plan—nice, safe, uncomplicated Nate. 

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His stupid grin, the way he’d tease you but also get serious for like, two seconds, just long enough to make you question everything.

You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face, “This was a terrible mistake.”

Harper crossed her arms, studying you. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Call him.”

“What?!” You sat up, heart racing. “No way. I can’t just call him out of nowhere.”

“Yes, you can,” Ava chimed in, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here’s the test—if he picks up right away, it means he’s been thinking about you too. If he doesn’t? Then maybe he’s just playing games.”

You stared at them like they’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Are you guys serious? There’s no way I’m doing that. You're not serious."

Harper smirked, grabbing your phone off the table and holding it out to you. “Do it. Right now. Trust me, if he cares, he’ll pick up.”

What kind of fucked up science was that? Rafe? Liking you? It was ridiculous. There was no way. Not when he'd been with so many girls, kissed even more, and never gave you a second glance. You were just...there.

Your stomach twisted in knots. “What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m weird for calling at night? What if I just— explode from embarrassment?”

Ava waved her hand dismissively. “If he doesn’t answer, then you know where you stand. But if he does... well, that’s another story. And I highly doubt you’ll explode. Just call him and see.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your phone like it was about to bite you. It felt reckless, terrifying even. But you were curious too—what would happen if you actually did it? Would he care? Would he answer?

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the phone from Harper and quickly finding Rafe’s name in your contacts before you could change your mind.

Ava grinned, leaning in. “Ooh, this is gonna be good.”

“I thought you hated him—"

“Call him!”

You hit call, holding your breath as the phone rang once, twice—

And then, to your absolute horror, it stopped. He picked up.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice came through, “Everything okay?”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both staring at you like this was the most exciting thing to ever happen. You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes freaking out about calling him.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, cringing at how awkward you sounded. “I just... wanted to see if you were ready for tomorrow’s study session.”

Lame. So, so lame.

Rafe chuckled softly. “You called me at night to ask about studying? I didn’t know I was that irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

He laughed again, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Too late. Anyway, I’m ready for tomorrow. Was studying really the reason you called?”

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both nodding furiously, encouraging you to say something—anything that wasn’t study-related.

“Well... maybe not just that,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

There was a pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

There was another moment of silence, like you were both trying to figure out what to say next.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Rafe said, his voice a little lower, almost... warmer? “Night.”

“Night,” you replied, and then the call ended.

You dropped your phone onto the couch, staring at it like it had just turned into a bomb.

Harper squealed. “He picked up right away! And he was flirty! Oh my God, he likes you!”

Ava clapped her hands, bouncing on the couch. “I knew it! He’s totally into you. Nevermind what we said earlier. Rafe Cameron is into you. We were wrong. Scratch the whole 'he’s just messing with your head' thing. He’s definitely catching feelings.”

You scowled, “Where’s your backbone? Five minutes ago, you were all, ‘Rafe’s trouble, don’t fall for it,’ and now you’re practically shipping us?”

Harper shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, but that was before he picked up right away and sounded all soft. That’s different, babe.”

“Exactly!” Ava chimed in. “Nate who?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. He’s... safe. And uncomplicated. Why am I even entertaining this idea of Rafe?”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Because safe doesn’t make your heart race. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you stay up all night overthinking. If you were so into Nate, you wouldn’t be calling Rafe at night. Or letting him kiss you!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. They had a point, as annoying as it was. Nate might’ve been the goal, but Rafe was what had your head spinning. You groaned again, flopping back against the couch.

Sure, maybe he’d been acting a little off lately. Like, sometimes he’d actually ask you how your day was or show up when he knew you’d be around. You didn’t think much of it, though. That’s just how it was with guys like Rafe—he probably wanted something, or maybe he was just bored.

You huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s just so stupid. He’s Rafe. He’s... ugh, he’s complicated, and I don’t even know if he’s serious, or if he’s just bored, or what. And now I’ve kissed him, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and—”

“And now you’re realizing that maybe Nate isn’t what you really want after all,” Harper finished.

You sighed, hugging a pillow to your chest. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He’d flirt, he’d flash that stupid grin, and then he’d move on like nothing ever happened. Why would you be different? 

“Easy. You figure out what you want. Not what Nate wants, not what Rafe wants. You. And until then, just... enjoy. No one said you had to decide everything right now.”

Harper nodded in agreement, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. Take it slow. And for tonight, let’s just not overthinking every little thing, okay?”

Yet, you thought about him all night. You’d seen the way he treated other girls. He’d throw them those lazy smiles, the ones that practically screamed I’ll forget your name by tomorrow, and it always seemed to work.

They all fell for it—why wouldn’t they? Rafe was good at getting what he wanted, and he never stuck around long enough for things to get messy. You? You were invisible up until recently. He only paid attention when he felt like pissing you off. Your friends had to be reading too much into things.

This was Rafe. The same Rafe who was impossible to figure out, who never took anything seriously—least of all you. There was no way he liked you. 

But the next day came way too fast, and you were paying for it. Hard.

You groaned as you dragged yourself into the library, sunglasses on like they were going to somehow shield you from the pounding headache.

Harper and Ava had insisted on one more glass of wine, which of course, turned into two. And now, you were here, praying Rafe wouldn’t notice that you felt like death.

As you slumped into the chair across from him, he immediately raised an eyebrow, “Rough night?”

You gave him a look, your head already throbbing too much for his sarcasm. “Don’t even start, Cameron.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your state. “Wow, I can smell the regret from here. You look like you partied with a bottle of tequila and lost.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was wine, thank you very much. And yeah, it was a little too much.”

He chuckled softly, flipping open his notebook. “A little? You look like you just survived a war zone. Was the study session that boring to look forward to?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” you muttered, wincing as you reached for your bag. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying every second of it. “I’m impressed you made it at all. Should I have brought a bucket? You know, just in case?”

You glared at him from behind your sunglasses. “I hate you so much right now.”

Rafe just grinned, unfazed. “Trust me, it’s mutual. But seriously, you need water or something? You’re about two seconds away from face-planting on that table.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Still, your mouth felt like a desert, and the thought of anything cold and hydrating sounded like heaven.

“Maybe… a coffee?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? No?”

“You’re not drinking coffee before you eat.”

You squinted at him, thoroughly annoyed. “Rafe, I’m hungover, not five years old.”

He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not swayed.

“Hungover means your brain’s working even worse than normal, so yeah, I’m pulling the adult card here. You need food before coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting it instantly as your head throbbed harder. “Fine. I’ll get food after the coffee.”

He shook his head, already getting up. “Nope. I’m grabbing you a bagel or something.”

“Rafe, seriously—” you started, but he was already walking away, not even bothering to let you finish.

You slumped back in your chair, groaning under your breath. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and your stomach was twisting in a way that wasn’t just from the hangover. But it was so typical of him to boss you around, like he knew what was best for you. He seemed almost too serious about all this, like it wasn’t just about breakfast or caffeine. Was he actually… worried?              

He was being so over-the-top about something so simple. Maybe he noticed things you didn’t even realize were slipping—how little you’d been eating, how tired you always seemed. You didn’t want him to worry, to get so wrapped up in how you were doing. But the fact that he did… 

Rafe returned, dropping a bagel in front of you. “Eat. Then you can have your coffee.”

You blinked at the bagel, caught off guard. “You actually got me food?”

He gave you a look. “You really thought I wouldn’t? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A pain in my ass?” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it. You unwrapped the bagel, taking a cautious bite, and, annoyingly, it actually helped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now, once you finish that, we’ll get started on actual studying. You might wanna take those sunglasses off too. It’s not that bright in here.”

“Stop being so smug about it,” you grumbled, but you took another bite of the bagel, your headache easing just a little.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Hey, if you’re gonna drink like that, you should at least have someone who can take care of you after.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this your way of saying you care?”

“Eat your bagel.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest. Why was he always like this? One minute he was the biggest pain, and the next, he was sweet? You took another bite of the bagel, trying to ignore the way his comment made your stomach do a weird little flip.

Rafe just watched you, arms crossed, looking smug as ever. "I'm not saying anything," he teased, leaning forward slightly. "But you did call me last night."

You nearly choked on your bagel. "That was for studying!"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. "Oh, right. You totally call guys at night to talk about history."

You threw a balled-up napkin at him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Don't start with me, Cameron. You texted me first!"

"Fair enough," He caught the napkin effortlessly, still grinning, like teasing you was the highlight of his day. He was holding his hands up in surrender, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. "Don’t know if it’s the kiss or maybe you’re just starting to realize I'm not all bad."

You scoffed, trying to brush off how much that actually hit home.

"Please. You're still an entitled jerk, Rafe. One kiss doesn’t change that."

But the truth was, maybe it did change something. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since. And now, sitting here with him being all unexpectedly considerate, it was getting harder to pretend like there wasn’t something going on.

“So it hasn’t been keeping you up at night?”

“Why would it? It was just a kiss. Happens all the time, right?”

His smirk widen, “So I didn’t get your panties in a twist?”

You were going to throw a book at his face.

"You’re so full of yourself," you muttered, trying to act unbothered, but your pulse quickened.

Rafe leaned in a little closer, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m just saying, it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ with the way you keep getting flustered. You sure it didn’t mean anything?”

You narrowed your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m totally falling for you? That I can’t stop thinking about the kiss? Because that’s not happening.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again, but something shifted in his expression. He was still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity now, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll just keep doing my thing then.”

“Your thing? What, being an annoying, arrogant jerk?” you shot back, though there was less bite in your tone than usual.

Rafe’s lips twitched, “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you up at night.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? Why was this working on you?

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the whole reason you were here in the first place: studying, Nate, anything but this. But the way Rafe was looking at you right now, like he could see through all the walls you put up... yeah, it was messing with your head again.

"Can we just study now?" you grumbled, flipping open your textbook, praying the conversation would shift before your cheeks got any redder. "I didn’t drag myself here to talk about your ridiculous fantasies."

His grin softened into something more genuine, and he shook his head, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. Let’s get started before your brain melts from that hangover.”

But as you pulled out your notes, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. And worse, you knew your heart was doing the same—stupid fluttering and all.

There was something about this back-and-forth with him that was starting to feel... different. And maybe, just maybe, that scared you more than you were willing to admit.

As the two of you dove into the study session, you tried—really tried—to focus on the material in front of you. But every time he leaned in a little closer or cracked a joke that made you roll your eyes, your mind wandered back to that kiss. To the way he looked at you when no one else was around. To the fact that, as much as you hated to admit it, Rafe Cameron was making you feel something you hadn’t expected.

“Do you remember that bonfire when we were sixteen?” he asked all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Which one? There were like, a million bonfires.”

“The one where you dumped your drink in my face.”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth. Oh. That bonfire. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory came rushing back, clear as day.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you forget. One minute I was talking to you, and the next, I was soaking wet with a face full of—what was it? Lemonade?”

“Spiked lemonade,” you corrected, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” he echoed, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane. “I asked if you wanted to hang out by the water. How’s that deserving a drink to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the old annoyance bubble up again. “You asked me to hang out after you and your friends had spent the whole night making fun of me."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe we were a little rough back then. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a dick that night.”

“You were always a dick,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind your words. Sixteen-year-old you had despised him and his cocky attitude. 

He smirked, “You were so pissed off. Your face was all red, and you were shaking with anger, like you couldn’t believe I’d even dared to speak to you.”

“You had it coming.”

“I probably did,” he agreed, a softer look crossing his face. “But I remember thinking, even back then, you were different. You didn’t take shit from anyone.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Wait, are you actually complimenting me right now? What is happening?”

Rafe just grinned, leaning back again, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve always had more fight in you.”

Your stomach did that weird little flip again, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the crumbs left on the table. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I think that’s why I liked messing with you so much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “You always pushed back.”

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond to that. The Rafe you remembered from back then was all arrogance and teasing, but this... this was different. It was like he was admitting that he’d seen you in a way no one else had back then. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching cut your conversation short. You glanced up, thinking it might just be another student passing by, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Nate walking toward you and Rafe.

Rafe’s smirk faded instantly when he spotted him approaching.

“Hey,” Nate greeted with a casual smile, though his eyes flicked quickly between you and Rafe, “Didn’t know you guys studied here too.”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal even though your brain was racing. “Yeah, uh, just catching up on some work.”

Nate’s smile wavered slightly as his gaze lingered on Rafe, then back to you. “Mind if I join? I was just gonna find a spot to get some work done, but...” His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

For a second, you were torn. Nate was here, right in front of you—the guy you’d been chasing for months, the one who was supposed to be the plan. But Rafe was sitting across from you.

He leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms with that signature smirk creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, sure, the more, the merrier.”

You shot him a look, silently pleading with him not to make this worse, but he just raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation.

Nate pulled out a chair, setting his bag down, “What’re you working on?” he asked, glancing between you and Rafe.

Before you could answer, Rafe spoke up, again, “Just a little review. Nothing too complicated, right?” His eyes flicked to you, daring you to answer.

You swallowed hard, feeling both their gazes on you. “Yeah, just going over some notes. We’re almost done, actually.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than necessary, like he was sizing him up. “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll just... grab a spot over there.” 

“You do that.”

“Rafe.” you grumbled under your breath, kicking him under the table.

"You wanna grab lunch after? I was gonna head to that new sandwich place, and figured you might want to come."

For a split second, you hesitated. Lunch with Nate was the safe, easy option—exactly what you’d been trying to hold onto. But the way Rafe was watching you now... Nate’s invitation wasn’t just about lunch. It was a claim, a reminder that he was the one you were supposed to be into.

"I, um—” you started, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You’d just spent the last half hour trying to convince yourself that Rafe didn’t matter. That this whole thing with him wasn’t a big deal. But now, with Nate standing right here, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting.

Rafe stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Well, looks like you’ve got plans," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at you, before grabbing his notebook. "Catch you later, I guess."

Before you could say anything, he walked away, his footsteps heavy as he left the library. You stared after him, your heart doing this weird thing where it felt like it was both racing and sinking at the same time.

Nate raised an eyebrow, watching Rafe go. "That guy’s... intense," he said, his tone light, but you could tell he was fishing for something.

You forced a smile, "Yeah, that’s Rafe for you."

But even as you said it, your mind wasn’t on Nate. It was still stuck on Rafe—on the way he’d looked at you before he left, like maybe he’d been hoping you wouldn’t just go along with Nate’s plan. Like maybe he’d wanted you to choose something different.

"So, lunch?" Nate asked again, his smile back in place, but it didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

You swallowed hard, nodding automatically. “Sure, lunch sounds good.”

But as you followed him out of the library, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you’d just walked away from something important. 

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[isaadore]

EVERYTHING YOU'VE WANTED NICO HISCHIER

pairing nico hischier x reader

SUMMARY you and nico have been close for years, but when his christmas plans begin to spiral out of control, you can't help but wonder if he's missing what's most important right in front of him. word count 1.8k

warnings pure fluff

note my first fic for "a nonsense christmas" event <3 requested by anon 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST NH13 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST

YOU'D THINK YOU'D be used to Nico’s holiday over-preparation by now, but each year, he somehow manages to one-up himself. This year, you’re sitting across from him in a cozy, bustling café, watching as snowflakes drift lazily through frosted windows. Nico’s leaning over a notepad filled with scribbled lists of gifts, decorations, and plans for get-togethers, his brow furrowed in the same concentration he usually reserves for games.

You lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of his list. “Is all that really necessary?” you ask, half-amused, half-astounded.

He looks up, a hint of a determined smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I want this Christmas to be special,” he says. It’s a line you’ve heard from him every year, and yet, each time, there’s a part of you that wonders if he means something more.

You smile, watching him go all out for everyone he cares about. Nico has always been the type to give so deeply that he sometimes overdoes it. Being his best friend, you get to see the side of him that no one else does: the quiet moments when he lets go of those expectations he piles onto himself, the way he seeks out solitude after a long day to recharge. You’re not sure when, but over the years, the admiration you felt for his big heart turned into something deeper, something harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to work so hard to make things special, you know?” you say, softening your voice. “People just want to be around you.”

He glances down, smirking as he takes in your words. “Easy for you to say,” he counters, his voice playful but with a touch of sincerity. “I’m not great at just… being there and doing nothing.”

You shake your head, smiling at his stubbornness. “You don’t need to do anything. You’re already enough just as you are.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he looks back down at his list, but not before you catch the soft smile tugging at his lips. Your heart races a little, but you try to brush it off, focusing on the chatter of people around you and the smell of peppermint drifting in the air.

Nico breaks the silence. “So, what’s the plan?” he asks, tapping his pen against the list.

“Apparently, you have it all covered,” you tease, but inside, a part of you wonders if this year might be different. If there might finally be room for the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. “But maybe ease up on the holiday party planning? You know, just enjoy being around people.”

He smirks again, shifting in his seat, and you swear there’s a hint of something in his gaze when he looks back up. “What about you? Don’t you want something a little extra?”

The question is innocent enough, but it catches you off guard. “Me? I guess… I just want things to feel real. Not forced,” you reply honestly. It’s not the full truth, but close enough. Nico knows you well enough to read between the lines, but if he senses the unspoken feelings, he doesn’t let on.

“You always make things sound so simple,” he says, his voice quieter. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m just making it all too complicated.”

You sip your coffee, choosing your next words carefully. “Sometimes. But it’s okay to let things happen on their own.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, clearly a bit self-conscious. “Not exactly my strong suit,” he admits. “Guess that’s why I’m always making lists.”

As the afternoon wears on, the café around you fills with laughter and cheerful chatter, and yet, every now and then, Nico glances up, his gaze lingering on you just a beat too long. It’s these moments that stay with you, the feeling that he’s close but still somehow just out of reach. You’ve been friends forever, childhood best friends with enough shared history to write novels, and yet… here you are, still feeling the thrill of every accidental brush of his hand.

When it’s time to leave, you pull on your coat and wrap your scarf around your neck, bracing yourself for the chilly walk home. Just as you’re about to say goodbye, Nico pauses, glancing back over his shoulder like he’s been holding something back.

“Hey, I’ve got the tree up at home, but it’s still bare,” he says, almost shyly. “Think you could help me decorate it?”

You try to hide your excitement and nod casually. “Of course. Can’t let you take on all the work alone.”

His place is quiet and warm when you get there, the faint scent of pine filling the room. Boxes of ornaments are scattered around, each one holding memories from past Christmases. You pull out a few decorations, laughing as you remember the year he bought a massive Santa figurine and insisted on displaying it proudly, despite your protests that it was overkill.

He chuckles, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Guess I have a habit of going overboard.”

“Maybe just a little,” you reply, nudging him gently.

At one point, Nico pulls out a small, handmade ornament, a little snowflake you recognize immediately. You gave it to him when you were kids, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. A little embarrassed, you watch as he hangs it carefully, a fond smile on his face.

“Didn’t know you still had that,” you murmur.

“Of course. It’s always been one of my favourites,” he replies, his voice sincere.

You fall into a comfortable rhythm, working together in that easy way you always have. You lose track of time, your arms brushing now and then as you reach for ornaments or adjust the lights, each accidental touch leaving you a bit breathless. Eventually, you step back to admire your work, the tree aglow with soft lights casting a warm ambiance.

“Thanks for staying to help,” he says, his voice soft, gaze lingering on you. “I don’t know why, but this year feels… different.”

You nod, feeling a subtle shift in the air between you. “Maybe because it’s just us. It feels more… real somehow.”

He hesitates like he’s weighing his words. “Maybe that’s all I needed, just to be with the people who matter most.” His words hang in the air, full of unspoken meaning. You wonder if he realizes what he’s implying, but before you can respond, he lets out a soft laugh, as if trying to shake off the tension. “But don’t tell the team I said that.”

Your heart flutters, and you smile, the tension fading but still there, humming beneath the surface. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He meets your gaze, and for a moment, everything else fades: the tree, the lights, the ornaments scattered around. It’s just him and you, standing close in the quiet. Nico shifts, looking away as if gathering his thoughts. “You know… for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. “Me too.”

You both stand there, taking in the sight of the glowing tree, the lights casting soft shadows that dance across the room. The warmth in the air is almost tangible, settling between you in a way that feels heavy and electric. You glance over at Nico, finding him already looking at you with an expression that’s softer, and more vulnerable than you’ve seen before.

He takes a small step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His hand reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek gently. Your heart began to race. The touch lingers, warm and grounding, and you feel his thumb lightly trace along your jaw as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“Nico…” you whisper, his name catching on your breath, barely audible.

His gaze deepens, the soft determination you’ve come to know so well flickering in his eyes. “I don’t know why it took me this long,” he murmurs, voice low, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “But I think… maybe you always knew.”

There’s a raw honesty in his voice that leaves you feeling exposed like he’s stripped away every wall you’ve put up. You nod, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I think I did. But I was scared… scared of ruining what we have.”

He leans in closer, his eyes searching yours with a look that’s both questioning and certain like he’s seeking permission while already knowing the answer. His hand holds your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin, and you feel your heart pounding. The world around you began fading into the background.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, each word sending a thrill through you.

Then, slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative brush, but the warmth and familiarity between you quickly deepen it. His hand slips around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he melts into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle yet undeniable intensity.

You wrap your arms around him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his sweater, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. The kiss grows deeper, both of you giving in to the years of unspoken feelings and all the moments you held back. There’s a warmth that spreads through you, a feeling of home, and for the first time, you allow yourself to believe that this is real, that he wants this as much as you do.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he gazes down at you. His hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin, and his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel like the only person in the world.

He lets out a quiet, almost nervous laugh, glancing away briefly before looking back at you with a hint of that familiar shyness. “Guess I don’t need to plan so much anymore, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mix of relief and happiness.

You smile, reaching up to rest your hand over his. “Maybe just one more plan, for us.”

He nods, his hand slipping down to entwine with yours, and you feel his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. The world outside is quiet, the glow of the tree casting a soft light around you. As you stand there together, you realize that this, right here with him, is exactly where you've always wanted to be on Christmas.

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[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

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♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

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going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

[cordidy]

A few days ago I wrote this

https://www.tumblr.com/cordidy/769603546439172096/just-needed-to-get-this-out-of-my-head-after?

just because it was in my brain and I'm sooooo happy people liked it.

Here is the part two as demanded. I'm proud with how it came out and I hope you will love reading it as much as I loved writting it 😊

SPOILER for Sylus's Myth

TW : Alcohol, "lady of the night", sadness,

English is not my mother tongue BUT this time it was proofread by @thedeadstoryteller1 whom I love sooooo much for that.

“...Flowers bloom as far as the eye can see…”

“What did you say ?” You groaned, the familiar voice still in your ears as you opened an eye lazily, expecting an answer that never came.

Waking up felt like dying.

Spinning head, dizziness, whole body aching, clearly mistakes were made and atonement was due but God it still hurt.

Slowly opening your eyes as you tried to avoid the blinding light of the sun pouring into your room, you tried to recollect the events of last night…not very efficiently.

A quick look around.

You were alone in your room, not in a drunk tank and fully dressed indicating you did not do nor bring a mistake back home with you, thanks to your bodyguard.

Speaking of bodyguard, you found him in your kitchen, over the stove making ...pancakes ?

“So I did bring an ass…” you started in a tired and raspy voice as you made your way towards the counter before Sylus quickly gestured to his ear.

“I think I’ve been more than generous in my payment planning…”he said calmly while flipping a pancake in the pan as you grabbed a glass of water and some Tylenol before taking a seat, focusing your attention on him.

There was always something intrinsically fascinating when it came to him working. Most of the time you saw two types of Sylus, the asshole trying to get a rise out of you for his own entertainment (kind of cute honestly) or the combatant who would obliterate his enemies while using his Evol to throw things at you when fighting to “keep you on your toes” and because it was “fun”.

Seeing him do things as serious as negotiating a deal or doing his accounting reminded you he was not just a pain in your arse but also a very functioning person.

“Kieran, how many fingers does Mister Vaulric need to play the piano ?” He casually asked on the phone, making you choke on the water you were drinking.

Alright, a psychotic functioning adult…

Silence

He did not turn around when you threw a dishcloth at him, only lowering his head with a sigh.

“You have 1 more week. Increased loan interests, Kieran will handle the details” he finally said, setting the pancakes in a plate before putting them in front of you with a jar of jam, completely ignoring you and your gleaming eyes “Oh and I suggest you don’t leave the N109 Zone for now, we can’t guarantee your…safety…outside of it” he added before he ended the call and took a seat in front of you.

“Did you just threaten a guy in my kitchen ?” you asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the frown on your face. Yes you were friends with a criminal but you were still a law abiding citizen…

Besides, threats made with a lace apron sounded….weird.

“I don’t make threats , only warnings. Eat your pancakes” he retorted, casually sitting in front of you.

“I didn't expect to see you here ” you said while eating.

“Someone had to make sure you were alive after all the alcohol you drank last night”

Whoa, that was cold. You looked at him, uncomfortable.

“No I mean in the kitchen, knowing you, I half expected to wake up to you in my bed” you chuckled trying a bit of humor. Of course you trusted him, knowing he would never attempt anything if you could not or would not consent but…well, no harm in some banter right ?

The joke felt flat though as he remained silent.

“Sooooo no snarky comment about the way I look today with my hangover ? No making fun of me for my poor choices in life ? ” you asked him, trying to break the ice with a bit of teasing. Surely he wasn’t mad at you, was he ?

“Does your head hurt ?” he asked, still not looking at you, texting.

“Yeah ?” you answered your mouth full.

“Do you feel like an idiot for getting so shitfaced you don’t remember anything from last night ?”

You remained silent. 

Last night…clearly something happened last night.

Something bad judging by his attitude towards you. What...what did you do to deserve the cold shoulder from him of all people ? 

You were too slow to respond though as he was already getting up.

“Then the Universe already took care of it on my behalf” he simply said while putting his phone back in his pocket, clearly avoiding eye contact as he grabbed his jacket. “Drink water and take a nap” he added before leaving your apartment without even a goodbye.

Something was wrong.

“Hey, you did not really cut this guy's finger right ?” 

Clearly something was wrong between the two of you and it was starting to bug you.

“Everything alright ? No news for 2 weeks is soooo suss coming from you. Even your pigeon from Hell is not around“

That was the only explanation you had to the fact that Sylus had literally vanished from your life since that morning a month ago.

“Sylus, seriously I'm worried, you ok ?”

Then there was the issue of Luke and Kieran. 

1 month

1 FUCKING month without a call, without a text, without even a reaction on your Moments and the worst part ? It hurt !

At first you had figured he probably was busy with that Vaulric dude he had been talking to at your place and that’s why he did not answer your messages but a whole month just to deal with a loan gone late ?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but you….you’re not yourself lately…” Xavier said, leaving his boxing stance after you tripped while attacking him, barely avoiding falling face first on the ground thanks to your partner's quick reaction.

When you had not been able to reach Sylus, you turned to the twins for info, reassurance, a death certificate, anything to just know what was going on but still, nothing. You knew your messages were read by the pair so they had to be at least alive, but they remained unanswered.

This radio silence was starting to take a toll on you as reflected by your sleepless nights that turned you to a mess both physically and emotionally.

“I’m fine. Again !” you brushed off as the young man tried to get to the bottom of what was happening to you. While you had been the one insisting on sparring, hoping it would allow you to blow some steam off, you clearly were not at it and it was getting dangerous.

“No, I'm not fighting until you tell me what's happening !” 

You suppressed a frustrated growl.

Alright, if he wanted to be an easy target…

Next thing you knew, the easy target's fist met your nose as you tried a sneak attack and he reacted out of instinct, color draining from his face when he saw blood dripping from your nose.

“Fuck Y/n I'm sorry ! I…I didn't mean to !” 

This got you a week off duty and another scolding from your physician who had threatened to tie you up on a therapist's chair if you did not work on your current issues.

You didn’t need therapy, though, you needed answers and you were going to get them.

Kudos to Zayne for giving you the idea of tying Sylus up until he talked if need be.

Clearly you were not expected.

You didn’t know what to expect when you pushed Sylus’s office door open that night. Your nose was still puffy, wicks still in one of your nostrils, blood all over your shirt but you did not care what you looked like right now.

You wanted answers and he was going to give them to you, as soon as the stunning woman sitting on his desk, half naked, her long silver hair cascading her back, would be gone.

“I…”

There he was, sitting casually, his shirt half open, engrossed in conversation and your blood ran cold into your veins as the woman leaned towards Sylus to refill his glass with a giggle.

Based on his look, it was not the first…The sound of your voice got his attention though, and, for a split second, you saw shock in his eyes before the mask was up again.

Something you did not like.

“Oooooh, you invited a friend ? The more the merrier I guess but…I charge more for this kind of…fun…” the hooker cooed, playing with Sylus’s hair. “No offence sweety, women are just not my…first choice” she added, smiling at you.

Technically, he didn’t owe you anything. You were friends, nothing more, despite the constant flirting, the glances, the brushing of his hands…yet, seeing him with another woman stirred something inside of you. 

Maybe it was just the global exhaustion you were into but you felt a surge of…possessiveness towards him and you had to refrain yourself from jumping at the young woman in order to not claw her eyes out.

Seeing you hurt, Sylus, your Sylus anyway, would already be on you, checking your nose, getting the twins to bring you clean clothes while pestering you about the how ? When ? why ? and especially who’s teeth he needed to remove for doing that to you but all you got from the man in front of was a laconic “what happened to your nose ?” as he grabbed his glass, barely looking at you, focusing his attention on the young woman.

Part of you wanted to jump at him and hold him tight as you saw he was alive and well but at the same time you wanted to smash his head on the fucking mahogany desk for giving you the cold shoulder.

“What are you doing here ?”

“What I…” yeah, the head smashing was definitely an option as you walked towards him, trying to remain calm. “I came to see you since you decided to avoid me like the Plague lately” you said coldly.

“Leave us” he commanded the woman who didn't need to be told twice. 

She still seemed disappointed as she passed you before grabbing some cash on the coffee table, understanding the party was over. “Well, you saw me”

He remained silent and it made your blood boil with anger. 

“So this is what you’ve been doing for the past month ?” you asked, dumbfounded.

"As far as I can remember, what I do in my free time is none of your business” he pointed out in the same laconic tone.

“Alright…what did I do ? Ever since that night you brought me back home you've been avoiding me !”

You couldn’t bear his attitude towards you, the way he had left the situation fester and rot between you two.

“Don't…” he warned you.

So something did happen and, since you couldn’t remember a thing, you could only rely on him…

“What ? What happened ?! Did you try something ?” 

Deep down you knew it was not that. You trusted him and you knew he would never take advantage of the situation, hence why you called him but maybe…

“You tried something, I pushed you away and you didn't like that…”

…maybe provoking him…

“I think you should leave Y/n” he said in a straight tone, still avoiding your eyes and that's when you snapped.

“LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKING PRICK !” you yelled at him, losing control of your emotions, finally getting a reaction from him as he was not used to being bossed around or insulted. 

That’s when he saw them.

The tears you’ve been keeping up for the past month.

Neither of you could tell if they were tears of sadness, of frustration or of rage but right now, as you looked at him with so much anger and hate and…heartbreak, you were terrifying.

Breathtaking.

A vision for sore eyes that stirred something in him…

Truly and utterly terrified of the man you had been trusting with your life only a month ago.

“A month Sylus…A month without a word ! without a call, without a sign of life ! Do you have any idea how worried I was ?! I thought you were…you were…” you couldn’t say the words, couldn’t admit how the mere thought of it terrified you.

“What ? Dead ?” He let out a resentful  chuckle before taking a sip of whiskey “...you made sure this was never an option for me…” and the bitterness of words hit you like a tone of brick.

“You know…You’re good at that little game of yours” he added casually, finally rising from his chair, making his way towards you “I actually believed in that little…amnesia game…”

“What are you talking about ?” you asked, but he did not listen, too focused on his own train of thoughts.

“...But stupid people say stupid things when they get drunk…” he continued, puzzling you even more “What I don’t get though, is the why” he pondered like he was looking for the answer to a complex riddle.

“Please expla…” you started, confusion replacing the anger.

“STOP WITH THE BULLSHIT !” he yelled back, throwing his glass against the wall and, for the first time, you were scared of him. 

It didn’t take being a genius to know that, between brute strength and his Evol, you were no match if things were to go south. 

“I did everything you asked…” he started, getting closer as you slowly backed away, shaking.

“Sylus you're scaring me…” you said in a genuine tone, fear replacing anger.

“You're noisy…”

That voice again…his voice…

“We set the Sanctuary ablaze…”

“...Fulfilled all of your mortal desirs…” his words dripped…hatred.

He was obviously drunk.

And dangerous.

“Stay back” you warned him, looking for the gun at your belt before aiming at him. Not that it would be of any use anyway but it could eventually buy you time.

“...3 chances..”

“You remind me of a young…”

“I WILL shoot you if you don't back the fuck away Sy !” you warned him but he didn’t stop and you couldn’t bring yourself to shoot.

Your head started to spin as he kept getting closer, your hand shaking, your will faltering as the smell of smoke filled your nose.

Smoke ? What smoke ? What Sanctuary ?

Just like in those nightmares plaguing your nights ever since Sylus and you Resonated…

“We bathed in the blood of your enemies and danced on the corpses of those who wronged you…” 

You could hear it, the screams of terror as fire drowned the city and you laughed in bliss, strong hands laced around you

“Are you satisfied, Beloved ?” 

“Sylus I don’t feel alright…” you whispered as you started to stumble, feeling the familiar sensation of a new Resonnance which didn’t make sense as resonating with him was a tedious process.

It could not happen just like that…could it ?

You were having a hard time focusing on him and his image started to shift ? Almost as if reality was...glitching...and you needed to close your eyes from the dizziness.

When you opened them again, his head was pressed against your gun.

 “Don’t know where to aim ? I can tell you…” he said and the way his eyes darkened was a striking contrast with the tenderness he used to caress your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into his palm, like you were not holding a gun at his face.

“Only the fiend's archnemesis can kill it…” he whispers with pleading eyes.

“...My dragon is…here”

“Sylus…”

“I curse your soul” 

The words spilled out of your mouth…echoes from a buried past…

“Why Beloved ?” he asked in a broken voice, clearly lost in his own thoughts , closing his eyes as tears poured down your cheeks while you were unable to steady your hand.

“I curse your soul…to never fade away”

“Why would you do this to me ?” He asked, dropping to his knees, abandoning all pride as he laid his heart bare to you.

“You'll always be tied to me, forever”

“Why would you pretend we are not one ?” 

“Only I can grant you a true death”

“I just want you back…Please come back to me…” he pleaded, ready to give you his life if you asked him. 

Again

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