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drawlfoy · 3 years ago

Text

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled.

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.

Task 1? Technically done.

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her.

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N.

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.

“What is it?”

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??”

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.

“Y/L/N?”

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms.

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled.

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.”

“Why?”

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.”

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.”

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost.

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!”

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked.

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused.

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.”

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.”

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour.

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.”

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.”

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck.

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?”

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.”

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?”

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress.

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot.

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

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mayaflowerxs · 3 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet w/Winwin

Warning: smutty!

Dedicated to: anime804

Aftercare:

I’m going to be honest, I see this man not doing much aftercare. If anything I think he will get cleaned up, maybe shower and go on with his day. Maybe if you guys had rough sex or it was just a very intimate moment he’ll spend the next half an hour running his hand through your hair. Little pecks on your temple as he helps clean you up. Ask if he went a little too hard or if everything was okay. Not saying he won’t care about it at all but just isn’t one who goes to great limits for aftercare.

Body Part:

He gives me fingers type person. He loves interlocking his fingers with yours. Loves playing with them and anytime he yearns for touch he goes straight for them. He might get irritated when you don’t get the hint about wanting to play with him (either holding them or playing with your rings/tattoos if you have any), so he’ll resort to snatching your hand and interlocking them. Not sparing you a glance as he goes on with his day like nothing.

Cum:

He doesn’t have a specific place he would like to climax usually he would let you decide. Lots of times though his loads are very intense when you suck him off. If not he’ll just release inside of you but with a condom on. I see him as someone who isn’t into the whole messy side and would find it annoying to have to clean the sheets because you two can’t seem to not cum on them.

Dirty Secret:

He secretly loves it when you’re on his lap. Usually he seems to be one who really isn’t to pda. Doesn’t really show much affection until he gets the sudden urge to hold you. You usually don’t sit on his lap but the one time you two were hanging out with the boys but no seats left you sat on his lap. When seeing his shocked face you went to get up and apologize but he only gripped your hips to keep you put. You never realized he was growing a hard on which was a shocker to him. He won’t tell you he likes you sitting there because every time you do he gets turned on and he thinks by you knowing you will think he’s a horny pervert and won’t ever sit on his lap again :(

Experience:

Completely honest, I think he wouldn’t be that experienced. Ever since he was a child he always did things. Always had a busy schedule and always determined to achieve great things. I don’t think he would’ve been one to really look for a relationship until he met you and you was just so damn charming to him he couldn’t continue he day without thinking about you. But when you two did have sex for the first time he pretty much knew everything. Just because he didn’t date a lot doesn’t mean he hasn’t done such naughty things.

Favorite Position:

I can see him loving reverse cowgirl and ballet dancer. He loves seeing you bounce on him, seeing himself get swallowed by your walls really gets him going. And ballet dancer well he really just likes the closeness. Seeing your face contort in pleasure because of him, determination and adoration written on his face as he swoons when hearing your moans only ever get louder.

Goofy:

He usually isn’t goofy but he gets very touchy tho. He’ll become this soft babie he’s tried not to show too much because of how much he gets coo’ed at by the others.

Hair:

I see him keeping it bare there but occasionally have a few strands on there.

Intimacy:

I see him as one who’s all about intimacy. Sees he’s kinda closed off he feels the need to reassure you just how much he loves you even if he doesn’t have. Very sensual, maybe gets rough and fast but before he climaxes he goes softer and slower wanting to climax with you. Cupping your face as he asks you if you’re close.

Jerk Off:

Yes. He would just not as much as the other boys. If he does it he absolutely makes sure he’s all alone, jerking off to pictures of you. He probably wouldn’t call you because he’s embarrassed and worried what you would think of him even though it’s completely normal to do so. So even after he��s done he wouldn’t be completely satisfied. You would know he jerked off because usually he takes you unexpectedly and starts touching you, his way to signal you he’s in the mood. That only ever happens when he jerks off few hours prior.

Kink:

Has a receiving oral fixation. He really loves it when you suck him off. Also anything that has to do with fingers he’s into it. Either finger fucking you, having you suck on his fingers as he hits it from the back, interlocking them while he’s climaxing literally anything he’s all for it.

Location:

I see him as one who would really like having sex in the living room or bathroom. He finds you very, very attractive having water drops run down your body as the room fogs up. At this point it’s either water or sweat but it doesn’t matter because he still loses it seeing you all watery as your begging for more. Living room, he finds it very comforting and relaxing. Like if you two were having lazy sex he would most likely want to do it there. Having you slowly bounce on his cock as the show on the tv was long forgotten. His pants barely down enough to free his cock. Even if he was mostly covered he would have you stripped to nothing. A hand grabbing your hair back as he held your hips, motioning for you to pick up the paste.

Motivation:

Stress. You two would probably do it when you guys really feel lovey dovey but when one of you two or both feel stressed you guys use that as momentum to fuck each other’s brains out, rough or slow it’s happening.

No:

Not into pegging. He’s low key a dom and even though you try to baby him to annoy tf out of him once you go too far he has you pinned on the cushions of the couch, jackhammering you not caring if one of the boys walk in any second. He’s also not one into threesomes or toys. Just overall a no.

Oral:

He’s not good at giving oral mainly because it’s all in his head. He thinks you won’t feel good so he won’t even try to have that discussion but you. Yeah he absolutely loves it when you suck him off dry. He loves seeing your beautiful eyes twinkle at him, you look so cute and innocent even though your mouth is full of his cock.

Pace:

He usually goes fast in the beginning. Mainly because he can’t wait no more, the foreplay already pushing him to the edge and really needs you. But as the time goes on he goes slower to feel every inch of you, also reminding you the love he has for you.

Quickies:

Not into quickies. You would probably would want to have one with him when you just really need him but he will not budge. Walking away with a smirk telling you to be patient and wait until you two get home. That little shit head.

Risk:

He’s not one for risks. He wants you all to himself and doesn’t like it when anyone even jokes about you about such vulgar ways. He even hates it when someone checks you out, so he definitely wouldn’t think about touching you or getting you turned on because the chances of someone seeing already ticks him off. Only he can see you hot and bothered.

Stamina:

He can go for a while. I mean have you seen his dancing and gymnastics? He can go on for like four rounds and you’re already delirious with just the first one. When you get like that he would probably taunt you about being weak and smirk when you push him back until he’s the one underneath. He likes seeing you think you’re dominating him only to pin you back down a second later.

Toys:

Absolutely not. He’s the type to remind you that whenever you need some attention just to come to him. He literally dislikes the idea of you using one to the point where he literally told you that he consents to somnophilia just in case you get horny on the middle of the night and need some dicking.

Unfair:

Literally is all about teasing. He loves seeing you on edge and as soon as your about to climax he pulls out with a shit eating grin. Either he’s teasing you with his fingers or dick. You probably won’t ever go a time you two have sex where he won’t give you some sort of teasing.

Volume:

Quieter the most. He wouldn’t be completely silent but he breathing and hitches are definitely audible. He really wants to hear you lose yourself so he’ll hold back any grunts just so that he won’t miss a single moan from you, but if he really missed you or was really sensitive by how stimulated you got him by sucking him off you will definitely hear a few whimpers leaving his mouth. Especially when he’s climaxing, he’ll tighten his grip on your hands and whimper in the crook of your neck concentrating in emptying every last drop.

Wildcard:

He loves hand holding. Either it’s out on the street or in bed fucking you balls deep he loves holding your hands. He interlocks his fingers and pins them over your head, in a way it gives him momentum to continue thrusting deeper and harder. One time he got so caught up in climaxing he forgot to hold your hands. Barely enough time to catch your breath he switches position and already lining himself again, kissing your lips and whispering to you to get ready for another round and this time he’ll do it right. Yeah that next round became three more rounds. Poor you.

X-ray:

I think he would be average. Now I don’t know how you perceive average but I know for a fact it’s not 8 inches or 3 inches neither. I definitely think he would be longer rather than thick.

Yearning:

He’ll usually need you at least three times every two weeks? I don’t think he would be one to need you every single day of the week especially since how busy he gets. But when he really misses you or just wants to do nothing but be with you he’ll take that time to plunge into you continuously.

Zzz:

Winwin would only ever fall asleep once everything is completely clean and tidy even if it’s a pain for him to do so. Even if it’s midnight and all he wants to do is shut his eyes to sleep his mind won’t let him and there he goes cleaning the room, bed, you, him and anything before resting down on the bed. But once his head hits to pillow he won’t take a no from you, you’re going to sleep with him because it’s late and he’s tired and can never fall asleep without having you in his arms.

#nct smut #nct winwin #nct x reader #nct sicheng #nct imagines #wayv smut #wayv imagines #wayv #wayv winwin #winwin #winwin imagines #sicheng imagines #sicheng smut #winwin smut

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miyaniacs · 3 years ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE

NAVIGATION // Prologue // Characters

summary: Reader: female; 20 years old ; Apparently you know something… but what this something is you still got to find out.But curses, good and bad sorcerer now want to get you into their hands.Ending up in the hands of the good ones, y/n finally meets her old best friend again - Yuji. Now Yuji and his friends make it their mission to keep you save in this whole new world. Days turn into weeks and you become closer and closer to your ‚bodyguards‘

Warnings: well.. non actually only typos bc I'm lazy

A/N: soo this chapter is shorter, but it's kinda just for me to get some reactions if you all like this ... form of doing the chapters. Yes I try to make the other parts longer and all, but yeah I really need some feedback if you want the full otome experience or not - or if you got any ideas? and tell me if any of you wants to get tagged :)

“So… that’s your school?” You look around until your eyes land on Yuji again.

“Yes!” He says with a big smile, “It’s so cool- wait Sensei, can I show her her room?” He looks at the white haired male, who’s name is Satoru Gojo, as you found out some time before.

“Yes, yes go ahead, you kids can leave - Nanami, we have to talk.” He says and walks away with the blond one.

“Come y/n!” Yuji says and grabs your hand, dragging you away, to a nearby building.

With a sigh, the black haired one, Megumi, follows while keeping up a conversation with the shy one, who’s name is Toge. It’s still a miracle for you how he understands anything he’s saying.

“Hurry up Y/n!” Yuji says while holding the front door open for you.

Stepping inside you’re met with a long corridor with doors on one side and windows on the other. Out of them you can spot something that looks like a garden, the moonlight illuminating a small lake in the middle.

“Sooo this-“ Yuji stops in front of a door, “Is my room! And this-“ he points to a door on the right side of his, “ is Megumis!”

“Okaay…” You say and look towards Megumi who huffs.

“Don’t annoy me and come banging on my door in the middle of the night.” He says and opens his door, closing it immediately with a loud bang.

“HEYYYY!” A female voice echos through the floor and the door next to Yujis opens.

A brown haired girl, probably your age steps outside, pulling up her sleeping mask.

“Why TF ARE YOU- WAIT YUJI ARE YOU BRING HOME A GIRL???!” She wiggles her eyebrows and nudges his side.

“NO!” The two of you say in union.

“She’s my best friend- Y/n. I told you about her.” He scratches his head.

“OHHH Y/N !!! I’m so glad to finally meet ya!!” She smiles brightly, “but- why are you here now?” She looks confused between the three of you.

“Rice, rice tuna.” Toge says and gestures with his hands.

“WHAT YOU GOT ATTACKED ?! Are you alright??”

“Yes, yes I am… just confused.” You admit and look to the ground.

“I bet- well I’ll talk to you tomorrow and at least update you on all the gossip around here - but I need my beauty sleep now - so goodnight and keep your mouths shut.” She glares at Yuji and goes back in her room.

“Well… let me show you your room- it’s right next to Megumis.” He tilts his head and smiles, “Oh - goodnight Inumaki!” He waves his hand and you smile at the boy, who leaves into another corridor.

“Sooo that’s your room.” Yuji opens the door and you step inside, taking a look around.

The room was medium sized. A relatively big bed, three big windows, a table and a chair, a closet … and two more shelves.

“Oh the bathroom is for the four of us … but we got two showers. It’s the last room at the end of the corridor.”

“Uhm… Yuji?”

“Yes?” He looks at you with his big eyes.

“I don’t have anything with me … could you lend me a shirt?” You ask, the thought of sleeping in your underwear or the clothes you wore all day isn’t really appealing for you at this moment.

“Ohhhh!!! Yes sure!! One second.” He quickly rushes out of your room and you take a deep breath, plopping done on the mattress.

Your brain hurts, just thinking about everything that happened in the past hours. Is this a whole world … hidden in the … normal world? And how did Yuji got into all of this. He would have told you if anything was up with him - so what happened that night he … practically vanished?

“Hereeeeeee!” Speaking of the devil he comes back, a big white shit in his hand.

“Noooo you still got this?” You ask, a smile playing on your lips.

“How could I throw this away?” He says dramatically and throws the shirt on you.

It has a picture printed on it, with the two of you drunk as fuck posing with random condom automate. You got it for him as a joke for his birthday two years ago.

“You know where my room is, if you don’t want to sleep alone.” He smiles.

“Yes - thank you, but I probably black out the second I close my eyes.” You joke.

“Well… goodnight y/n!” He walks closer and hugs you, kissing the top of your head.

“Goodnight Yu, and thanks for saving me.”

“Anytime!” He smiles gently and leaves.

The moonlight, shining through the windows, leaves big shadows in your room. Standing up, you pull off your hoodie, placing it on the chair. Just as you’re about to pull of your shirt too, you remember that you’re standing right in front of the windows. You see some curtains, ready to be pulled close.

You should probably close them.

Go and close the curtains

Leave them open

Your body begins to shake.

Something isn’t right.

Wrapping your arms around yourself you walk towards the door.

You should have stayed at Yujis right away.

Quietly you open his door, stepping inside the room.

“Yuji?” You mumble.

“Come here.” He says in a deeper sleepy voice and opens his blanket for.

You crawl into his bed, his noticeably strong arms wrap around your waist. When did he became so buff? What even are they teaching at this school?

You sigh and wiggle closer to him, wrapping your arms around his.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

The warmth of your best friends body and the feeling of comfort and safety ease your racing mind. There’s nothing heard except the steady breathing of the two of you.

You definitely imagined all of this.

There is nothing to worry about.

You sigh again and turn around in his arms.

“I missed you.” You mumble against his chest.

“Mhhh and I couldn’t wait to finally meet you.” He says in a low voice resting his chin on your head.

His hands run over your back soothing you to sleep.

“Ouch.” Your shoulder-blades pull together as you feel something sharp running down your spine.

“My bad.” Yuji chucks, “I’m sorry.”

“You need to cut your nails.” You roll your eyes and cuddle closer to him.

A smirk spreads on his face.

“Mhhh maybe I should.”

TAGLIST (open): @laceymorganwrites

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk fic #gojo hcs #jjk headcanons #gojo sensei #toji x you #gojo x reader #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #megumi x reader #jjk x fem!reader

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quaranteehee · 5 years ago

Text

“Leave Your Lover” - Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!reader ANGST

Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith

Summary: You’ve always loved him, but he wouldn’t know... even as you bid your farewells on the hospital bed. Because he’s a dumb fuck.

“Y/n! Yo... YO Y/N!!”

“Testu shut up I’m trying to tell you something!!”

“Okay Okay but shut up first I’m trying to talk-“

“BOI IF YOU DONT-“

He shoves the palm of his hands against your mouth, muffling the rest of your sentence. With twinkling eyes he proceeds to state the reason behind his excitement, “Kazuko Tomomi said yes!”

You slap his hands away. “What do you mean?? Yes to what? That could be anything- yes to babying your sorry ass? Finishing your English homework?? What does Kazuko-“

“A date,” he smiles at you broadly as he takes his fingers across his hair in disbelief. “She finally said yes.” A hearty chuckle escapes his lips before he plops himself back down on the grassy slope sandwiching the river beneath the highway.

“Congrats, you two!”

Kuroo hummed in response, mindlessly toying with the pastures between his fingers.

“Anyway what did you want to tell me again?” He sheepishly inquires with a lazy smile

“Ah, that? Never mind it. I guess it was nothing after all.”

But it wasn’t nothing. And in that space in time, you began to wonder what it would cost if you continued to protect this lie.

- - -

“Testu! I won- I actually won!”

Without another word, he scoops you into a tight embrace. You oblige by wrapping your arms around his back.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, training camp took its toll on me and well. I passed out as soon as I got home.”

You let it slide, he had a good reason to. You pull away and smile at him excitedly. “Buy me ramen and we’ll call it even.”

“Ah I can’t after school. I’m having dinner with Tomomi.”

It was a tradition to go out after a game. You forced an understanding smile, “that’s fine, tomorrow maybe? Before the weekend?”

“Can’t either. I promised Tomomi we’d watch that movie she wanted,” he scratches the back of his neck, “damn she always gets me to watch those cheesy dramas.” Despite his complain, a smile is plastered on his lips.

Oh god.. that smile- that damn smile. The perfect world you shared with Kuroo was distinegrating and you knew it. You were fully aware and you hated it.

“A-Ah, is that so?” You shift your gaze towards the window.

“I’m sor-“

“Anyway, enjoy yourselves! Don’t worry about it though.” You say a little too cheerily. Slipping on the strips of your backpack, you pretend to check your phone. “Ah, shit, I need to get my notebook back from Watanabe. See you!” Without giving him a chance to reply, you head towards the end of the corridor and disappear into the corner. Kuroo leaves soon after. As the sound of his footsteps dies down, you slump against the wall while staring hopelessly at the ceiling above.

- - -

“Thought is find you here.”

“Yeah?”

“It was obvious,” Kenma says over his PSP

“Well.. I figured I’d put in extra effort, you know?” And with that, you deliver yet another aggressive serve. The tennis ball lands exactly on the white line before bouncing off to join the others.

Kenma quietly tucks away his device and observes your practise. Glancing at the opposite end of the court, he notices an unnaturally large amount of neon balls rolling around aimlessly- the product of your training. Reverting his attention back to the Female Tennis player, he sees things he wish he was only imagining: tired eyes, a sloppy form, and a limp in your strides.

“Y/n, how long have you been here?”

“I’ve always trained here Kenma.”

“What time.”

“After school.”

“School finishes at half past three... it took a fifteen minute train ride, so assuming at you got here at four... “

“What?”

“It’s nearly nine”

You stop in your tracks and note that the colour of the sky has changed drastically. You’ve been practising for so long that you didn’t notice that you had been relying on the lights of the tennis court. “Oh. I guess I have.”

Bam. The ball ricochets against your racket.

“Tell Kuroo how you feel,” The Pudding Head says, carefully wording his sentence.

“He’s in love with her, though.”

“Stupid, not like that,” he sighs, “I mean, he’d understand. He really would. If it means taking off the weight off your shoulders, why don’t you tell him directly.”

You pause, clenching your jaw discreetly.

Kenma continues, “you’ve known each other for so long... if you tell him, he would understand. You’re his (y/n) aren’t you? He’ll still want you by his side, (y/n)...”

You let out a pained scream, startling Kenma, as you mindlessly fling your racket at the fence. How could you be so selfish?

“No. No, this is bullshit. Because he gets the best of both worlds from Tomomi and I,” you hiccup. “I am SICK and TIRED, Kenma-“ you’re shaking in rage.

Kenma watches you bubbling in anger- no. Not anger, but an unspoken sadness that can be mistaken for fury. His expression is gentle as he slowly walks towards you in the middle of the tennis court.

“SICK and TIRED of giving him all that I am when I can’t even have half of him. And you know what’s messed up? I don’t have any right to feel this way because he’s not mine...” your heart sinks to your stomach, “he’s not mine.. he’s with HER,” you grit your teeth, “AND... a-and he doesn’t love me.”

“(Y/n)...”

You fall to the ground, bursting into a fit of tears as the cold realisation washes over you. “He doesn’t love me,” you repeat.

The exhaustion that you’ve ignored slowly creeps up on you, paralysing your limbs until your vision goes pitch black.

- - -

You open your eyes and a blurred figure catches your attention. Sitting up, you rub at your temples. “Testu-“

“- will be here in a few.” The figure says.

“Kenma?” You glance, startled. “It’s 10 in the morning get your bitchass to school.”

“For someone that completely blacked out you sure are energetic..” he mutters in annoyance. “It’s Saturday, Dumbass.”

Surveying your surroundings, you’re suddenly aware that you’re confined in a hospital room. You begin to ask Kenma questions. He beats you with his response before you could even utter a single word,

“You’ve overexhausted yourself. No, you won’t die. Yes, you’re being discharged tomorrow. No, not today because of reasons I don’t know.” He watches as you close your mouth, his explanation seemed to have answered whatever questions you had in mind. “Look, I mean, I know tennis is a big deal to you and all but it won’t kill you to rest up once in a while.” Behind him rests your beaten up Tennis Bag. You catch a glance at your racket, some shirts, a tube of Tennis balls... and the letter.

“That’s not why you’re here, is it?” You ask cautiously.

He gives you a smile, his eyes glinting in a knowing manner. “How did you know?”

“Please. One, nothing goes under your nose unnoticed; two, that letter was in the racket section of the bag, not there,” you point, “where my clothes are.”

There’s silence.

“Duke University, huh?” Kenma says with a smile.

You mirror his gesture with a similar grin. “They were the only ones that got back to me. And it’s easier to apply for financial aid supporting international students for Duke than, yknow, NYU.”

“America,” he muses, “Oceans and oceans away.”

You meet the boy’s curious gaze.

“Kenma-“

“You have to tell Testu.”

- - -

Kenma’s text was the first thing that caught Kuroo’s attention as soon as he wakes up that Saturday.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.” He squeezes past the crowd of people and sprints all the way to the hospital, practically slamming himself against the reception desk.

“How may I help you?” The lady cheerily inquires without hiding the concern etched on her face for the wheezing rooster head.

“(L/n)... I... I-“ he wheezes, “what room..?”

- - -

“Go easy on her...” Kenma whispers briefly before making his way towards the door.

“Kenma? Where are you going??” You call out desperately.

“Bitch I wanna play my games now tf.”

You glare at him, “But-“

“It’s okay. I’ll be here, right Kenma?”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Kenma thinks to himself. “Whatever. Don’t be stupid. Both of you,” he huffs before closing the door shut.

He places his hand atop yours before pacing his fingers around your delicate ones. You eye your hands pressed against each other’s for a second too long...

So. This is what it feels like to be yours.

You fight back the urge to cry. “Tetsuroo.. can I ask you a big favor?”

He quirks an eyebrow in response.

“Can you hold me? Like before?”

“Hm? In a headlock?” With that sadist response came a throw pillow flying towards his face.

“Like we were kids.”

He complies, getting up from the chair situated beside the hospital bed. You shuffle to make some room for the older boy who wasted no time in holding you in his arms. You cave right into his touch, facing him. He rests his chin on your head with your feet tangled.

“Is there anything else, your highness?”

You can feel his eyes roll. You chuckle, “yes actually: I want a triple tier chocolate cake. A pretty heart necklace, and a bouquet of-“

“Chill.”

You both laugh heartily. Amidst the silence that followed, you can feel his fingers rubbing soft circles in the small of your back.

“I want... I want you to stay with me for now. If you have to go, do it when I’m asleep,” you mutter loud enough to hear.

He nods as confusion washes over him. This all felt too familiar - sort of like de ja vu.

Like we were kids...

The sentence and the way you said it keeps replaying in his mind. He thinks of nothing but the familiar way he held you and vice versa when the nightmares struck. How you’d pull away only when the other was asleep. What struck him the most was why you felt the need to ask? To him, holding you felt like one of the most normal things in the world comparable to how natural it was for him to breathe. Nevertheless, Kuroo decided that it was a question for another time.

You begin to hum the tune to a song which Kuroo claims to know. Determined to pinpoint the song in particular, he rapidly lists titles of various compositions whose melodies were quite similar. You smile to yourself, he’s the biggest idiot ever.

It didn’t take long before you figured he was getting tired. With your fingertips, you traced gentle patterns into his forearms to help lull him to sleep.

“... pack up and leave everything; don’t you see what I can bring? Can’t keep this beating heart at bay...

His eyes dropped, and his breathing became steadier. Your voice was barely a whisper as you finished your song,

“Set my midnight sorrow free, I will give you all of me just-“ you choke back on your own tears, permitting yourself this last time to indulge in your own selfishness. “Just leave your lover... leave her for me.”

—————————————-

YALL THOUGHT YOU WAS GONNA DIE LMAOOOOO

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interstellix · 4 years ago

Text

full hearts ↳ lee minho (lee know)

genre: angst, fluff

summary: no matter how it’s played, it’s always the same ending - unless a new one is unlocked

word count: 2235

requested: “i would like to request an au with minho please and ummmm well :O IT’S CUTE”

warnings: mentions of blood

a/n: LMFAOO ALLY LOML I’M SO SORRY IDK WHAT THE HELL WENT WRONG HERE I- listen consider this a free coupon for a free request with no expiration date bc this shit went straight to hell LOL but ye ily mwah @walkingonwave also why tf did it get so long fjdfdhjdk

you hate it when someone plays your video game. not one that you own, but one that you’re in.

you hate it because, no matter how often it's played and how often you have to experience the same story over and over again, you never get used to the terror and pain lacing it.

there’s more to it than the eye meets, what the screen shows and what the player is served; to you, it’s simply too much.

“I swear, this game ruined my life,” minho sighs before showing you a smug smirk, “good thing I have one more.”

you shoot him a glare but still glance at the digital wristband he wears which, much to your relief, shows a glowing red heart next to two black ones. indeed, one more life.

“how can you even be joking in this kind of situation?” you ask between heavy breaths and look him up and down. “you’re bleeding from your arm, you just got shot in your leg and there are probably two, three broken ribs as well.”

minho snorts, “can you blame me? the player sucks.”

you can’t argue against that. the player does suck for sure, constantly getting you and the rest of your team in trouble, making you die left and right, using potions and other items like they’re lollipops handed out to children; honestly, you’re surprised they have even made it this far into the game - the final stage and battle. that said,

“yeah but you can still control what’s going on behind the scenes. maybe, maybe you wouldn’t be in the miserable state y-”

you’re cut short by the high-pitched, piping noise you’ve by now come to dread, not fancying the explosion it’s shortly after to be accompanied by; just as it comes, minho wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from the shattered pavement you had fallen limp on.

“as if you’re in place to call me miserable,” he sighs and runs away from the spot all while still carrying both his equipment and you. “look at yourself, I’m impressed you even have enough energy to complain so much.”

you remain silent, aware that you can’t deny it. the adrenaline rushing through your body is really the only thing keeping you awake despite you being in a fairly worse state than you had claimed minho to be in.

said one doesn’t slow down but occasionally steals glances at you and upon noting the exhaust slowly but surely taking over your features, he calls out, worry clear in his voice, “god damn it, y/n! keep your eyes open, you still have a full life left, right?”

though not all too pleased by it, minho takes the low hum escaping you as a valid answer and keeps running to the first possible shelter found. you eventually find yourself in a two story building, not in a particularly perfect state with the catastrophe of a final battle going on in the city but enough for shelter.

“minho?” hearing the energy gradually leaving your voice, minho bites his lip to stay relaxed and instead hums, waiting for you to go on. “how can you stay so calm?”

as he enters a bedroom and carefully places you down in the rightful bed inside, he answers simply, “if I show you I’m scared, you’ll start panicking even more, right?” slowly, he removes the heavy equipment from your body, showing you a small smile while wiping a wound on your cheekbone clean from blood. “I don’t really fancy that idea.”

the playful look in his face loosens into a soft one, lips curled up in a small smile and eyes warm, “make sure you get some rest, yeah?”

as soon as you hear this, your eyes widen and fear quickly fills you. tightly grabbing onto the hand now cupping your cheek, you question in a shake breath, “where are you going?”

“I have to find the rest of the team, it’s been a while since we were separated and I still can’t get in touch with them-”

a sharp pain settles itself in your abdomen when you hastily sit up in the bed but at that moment, you can’t seem to care any less about it and hold onto his shoulder instead. “w-wait, you’re just gonna leave me here?!”

minho lightly pushes your hand away and answers with clear confusion, “no, but we can’t just ditch the re-”

the conversation is cut short when the nth explosion erupts in the outside world, followed by a whole chain of more and you look out through the window, the city might as well be considered the hell on earth by now; the sight of dark smoke, fire and more and more buildings getting destroyed only adds to the lump of fear and anxiety in you. you look back at minho and with pleading, glossy eyes, you just barely manage say through your irregular breathing increasing at a ridiculously high pace,

“min, p-please, don’t leave me alone.”

he furrows his eyebrows, not understanding just how desperate you are for him to not find the rest of your friends, to the point where it almost sounds selfish. “what’s wrong with you? we have to find the guys to finish the ga-”

right then, just as he catches a sole tear escaping your eye, realization seems to sink down on him, features once again softening. it’s nothing about selfishness at all, nothing about wanting to ‘ditch’ the rest of your friends. it’s simply the fear and pain of losing the person most dear to you - him.

“y/n...” minho’s hand returns to your cheek, this time to tenderly wipe the corner of your eye dry and as he speaks, his voice is almost comforting even during the definition of war currently going on, “we’ve played this game so, so many times, baby. you already know I’m always right with you.”

eyes shutting close, you lean into the touch of his hand and whisper, “you know that’s a lie, minho; I hate this game so much, we play everything together with the other guys, beat the final stage every, damn, time but we never get a happy ending. that shit just doesn’t exist in this game and I can’t handle it anymore.”

just as your vent of panic comes to an end, your wristband suddenly starts beeping, two quick, disturbing tunes. even more confused, minho looks down at its screen only for his jaw to drop; out of your three hearts, only a half of the last one is still shining and instead of the bright red, it’s a purple.

with a mix of anger and his own panic, minho groans while scanning your body for any possible causes of it, “when the fuck did you get poisoned?!” before going on, he finally finds a dark patch on your upper arm, staining it with the same shade of purple as shown on the screen. “why did you never tell me?”

despite the sobbing you’ve broken out in in the middle of the chaos, you choke out, “wouldn’t matter, player drained it all.”

minho’s jaw clenches and while he himself stays quiet, his mind is screaming, trying to figure out how to solve the situation. reaching out to the sheets under you, he pulls off a strip and hurries to wrap it around your arm in hopes of the poison to not spread as fast anymore. “listen well, alright?” he begins as he ties a tight knot. “don’t move or you’ll only lose even more health points; I don’t care if there’s never a happy ending, I won’t have you dying on me before we’re even done here.”

“but-”

“I can’t have you getting scared either. I won’t be able to focus on the game if I know you’re scared,” minho interrupts. he cups your face, solid eyes locking with your own, words gentle as they’re uttered,

“look at me, y/n. don’t think of anything else, just look at me.”

though staying quiet, you do as told. you do as told, relishing in the warmth radiating from his hands, letting yourself relax at the sight of your boyfriend so close up even though he looks like mess on two legs. you do as told, only for one tear after another to build up in your eyes.

minho leans his forehead against yours. when he whispers, you notice that you’re not the only scared one here, the shakiness in it revealing more than enough. all that said, he still manages to say every word you both need to hear and trust.

“just a little more... I don’t care about a happy story, if the game’s going to end, I want it to end with you next to me so hang on just a little more.”

whether it’s the pain, exhaust from the poison or you simply finding a sense of calm for the first time in a good while, you don’t know but it nevertheless leads you to slowly give into unconsciousness.

the last thing you just barely manage catching is a feather-light kiss to your forehead and a tenderly spoken assurance,

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

who knows how long it’s been? probably no one, but long enough for the screen of your wristband to meet you with three now full, red hearts as soon as you wake up.

you stare at your hands curled up right in front of your face and even though your vision isn’t clear enough after sleeping, you can still make out how they’re free from bruises, wounds and dusts. furthermore, it’s quiet. uncomfortably quiet, purely because you’re not used to a sound clean from explosions and other rumbling noises. it confuses you for a second and you start wondering if there’s been a restart. however, realizing that you’re still in the same, unknown bedroom as before and remembering that you have yet to go through the ending of the game, you know it’s still not over.

barely daring to look away from your hands even the slightest bit, you think for yourself, “if it’s not over, what’s going o-”

“finally up, sleeping beauty?”

a sharp gasp emits from you as you hear this and within moments, you’re sitting back up in the bed. by the edge of it, he sits; the window invites the morning sun you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime, its light illuminating his face in gentle shade of orange; a smile graces his lips and even under strands of hair, the gleam in his eyes is clear, bright upon finally seeing your own open.

four seconds. that’s what it takes for you to process that, as unfamiliar as this scene is after playing the game so many times, it actually is minho sitting right next to you, in person, pure flesh and blood. four seconds is what it takes until you launch yourself at him, arms tightly wrapping around his neck, face digging into the crook of it.

you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent you’ve grown fond of after spending so much time with minho. when you don’t say anything, he asks, “don’t wanna know what happened?”

you shake your head. “I don’t care.”

an airy chuckle escapes minho. his arms wrap around your waist and hold you closer to him and while starting to explain anyway, he unconsciously starts swinging your bodies from side to side. “believe it or not, that stupid player unlocked the secret ending.”

though confused, you don’t bother moving the slightest bit while humming in confusion. he doesn’t either and instead continues, “turns out if you beat the game in critical mode and gather all trophies, you unlock the secret ending.”

“and... what exactly happens in the secret ending?”

“in the secret ending...” minho murmurs, “the whole team survives.” as if on cue, loud yelling and laughters can suddenly be heard outside the bedroom. you’re barely aware of it though as he pulls away, just enough to get a look of your face. “the city can rebuild again...” he momentarily glances to the side where the window shows an unusually peaceful view. you follow his gaze, though only until his index finger and thumb takes a hold of your chin, turning you back to face him. “and you and me...”

with the current being through and through unknown to you, you find yourself growing more nervous than ever. when his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip, your breath hitches and hands drop down to his shoulders, tightly grabbing onto them.

the time minho spends on leaning closer feels painfully long and yet, you’re barely aware of exactly when the barely existent gap eventually is shut. his lips are soft against your own, slowly moving against them. the feeling of it alters between the one of featherlight, pure pecks and long, passionate kisses and you can swear it’ll drive you insane right there and then.

you don’t though. instead, you can only melt under the touch, the loving hold around you leaving you in a serenity in the finest sense of the word.

when you eventually part, minho’s hand travels upwards to tuck stray hair behind your ear as he looks at you with a smile bigger than you’ve ever seen on him,

“stay together.”

maybe, just maybe, this game isn’t so bad after all.

#stray kids #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #lee know #lee minho #bang chan #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #i.n #yang jeongin #angst #fluff

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my-fanfic-library · 5 years ago

Note

Hello lovely!! Would you mind doing headcanons for Professor!Claes x reader? Maybe he teaches history or something like that and you both have a nice lil affair going on after a while. I saw your tags on that one gif set and now that's all I can think about 👀

This is gonna be the only ask I answer today but holy shit I haven’t stopped thinking about this in like 24 hours

K so

Claes is most definitely a history lecturer

I don’t know why but I imagine his entire class to be similar to Indiana Jones’

Just a bunch of girls looking at him like the heart eyes emoji

Anywho, Claes is like the coolest lecturer in the world

He’s really laid back and he likes to take the piss out of people

He also handles a lot of seminar groups as well

Which is how you meet

He saw you in the first lecture and was kinda like “wow cute” but obviously nothing could happen

But when you come to his seminar group

And start bombarding him with question after question and disproving the content he had taught you so far,

L o v e

And obviously you are totally in love with him too

This tall, handsome man teaching your favourite subject, with the loveliest accent in the world

You stay after the seminar to talk to him

And he’s blown away by how much you actually know

“I’m looking forward to teaching you, Miss [Last], I think we’re going to get into a few heated moments if you keep attempting to disprove my work.”

You thought he meant arguments

He did not

You always make sure to ask a question if he invites the class to, because it makes things less awkward

And you always have a question or two at the end of the lecture

He can’t believe he’s got this golden student

And he uses you as an example all the time

“Why can’t you guys be as enthusiastic as [First]?”

Stuff like that

It kinda becomes obvious to both yourself and everyone else that Professor Bang has quite a soft spot for you

Some girls, despite being in their early 20s give you nasty looks

You respond by sitting next to Claes in your seminar the next day

And doing no work and getting into no trouble for it

Instead you talk about Denmark

Because you’re curious about his home country

It is this seminar

During the middle of your first year

That Claes just falls head over heels for you

But it’s

F O R B I D D E N

Which makes it all the sweeter

Later that year, about two weeks before the exam, you show up at his office just as he’s about to leave

“What’s the matter?”

Immediately you just burst into tears and he has no clue what to do

So he does what he thinks best

He pulls you into him and you just stand there sobbing into him for like a solid five minutes unable to make a coherent sentence in your sudden outburst

When you’re calming down, he brings you into his office and sits you down and is all “ok so what the fuck is going on?”

You explain that you’re just too overwhelmed with everything and that you don’t feel ready for the exam

So he offers one to one tutoring up until the exam (so for two weeks, you’d visit him after class and you’d sit for like an hour and go through everything you didn’t get)

Turns out you knew a lot more than what you thought

The more time that Claes spends with you, the more he wants.

So. Much. Tension.

Because you want it, and so does he, but you’re both oblivious and thinking about how wrong it is

So nothing happens except for a few gazes, a few lingering touches

He’s actually pretty gutted the day of the exam when he realises you won’t be coming back for some secret time with him

He spends his entire summer thinking about you

Wondering if you’ll make it into his class

When he finds out you are, booyyyyy is so happy

He doesn’t know why but on the first day of classes, he finds himself dressing up a bit. Styling his hair, throwing on his glasses, a soft scarf, leaving the first two buttons of his shirt undone

He doesn’t even know if he’ll see you today but fuck

And he does

Your complexion is glowing after so many months in the sun and the heat

Your hair grew out a bit

You look angelic

He finds himself unable to concentrate and keeps fumbling over his words for the whole lecture

Because you decided to sit at the front and

He keeps looking at you

And your eyes never leave him

Because he looks so good?

You couldn’t remember when he looked so fucking delicious

After the lecture, he asks you to stay and wait for a moment and the room clears out

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this but

“Did you have a good summer?”

“Yeah, I guess. We went to Majorca for four weeks and-“

“I missed you.”

“Oh, that’s... Professor Bang-“

“It’s Claes.”

You literally have 0 clue how to answer that

Your mind is spinning

He missed you?

He wants you to call him by his first name?

Your heart is doing leaps and bounds by this point

He’s looking at you differently, licking his lips

And then they’re on yours

It’s hungry - it’s different

Your hands are in his hair, on his neck, you’re leaping into his arms, wrapping your legs around him and he’s driving you into the desk

The next day, you keep looking at that spot, where someone’s notebook is

You’re smirking, trying not to laugh because that poor person is writing right on the spot where you fucked your professor last night

Claes keeps looking at you and you know by his eyes that he wants you to stay after class

It ends and everyone leaves and the second the door shuts, you’re in his arms again

It’s a frenzy

Clothes off, and this time he’s got you arched over the desk, hands gripping into the chair behind it, ramming into you from behind.

And that is how it started

School nights, weekends, you’d find each other one way or another and you couldn’t get your hands off of each other

Post-sex cuddles

Where you just talk

He usually runs his hands through your hair, with the fondest smile on his face

It starts to get hard when other guys start to get interested in you

Because you can’t exactly tell anyone that you’re with someone - you’d get thrown out and Claes would lose his job

So, you have to play

You have to flirt back

Claes loses it

The sex gets rougher

The hickeys grow darker and bigger

One time, he got so frustrated that he sat you on the podium after a lecture and ate you out

He finds himself realising that he doesn’t just want to fuck you - he’s actually fallen in love with you

And you’re fairly sure that you’re in love with him

That summer, he whisks you off to Denmark

Best trip of your life???

He loves teaching you all the history of his home country, taking you everywhere he possibly can

Car sex

Sex on the beach

And even in a hidden corner of a museum

It’s like the honeymoon phase doesn’t end

And then the worst thing happens

One of your classmates is in Copenhagen for their own little trip

They see you with Claes in a cafe, kissing his cheek, holding his hand

They immediately report it (literally out of spite because who tf wouldn’t want to date Claes, come on, and they were high key jealous)

And when uni starts up again, a huge inquiry is undergoing

Both you and Claes are pretty much interrogated - they check your phones, they see if you have each other on social media, they check your emails, trying to find a n y t h i n g

And you agree afterwards that this can’t go on

It’s too risky to visit him outside of the university

And so it all has to stop

You’re a wreck

Because being with Claes was the happiest you had been in so long

You start dating someone new

And Claes almost quits

Your final year drags

Because you have to sit there

Looking at him

Being so close to him

But feeling the eyes of the other lecturer sent to sit in and watch and make sure no funny business was happening

One night, you go out and get just a little tipsy and find yourself at his home, throwing rocks at his bedroom window

He comes out and tells you to leave as much as it pains him to do so

You tell him you feel like dropping out, of you can’t have him then nothing matters

And he brings you inside

You don’t get any sleep, he fucks you over and over until your body is numb and your brain is nothing but a swirling mess of him

He ignores you after that

You find yourself transferred out of his classes and instead, you’re placed into professor Wells’ classes

You’re livid with him

How could he move you out of his classes after everything you’ve been through together?

You purposefully have him find you in public spaces with your new partner, a little closer than what would be accepted

He’s going stir crazy. He can’t stop thinking about the last night you spent together and how badly he needs to be with you again even if it costs him a job

Your graduation is suddenly upon you and it’s so bittersweet

You have finally gotten what you worked so hard for, but you will most likely never see Claes again now

Wrong

As you’re making your way off vampire for the last time, clutching your diploma, laughing with your friends, a voice calls your name

You turn, and he’s pushing past people to get to you

He reaches you and he has this dumb smile on his face, and then he says the stupidest yet most romantic thing

“Technically you’re not my student”

And he kisses you

In front of all of your friends, family, all of your former classmates, other teachers, everyone

He doesn’t even care

His hands are holding your face, pulling you close and you have to go on your tiptoes, in your damn heels, just to be able to wrap your arms around his neck

He promptly gets fired

But he doesn’t care because he’s waking up the next morning with you sleeping beside him and he feels like he’s won at life

#i think i went overboard with this one???#Authors AU Hour #hi i like drama #lmao #claes bang #claes bang x reader #claes bang x you #claes bang fanfiction

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bangtansfavwriter · 5 years ago

Text

🌷hobi having a crush on you 🌷

-hobi and you were inseparable, and when I say inseparable I mean it

-he introduced you to all of his friends and everyone knew you guys became a package deal

- he loooves spending time with you , which would already be a dead giveaway bc hobi's a really social guy, so him choosing to spend his time with you so often would already say a lot

-very playful and spontaneous, looots of laughter together

-you guys' favourite thing to do together would be karaoke and the two of you would put some singers to shame bc singing - check - dancing - audience wildin' and partying to you two - check bc the whole neighbourhood knew you by now and people would leave their own booth at the bar to come and watch you two (which would turn to spontaneous parties that would be absolutely legendary (and the place would be so packed that even dispatch would be like fuck no we ain't goin in))

-you'd come to watch bts' dance practices sometimes and just sit there and watch this completely different side of hobi come out

- he dances with such a passion that you can't do anything but watch him in awe, completely enthralled by the way he moves

-this was also something that made you fall for him slowly, you loved the fact that he was absolutely passionate about everything he does and puts his energy in

-and you admired him so much, bc he was still humble about his talent & also this innate ability to light up every room he walks in

- you almost felt like icarus trying to bask in the sun and sometimes felt like your feelings for him may get you too close and you would get hurt

-and whenever you would get into that mood, it would be hobi himself to snap you out of it, unknowingly

"hobi, there's no reason for me to come to the christmas party, you guys are like family, why would i be there?"

"nonsense, you're family, too. i want you to be there." ---and that's it, that's how he handled your moods, he always made you feel cherished and most importantly loved--

- he would play with your hair a lot and would be very touchy in general, the supreme method to shut down hobi.exe would be playing with his hair, he'd legit lay down and and go quiet, but chances are he's gonna fall asleep (and boy would he get cranky when you wake him up)

- he'd love to make you laugh and sing lil songs and do lil dances for you when you would make tea or something ("look it's y/n, making tea for mee, hobiii~, this sure looks like chamomile, chamomile is just my style, my legs are so sore, I'm gonna go lay on the floor..."*his voice fades* - "u ok there hobi?" - *weak* "no..") [btw chamomile tea helps with sore muscles ☺️]

- his spontaneous dances would be the best, he'd drop it to maluma and lowkey get emotional when you'd turn on some flamenco songs ("y/n, i should be a flamenco dancer, this music speaks to my soul" - "whatever you say, horacio" )

- he would sometimes give you very obvious signals:

"oh we're both wearing jean jackets, almost like a couple look hmmm~~~"

"you cooked for me ?? caring for me, like we're a couple hmmm~~~"

"look at us sharing our drinks like we're a couple hmmm~~~"

-and tbh, you guys would be the couple that has no idea that they're a couple bc you never truly established something along that lines

-but you truly liked him, after all, he's mr sunshine, with the most generous heart and boy's got the prettiest side profile you've ever seen (you knew you were whipped when you went for drinks with a friend and ended up being an emotional drunk who gushed about hobi's lil nose)

-hobi always gets shy when u praise him and you're like "BOI I CAN DO THIS ALL DAY LONG" and he'd go "noooo stop" and backflip to the other side of the room bc he got shy again but he secretly loves it (honestly, it would lift his entire mood, to a hyper extent.... one day you didn't have the time to stay for their dance practices and met hobi shortly before they started, to say bye and such, and you encouraged him to be strong, bc you knew how tough the new choreography was, and told him "you, horacio, dancing king of my heart, can do this, now go prove your title or I won't make you any pancakes for a week" and he SCREAMED in joy & spun you around like 3 times and sprinted to the practice room, you got one (1) single text from jin at 02.17 am, which you opened, confused at hell, it just said: "idk what you said to hobi before practice but you owe me a spa weekend for the muscle pain i have rn")

-but hobi is only human too, he also gets into low moods, which you help him through by simply not going anywhere even when he detaches himself from you and everyone else for that matter

-you knew he had to recharge and gave him some space without entirely distancing yourself from him ofc, you guys would still text tho from time to time

-you knew that he had practice again and one day you stopped by with some food you prepared for him and gave it to a staff member to pass it to hobi, bc you didn't want to intrude, and hobi would text you back a pic of the empty lunch boxes you packed for him with a caption like this: "👼🏻👼🏻👼🏻👼🏻💗💖💝💓💞💕🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️" (hobi talk for "you are and angeeeel, i loooove you & thank youuu") and you were happy with yourself and happy for hobi bc you knew this would cheer him up

-he came over to yours like 2 days later and your heart ached a little bc he was obviously exhausted but still shot you a smile when you opened the door

- you pulled him inside and hugged him, neither of you spoke a word, hobi just sighed and buried his face in your neck

- he came inside and you made tea for the two of you and prepared some snacks too and you caught him looking at you a few times, but his gaze was different... you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was and just thought that's it's probably just random and that he's tired, since he also didn't speak a lot that evening.. anyway you chilled in front of the tv and had a night in, which he gladly accepted because his legs were so sore he wasn't even sure if he could leave your place in first place

-so you spread out on one sofa, while hobi layed down on to the other one

-whenever you weren't looking, hobi stared at you with the most smitten look on his face, especially when you'd giggle about some scene in the movie you were watching, and unable to contain his feelings for himself, he'd flat out tell you:

"you know, if there wouldn't be a risk of me face-planting onto the floor, I'd be on that couch and kiss you"

- he couldn't quite tell if his words made your face go red or if it was bc of your near-death experience after choking on your nachos when korea's dancing king told u he wants to smooch

(-"you ok now ?"

"yeah, alive and kicking"

"good bc- don't eat that now- I have plans for us 👀"

"maybe I do too 👀👀"

" 👀👀👀")

however, you decided you should talk this out when both of you were less tired

- but you didn't... bc hobi was busy again

- days had passed and hobi didn't say a word which was really disheartening for you bc after that kiss-statement you really thought you would finally clarify what was going on between you two and talk about dating and stuff, so you mustered all your courage and texted him: "hey, i know ur busy and all, which is why im gonna keep it as short as possible.... hoseok, i wanna talk about what you said to me the other day and i know this could potentially change our friendship forever, but i liked you for a while now and I wanna now if you were just joking around back then or if u actually were serious"

-the next hours would be absolutely agonizing for you bc deep down you truly feared that this may ruin your friendship with him, but you needed clarity, even though it was really clear that he liked you, but you weren't sure how and asked yourself if you may have read too much into his actions and words.... you threw your phone on your bed and tried keeping yourself busy with something that would keep you from looking at your phone. you failed miserably tbh and you were contemplating deleting the text the entire time... "this is so stupid, I can't risk this..." you thought and were about to open the messenger to delete your text, when you saw that he texted back....: "you never call me hoseok" (you had to took deep breaths to calm yourself down or you would probably have stormed into bighit and throw your phone at him)

- you: "this is really all you have to say ???? "

and he texted back shortly after and you were like oohhh, im gonna grill jung hoseok now

him: "well you never call me hoseok, so I guess this is very serious to you"

you: "yeah NO SHIT sherlock, i confessed my feelings for you and this is how you answer me ?????

him: "im serious too, don't be like that!"

you: "well how tf should i know if you're serious or not??"

him: "you could open your door and find out"

-to use the word "dumbfounded" for how you felt the second you read that would be the understatement of the century, you threw your phone away and bolted to the door

-and there he was.. standing there and smiling at you as radiantly as ever

- he held a plush in one hand and playfully waved at you with the other the other, in which he was holding his phone. he gave you the plush and laughed at you bc you still were completely baffled, but you started laughing too

- you: mang beats any flower anyways.. (you took the mang plush and put it on a rack by the door)

him: yup! and why buy flowers when you have me? *does the flower pose*

- you: you're unbelievable, jung hoseok

him: ohh full name now, it's getting very serious ~

you: stop teasing!!

-you felt that you were blushing and turned away from him, still unable to hide your smile. hobi laughed while he quickly stepped through the doorway, just in time to grab your wrist and make you face him again. "look at us, y/n, playfully bickering like a couple hmm~~", he said and gave you a smirk that made your knees weak, but you'd be damned if you'd show him that. So you looked him straight into his eyes with a cocky smile and asked: "anything you wanna ask me, jung hoseok?"

"you don't even know what you do to me with that smile of yours, sweetheart..."

"answer the question, jung hoseok."

"look at us us, flirting like a couple hmm~~"

(you didn't even notice how close you two were standing until there were only a few inches between your lips and his)

"I'm waiting", you whispered.

"i really think... ", he began and gently cupped your face meanwhile... "i really think that we should be a couple" he said and finally closed the little space which had remained between your lips.

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eyeslikefoxglove · 5 years ago

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Episode 14 - WangXian are a (v soft) Battle Couple & Foxglove is hella mad

Hi! Welcome to episode 14. I should be studying. It’s day two of morning runs, so my soul has left my body already, send help. Yesterday I went to buy plants with my mum and got so excited I just whacked on a bunch of eyeshadow because I haven’t seen the outside in weeks, I’m also wearing makeup today, because I have nowhere to go, but I really need to finish this bb cream before it goes bad, so my parents are getting my full fresh faced “woke up like this and put on mascara” routine (which is a fucking lie because I’m wearing at least three blushes and two highlighters). I’m determined to get this bitch down in under five minutes so I can have another five to do eyeshadow, I have way too much eyeshadow to not wear it (I have way too much everything except maybe mascara and eyebrow stuff).

Yes, if y’all were wondering I am in fact a makeup magpie. ANYWAY BACK TO THE ACTUAL THING WE ALL CAME HERE FOR.

(Btw further down I discuss once again how shitty I think the Yunmeng sibs’ parents are if that causes an issue for you)

Ok ok ok, so I was talking with damnpoe-2187 here about how we found that sometimes WWX crossed from gremlin into asshole when he tried to get LWJ riled up. Like in the Cold Springs, putting our shippers hearts aside, that was a dick move and he should have stopped undressing the second LWJ went from annoyed to incredibly uncomfortable. I find this scene the complete opposite, a show of character development if you will. It is kind of similar in that they’re both hurt, and alone (although this time is much more serious) and there was some undressing going on; however WWX here behaves like a fool in love considerate person and knowing how uncomfortable LWJ already is tries to make it easier for him. They’re also super soft and I’m weak.

A brief interlude from my one track mind: That pond is full of corpses isn’t it? Or at least the remnants of the Murder Turtle’s meals I suppose. Damn right WWX should not have gone into the water with an open wound, but think no one should go swimming in there without a full hazmat suit tbh (I want to pump them full of antibiotics at this point ngl)

So I love this tiny montage (is it even a montage) of the, getting themselves ready to kill the Murder Turtle.

Teamwooooooork.

Listen, I have read a few fics in which their mind-meld stays in place due to reasons and I need me more of those.

Ok, turtles don’t work that way, but then again, giant murder snake-Trex-turtle so that’s low on my list of priorities. What’s not low is the fact that this guy is knee deep into pretty much a mass grave and I want to take a few showers just watching him.

Yeah, I know exactly what he’s smelling and suddenly I hope I don’t have meat for lunch today tbh.

The screaming sword has always been fucking creepy and does LWJ’s fist clench mean that he’s also hearing them?

BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE! BATTLE COUPLE!

So I know killing the thing took them something like six hours. And while it feels quite a long time in the show, I think that, if they cut the scene with idk, JC running towards Lotus Pier, then back to them, then back to JC, but now the sun is in a different position, back to them, but now the blood from LWJ’s hand has dripped down his arm; and so on a so forth it’d convey more clearly how long it took for the Murder Turtle to die. I know fuck all about cinematography tho so feel free to ignore all this if it is in fact an abomination.

Tiiiiiiny interlude here to say that Yiling Patriarch!WWX is probably one of my favourite character archetypes. He’s slightly creepy, slightly amoral (smiling while torturing and murdering bad guys is still amoral ok), more than a bit on the Dark Side, cocky, smirky, a bit of an asshole a BAMF, a rebel with cause and yet he will still do the right thing, not despite his nature, but because of it. He’s kind of like a Chipped Spike? But you know, he doesn’t need electroshock to behave.

I just want a fic where he’s this Dark Lord of Evil in everyone’s eyes however the ‘good guys’ take a break from trying to off him because a bigger threat just popped up and they have no choice but to ask for his help. He agrees, keeps being his charming self while also saving everyone’s asses, LWJ is smitten.

TL;DR: The Necromancer is hot. Oh and nobody dare deny LWJ has a Yiling Patriarch kink.

Oh my, this is the part when I always get teary eyed.

WUJI ON A CELLO? DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME?

“Why hasn’t Jiang Cheng shown up and rescued me yet?” THIS IS ALL THE PROOF I NEED THAT WWX IS THE BABY SIBLING.

“Lan Zhan sing me a song”

IT IS HAPPENING, STAY FUCKING CALM EVERYBODY (I’m crying)

That slideshow of their best moments set to WuJi is a masterpiece, and also, it kind of drives home the point of “how tf did we go from flirting during summer camp to this mess”?

(Btw if that’s YiBo humming he’s got one hell of a deep voice)

Ok ok ok, so this moment had me spitting up my tea the first time I watched it. Believe it or not my dumbass thought these people were actually serious with the censorship and we’d get scraps of their actual relationship. Lots of charged moments like in some other western tv shows I’ve seen when two dudes have chemistry but “they’re not gay”, no longing glances, no tender touches, no being unbelievably soft with each other; just you know, amped up, because if I’m not mistaken you can be arrested in China for “promoting the gay”. I mean, they changed the beginning when people insult MXY’s sexuality to insulting his mental health; no one would think “ah yes, the gays are good” when they hear it used as a slur, but they still erased it completely. One of the things I thought they’d fully take away was WangXian, I mean, the into/outro is named Wuji, which, you know, still a mishmash of their names, but not their ship name. It is such a significant part of the story with all the “what’s the song name? Figure it out yourself” that if something were going to give away that they’re married with a kid it would be that. I thought we’d get an artful fade to black BEFORE LWJ would say the name not after. And also, YiBo is enunciating it so clearly that, even with the sound muffled and the blurriness I, who don’t speak Chinese, can make out the two syllables. That’s deliberate, I can say “WangXian” loud and clear without moving my lips too much. At this point in time I must assume someone in charge of looking for censorship violations in the show is a fan and just ignored it.

Censorship person 1: dude, isn’t that a bit too gay, maybe you shouldn’t greenlight it.

Censorship person 2: shut the fuck up, sit here and watch.

*a full rundown of the whole of CQL later*

Censorship person 1: oh my god they’re so in love and they deserve to be happy.

Back to the commentary: I’m sorry but I have a mighty need of a WWX & Peacock friendship ok? This might be me just wanting WWX and LWJ to make other friends besides each other but I think that the Peacock is just bitchy enough to not take any of WWX’s bullshit.

And the Yunmeng bros timing for banter strikes yet again.

That’s terrible quality fake blood btw.

@ Yunmeng disciples: STOP SHOOTING FUCKING KITES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Oooof even with a change of clothes our boy is still looking rough as hell.

MY LOVELY YUNMENG SIBS BEING SOFT AND HAPPY WITH EACH OTHER.

It hurts my soul that the second JFM starts praising WWX for surviving the Murder Turtle our boy’s knee-jerk reaction is to start praising JC in return. It is instinctive, how many times must this have happened for him to know his brother won’t even get scraps of praise? (Seriously fuck their parents)

It was going so well, I mean, JFM had a point warning him to not say things in anger. But I thought he was going to tell him that it is because sometimes he’ll hurt someone without wanting to, yet, this asshole decided to, once again, remind his kid he thinks he’s a failure.

And here comes Mme Yu who I can only assume had a servant posted at the door to warn her when WWX woke so she could throw some verbal abuse at him. I mean, she must have been missing it.

And JFM’s misogynistic bullshit strikes once again, because why defend ALL your kids when you can insult your wife.

(Every time someone berates WWX for “intervening” I want to scream. I mean, seeing this I can believe why the society as a whole thought genocide was a good idea.)

I love how they use their kids as props in their fight, I mean it’s not like they have feelings or anything. This woman is gaslight-y as hell too “you don’t love your kid because I gave birth to him”, you can’t tell me saying that in front of the son she’s supposed to love isn’t going to hurt him. And she knows it, I mean, besides the Wen attack I’ve never seen her hit the kids (although I very much doubt she hasn’t), so a good part of the abuse must be verbal. There’s no fucking way a person who regularly uses words that way won’t realise where she’s aiming those arrows. Which means to her (to both) the kids are collateral.

But FR, the barely-out-of-adolescence disaster bi necromancer PTSDing all over the place and living in a mass grave was a better parent than any of the current adults in this thing.

Which brings me to another point, Shijie is textbook “the oldest sibling is just another parent” and I’m making myself very angry.

[this is when I start frothing at the mouth and itching to write a modern-girl(and friends)-dropped-in-CQL because someone has to be a positive adult influence in these kids’ lives and it sure as shit ain’t the ones in the actual show.]

CAN WE STOP BRINGING PEOPLE’S DEAD PARENTS INTO THE FIGHT?

*deep breath*

I am going to feed JFM & Mme Yu each other’s spleens. Look, listen, look and listen, let’s first talk about how calmly they lay out the facts of their lives, one is only loved because he’s been brought up in the shadow of his dead parents, the other knows with certainty his father dislikes him and his mother uses him as leverage in marital disputes. When have these two not exploded their emotions all over the place? Fucking never. Yet here they are, talking about this bullshit like some bout of inconvenient weather. They’re used to it!

And now let’s talk about yet again siblings-are-just-extra-parents, with an added pile of WWX’s terrible self awareness that, to the man who brought him up, his worth is due to his dead parents. Again I’m extrapolating, but with the amount of times Mme Yu brings up his parents in such a negative light I refuse to believe JFM hasn’t made all the “you’re so much like your parents” comments to him every time WWX does something right. I mean, telling an orphan about their parents if they ask is a good thing, but WWX seems starved for stories about his them, which leads me to believe JFM refuses to talk about the topic except to make those little comments. What a fucking stellar way to give someone all the trauma if you ask me. May also explain a lot of WWX’s self worth issues if the biggest praise he’s ever heard is that he resembles dead people, yes, people who were loved, but they’re dead, and it doesn’t look like any adult has bothered to go and differentiate WWX from ZSSR&WCZ.

I’m just really mad, despite all the silly anecdotes I put in here my parents are fucking great at parenting, so I know what good parents should look like, and this ain’t it.

Ok, so I made myself angry and I don’t know if I should move onto the next episode now or wait till tomorrow but thanks for reading!

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mdzs live action #foxglove watches cql #foxglove watches the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng trio #yunmeng siblings #yunmeng bros #Foxglove is hella mad #good parenting? Less likely than you think

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stellarbisexual · 6 years ago

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A Memory of Love (3/?)

Summary: Richie and Eddie, who haven’t seen each other since they were kids, get cast as the lead couple in an indie film.

Canon-divergent, Reddie are in their 30s.

Previously: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

READ ON AO3

Chapter 3: Rehearsal Pt. 1

It takes only a few days for them to arrange everything. Eddie goes back to New York and packs up two months’ worth of stuff--seven weeks for filming and another three for this experiment they apparently thought was a good idea, while Richie gets his house in order.

“I probably should’ve mentioned,” Eddie’s gentle voice says over the phone just as he’s about to get on a plane back to LAX, “I have my dog with me. I can totally board her for the three weeks if need be--but she is a therapy dog, technically.”

Richie’s eyes light up. “Are you fucking kidding me?! That’s a bonus.” He’s already revising his shopping list. “What kind of treats does she like?”

As he wanders through the aisles of his local Whole Foods later that morning, Richie finds himself falling prey to the sweet seduction of this whole scenario, ticking items off from the list of staples Richie’d strong armed Eddie into giving him. He’s lived alone for the better part of a decade, and in that time, he’s been too busy to spend much time inside his own house let alone have a guest stay so long.

Ever since he was a kid, Richie’s had a sweet tooth, but he’s had to scale it back in recent years (even as a male comedian, he hasn’t been spared the vanity of his industry), opting for the organic versions of some of his gummy favorites and cutting others out entirely. Eddie’s even healthier than that, which comes as no surprise, maintaining a nearly vegan diet.

Eddie’s flight gets delayed a bit, making Richie comically antsy, and he arrives on Richie’s doorstep just before five looking tired but optimistic, the leash extending from his hand going taut as a medium-sized black and white border collie tries to leap at Richie. “Barb,” Eddie chides quietly, laughing.

Richie kneels and opens his arms to her, wide. “BABY!!!”

“You asked for it,” Eddie says, unclipping the leash and letting her knock Richie over. “Barb, seriously? I’ve never seen her like this.”

Barb won’t stop wiggling in Richie’s arms, giving his face a thorough tongue bath, the vinyl material of her vest making a funny zippery sound against his belt. “You can just leave her stuff there,” Richie says, pointing to the doorway. “I booked you at the Radisson down the street. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to take her from me,” Eddie muses, starting to drag his suitcases over the threshold.

“Wait wait wait, don’t,” Richie says firmly--and hilariously, this brings the dog right to attention. She scrambles off of him and sits politely, awaiting instruction. Richie chuckles, scratching one of her ears. “Not you; your dad.” He turns to Eddie. “Absolutely not. Go sit down, I’ll take care of it. I feel like enough of a schmuck for not being able to pick you up from the airport.”

“Richie, it’s fine--”

“Sit. I’ll give you both a tour in a sec.” He pulls Eddie’s suitcases in and shuts the door behind him, watching with a smile as Eddie’s eyes scale the walls and ceilings of his home. “Barb, huh? Is that after Streisand?”

“Stanwyck,” Eddie corrects. “I’m not that gay.” Richie laughs. Eddie spins on his heels, strolling across the living room and checking out the view through the back of the house. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but Richie, this is gorgeous. I don’t think she’s gonna want to come back to New York with me when this is over.”

“Plenty of room,” Richie says, reiterating what he’d said the last time they saw each other, in the bar, and finds a small part of him hoping that Eddie decides he doesn’t want to go back to New York, either.

Eddie’s walk with Barb gives him a second wind, so he agrees to read through the script with Richie once before dinner. Being a self-proclaimed TPW (total prop whore), Richie suggests they do as much of the action as they possibly can, scrambling through the house to approximate almost every item that’s mentioned in the script--and even some things that aren’t.

In the days since the read-through, Richie’s been practicing, almost an embarrassing amount. What’s even more embarrassing is that all that work goes completely out the window once he’s acting with Eddie. That’s his first lesson: he can’t really plan the way he says any particular line, the way he did on TFS. Comedy, especially sketch comedy, is kind of musical; you’ve got to hit every note precisely, and it’s way more about how certain words sound than how you feel saying them.

He does give himself credit for adjusting to what Eddie’s giving him. He might be passable at this, after all.

Seeing Eddie work is a huge turn-on, knocks Richie completely out of his own head. As a comedian, there’s nothing more exciting to Richie than commitment, and Eddie is nothing if not committed. There’s no ego in anything he does; as analytical as he is, he manages to be totally present while they’re reading together. He’s just totally fucking there. Open to whatever happens.

Eddie would probably be fantastic at improv, Richie thinks. He’ll have to get him to play with him some time.

During one of their two breakup scenes in the script--the second one, where they’re older--Eddie nearly makes Richie cry with the tears shimmering in his own eyes.

When the last words of dialogue are spoken, Richie blows a big breath out of his mouth and groans a wrung-out, “Fuck,” tossing the script across the room. Barb lifts her head to watch it sail, then lowers it back down to rest on her daintily crossed front paws.

Eddie laughs, loud and bright, clearly grateful to him for diffusing the tension. “Not an uplifting one, is it?”

“No, sir.” Richie’s palms slide slowly down his face. The doorbell rings--their takeout. “Thank God. Let’s eat our feelings.”

They sit on the lanai over a huge spread from the best vegan place Richie could find, watching the sun set. He isn’t much of a cook and he’d insisted that Eddie not cook his first night back in town after a long trip.

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” Richie starts, bringing the neck of his Corona to his lips, “‘cause it’ll tip the power scales your way for this entire shoot. But you’re really something else, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie blushes a little as he drinks from a bottle of sparkling water. “How do you mean?”

“You’re fucking good, man. Just… you’re so real.” Richie chuckles at himself. “God, I sound like a fucking moron. ‘You’re so real.’ Please don’t ever let me talk about acting ever again.”

“Richie, you know what you’re doing. Stop acting like you don’t. I definitely wouldn’t have signed on to this if I hadn’t been not just confident in you but excited to work with you.”

Richie hums. “Paycheck probably doesn’t hurt, either.”

Eddie smiles. “Hey: I doubt I’m getting paid anything near what you are.” He chucks a piece of soy chicken satay at him, and Richie ducks it with a wince.

“Touché.”

“Thank you, though,” Eddie says, though he doesn’t look particularly taken with the compliment, more like he really doesn’t give a shit about being seen as good at all. Like he’d said when they first got drinks, the audience doesn’t matter. “I have pretty intense anxiety,” Eddie says quietly, “so all my stuff is right here.” He waves his free hand around his throat and chest. “There’s nowhere for me to hide.”

Richie isn’t sure he understands. His life as a performer has been all about hiding so far, behind wigs and voices and, yes, props. He’s never been great at stand-up for that very reason. Too exposing. But he’s intrigued. “Any of this hitting home for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This.” Richie leans across the table to tap the cover page of Eddie’s script.

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Um. I don’t really have a point of reference.”

Richie watches him closely. “No serious relationships?”

“Not really,” Eddie shrugs, leaning back in his chair and watching the breeze make gentle little waves along the surface of Richie’s pool. “I try, but it’s hard to trust people.” He stops himself, revising. “It’s hard for me to trust people. Makes it almost impossible to fall in love.”

There’s something about the way Eddie’s voice curls around the word love that makes Richie’s insides collapse. For how open Eddie’s been so far, this whole conversation feels like a locked door. Richie wants to smash it open, caveman-style. But before he can pick up that first proverbial rock, Eddie’s poking at him in return.

“How ‘bout you?” he asks.

Richie gives an easy laugh. “No. Sex is easy; sex is fine. Relationships I can take or leave.”

Eddie gives him a penetrating, horribly unnerving look like he knows something Richie doesn’t--or maybe that Richie does. “We’re both a couple of messes, huh?” Somehow Eddie manages to make it sound both hopeful and sad.

“I speak only for myself.” Richie smiles softly at him.

They engage in a pretty awkward dance just before bed. Somehow they’d dodged discussion of sleeping arrangements when Richie’d given Eddie and Barb a tour of the house earlier. They look at each other, two sets of eyes wide and bewildered.

Thankfully, Eddie saves them. “I should probably sleep in one of the guest rooms while I still have this jet lag.”

“Okay,” Richie says quickly. “We can--I mean, if you want--when you’re ready, I’m open to--”

Eddie laughs quietly, then reaches for Richie, running a hand along the length of one of his arms. “Let’s play it by ear. Probably better if we ease into it.”

“...Okay.” Richie can feel every one of his nerves pinging around his face. He works to school his expression. He blinks. Eddie’s hand is still lingering on his wrist. “Just… make yourself at home. Anything you need.”

Eddie laughs again, softer. “Goodnight, Richie.” Then he rises up a little on the balls of his feet and presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek. The kiss feels just a shade over the line of friendly.

Richie watches as he disappears through the archway on the other side of the house.

The next morning, Richie wakes to a faint whine and a wet nose nudging at the arm he’s got hanging off the side of the bed. One of his eyes blinks open, landing on the dog he’d totally forgotten spent the night in his home. He smiles, wide and sleepy. “Hey, Barbarella.” He listens for Eddie, but the house is quiet. “Dad not up yet?” He glances at his watch on the bedside table: eight a.m.

Barb sits obediently, her tail wagging a little over the rug.

“Okay,” he grunts, flipping the covers off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We’ll let Dad sleep in. I’ll take you on a little adventure.”

After a brief search, he finds Barb’s leash by the back door where Eddie’d left it last night, clips it to her collar, pockets a few treats, and slides the back door open, squinting against the already oppressive sun. “Oof. Gonna be a hot one today.” He’s glad he opted to stay shirtless, keeping just his sweat shorts and slipping on a pair of sandals.

Living in the hills, he has access to several hiking paths. Barb eagerly follows, stopping to pee a few times along the way, and picking up a stick for Richie to throw. He’s reluctant to let her off her leash, though, which he makes sure to explain to her with profuse apologies and promises to let her run wild later--if Eddie allows it.

They’re out for nearly an hour, and by the time they come back, Barb is panting happily and Eddie is out on the lanai in a t-shirt and boxers, drinking from a mug, his hair messy and his eyes puffy but satisfied. Richie notices his gaze drop briefly down to Richie’s naked torso before darting respectfully back up to his own eyes.

He can’t help thinking that it’s all very dangerous, this trick they’ve started to play on both their minds, this illusion that they’re actually together.

“Good morning,” Eddie says, his voice a soft, raspy thing. Barb bounds up to him, and he lights up. “Hi, sweetheart. Did Richie take you on a walk?” She flops onto her back, twisting, and Eddie rubs her stomach. “You’re never gonna want to come back to our shitty little studio in Queens, are you?”

“I intend on spoiling you both every day that you’re here,” Richie says, not giving himself the time to regret the blatant flirtation. Eddie sits back in his chair and hides his blush with a sip of coffee--or green tea by the looks of it. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a rock,” Eddie replies, raspy, then clears his throat. “I forgot what silence sounds like. It’s nice.”

Richie bites back a smile, all too pleased that Eddie’s already comfortable in his home. “Well. Don’t get used to it. I sing all the time. ” Before Eddie can inquire, Richie’s taking a deep belly breath and turning wide eyes down to Barb as he croons: “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner, sometimes I feel like my only friend...”

Eddie watches patiently as he turns back in the direction of the pool, belting loud enough to scare some of the birds out of the trees.

“...IS THE CITY I LIVE IN, THE CITY OF ANGELS. LONELY AS I AM, TOGETHER WE CRY.” When he turns back, Eddie’s got both hands over his eyes, mortified but still smiling. Barb howls, and they both laugh.

Richie isn’t sure what he expected, but he thought there would at least be more acting involved in this whole arrangement. But his and Eddie’s first week together is spent just living side by side, floating in and out of each other’s space by day and retiring to opposite sides of the house by night, Barb sometimes torn over who she should follow (which makes Eddie hilariously jealous).

Despite what Richie’d said to Eddie their first night in the house together, he’s been in love before--well, whatever he believed to be love at those particular times. Still, he’s never been so taken with the details of someone in his life, the way that he is with Eddie. Every morning over eggs or cereal, he watches furtively from the kitchen island as Eddie does yoga out on the lanai, the glistening furrow of his brow and the utterly precise way his foot swishes back and forth to smooth out the curled up ends of his mat.

It’s never struck Richie how much he’s wanted someone else living in his space with him until now. Or maybe he wants to keep Eddie around in the hopes that he’ll will some childhood memories out from the darker recesses of his mind.

On the sixth night, Richie stands restlessly in the living room as Eddie loads up the dishwasher. “Hey: you wanna watch a movie?”

“I was wondering if that collection was just for show.” Eddie shakes his wet, washed hands over the sink and dries them off with a tea towel.

The collection to which Eddie refers is Richie’s comedy vault, a comprehensive (incredibly nerdy) library of comedy shorts, films, and TV shows dating back to the silent era. “Your pick,” he says, waving a hand at the media wall and flopping down on the big sectional. “I’ve seen ‘em all thousands of times.”

After a long silence, Eddie finally enters, tossing Richie a piece of dark chocolate covered caramel and unwrapping one for himself. He stuffs his hands in his back pockets and tilts his head, one of Richie’s favorite stances of his; he likes what it does to Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s eyes run over the titles, and Richie watches, sucking every last bit of chocolate off the caramel in his mouth. Barb’s already curled up at Richie’s feet and on her way to snoozing.

Eddie smiles. “You have a laserdisc player?”

“Some of them are only available that way.”

“Well now I wanna watch a laserdisc,” Eddie says, running his fingers over the thin cases that look like vinyls. “You know, I’ve gotta be honest: I thought you’d be out at some fancy party every other night of the week.”

“You thought wrong, pumpkin.” Richie snuggles further into the cushions, wishing he’d changed into sweats but too comfortable to get up. “I’m partied out, man,” he says, quoting Wayne’s World.

Eddie pulls out a collection of Tex Avery cartoons.

“Good choice,” Richie smiles, watching with major amusement as Eddie peers into the sleeve, his eyes going wide.

“Um. How do I…?” Eddie laughs at himself. “I don’t want to break it.”

Richie heaves himself off the couch and gets everything set up, settling back in right next to Eddie, who leans into his shoulder just as the first short gets started. “Oh, hello there,” Richie teases, feeling a flirty little buzz of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

“Thought I’d jump right in,” Eddie explains.

“I like it.”

They laugh together through the first cartoon, quietly, and spend even more time talking about how outdated and offensive a lot of the jokes are. Richie reaches for Eddie’s hand, which has flopped down next to his own thigh, and laces their fingers together. He sees Eddie inhale and then smile out of the corner of his eye. He tries to pay attention as the vibrant colors flash across their faces.

“I have a question,” Eddie says about halfway through the second cartoon. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“...Shoot.”

Eddie still hesitates. “Have you ever been with a guy, Richie?”

Richie turns so he’s talking right into the hair at the crown of Eddie’s head. “That’s maybe the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard, Kaspbrak. I expected more from you.” Eddie laughs. “Yeah, I have.” Eddie’s quiet for a long beat, so Richie gives him a little tickle at his side. “I’m not kissing and telling, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Stop,” Eddie says, laughing and smacking his hands away. “Jerkoff.”

“Jerkoff? Wow.” Richie moves to tickle him again--he couldn’t help it if he tried--and Eddie scrambles as far as he can without falling off the couch.

“No, Richie, no--I’m really, really fucking ticklish, don’t.”

Richie goes for it anyway, just to see Eddie squirm and giggle again, and to feel how warm he is. Shit, he feels like he’s sixteen. “Did I pass the big gay test with flying colors?” Eddie shrieks. “Huh?”

“That’s not why I asked!” Richie finally relents, and Eddie catches his breath. “That’s not why I asked. I just wanted to know.”

Richie can feel his eyes going soft as he looks at him. “...Okay. Fair enough.” He scoots back to his original spot and settles in, watching as Eddie rights his clothes. He curls his palm at him, beckoning. “Come on, snuggle time. Tickle torture is over, I promise.”

Eddie cautiously crawls toward him. “I know you’re super fucking tall, but I’m pretty strong; I could pin you.”

“That a promise?” Richie raises an eyebrow.

“Shithead,” Eddie says under his breath as he snuggles into Richie’s side again.

Richie’s arm settles around his shoulders. Eddie feels so comfortable there, so right that Richie can’t help envisioning a different reality than the one they’re in, one where he and Eddie stayed in touch, became high school sweethearts, and married really young. It practically feels that way.

His next words for Eddie are quiet. “Do you think we should get the first kiss over with?”

“Um.” Eddie looks up at him, his eyes wide and honey warm. “Okay.”

He leans up slightly, and Richie dips down, barely getting Eddie’s top lip. It’s chaste but promising. When they pull apart, Eddie’s expression is terribly serious, so Richie sticks his tongue out at him to ease the tension. Eddie does smile, close-mouthed and sweet, ducking his head.

“Should we go for a real one?” Richie asks. Eddie lifts his eyes again, looking slightly bewildered. “I’m not trying to be creepy, if you’re not--”

“Let’s try it,” Eddie says, so quickly Richie nearly flinches, his eyes darting down to Richie’s lips before he shifts, sitting upright on the couch so they’re almost level.

Richie swallows, actually nervous, and decides he’ll let Eddie take the wheel on this one.

It starts with Eddie’s fingers on his face, his thumb and his index finger bracketing the corner of his jaw where his stubble’s a couple of days grown in, thumb settling in the divot in his chin. He leans in slowly, taking in Richie’s expression before capturing Richie’s bottom lip between his own. His lips are so full and soft, Richie has to actively try not to fucking melt into the cushions.

He hears the faint sound of Eddie shifting on the couch, moving onto his knees, before he can even think to get his hands on him, anchoring himself with a loose grip on his hips, not wanting to push too hard but figuring it might actually be welcome, the way Eddie’s mouth is moving all lush and wet up against his own. Shit. Eddie’s a crazy good fucking kisser, he thinks, as his tongue slips right into his mouth, brushing coyly against his own and tasting salty-sweet like caramel. So good Richie wants to tell him right now, but that would mean stopping, and he is not about that.

Before he can get his mind right, Eddie’s pulling away and darting in for one last soft peck--and it’s the sound of that, the precise little snick of their mouths separating that unearths something: a memory.

So instead of telling Eddie how good a fucking kisser he is, he’s saying, “Not our first kiss,” breathless with the revelation. Eddie shakes his head, dazed, his hands resting on his shoulders, going tight and then loose on the material of his t-shirt. “What do you remember? Tell me.”

“I shouldn’t…” Eddie says, his eyes already telling about a thousand stories.

Richie moves one hand up to cradle his face. “Tell me,” he urges gently. “Please? I want to know.”

Eddie huffs a big breath through his nose, licking his lips, eyes darting decidedly away from Richie’s. “Seven minutes in heaven.”

“Hm?”

“Seven minutes in heaven, seventh grade. Somebody’s birthday party, not one of our friends, not really. I picked your name out of the hat, and everyone gave me shit for not wanting to go into the closet with you.” Eddie looks so vulnerable, Richie wants to hold him, closer than before, closer than anyone has. “I started thinking--ironically--that they’d know what I was if I didn’t just laugh it off and go in there with you. And you didn’t give a shit, so I just grabbed your hand and pulled you in there after me. At which point, I of course immediately started having an asthma attack.”

Richie watches him, unable to breathe himself.

“You kept saying, ‘It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, we don’t have to do it, it’s okay.’ But that made it worse; it just made me feel more alone. You got my inhaler out of my pocket for me, but it didn’t help. I was convinced I was going to suffocate in that fucking closet.”

“Would’ve been poetic,” Richie can’t help but say--and almost apologizes for it except that Eddie gives him a wry, grateful smile.

“Yeah, would’ve been. Um.” Eddie’s voice goes softer and kind of raspy. “And then you just grabbed my face and said, ‘Eddie, look at me, look at me.’ And you kissed me--not for a joke or anything. A real kiss. And just like that, I could breathe again.” Eddie holds his hand up preemptively. “Before you get smug, the kiss itself wasn’t that great. But it was my first,” Eddie shrugs. “So--belatedly--thank you.”

Richie thinks he might actually cry. He clears his throat. “I wish I re--”

“I know,” Eddie waves him off. “It’s okay. It was one of the first things that came up for me in therapy, around coming to terms with who I was. Who I am. And it look a lot of digging, believe me. My shrink used to call me Fort Knox.”

“If you’re Fort Knox, I’m the fucking Pentagon.”

Eddie looks intrigued by Richie’s joke.

“Stay with me tonight?”

“What?”

“Sleep in bed with me. I won’t try anything, I promise.”

“I know that; I trust you,” Eddie says, finally removing his hands from Richie’s shoulders and letting them come to rest limply in his own lap. “I just… don’t sleep well, in general. Having Barb nearby helps, but I might be up once or twice. Or a lot--depending on what my brain decides to dish out.”

“I can handle it,” Richie says with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and Richie braces himself, expecting--hoping for--another kiss that ultimately doesn’t come, not the rest of that night, anyway.

permatag list: @reddie-to-fight @hurleyhugo @raspberrywind @losver-kaspbrak @lilgeorgie @geckolover001 @its-stranger-than-you-think @gazebo-motherfucker @waypunsarelife @reddietofall @happytozier @librablossom @aesteddie @tapetayloe@spagheddi-kaspbrak @sadhelianthus @adhdtozier @justcallme-trashmouth @fuckboyrichie @bandaids @20gayteeneds @richietoaster @burymestanding @reddiepop@notsugarandspice @richiefuckfacetozier @noahsschnapp

a memory of love list: @artofhely @trippy-alexissss @feelinsorad @where-ismy-miind @justanothetfangirl

#mah fic #reddie #a memory of love #it 1990 #it 2017 #stephen king's it #it chapter two

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rreader · 7 years ago

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How abooout a Black Widow x reader? :oo So basically the reader is in the army and one day she suprises Nat in the avengers hq, and everyone’s like ”who tf is this??” And she’s like, ”suprise assholes - I have a girlfriend!” Clint’s not suprised. Nat’s like ”what are you doing here??” And reader’s like ”I just served my last day!!” Reader has some form of abilities, water (+ blood) and fire bending maybe?? And she joins the Avengers. Also reader bonds with Sam, Steve & bucky 4 obvious reason

pairing: natasha romanoff x female!readerfandom: mcuwarnings: /genre: fluff

summary: only because your military career is over, doesn’t mean that your fight is. this time, however, your girlfriend will be by your side every step of the way.

a/n: here you go, darling! (AAAH I’M SO HAPPY TO BE ABLE TO POST AGAIN FML) (added natasha to my fandoms page!)

Youstood in front of the Avengers HQ, craning your neck to see the topof the building, before chuckling to yourself.

“Fancy,”you murmured, before someone came to pick you up and walk you to thefront door of the building. At first they didn’t even want to letyou in. When you had told them who you were, they had just laughed.

Asif Natasha Romanoff, famous Black Widow, had a girlfriend, right? Joke’s on them. Anyways,when you showed them your abilities and what you were capable of (meaning, you let the water from the inside of the security guys’ water bottle accidentally splash onto his head),PLUS, told them that you had just served three years in the army, theyshut their mouths relatively quickly, not wanting to piss you off ordisrespect you.

So theyled you through the halls of the compound, only then realizing just how big this place actually was.

They had really spared no expenses, huh?

Atone point, you faintly began to hear the voices of people. Quite afew of them, one talking over the other. They were laughing.. theysounded.. happy.

Asmall smile spread on your lips at the thought of Natasha beinghappy. She had spent so much time being the complete opposite and each and every time you had been there to pick her up. God,the closer you got to the source of the voices, the more you realizedhow much you had missed her. Holding her, looking at her, kissing her..

Oncethe door got opened, it didn’t take long before all eyes were on you.

Tonywas the first to stand up and walk over to you and the security guystanding next to you.

“Whoare you? Who is this? What do you want here?” he bombarded you with one question after the other.

“I’mlooking for..-”

“(Y/N)?”Natasha peeked around the corner, her eyes widening when she saw youstanding there.

Yourown eyes immediately lit up. She was still looking as beautiful asthe last time you had seen her, now with short blonde hair, rockingit like she was made for it. But then again, you had seen her with almost every form of hairstyle and in every color and she always looked like a goddess, so it shouldn’t surprise you.

Sheshoved Tony aside and put her hands on either sides of your face,pulling you towards her to give you a hasty, but passionate kiss.

Youwere so focused on her, that you could only barely hear the othersin the background letting out surprised gasps and ‘What the hell isgoing on?’s. No, the only thing that mattered at that moment was thewoman in front of you, that you grabbed by the waist and pulled evencloser to you, so that there was no space left between you.

Whenshe pulled back after a couple of seconds, Tony was standing a little too close next to youtwo, his eyes flickering from you, back to her.

“Uhm,excuse me, but who is this and why are you kissing her?”

“It’smy girlfriend,” she didn’t take her eyes off you, her thumbs gentlybrushing over your cheekbones, a little out of breath from the kiss.

“It’syour..-” Tony took a step back and turned around to the others.Most of them only shrugged, others were shocked, while Clint grinnedhappily.

“Goodto see you again, (Y/N),” you heard him say from one of thecouches, “Just a fair warning. She’s become an even bigger pain inthe ass.”

“Watchit, Barton,” she warned, turning her head to face himquickly, before looking back at you, “What are you doing here? Whydidn’t you call you were coming?”

“Itwould have ruined the surprise, if I had,” your hands were still onher waist, not wanting to let her go just yet, “I just served mylast day,” you grinned from ear to ear.

Hermouth fell open just a little, then she started grinning.

“You’redone?”

“I’mdone,” you nodded happily.

Shekissed you once more, before pulling you in for a tight embrace.

Stevegot up from the couch, followed by Sam and Bucky, all threeinterested in what you had meant by ’just served your last day’ (even though it should be fairly obvious.)

“Youwere in the army?” Steve asked.

Natlet go of you, but only so that she could wrap her arm around yourshoulder and proudly smile at you.

“Yeah.Three years.”

“Really?Man, that is cool! My unit did not have a single woman,” Sam chimedin and grinned, while licking his lips and looking you up and down. When he saw Natasha’s look, however, he quickly lowered his gaze, a little ashamed of himself.

“Shame.Mine had around 20. I’m sure you would have loved them all.”

Natashapulled you towards one of the couches and, as expected, one question followed the next. They ranged from questions about your timein the army, to questions about you and Natasha and lastly, personalquestions about you and Natasha’s love life. (I’ll let you guess whoasked those questions.)

“Soyou just wanted to visit Natasha? Is that the only reason you’rehere?” Bucky asked, leaning forward a bit.

“Thatwas the biggest reason, but.. I heard you were preparing for a war,”you turned to face Tony, “Thanos, if my information is correct?”

“Howdid you even..-?”

“Youthink I’d just date anyone?” Natasha crossed her arms in front ofher chest and raised her eyebrows.

Youhad always been skilled at a lot of things. That’s why she fell foryou in the first place, after all. It wasn’t your beauty, or your personality. That came later. The first thing she had fallen in love with was the fact that you could match her in every possible way. And not a lot of people could do that.

“Anyways..I want to help.”

Thathad Natasha sitting up straight.

“No,listen, (Y/N), you served this country for three years, you..-”

“I wouldn’t be doing it for this country. I’d be doing it because I can help. Andit would be a waste of my talents, if I just leaned back and relaxed.”

“Andwhat talents are those, if I might ask?” the one that hadintroduced himself as Doctor Strange asked.

Insteadof telling them about it, you let your eyes wander down to the tablein front of you, finding the glass of water. Without doing much more then blink once, youlet the water from inside the glass, float around the room, until youlet it drop back into the cup.

“Youcan let water float. That’s..-”

BeforeTony could even finish his sentence, the fireplace behind him lit up.Upon turning around, he found the previous tiny flames to be so huge,that he had to take a step back, in fear that it would burn him.

“Ican bend the elements to my will.”

“Thatis so cool!” Peter grinned and you smiled back at him.

“Andhow do you do that?”

“It’sgot something to do with my blood. I’m not really sure. They tried toexplain it to me, but I never really understood that science-y crap.”

While the others were already on board with you joining their team, Natashawas still unsure about it.

Shewould hate to see you get hurt, but she had also seen you in actionbefore. She knew that you were an useful ally. Someone who could helpdefeat Thanos. And she knew that there would be no one she’d rather fight with than you.

“Alright,(Y/N),” Tony cleared his throat after that fire incident and satdown next to you, “I don’t want Natasha to kill me, so.. Welcome tothe Avengers.”

#deinopis #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow #mcu #marvel #reader #requests

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ivanaskye · 7 years ago

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IVANA SKYE BIBLOGRAPHY MASTERPOST!!

Finally, some information about all my books and series in one place...

Šehhinah:

Šehhinah is a fantasy-with-angels trilogy in a world with near-modern tech, but a different history (and set of continents!) than ours. It’s about understanding yourself, finding friends, and being a dork.

There are angels running around, and Fallen too. The magic system, Theurgy, is based on literally manifesting one’s soul into the world, because no one in this series has any chill. Especially not God, who makes willing people into Their Holy by manifesting Their soul near enough to them to burn their bodies and give them superpowers. Or Lilith, who lowkey kidnaps abandoned or abused children and manifests her soul near their bodies to make them into demons.

Each of the books takes place primarily in a different city with a different cast, although some of the characters do cross over (especially in the third book.) For this reason, the second book can probably be read standalone if that’s what you’re down for.

The first book, The Stars that Rise at Dawn, takes place in Ēnnuh, a desert city which is maybe the second-oldest city in the world (but this is debated). There’s solar panels and motorcycles everywhere, and bookstores host philosophy debates with clickbait-style advertising.

It follows Elīya, a philosophy major who Doesn’t Know When To Stop, and her childhood friend Yenatru, who is Too Gay To Function. Elīya’s on a quest to get back together with her other childhood friend, Tamar; Yenatru’s just on a quest to have friends, or maybe even a boyfriend. Thankfully for Yenatru, he runs into Lucifer in the library one day, and strikes up a weirdly good conversation with her.

Yes. That Lucifer. He’s surprised about that too.

Anyway, Lucifer’s also pretty much just a dork who wants to have friends, so they’re a good match. But Elīya might have other plans for them… like trying to rope them into this whole finding-Tamar thing.

“Most people think of you as somewhat dignified,” Yenatru points out. “Someone with pride. Impressive.”

Lucifer clutches a hand to her chest. “Ow, don’t go implying I don’t have pride. I like being prideful! ’S fun.”

“You are attempting and failing to banter with some really shy boy you met in a university library,” Yenatru says, deadpan.

“I did say I was pathetic,” Lucifer says with a smile. “Do you believe me now?”

Yenatru thinks about that for a moment, then nods. “Yes. Yes, I believe you.”

Lucifer’s smile turns harder, almost determined. “Good.”

[GET IT HERE FOR 99cents]

The second book, The Birds that Fly at Dusk, takes place in Ākal-ne, a city at the edge of the steppe near some mountains. It’s large and spread-out, people mostly roller skate to get everywhere, and each field of study has its own college, which is also a lodge where its students say. A collodge, if you will. (Sorry not sorry.)

It follows Celyet, a semiverbal autistic demon originally from near the city who ran off to the city to evade bad social dynamics, which, #relatable. She manages to run into Sän, another demon who’s been spending their time lately working as a barista and also falling over a lot. Celyet’s trying to avoid people and doesn’t want to make friends, but there might be some kind of connection between them…

…And then Jibril, the pun-loving angel who never shuts up, walks into that very coffee shop, because they (a terrible coffee fiend) are actually its owner. That’s why it’s called JiBrew.

And that’s when Celyet accidentally performs Theurgy right in the middle of the coffee shop.

“Hmm, okay,” the angel continues on, “it’s kind of starting to look already like you’re not going to say anything, sigh”—and Celyet, looking down at the bar, finds herself blinking at the fact that the angel Jibril just said the word ‘sigh’ aloud, dramatically, instead of actually sighing—“I mean, I’m kinda used to it, since I’m so overwhelming and frankly gorgeous and all, this kind of thing absolutely happens. Although I do quite like hearing from other people! God, that’s always fun. Oh, yes, that too—I’ll curse by God, when I feel like it. Of course, I’m an angel, but why not. I’ll curse by God and fire and flames, the whole thing, it’s a better curse than anything else really, and that disaster probably deserves to be used as a curse anyway. Still can’t believe They didn’t notice how flaming sad Lucifer was for so long! A couple of times I even tried to be like, hey God, my man, I mean not really man because You have no idea what a gender is, but my man all the same, have You noticed, there are some flaws in how You’ve set things up. And They were just kind of like … well, the way They are, They basically only responded by just being fire, you know how it is. And it’s fun to feel that kind of fire and light everywhere in your body, at least for me …”

Speaking of God, Celyet thinks, God she wonders if Jibril’s ever going to shut up.

[GET IT HERE FOR 4.99]

The third book, The Lives that Argue for Us, is set for a May 4th release date, and is available for preorder. It introduces the partially-floating tropical city of Askannan, where a subculture of people—the Seafarers—dedicate their lives to traveling around the world and showing people cool art because, again, no one in this series has any chill.

Kjorel is one such Seafarer, and is about to leave for his first voyage after secondary school… which unfortunately means not seeing his datemate, Teśena, for about eight months. They’re in an open relationship, but have never been put to the test quite like this before.

So while Teśena’s dealing with the loneliness of being almost entirely nonverbal and without aer datemate by befriending God, Kjorel finds himself in Ēnnuh… where he meets a certain adorable boy who hates shorts.

Teśena’s not quite sure how this works, how to think to someone who’s this here with aer, but ae tries, ae imagines almost an opening up of the memory of it all—and somehow this act, this unfurling, itself gently glows.

A thousand wings shift again, eyes made of fire open and close, wheels made of fire turn and turn. And the fire of God’s wings moves as if closer to aer, almost as if laughing, understanding, something like a mirror wrapped in one of the wheels reflecting.

Teśena has made terrible, impulsive decisions, ae understands.

And God seems to respect that in the way God respects Themself.

[PREORDER HERE]

Evocation:

Evocation is an NA fantasy series with short, novella-length books set in a fantasy world which thinks it knows what’s up. There’s a very established and easily accessible system of name magic, and easy communication with the low-power Gods known as Vitalities… what more could a society want?

And then a completely different type of magic shows up overnight.

The series follows Nena, a former circus performer who’s already won the world’s equivalent of the Olympics… meaning that now, at eighteen, she has no more life goals left. Oops. So she’s getting TF out of dodge, which is to say, out of her hometown, to do… something. She isn’t really sure what. It might involve befriending fellow traveler Maráh. Or it might end up accidentally setting a bunch of things around her on fire with her thoughts…

Meanwhile, Cijaya’s recovering from emotional abuse over in a different city, and is pretty sure that graduating secondary school is the right time to get as far away as possible. But even waiting two months for that is a challenge, especially when your only friend is the snarky Vitality of a nearby lake.

The second book, currently up for preorder and about to be released on April 3rd, continues these characters’ stories in addition to introducing the fourth major character of the cast: Pelekri, who’s also discovered the new system of magic, and is using it to … be a vigilante solar panel installer. That’s what anyone would do with magic, right? Right…?

“You’re not excited,” Maràh said. “Not really. Not openly. No matter what you present on the surface.”

“About this?” I asked, almost smiling, however inappropriate that expression was. “About Mangtena?”

“About anything,” Maràh said, almost smiling too, perhaps as if they’d caught me in something, as if they’d won, or just as if in the back of their mind they were thinking about really good chocolate.

Well, of course, I could travel. I could even imagine being excited about that, as I once was. I hadn’t yet visited every city on Sifir, and perhaps I could. I could go to every last one, see it all, see everything—

—and, I asked myself, how long would that really take? A few years? Sifir wasn’t big; everyone knew that. But though certain Vitalities had long hinted at a much larger landmass somewhere across the ocean, a continent they called it, the oceans were simply too wide to cross, though many had tried.

My breath caught in my throat and the reason for that catching burned in me: boredom.

[GET THE FIRST BOOK FOR FREE HERE!]

[PREORDER THE SECOND BOOK HERE]

The Size of the World:

The Size of the World is a standalone novella, my first published release, and also the only one of my books available in paperback (which is very pretty.)It’s hyper-poetic in both style and setting, and involves Theia—a character who is much more autistic than I had a clue about at the time when I wrote her—crossing the Seven Seas to find the Darkness past the Seventh Sea. And, uh, falling completely in love with this girl she meets in the Second Land.

“Theia,” she says, grinning. “That is a good name. It tastes like ivy in my mouth.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“I am Tellus,” she says, “if you wish.”

“If I wish?”

“Tell me,” she whispers, “have you ever met someone with only one name?”

“Yes,” I say. There is nothing in common between my Kingdom and hers.

“In this Land,” she proclaims, “you never will.”

[GET IT FOR 2.99 HERE!]

#my writing #longpost #fantasy books #actuallyautistic #lgbtq fantasy #queer fantasy #THIS ONLY TOOK LIKE FOREVER TO MAKE AAAA.

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ddaenghoney · 7 years ago

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Request: No

Member: Jackson, GOT7

TW: None

Rating: M.

Genre: Fluff, a bit of smut.

Word Count: 4.7k

Prompt: my friend sent me a really hot picture of Yoongi to make me freak tf out, so as revenge I wrote this LOL, or: A Series of Firsts

At what point did it start?

If you considered all the moments that were significant-- every moment that was a bit more special than others, you would remain unable to pinpoint where.

Your birthday, for instance, was a great memory. Jackson held your hand to lead you into a dimly lit cafe situated a few stories up on the corner of a quiet intersection. The second you walked in, you heard him giggle and could picture the grin that matched it, but without getting the chance to focus too much on him the lights flashed on. Your closest friends were gathered and yelled surprise, as if you were. Feigning it like everyone does when gifted with a secret birthday party, you gasped and covered your face with your hand. Smiling more at the boy who still clutched onto you, you glanced to the crowd and said a genuine thanks.

It wasn’t too long ago that a cold night had wrapped your body in it’s relentless touch of winter. Jackson and you were laughing feverishly about something dumb he said amid car headlights and passerby’s visible breaths. When you came to a stop at the crosswalk that covered the two of you in a ray of red, he looked down at you. Raising an eyebrow after a moment, Jackson hunched himself down to your level,

“Is it the light making your face red, or is your skinned actually rosy from the weather?” He pondered aloud, maybe wanting an answer, but before you were able to, his finger tips connected with the skin just beside a dimple on your cheeks. “Wow, your face is cold!”

“Thanks for the observation.” You continued to smile up at him, feeling a kick in your heart, but not that. He chuckled in response to your sassy reply, before removing the hand from your face to brush stray bands from his own eyes.

“Look here, cherry cheeks,” Your eyes rolled, and the blush on your face probably became a bit stronger at the description, but he paid no mind, “I’m just looking out for my favorite, alright?” He said. Unconscious to you, was his hands removing the navy wool that he wore around his neck in a thick clump. You were too busy, glancing away in an attempt to hope your cheeks would lose some color from your evident embarrassment. When your eyes reconnected with the soft evening tone that colored Jackson’s irises, it was a reaction to him tugging you forward with the scarf that he now tossed around the back of your neck. “You’re cute.”

Your heart did beat faster that time. How could it not? But as much of an effect that that moment had on you, especially considering how it grew into a gentle exchange of him securely wrapping the soft scarf laced generously with his cologne-- as much as you loved that moment, it wasn’t the one that you were trying to think about now.

The two of you were a couple, properly. When out and about in public, you certainly did not cling onto him, or him you. You barely held hands outside of a private space, and maybe that was why this situation was occurring. Anger was not pointed in the direction of your relationship with Jackson being hidden away from the media, but there was a different kind of frustration wrapping its grip around you.

Nights like this one, in particular were a bit more difficult. You had been the one subjected to bring a large amount of food to the dorms. Losing a game of rock paper scissors, often meant your wallet took a hit, but nevertheless you supplied all the necessities for an easy night in with the rest of GOT7. One of the more annoying parts of maintaining a secret relationship was having to sneak around. You felt like you were pretty good at it by now; there weren’t any cameras or people in sight when you slipped in the door.

Making sure to shut it tight meant balancing on a single foot and having the other kick into the door hard. If it weren’t for the bags of food, the task would be simple enough, but the disproportionate weight caused your legs to stutter.

“Woah,” And had Jackson’s hands not taken a firm grip on your sides you would have ended up coated in food. “Clumsy.” The warmth from his breath sent a counteractive sensation against chilled neck, and the pads of his fingers taking a gentle squeeze on your hip bones only added to the effect.

“Yeah.” You blurted out, laying the souls of your shoes back against the floor properly. “I would’ve texted you that I was here, but my hands are full.”

“I can help with that.” He said a bit softer than needed. Before having the time to consider his tones, the bags were removed from your grip, just like your hips from his hands. You turned to face him, finally, but unable to take a good look before his lips were pressed softly on yours. “Missed you.” He said too soon, and gestured for you to follow him down the corridor. After the slightest hesitation, you did so, catching up to him without having to go through much effort.

“Y/N, good to see you again!” Jaebum was the first to greet you as the two of you entered into the common area. “We heard the door open earlier, but Jackson was the first to sprint over and see who it was.”

“He’s head over heels.” Bambam’s head popped up from the couch he was lying down on. Jackson’s eyes rolled and opened his mouth to speak, but was beat to it by Yugyeom, who was on the armchair beside you.

“More like whipped, right, hyung?”

“Say what you want, but at least I have a girlfriend.” He countered, with a shrug before leaving you to place the food in the kitchen. “Yugyeom-ah, Bambam-ah, we forgot to get you guys anything, by the way.” Now you giggled softly, watching the two hop up from their seats and whine their way into the kitchen before Jackson hid their portion of food away.

Maybe you had simply over thought the whole situation.

Eight people squished into the living area was not the easiest of arrangements. The couch ended up being an overcrowded hub of you, Jackson, Mark, and Jaebum. With Jackson occupying the corner, and you right beside him, it wasn’t the worst position to be in. Your head was rested against his chest, that was angled backwards into the comfort of the plush cushion. His arm was around your shoulder, fingers lazily twirling a lock of hair, while his eyes looked at the screen.

Empty containers of food scattered about the area, and the lighting was only coming from the television and distant kitchen. It wasn’t easy to see everyone when you glanced around the room, not that it mattered much. Somewhat interested in what was going on in the film, you continued staring at the screen. The lines entered through your ears, and sure you could follow along with the plot, but when you took notice of Jackson readjusting his position you sat upwards to allow him movement. You think you heard him mutter an apology, but didn’t think much of it when he simply wrapped both his arms back around you and tugged him back onto his chest.

Both of his hands were locked together by his fingers, on the part of your midriff where the hem of your shirt had riled up only slightly in the previous movements. Nevertheless, part of Jackson’s hands were taking warmth away from your bare skin, and you nibbled softly on your bottom lip in response.

This was like those moments that you could never precisely pinpoint.

A few days prior to this evening, Jackson and you found time very late in the day to sneak away from other engagements in order to see one another. There was nothing special about the venue you met up in; just a simple arcade that didn’t seem to receive much attention due to the bad location down a back alley off of the main road. In any case, there was less of a reason to be incredibly detached from each other’s touch. You both took the precautions of having the hoods of your tops covering your heads, and did the best effort to avoid glancing around at any one person for too long, but that didn’t mean you had to abstain from any and all physical attention.

His fingers were intertwined with yours. You commentated reverently and watched him maneuver the claw over the animal you pointed out to him seconds earlier. Holding your breath as Jackson pressed the release button, you both watched in silence to see if he was able to win the ridiculously colored cat plush. When the claw came back up, holding the head firmly in its reach you barely hopped off the floor and made an unintelligible exclamation of delight.

“You finally won for once!” You acknowledged, not intending to offend Jackson, but being him, he pouted in response as he crouched down to retrieve the prize.

“The one last time was rigged, and you know it.” He defended, handing you the toy in any case, and smiling when you started to laugh. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You laughed once more, but squeezed his hand tighter. Pushing yourself onto your toes, you rewarded him with a kiss, intending for it to be the simplest of pecks. Only Jackson’s newly free hand found the curve of your spine and pulled you closer to him, the kiss having no choice but to deepen. Unable to get your body to actually move your arm to stop him, you simply savored the moment. Once he finally let up, and you both began taking fresh intakes of air did you notice the extremely tight grip you had on your new plush gift. You couldn’t care less, and instead looked up at him. Your heart was beating differently than on your birthday, and certainly with more power, but there was no time to dwell on the emotions, because the random shouts on the other aisle of games reminded the two of you that you were in public. Interrupted from trying to better understand what you felt.

“Not gonna stay later?” Yugyeom asked, his arms stretching upwards in the air to release tension in his back from being curled up on the armchair.

“No, but I’ll visit again soon.” You made the promise, reaching out to accept the offered hug from Bambam, and the much briefer one from Jinyoung.

“Practice is at eight tomorrow, right?” Jackson pitched up, his hand finding its way back to yours despite looking over to Jaebum for confirmation, who responded with a yawn and a nod of his head. “See you guys there, then.” He said as a goodbye. The two of you bowed your heads, and gave a wave and replied to whatever other goodbyes that the maknae line shouted out to you as you exited the same way you came in.

Back out into the crisp winter night, you immediately shivered when a gust of wind overtook the two of you. Noticing this, Jackson giggled lowly, and removed the hold of his hand on yours to begin rubbing either of your arms in an attempt to circulate heat.

“Jagi, you want to get ice cream on the way to my apartment?” He teased you outright, relishing in the sarcastic shake of your head. “You’re so cute.” This type of heart beat was different from earlier, but you couldn’t shake how the former felt by comparison. You knew it had an affect on the way you kept your eyes lingering on his lips, and how you felt yourself take in a bigger breath when Jackson’s tongue ran across them at the end of his short series of laughter. You acknowledged that difference, but what was there to do to bring it the attention desired?

“Did you like the movie?” You asked him, lightly swinging your connected arms up and down as you walked down the quiet sidewalk. Exhaling, you watched visible breath float off in the air before disappearing. When your ears caught his sudden scoff, you turned to look up at him with enough time to see him finish shrugging,

“Yeah, I guess what I ended up paying attention to was good.” He not so thoughtfully admitted, his neck twisting as a car honked at another somewhere behind the two of you. The stretching action revealed more of the spotless skin that had been more obscured by the collar of his jacket. Not a single blemish to hide. “What about you?” You found yourself swallowing thickly and then returning your half-hearted focus to the path ahead.

“It was interesting, yeah.” As you unconsciously mimicked the shrugging action Jackson previously gave to you, you caught yourself and nearly laughed at the similarity. “I couldn’t really pay attention to it honestly.”

“Ah, me too.” He nodded beside you, “Not with you that close to me.”

Nibbling on your lip again, you wondered to yourself if he would question the way your lips were reddening like the time he leant you his scarf. This was a polar opposite reason though. You felt it more in your abdominal muscle, an almost clenching feeling that demanded a lot more attention than you knew what to do with. Building up more and more, you wondered if you were as good at hiding these fidgeting emotions as Jackson let you believe you were.

“What are you doing?” He had asked you, not that many days ago. This was one of the more difficult times together where you felt the need to just keep everything under wraps. There was nothing wrong, you knew that, but the idea of a conversation about the growing storm in you was not appealing for some reason. “Y/N?”

In this memory, you were looking down at him as he questioned you. You knew the feeble grip you had on his wrists could be overpowered whenever he wanted, but in this pause during a tickle war Jackson let you have the piece of control. His chest was visibly raising up and lowering. A crooked smirk placed on his face, with his lips parts open to make up for the missing breaths he was catching up with from all the laughter. You weren’t much better, you’d bet. Your lips were apart like the boy you looked down at, and surely your hair had to be messy from the tumbling back and forth on the couch.

The television rumbled as white noise to your left, and all you could really hear were Jackson’s soft, yet audible breaths. Licking your lips for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to close the distance. You were holding his wrists, with your arms fully extended, and therefore weren’t in the closest proximity, but you wanted to be. Why were you frozen in place then? His wrists shifted in your grip, and you stuck out your tongue, protecting the thoughts in your head as you blurted in a playful tone,

“Winning this war, that’s what.” You said removing the grip and then returning your hands to tickle his sides again. The immediate reaction from Jackson was a loud gasp of laughter, along with him reaching around you and hugging you right against his chest,

“Aish, you win, you win.” The distance was so much closer, but not the right kind. “I can’t take any more of that, Jagi.”

The walk from the dorms to Jackson’s wasn’t the longest, but the twenty minutes it took for the two of you to get there felt like an hour. Amicable silence had filled the duration of the journey. Even so, you felt it wasn’t the most normal of walks, because you two usually had something to talk about. It may be random, or ridiculous, but there was always some topic. Just not this time.

“You want me to make some tea to warm you up, Jagi?” Jackson asked shutting the door behind you. Meanwhile you shrugged off your coat, inhaling the air clearly claimed by him. You nodded,

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You smiled at him, “Green tea?”

“That’s the only kind anyone should drink.” He smiled at the comment you made in regards to his minor obsession, as you laughed softly. “I’ll go put some water on the stove.”

Jackson returned after a few minutes, practically hopping onto the space beside you on the couch. Extending your arms open for him, his lips blossomed back into that wide smile you were so fond of, and his tugged your small frame against his chest with his face quickly hid against the arch of your shoulder,

“You’re like a koala.” You lightly pat his shoulder as he chuckled against your bare neck, muttering something you didn’t quite catch. Smiling softly at him childishly clutching onto you, you began running your fingers through the short strands of hair just above the hairline on the back of his head. “Did you hear me?”

“No.” You admitted, beginning to pull back so you could better understand him. Before getting too far, his hand slid to the back of your head, holding you in place and all you could do was look downwards at him when his eyes lifted up to meet yours.

“I said, you make it so hard for me to keep calm.” Silently, just like the time before, you watched him stoically. Somewhere in between being lost in the shock and flutter his words left you in, you found him anything but the cute boy who just compared you to a koala. If Jackson was good at one thing, it was keeping you on a rollercoaster of emotions.

“Says you.” You barely mumbled in response, the hesitation in your speech causing his eyes to gleam a bit wider for a second.

“No, I can easily tell how I’m making you feel.” He admitted to you, the slyest of smirks resting on his features, while he brushed hair back from your face. His hand remained caressing your jaw, holding you steady as if you might sprint off from him. Like hell would you ever. “You do this thing, jagi, with your lips,” He started back up, “Like right now,” Your mouth closed shut as a reaction, not that you noticed it opening up to begin with. He chuckled, “Where I can tell you want something more than just a peck, you know?” His face had moved closer to yours, but it was stopped centimeters away. Jackson ran his thumb along your cheek, the slightly calloused pad pressing into the corner of your lips. “You didn’t need to close your mouth, jagiya. Guess you’re just not sure what to do with yourself though, hmm?”

From the kitchen, the kettle started screeching in a way similar to what you wanted to do at that moment. You gasped a little from the sudden noise, and glanced away from Jackson and towards the source of a new surprise.

“Always interrupted, huh?” You let out a single, exhausted laugh at that. The words he spoke prior still getting the better of your ability to focus properly. Perhaps noticing this, Jackson also let out a small laugh, and pressed a kiss against your cheek, “I tease you too much, baby, I’m sorry.” And as if he wasn’t sorry at all, he shuffled up from the couch and out of sight in the kitchen.

Clenching your fist at that, you exhaled and released the tension from your shoulders. He was so unfair. Your head shook softly, and you stood up off the couch. He could tell this whole time, and simply relished in the idea that you could not handle yourself properly around him. Leading you to think he was about to shove you against a wall with his lips on his, and instead finding something to giggle at and break every bit of built up tension.

“Jackson.” You stepped into the kitchen with him; a fairly small space of grey marble counters, and a window over the sink that let the moonlight mix in with the fluorescence hanging over head. Jackson turned from the mugs in front of him and to you. His hands pressed on the counter, waiting for the tea to infuse with the steaming water before beginning to stir at all. “You do tease me too much.”

“Sorry,” He chuckled, returning his gaze back to the drinks and running a hand up and through his hair. “With how you look, I can’t help it.” The voice he used was a bit playful, but you could feel the grit he had saying it from his own little hidden thoughts.

“But babe,” You exhaled slowly, and took your lip in between your teeth. Holding back a smirk when he turned to look at you once more, as you stepped closer to him, you simply continued on, “I’m tired of you just teasing.” It was your turn now. You realized this as his eyes went from yours and down your figure, his thumb tapping a muted beat against the countertop. Jackson scoffed softly at himself, and faced his head back towards the mugs.

“If want something more,” He began in a hushed voice-- a voice similar with a sort of roughness like when he awakens from sleep, but laced generously in a heavy amount of lust, “Baby girl, you only had to ask.” And that control you had in your grasp seemed to be gone as quickly as he spun on his heel.

His hands took hold of your hips as he stepped against you his lips attaching to yours without allowing you the time to take in much more than a short inhale of oxygen. With the slightest amount of force, and a greater piece of carefulness he walked you backwards to the counter opposite. Your waist tapped against the dark marble for a second before you were lifted up with ease by Jackson. He sat you on the edge of the counter, leaving his hands attached with a needy grip to your thighs that he pushed apart and slid in between too.

The kiss finally came to an end and you were already left breathing much heavier than before as you looked into the eyes only centimeters from your own. Jackson’s breaths were not nearly as labored, instead his tongue leisurely ran along his lips, watching you with a new tone of deep color you weren’t used to seeing in his irises.

“Do you want me to keep going, baby?” He asked you, breath running into your collarbone. You nodded swiftly, almost automatically trying to press your legs back together, but his hands squeezed them back into place. “Oh, you really want me, hmm?” He watched you nod again, unable to properly catch your breath from the anticipation of what was to come. “Then tell me, baby. All I want is to hear your voice say it.” Just as you were going to comply, Jackson’s lips were placed against your neck, roughly leaving a trail of kisses.

“Jackson.” You whimpered out, hands finding their way to the back of his head and shoulder as you gripped tightly. “Jackson, I want you so badly.”

“Want me how?” He teased you, even though not five minutes ago he was admitting to doing it too much. As you gasped from his lips finding their way to the sensitive skin beneath your jawline, he ceased in the line of kisses and worked his teeth against that spot that made you moan from his contact. “What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Fuck me,” You whimpered tightening your legs around his slim waist. He let out a sly chuckle against the skin that he no doubt left red. Moving his hands upwards along your thighs, he pulled his head back only to go back in and kiss you passionately. The second gasp you made was from his hands reaching behind you to squeeze your ass and pull your pelvis against him, “Please just fuck me, quickly.”

“Slow down, jagi.” He grinned like all the reactions you made were fueling him on in the best way. “I’m gonna take my time with you. I want to take in every bit of it.” As frustrating as the idea seemed, because of the desire for him to have you right there was growing rapidly inside you, you still found yourself holding onto that underlying message that this meant a lot to him.

Every opportunity before this, the moments of course were not right. There were people around, or time shortages. You didn’t deny that he and you would be able to get one out quickly, but this wasn’t something he felt needed to be rushed. Like you were thinking too: this was all new to your relationship. You were so unable to put a name on those moments were his hands were left on your skin, or you couldn’t stop staring at your lips, because the relationship hadn’t hit that milestone yet. In the first place, you both met months before even starting to date; to the two of you, this intimate moment should be savored.

Your back was laid onto his bed, the sweater you wore being tossed to the floor by Jackson. His hands pressed to the space beside either side of your neck. You dragged him right against you with your arms wrapping around his neck and kissed him eagerly. You felt him smile against your lips, but only for a short moment as he began running his hands along your newly exposed skin. The cool touch of his fingers sent shivers down your spine, only elevating the sensation you felt.

Your hands found their way to the buttons of his own top, and undid each within a short amount of time. Jackson pulled himself back upright on his knees, as he shrugged the top off of his shoulders, leaving you breathing softly and gazing up at the muscle definition you knew he worked so hard to have. Propping yourself up enough for your fingertips to run gently over his abdomen, you felt the situation become slow as you simply admired the person who you were able to call yours.

“You’re really beautiful.” Absently, the words escaped your lips. Your fingers felt his muscles contract as he softly laughed, and you looked up at him just in time to catch him glance to the side and then back to you.

“You always surprise me.” He admitted, lowering himself back over you, but simply stopping to look you over. “Just so you know,” Jackson said as he ran a hand along your side, not meeting his eyes with yours until he continued, “I didn’t want to tease you that much, but I was afraid I was rushing things all those other times. Maybe it’s not really the time, but you’re so important to me, and I really don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You’re not, baby.” Reaching out to softly cup his face with your hands, you simply shrugged, “I want this. I mean,” You bit your lips and felt your cheeks flushing, “Obviously you know that, since you make me a frustrated mess half the time.” He chuckled, smiling down at you fondly despite the situation surrounding the two of you,

“You were not the only one, baby.” Jackson said quietly, leaning forward and kissing you softly. “I don’t really get to show you in public, but I care about you a lot. Trust me, I really wanted this too, but it’s you, so it had to be special,” He sighed in exasperation, and shook his head as he smiled, “You make me such a softie. Does this sound dumb?”

“Jackson Wang,” You resisted the urge to laugh at his embarrassment with his own words and simply smiled up at him, “None of what you said is dumb. You’re, quite frankly, the sweetest person ever. I can’t even believe I’m lucky enough to be lying under you right now.” You both couldn’t stop the little bit of laughter that followed, not bothered by the break in the previous tension. “Now,” You began, glancing back down his body and then back up to him, “Make it up to me for all of that damn teasing.”

#i don't write heavy smut guys sorry to disappoint LOL #jackson wang #jackson wang imagine #jackson wang prompt #jackson wang scenario #got7 #got7 writing #got7 prompt #got7 imagine #j w #j w writing #j w one shot #all got7 #all #all got7 writing #all got7 one shot

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yoon-kooks · 7 years ago

Text

Lie- Part 14

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Summary: There was a time when you loved him and he hated you. Now you hate him, but does he love you?

Parts: 0 // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // FINAL

During your lunch break, you sat alone in the library to study for one of your upcoming biology exams. On most days, you and Jimin would eat together, but he also had obligations with his dance group at least once a week during lunch. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little lonely without him, but it was also good to have some space away from the boy. Always being so close to him, you wondered if Jimin ever thought of you as a burden, something holding him back. Because that was the last thing you wanted to be.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” You jumped at the sound of two girls interrupting your reading on natural selection. They looked and sounded familiar, but you weren’t sure of how they knew you.

You nodded slowly as they helped themselves to the two empty seats next to you at the table.

“We saw you walk home with Park Jimin the other day?” the girl with the messy bun said. You assumed she was talking about how you had waited for Jimin after his dance practice. She and her friend must’ve been the same girls that had been fawning over him during that time.

“What’s your relationship with him?” the ponytail girl added with a nudge of her pointy elbow into your arm. You certainly did not appreciate their attempt at being chummy with you. If anything, they were only talking to you because they knew you were close with Jimin.

“We’re friends.” You rubbed your arm.

“Just friends?” Messy Bun raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll gladly support me if I asked him out on a date, right?” Ponytail spoke in a passive-aggressive cheerful voice and batted her long eyelashes at you. She looked ready to pounce at any second if you didn’t give her the response she was looking for.

You didn’t answer. Of course, you wouldn’t support that. Maybe you would’ve been supportive if the girl actually took the time to get to know Jimin, or at least showed any kind of respect towards you. But there was no way you were going to hand your friend over to someone rude like that.

“Aww, you have a crush on him too, don’t you?” Messy Bun thought she was so smart. It might’ve been the truth, but she or her friend knew nothing about the kind of relationship you and Jimin had. It was already a very touchy subject for you, and they definitely didn’t have any right to take jabs at you about it.

“Jimin rejected you, huh. Let me guess—friendzoned? It’s okay, we won’t tell anyone!” Ponytail said in an awfully loud and obnoxious voice. You noticed other students were popping their heads up from their books to see what was happening. Attracting attention was something you always tried not to make a habit of, but the two girls weren’t helping at all. You just wanted them to leave you alone.

“I never rejected Y/N.” You felt a set of warm hands on your shoulders. That alone was almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. Jimin had said ‘no’ to your face so many times over the years. So many times, that you had lost count and almost accepted the fact that you and him would never be anything more than friends. And yet, there he was, lying through his teeth in front of everyone only for your sake. “In fact, we’re going to Big Bang’s concert together this weekend.” He waved bye to the girls before grabbing your biology textbook in one hand and your hand in the other to pull you away from the mess.

“Jimin,” you called as soon as the two of you were out of the library. “You didn’t have to lie for my sake, you know. Everyone’s gonna think we’re dating now…”

“Y/N, don’t worry about that,” he said softly, pulling you to a stop. But his own eyes were filled with worry. “Those girls were messing with you because of me, right?”

You shook your head. The girls might’ve approached you merely because you were associated with Jimin, but that didn’t make the situation his fault. It wasn’t his fault that the girls were rude. Nor was it his fault that you were too weak to stand up for yourself. And you hated how he automatically blamed himself and took responsibility for it.

“Let me know if something like that happens again, okay?” He looked at you as if the whole situation had hurt him as much as it had hurt you. But you couldn’t just ask him for help and interrupt one of his get-togethers with his dance friends. That would only make you a burden to him.

“Jimin, I’ll be fine.” You had to be strong.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You smiled at the boy and tried to change the topic quickly. “So what was that about a Big Bang concert?” You weren’t sure if he had just said that to put up a façade in front of those girls and the rest of the students in the library, or if he was serious. Because you had always been under the impression that he wasn’t into idols.

“I won a pair of free tickets, so let’s go together, okay?” His eyes brightened up.

“Thank you, Jimin.” Part of you felt like he was only trying to make you feel better after being bullied, but a larger part of you wanted to believe that he was actually asking you out on a date. Either way, you were grateful that he would always be there for you whenever you needed him.

Out of nowhere, you wrapped your arms around the boy, trying to take in as much of his warmth and comfort as possible. You knew it was only a matter of time before the boy pushed you away like he had whenever you got too touchy. Except this time, he didn’t. He just let you hold him for as long as you wanted. He knew exactly how much you needed him in that moment.

You were aware of how selfish it was, but you didn’t want to let go.

After you hugged Jungkook goodbye, you entered your apartment and tossed your bag to the side before hopping onto your bed with your phone. The first thing you did was check the text Yoora had sent you earlier during your date.

9:06PM Yoora “hey i know its late but lets meet up”

9:39PM Y/N “ya sure! come over anytime~”

9:40PM Y/N “i just got back from a date with kook”

9:45PM Yoora “ok”

Yoora only lived a few minutes away from you, so your apartment had always been the designated meeting place for nighttime chats and gossip. Surely this time was no different. She probably just couldn’t wait to share some good news about her and Jimin. Then you could tell her about your fun date with Jungkook. And everything would be fine.

You opened the door as soon as you heard a knock, but to your surprise, your friend didn’t look excited at all. You could only think of one explanation for the puffiness and redness in her eyes. She must’ve taken your advice and asked Jimin out only to be rejected. But that was only half of the reason for her tears.

“Hey what happened?” You pulled the girl through the doorway and sat her down on your bed, handing her a box of tissues. “Is it about Jimin?”

“Y/N, you knew.”

“I knew what?”

“You knew he’d reject me.”

“How could I have known that?”

“Y/N, Jimin’s your childhood friend, isn’t he?”

You didn’t say anything. Jimin had clearly told Yoora your secret. But before you could even be angry at the boy, you were terrified of losing Yoora’s trust. Your mind flooded with regret—you should’ve told her yourself before she had to find out the hard way from Jimin. The damage could’ve been limited, but now you couldn’t even blame Yoora if she walked out on you for good. You were a terrible friend.

“How could you not tell me about that?”

“I just couldn’t!” You could never bring yourself to tell Yoora that the love of her life used to be the love of your life. If you had told her Jimin was your childhood friend, there would’ve been no way to leave out the fact that you had also been so in love with him. And although you had told yourself that you no longer had those feelings for the boy, you were certain that your history with Park Jimin would’ve been enough to build tension in your friendship with Yoora.

“But you still encouraged me to ask him out when you knew he had feelings for someone else?”

“I was only trying to help you and him by-”

“Well thanks. You literally ruined everything.”

“Yoora, please-”

“Honestly, it’s whatever. I just wish you didn’t lie about it to my face.”

“I wasn’t trying to lie… I just wasn’t ready to tell you yet…”

“Y/N, am I not your best friend? The least you could’ve done was trust in me.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoora…” Those were the last words to said to your friend before she slammed your door shut on the way out. But you knew that apology would never be enough.

Before you knew it, a whole week had passed since your fight with Yoora and the Bangtan concert in Seoul was approaching. At that point, you were expecting to go to the concert alone, rather than follow through with the original plans to go with your friend.

All you could do was sigh. First you had lost Jimin, and now even Yoora wouldn’t speak to you. And it would probably only be a matter of time before Jungkook left you as well. You felt so alone.

But you had no one else to blame but yourself. If only you had been more open and honest with your friends. What were you actually trying to accomplish by keeping everything a secret? Were you really trying to protect them? Or was it only to protect yourself?

Buzz! You lifted your head from your pillow to check your phone, somewhat expecting it to be someone with the wrong number.

6:06AM Kookie “are you excited for tomorrow???????????!!!!1”

6:09AM Y/N “whats tomorrow?”

6:13AM Kookie “the concert!!😡😡”

6:14AM Y/N “lol im kidding”

6:15AM Y/N “ofc i remembered the concert!”

6:16AM Y/N “and why tf are you up so early??”

6:18AM Kookie “im just anxious😳😳”

6:21AM Y/N “for the concert and tour?”

6:22AM Kookie “yA! and im just excited youll be in the crowd~”

6:24AM Y/N “but its not like youll actually see me in such a large stadium😂”

6:25AM Kookie “ill find you bc youre special🙈🙈”

6:27AM Y/N “k im taking your word on it😂”

6:28AM Kookie “wait!! at least tell me what section youll be sitting in?”

6:30AM Y/N “thats cheating! what happened to finding me bc im special??”

6:31AM Y/N “lol jk thats bullshit. ill be standing in the pit😘”

6:34AM Kookie “okaaay got it👍👍”

6:35AM Kookie “actually ima go back to sleep now😪”

6:36AM Y/N “me too bc someone wOKE ME UP”

6:36AM Kookie “😪😪😂”

But as much as you wanted to fall back asleep, you couldn’t. Whether or not Jungkook really meant it when he said you were special, his words stuck with you. He never failed to put a smile on your face, and you were just so grateful that he hadn’t given up on you yet. What did you ever do to deserve a boy like him?

And from his messages, you were reminded that you weren’t alone. Even without Jimin or Yoora around, or even Jungkook when he left for tour, somehow you knew you’d be okay. From somewhere, you had gained that strength.

Buzz! You wondered what else Jungkook had to say, or if he forgot to mention something earlier. But it wasn’t a text from him.

10:23AM Yoora “um hey”

10:24AM Yoora “im really sorry i got upset with you about the jimin thing”

10:26AM Yoora “i mean, im still kinda upset but i get where you were coming from”

10:27AM Yoora “i know you meant well and ill forgive you if you forgive me”

10:28AM Yoora “we were gonna go to the concert together, right?”

You just stared at your phone screen in disbelief. You’d never thought Yoora would forgive you so easily. Not that you were doubting your friendship, but you thought you had really fucked up. You didn’t expect her to be the one reaching out to you because you thought that would’ve been your responsibility. Yoora was nice and had always been a great friend, but part of you knew something else was up. Someone had talked her into making up with you. He himself hadn’t spoken to you in what felt like ages, but you knew it was Jimin.

#bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts angst #jimin #bts #bts fluff #bangtan #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #lie

251 notes · View notes

winetae · 8 years ago

Text

⇾ nudes, not flowers | 01

⇁ Hoseok x female reader x Jungkook

⇁ smut || fuckboi!au

⇁ public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!junghope, demeaning names during sex if you aren’t into that, jealousy

⇁ 5.5k

. . .

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

↳ or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps

⇁ 01 | 02 ; sequel

a/n; …. why tf did i do this to myself!!! (this is just smut that i had to split into two parts rip) anyways tagging @kstopping @gxtsmxt @thotmi bc nothing says i love you like a junghope smut am i right

Jung Hoseok.

His name alone draws your attention. It’s impossible not to know who he is—he’s somewhat of a living legend on campus. You have only heard echoes of his wild adventures but those bits and pieces are enough to have you doubting their legitimacy. The guy who sits behind you in your Tuesday seminar worships the ground Jung Hoseok walks on; he keeps anyone who listens up-to-date on Hoseok’s newest exploits. There’s always a new story, and in each one Hoseok manages to outdo himself.

No one in their right mind would even attempt to try those things. Some of them don’t even seem humanly possible. But if, by chance, the tales happen to be true—well, you’re just surprised no one has kicked him out of college yet.

You’ve never met him before, you don’t even know what he looks like, but you imagine he’s someone who basks in all the attention. You can tell what kind of person he is if he’s friends with people like Kim Taehyung. He’s probably the life of every party. You imagine he’s the type who can hold his liquor like a pro, someone who has thousands of friends on facebook. To put it simply: he’s someone who is the complete opposite of you.

That’s why the last place you expect him to be is here, in the library you work at, sauntering your way with an easy smile on his face.

“Hey girl,” he winks at you, hands in his pocket. “Remember me?”

“Pardon?” You resist the urge to turn around to make sure he is indeed talking to you.

You’re positive you have never met him before. From the way he walks, to his confident posture and disarming grin, he exudes the kind of charisma that can attract anyone’s attention. Paired with his devastating good looks, you’re absolutely certain you would have remembered him. You try not to make it too obvious, but his sleeveless shirt hangs low; his sun-kissed collarbones catching your attention.

“Oh right, I forgot that we only met in my dreams!”

You gape at him, not sure how to answer. He seems to deflate at your lack of reaction.

“You were supposed to laugh,” he sighs, dejectedly.

“I’m… that was really terrible,” you sputter, slightly horrified. “Does that actually work?”

“Oh, that line?” He shrugs, flipping his snapback around so that his forehead was now uncovered. He looks impossibly more attractive. You hate it. “You might be surprised.”

You want to tell him yeah, it would be surprising if someone fell for that. The words don’t come out. The longer you stare at his face, the more you’re convinced that, yes, someone could have totally fallen for that.

“I’m Jung Hoseok.”

“Jung Hoseok?” you parrot, your eyes widening upon realization.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but most of it is not true!” he clarifies quickly.

“So it wasn’t you who ran around campus naked last Halloween?”

“In my defense,” he protests, but has the decency to look sheepish, “it wasn’t because I wanted to. I lost a bet.”

You nod, pretending to understand. It’s hard to wrap your head around the idea of such a thing. Why would someone agree to that? Wasn’t it a bit too much? Suddenly visions of him naked, sprinting while singing the national anthem at the top of his lungs, flash through your mind.

You clear your throat and look down, guilty for imagining him that way.

“So… are you going to tell me your name?” he smiles.

“___,“ you say after a couple seconds of hesitation. Really, what’s the harm in giving him your name?

He repeats it, testing the way it sounds. His voice is nice. It’s all kinds of smooth, and you’re certain your name has never sounded as good as it did right then.

“Are you a freshman? I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“Yes… How did you know?”

“I would have remembered such a pretty face.”

Your nose crinkles, but you can’t stop a small laugh from escaping.

“Cute,” he grins, gaze lowering to eye the flush coloring your cheeks. “I can’t wait to see you again tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, in my dreams,” he winks.

With that, he turns on his heels and leaves just the way he entered.

You don’t expect to ever see him again.

According to the rumors, he doesn’t seem like the type to spend his time in libraries. He doesn’t seem like the type to read books, actually. That’s why you almost fall off your stool when he shows his face again the next day.

He’s not here for the books, you realize, watching him make a beeline towards you.

“___ !” he calls out, waving at you. “Hey.”

He’s wearing another one of those sleeveless shirts that show off his biceps. You don’t stare this time. You don’t.

“Hi.”

“Hey, I was wondering… I think I lost something yesterday.”

You scrunch your eyebrows trying to remember if he had left any belongings behind. You’re about to inform him that nothing had been reported to the lost and found, when he continues.

“I lost my number… So, I was hoping I could have yours?”

Your eyes widen at his forwardness and his not-so-smooth pick-up line.

There’s something absurd about the entire situation—Jung Hoseok in a library, Jung Hoseok knowing who you are, Jung Hoseok asking for your number. His fan in your Tuesday seminar probably wouldn’t believe you if you told him.

You’re not sure what it is that has you agreeing.

Giving him your number turns out to be the worst decision of your life. At least, that’s what you tell your roommate.

“Why? Does he send you dick pics?”

“What? No!”

“Oh don’t act so surprised. I heard he has a pornstar dick,” she grins wickedly. “Fucking massive. I heard his nickname is the pussy terminator.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, hands covering your ears. “Shut up for one second.”

“Well something tells me you’re about to find out soon, so please share the details once it happens,” she laughs, head thrown back.

“What are you saying…” you object. “I don’t think I could date someone like him.”

“Who said anything about dating?” She snatches your phone from your grip. “This guy is down to fuck. Wait—what the fuck? Who says this kind of shit? ‘You must be tired because you’ve been running through my mind all day’. Oh wow, what a romantic.”

She continues to look unimpressed, “’If I send you flowers, will you send me nudes?’ Is this guy for real?”

You take your phone back, embarrassed. “I find it kind of funny.”

“If I was him, I would just stick to sending dick pics,” she mumbles then catches the disapproving look you’re sending her way. “Oh please. Like you haven’t imagined what his dick looks like.”

“Can you just stop talking about dicks for one second,” you complain.

“You’re acting all modest now, but you know what they say!” she giggles, standing up and gathering her books. “You have to watch out for the quiet ones.”

She sidesteps the notebook you throw at her, cackling.

“See you later!”

It goes on like this for a while.

He shows up at the library so often now that other people are starting to notice. (“Holy fuck, Jung Hoseok can read?”) It amuses both of you to see the expressions of shock when people realize it really is Jung Hoseok in the library, reading a book on traditional herbal medicine.

For the record: he doesn’t actually read the book. He just needs an excuse to talk to you.

Honestly, the more you see him, the harder it is to resist his charm.

You try to deny it, but even his gross pick-up lines are kind of endearing. All of them definitely make you cringe. Some of them manage to sound sweet. Some of them are so fucking weird you wonder if he’s actually used them successfully.

It takes another week until he convinces you to go out with him. Except it’s not a date. He just “wants to see you in person”. You only agree because he promises free food. Not because you like him or anything.

You expect someone like him to cheap it out and bring you to McDonald’s so he can buy something off the dollar menu. Your guess isn’t completely off—but Shake Shack is still considerably better. Despite your lack of experience, you know he’s trying to ease you into sex. A part of you would probably agree right away if he asked, but something inside you wants to see how far you can drag this out until he gets bored and moves on to someone else.

Things don’t exactly go as planned.

Hoseok is like fucking sunshine. Sometimes you wonder how he’s even real. Whenever he smiles your way, you find yourself smiling back. You really, really shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be texting him during class; shouldn’t be looking forward to seeing him show up at the library when you’re working. But you find yourself doing all these things. Maybe it’s when he calls you sweetheart, or maybe it’s when he brings you lunch, that you think to yourself: I’m fucked.

So, surprisingly, you’re the one who gives in first. You tell him your roommate won’t be there for the weekend because she’s driving down south to see her parents. And if that isn’t an invitation, then you’re not sure what is.

That night he eats you out on your couch.

“You’re so pretty,” he praises, nuzzling your neck, breathing in your scent.

“I usually—I’m not usually like this…” he confesses hoarsely, lips red and swollen.

Like what? you want to ask, but he sucks at your weak spot and you go limp. Hoseok feels better than whatever image you could have conjured up in your mind. His body is fucking amazing. Even though you’ve seen him shirtless before, it’s a hundred times more satisfying now that you can freely rake your nails down his abs and watch them tighten.

His hands are busy roaming the expanse of your legs. He pushes your skirt up and quickly peels off your underwear. You want to laugh at his impatient expression but there’s a fire between your thighs that makes even breathing difficult.

“Such a pretty cunt.” He spreads your legs apart with both hands, admiring the way you glisten for him.

You feel shy beneath him but he keeps your legs wide open, enjoying the way you squirm and your cheeks redden. He hasn’t even touched you yet but you already feel wrecked.

He dives headfirst into your heat, letting out a muted growl. His tongue drags up your slit and you throw your head back in response, biting harshly on your lower lip, trying to contain any sounds.

His mouth is everywhere; you feel his tongue sink inside you, sucking on your lips, licking at your clit. He leaves no time to get used to one method before he switches tactics. It feels wet and messy, but so, so good. He seems to know exactly what you like and what you need, always pulling back when he feels your muscles tense beneath his fingers. He keeps you right on the edge, teasing until you’re about to go delirious with need.

You bury your fingers in his hair, bringing his face closer, trying to reach your end. It’s almost shameful how wanton you probably look—hips raised in the air, thrusting up to try to get more pressure on your clit.

You look down and the sight is almost enough to make you come apart. Hoseok looks like he belongs between your legs, his face shining with your juices, tongue working insistently at your folds.

“Hoseok,” you whine, tugging at his hair. He hums, relishing in the way you gasp his name repeatedly like a prayer.

“Please, give me your fingers,” you beg, your hips wiggling helplessly against his mouth.

He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact.

“What is it, sweetheart? You want my fingers?”

You nod, pulling the strands of his hair, trying to bring him closer.

“Tell me, sweet thing.” There’s an edge in his voice that has you trembling under him. “Tell me you want me to stuff your cunt with my fingers.”

“I’m—please, Hoseok, please.”

“Please what?”he questions, his tone expressing his dissatisfaction. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Please, I—” you blush, words having a hard time leaving your mouth. “I need your fingers. I need you to fuck me with your fingers.”

“Hmm.” He seems to consider your request.

And suddenly he’s working two fingers in your entrance. They slide right in because of how slippery he’s made you. He pumps a couple of times, watching you writhe against him, before he works in a third finger. The stretch feels good, though, and you can’t help but tell him so. You try to keep your eyes open, attention flickering between his fingers thrusting up into you, his biceps flexing, and his brow furrowing in concentration. You can feel his fingers scrape the inside of your walls, searching for that one spot that will make you a fucking mess. He knows he’s found it once you moan loudly, body thrashing.

He zeroes in on that spot, smirking at your slack-jawed expression of ecstasy.

“You can cum for me, baby,” he smiles. “You’ve been good.”

It only takes a few extra well placed flicks of his thumb until you’re falling apart, body seizing up, toes curling. It takes a few moments to realize that you’re shouting expletives, hands grabbing onto Hoseok’s wrist trying to bury him even deeper.

“Oh my god.” You try to catch your breath. “That was the best orgasm of my life.”

Hoseok grins.

Traces of your orgasm darken the fabric of the couch and you have no fucking idea how you will explain the stain to your roommate.

(“Why the fuck does it smell like someone emptied the can of Febreze in here?” she’ll ask when she returns. You don’t really have any acceptable excuses so you stay silent, shrugging.)

Hoseok can’t seem to stay away from you—not that you want him to. He spends most of his free time either at your apartment when your roommate isn’t there, or at his place. Apparently he rooms with an older guy, who has already graduated. His roommate kind of has OCD which you don’t question once you see that all of the books in the living room are organized by color, then alphabetically by author.

Everything goes really well for the next couple of weeks. The sex gets better every time to the point where you start to wonder if cumming that many times is healthy for you. It goes so well, in fact, that it should have set warning bells off. It really shouldn’t have surprised you, given the number of warnings you’ve received, when it all falls apart.

Hoseok has just given you two back-to-back orgasms. You feel on top of the world, like you usually do after he fucks the feeling out of your legs.

“My older sister is visiting this weekend. I really want you to meet her. I told her we could all meet for lunch on Saturday, so I hope that’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t ask before, but we didn’t have anything planned anyways.”

When he takes longer than expected to answer, you turn back around to look at him.

“Why? Is Saturday not good—”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, cutting you off.

His fingers are fiddling with the sheets as if they’re suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“Why are you sorry?” you question, already dreading the answer.

“I just… I don’t think we’re on the same page…” he finally lets out, looking up at you. “Don’t get me wrong—you’re a great girl—it’s just, well, relationships aren’t my thing.”

You feel dizzy. Your expression must have betrayed you, because he breaks away from your gaze.

“I’m graduating soon,” he continues. “So there’s really no point in getting tied down.”

“I’m just asking you to meet my sister…“ you try, ignoring the way his words hurt.

“Sure, but then next month I’ll be meeting the parents, and then…” he trails off, frowning.

“I don’t even understand why being my boyfriend is such a big deal! I’m not asking you to get married.”

The argument is affecting you more than it should. You feel stupid for somehow expecting this relationship to go anywhere. Maybe if Hoseok hadn’t been so nice and attentive, treating you like you meant more than a good fuck, then maybe you wouldn’t have expected so much in the first place.

“You said you weren’t fucking anyone else…” you say softly, tears prickling your eyes.

The last thing you want is to cry in front of him. You don’t want him mistake your angry tears for sad tears. Because you aren’t sad. You’re not.

“I wasn’t lying, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment irritates you further.

“Then what’s the difference? Why can’t we be official?”

“It’s not the same… Relationships aren’t the same,” he tries to explain, eyes refusing to meet yours. “Putting a label on things just sucks the fun out of everything. See… we’re already fighting.”

“I don’t understand you, Hoseok. We’ve been exclusive for a while so I don’t see why you can’t just say you’re dating me. Are you ashamed of me or something? Is this a pride thing?”

“It has nothing to do with pride. I told you—I don’t do relationships. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it.”

“But what if I wanted more?” you ask in a small voice. “Why can’t you just give it a try?

He swallows.

“I’m sorry,” he licks his dry lips. “You’re right. You deserve better.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I do.”

That weekend you go meet your sister alone. You’re not sure how to tell her you and Hoseok broke up (although can it be considered breaking up since you weren’t actually dating?).

“You did a good thing. Sure, guys who give you multiple orgasms are fun for a while, but if they can’t stick around, then they’re ultimately no good.”

You nod.

“Just stay away from guys for a while… You need some time to yourself.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” It had been a while since you spent some time to yourself. For the past couple of weeks, Hoseok had been a giant magnet, with you stuck at his side. You had been way too fascinated and enthralled by his presence.

“Remember: you don’t need dicks to get yourself off! Have fun! Hang out with your friends. Maybe pick up a hobby or something. Like playing the guitar, or pole dancing. You know… Whatever you want.”

You don’t need dicks, echoes in your mind for the rest of the week. It’s good advice, you think. You don’t need dicks. Especially Jung Hoseok’s. You were perfectly fine before he waltzed into your life with his collection of snapbacks and branded shoes, so you were sure you could be fine without him.

You decide not to mope around. You want to rebel. It’s kind of sad that the only adventurous thing you’ve done since you entered college is fuck Jung Hoseok, so you want to try changing that. Your roommate is ecstatic. She’s the fun one and usually complains that you don’t let loose enough.

“Let’s go to a club tonight!”

“Tonight? It’s a weekday.”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun!” she dances around your room in excitement.

“I have class tomorrow morning though…”

“You mean the lecture on sixteenth century European art? Missing that boring thing once won’t hurt you,” she rolls her eyes, before going through your closet.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you panic, afraid she’s going to make you into her new experiment. There’s no way you’re going to a club in fuck me heels and tight tube dresses. “I’ll go, but only if you let me wear what I want.”

“Fine, fine,” she waves, plopping down on your bed. She seems to regret agreeing once she sees you pick out a simple pair of jeans and a modest black sweater.

“We’re going to a club, ___, not to your art lecture!” she grumbles, but relents when you pout at her.

You’ve only been to this club once. Truthfully you’re not much of a party-scene kind of girl, but you decide that letting go tonight might do you some good. The music isn’t all that bad, and your friend promises to pay for most of your drinks—so at the very least you can get drunk and then call a taxi home.

“Holy shit!” your friend yells at you, after downing a second shot of tequila. “I think I just saw Jeon Jungkook!”

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah. He was in our aquarelle workshop in January… He’s seriously the sexiest guy I’ve seen in my life. Well, after Park Jimin because, damn, what an ass. Fuck. How come all the hot guys all stick together? They’re like a pack. Anyways, Jungkook was the one with the hot piercings and dyed hair. Do you really not remember?”

“Erm, vaguely.”

“Oh right! That was when you were seeing Jung Hoseok!” she shouts over the music. Clearly the shots and the cocktails are getting to her, because she wouldn’t be mentioning Hoseok if she was perfectly sober. “No wonder you don’t remember Jungkook… Damn, Jung Hoseok is such a nice piece of ass.”

“Can you quiet down? Oh my gosh,” you tug on her sleeve, annoyed. “And we weren’t seeing each other… It wasn’t like that.”

“I saw him sneak in your dorm so many fucking times! I don’t know what you guys did in your room but I’m pretty sure you guys weren’t studying.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

“Oh! I heard he’s into really kinky stuff, is that true? Did he make you call him master?”

“Can you shut up for one second,” you groan. “I don’t want to talk about him. Ever.”

“Fuck, I bet the sex was really good,” she sighs but then suddenly freezes.

“What? What is it?”

She clutches your wrist, “Uh, let’s go get more drinks at the bar!”

You turn around, trying to catch a glimpse at what made her so nervous. Your roommate isn’t easily shaken up so you can’t help but worry. She tugs at your wrist insistently, but you stay stubbornly rooted to the ground when—oh.

Hoseok’s at one of the tables in the back, overlooking the dance floor. You wonder how you could have missed his presence in the first place. He looks good—of course he does—but you can only focus on the two girls flanking his side. Both of them are beautiful, with long , toned legs that are showcased perfectly under short, colorful dresses. In comparison you feel so plain dressed in your dark sweater and washed-out jeans.

It makes you a bit sick when you see one girl’s hand run up his firm chest, the other leaning to whisper in his ear. Telepathically you’re trying to tell Hoseok to push them off of him. He doesn’t.

“Hey, let’s go get a drink,” your friend urges.

“Yeah, vodka sounds good,” you agree, distracted. “Vodka sounds fucking terrific right now.”

That’s how she gets you to knock back three shots in a row. It’s a terrible idea, but the sting makes you momentarily forget how much of a fuckboy Jung Hoseok is.

The shots aren’t the best idea. It makes the dancing messy, but hey, at least you don’t care anymore about Hoseok and his harem of models.

You’ve been dancing for a while when your feet start to cramp. You need a break. By now, you’re pretty sure you’ve sweat most of the alcohol out of your system. You’re a bit tired now that you aren’t high on vodka, and images of Hoseok paint the inside of your eyelids when you close your eyes.

You’re startled once you smell the scent of smoke. You push yourself off the wall, looking around. That guy—the one your roommate pointed out to you earlier—is smoking right beside you. Inside the club.

He takes a drag of his cigarette and blows.

“You’re ___, right?”

You nod, watching the smoke drift into nothingness. You want to know how he knows your name, but then remember he used to be in your art workshop. Maybe he’s just better at memorizing names and faces, you think.

“Are you even allowed to smoke in here?” you say nervously, looking around, fully expecting someone to stomp over and drag him out by the collar.

He shoots you a look before chuckling to himself, “hm, I didn’t think you would be that type.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I can just tell,” he smirks. “That you’re a good girl.”

You pause, slightly startled by his choice of words.

“Um,” you say unsurely, choosing to ignore the way his words combined with the heated look in his eyes send a pulse down your spine.

“It’s written all over your face.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you settle on watching him throw out his cigarette.

“I didn’t think that was his type,” he says in a low tone that you can barely hear over the pumping bass.

You can feel his eyes trace down the curves of your body. It makes you fidget. Something about the way he looks at you, pausing to stare at your hips and thighs and chest, makes you want to cover yourself up. Which is ridiculous—you’re already sweating under the thick fabric of your sweater, and your jeans don’t even cling to your skin.

“I think,” he says slowly, the tip of his tongue dragging over his bottom lip. “That you’re probably not as good as you let people think.”

You swallow, trying not to let him affect you.

He closes in until his body pins yours against the wall. You can feel his strong muscles under his shirt, his thick thigh digging against the inside of your leg. You can hardly believe someone as sexy as Jungkook is looking at you as if you’re the most interesting person in the room. There are prettier girls, more confident and sure of themselves, and you’re certain that Jungkook would have no trouble waving any one of them over.

You find yourself unable look away from him, not when he’s so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your cheek. You wonder if his eyes are always this dark, this hungry.

When his lips press into yours you feel yourself go slack, his thigh between your legs the only thing keeping you from collapsing into a puddle. He tastes like whisky and cigarettes. It should disgust you, yet there’s something addicting about it that makes you open your mouth to let the kiss deepen further.

It’s like your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. All rational thoughts vanish, until all that’s left is a pulsing need between your thighs. There’s no need to think, no need to worry, because Jungkook’s got you. His body cages around yours securely, strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“Jungkook, wait,” you pull back, trying to catch your breath.

His lips chase after yours, swallowing any of your half-hearted protests.

His hands sneak up your torso, nails catching on the fabric. You keen, powerless. It should be shameful, how easily he’s manipulating your body in front of all these people.

“Wait… people might see,” you watch his hand grasp your breast.

He doesn’t even bother to caress it, just sinks his hard fingers into your flesh, making you thrust your chest out in pain.

“So? Don’t you want them to see what I’m going to do to you? How good I’m going to make you feel?”

“Oh my g-“ you moan, his words making your skin burn up. “Jungkook!”

Your eyes roll back in pleasure. Jungkook nips at your jaw before sucking bruises down your throat.

You don’t know what makes you do i—but you look around, trying to see if anyone’s watching your sinful activities. Everyone seems to be caught up in their own world, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief until—

You shudder when your eyes meet Hoseok’s. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s staring at you, and even from this distance you can see him grit his teeth. The sight sends a rush of helpless arousal to your core. You don’t know why this is turning you on so much. You should be pushing Jungkook off of you, but all you do is press harder into him.

The girls that were beside him previously aren’t there anymore. Good, you think distantly. You wonder how long Hoseok’s been watching you and Jungkook. There’s a part of you that hopes he’ll march over and shove Jungkook away from your body, spin you around and spank you, punishing you, showing everyone that you are is. The fantasy has you biting your lips, tipping your head to the side so Jungkook has more access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You like that he’s watching, don’t you baby girl?” Jungkook’s hands dig into your sides, demanding your attention.

“Ah—what?” Your focus snaps back to him, cheeks flushing when you realize you’ve been caught.

He leans in even closer, so that his mouth is next to your ear.

“Bet Hobi’s imagining his hands on your body instead,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. You close your eyes, imagining Hoseok’s hands pulling you apart alongside Jungkook’s. “Bet he wants to feel you open wide just for him…”

He pulls back, smirking at your fucked out expression. He shifts his body so yours is more exposed to the rest of the room.

“Suck,” his voice commands, bringing two fingers up to your lips. “Come on—show him how dirty his girl is.”

You can’t seem to stop yourself from following his instructions, even though your eyes shut in embarrassment.

His other hand snakes down to cup your heat. Fuck. You can feel your lower body squirm, trying to get more friction. He spreads his fingers around; even through your jeans the pressure feels heavenly. It’s not enough. You whimper around his fingers.

“You’re so hot, fuck. I bet if you weren’t wearing your jeans you would be dripping all over the floor.”

Your body arches at that, words muffled by his hand. Your hips move back and forth, trying to feel his fingers as much as possible. You wish he would just slide his hand past the waistband of your jeans and touch your folds directly, but you have a feeling he’ll only do that if you beg. You’re half grateful he’s making you suck on his fingers because you’re not sure what you would have begged him to do to you in a room full of people. You’re so out of it, drunk on arousal, that you’re sure you would be up for anything.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good. Keep grinding on my hand like a good slut.”

You whine, rolling your hips urgently into his palm, trying to get yourself off. At this point, you don’t care any longer if you cum in front of all these people; all that matters is that you reach your end.

The more frantic and desperate you get, the harder you suck on his fingers, trying to distract yourself from the wave of pleasure that’s about to crash over you. You shouldn’t be doing this in public, not when anyone can see. It’s wrong but there’s no denying how wet you are right now. You’re convinced Jungkook can feel it soak through your jeans, wetting his fingers.

“Open your eyes,” Jungkook orders you, fingers pressing harder, giving your clit more friction. “Look at him. Show him what a good slut you are for me.”

Fuck. Your eyes search for Hoseok’s. You jerk into Jungkook’s hand when you meet his gaze. You don’t have any words to describe how he’s looking at you. He looks angry, yes, but he’s also fucking turned on by all of it. You can tell by the way he’s working his jaw. It’s the same face he has when he’s about to cum inside you and—fuck. Your eyes widen when you notice he has his fucking hand inside the front of his jeans. You watch him work over his cock shamelessly, eyes fixed on you and the way your hips are still jerking back and forth over Jungkook’s hand like your life depends on it.

Fuck.

You can’t tell if it’s Jungkook’s relentless ministrations or Hoseok’s intense scrutiny, but you can’t hold back your orgasm any longer. Your body slumps forward, your head landing on Jungkook’s strong chest. You feel yourself cream your underwear, fluid running down your thighs and through your pants. All the while, Jungkook is murmuring praises you can’t discern over the pounding of your heartbeat and the rushing of blood in your ears, but all you can think about is Hoseok. You wonder if he came at the same time you did, if he imagined you pulsing around his cock like you used to, if he groaned out your name when he finally released.

Fuck.

➵ 02

#BangtanWriters-Net #bts scenario #bts smut #jungkook smut #hoseok smut #jungkook #hoseok #junghope #jungkook scenario #hoseok scenario #basically this happened bc #i was like??? why aren't there any junghope fics #hOESOK IN AMERICA #im gonna wake up tomorrow and regret all of this

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