#or the fucking older professor who kept trying to hit on him and told him that he could see himself as a formerly closeted man in my dad and

[benthic-girl]

I s2g my father needs to stop telling me about all the gay men who hit on him called him pretty tried to fuck him but he was never gay just idk man you've got some fucking stuff going on and I don't know what the fuck to do

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Seventeen

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, College! Yoongi, Sub! Yoongi

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: Hi friends! Here is a new chapter for you. I know it’s been a super duper long time since I’ve updated this series but, I plan on wrapping up the current timeline (wink wink) within the first half of the year! Special shoutout to my amazing friend @bulletproofbirdy​ who I love so so much. Without her big genius brain, I would literally not be able to get through any of my wip. Another huge shoutout to @gldnrecs​ @kithtaehyung​ @yoonia�� and @randombtsprincessa​ for being my lil hype team. I love you! Also, thank you to everyone over at @bangtansorciere​. I am so grateful to have met so many lovely new friends this year! okiii bye. I hope you like it!

NOTE: all bolded words indicate when characters are speaking Korean

Warnings for this Chapter: ok here we go…(TRIGGER WARNING)

moderate angst, drug use (marijuana), mentions of anxiety, brief allusions to physical abuse, very brief allusions to drug addiction, alcohol 

Chapter Seventeen: Daegu and Dirty Laundry

No thoughts, head empty (and in Yoongi’s lap)

The two of you are in his living room, bags packed by the front door, awaiting the cab to take you to the airport.  

In a few short hours, you were leaving on a plane to Daegu to visit Yoongi’s older brother and, you can tell by the way he’s shuffled around all morning that he’s anxious.  

Thankfully, Hoseok and Namjoon woke up with him, knowing that emotions would be high and well- offered to get him high.

“This is a really good indica strain hyung,” Hoseok assures him as he hands over a zip-lock bag, “I rolled a joint with this last night and passed out in like 30 minutes.”

Yoongi, dressed in an all-black sweat outfit, accepts the bag into the palm of his hand, before grabbing the pipe that’s resting on the couch cushion beside him.

“Did you get it from that same guy?” Yoongi asks, his voice heavy beneath the obvious tension he’s feeling.

Despite his attempts to remain casual, you know him well enough to feel how nervous he is. He’s practically vibrating beneath you but, you know that pointing this out will only make it worse so instead, you merely rub the outside of his thigh whilst he packs his pipe. 

“Yeah, Jin’s friend-” Hoseok responds before nodding to Namjoon, “He’s honestly killing it right now. Jin told me he’s made like 5 grand already.”

Namjoon raises his brows, “Really? Damn, that’s impressive, I’ve never heard of anyone taking off that fast.”

“Jin has a lot of contacts-” Yoongi offers, adjusting the bud once more before grabbing his lighter, “it probably helped him get started. Plus, I think a lot of people around here have been looking for a good plug. Whatever he’s doing is working though, the high from last night was pretty good.”

At Yoongi’s comment, Hoseok’s lip melt into a salacious smirk as he raises his brows and jerks his chin towards you, “Are you sure it had nothing to do with that one over there?” He teases, “Yah, what are you so quiet for? You haven’t given me shit all morning...”

His comment makes you giggle but Yoongi cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“She’s tired, leave her alone.” He scolds but his lips twitch at the sound of your laughter.

Hoseok snickers as you finally decide to sit up. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you even as he lifts the pipe to his mouth. Tucking yourself into the side of the couch, you finally decide to add to the conversation.

“Is the guy you pick up named Yugyeom by chance?” The sleepiness in your tone is more obvious than you were expecting and, it makes Yoongi smile to himself whilst he lights his pipe.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, it is. Do you know him?”

Yoongi’s attention is on you even as he inhales his first hit, the nerves in his body standing at attention, waiting to be soothed.  

“He was in my human sexuality class.” You remember, with a grin on your lips, “That’s actually where I met Jin too. I just had a feeling that it was him because, he literally always came to class high. Plus, him and Jin were like inseparable.”

Namjoon winces, “Of all the people to get stuck learning about sex with. I’m sorry...”

This makes you laugh, as your mind journey’s back to all the days you spent trying not to make a scene as Jin made sexual puns in the middle of a serious lecture.  

“It definitely kept things interesting...” You offer, “I’m glad to hear that Yugyeom is thriving on his own. He mentioned his dad wanted him to join the family business but, I could never picture that man in a suit.”

Hoseok chuckles before his face tightens with intrigue, “Oof that makes one of us. He would look fine as hell in a suit.”

Namjoon grins, nudging Hoseok with his foot, “You got a thing for him?”

For the first time, you see a hint of shyness overcoming Hoseok’s demeanor but he shrugs it off, trying to appear casual, “I mean- I don’t know about all that. I’m just saying that he would look good in a suit.”

“You’d both look good in suits- together...” You offer, grinning at him, “Maybe in a private venue somewhere...”

Hoseok rolls his eyes but the smile creeping onto his lips is unmistakable, “Shut up- you guys are fucking wild. All I said is that he was hot...”

Giggling, you shrug your shoulders before nodding over to Yoongi, “Yeah well that’s how it starts-” You warn, “Then the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the subway, simping over a selfie he sends you.”

Yoongi’s soft lips immediately turn up in a small smile, the shy boy in him peeking out. At first, he says nothing as he merely passes the pipe to Namjoon, who mirrors a similar expression.

Hoseok is back to his normal mischief, feeling relieved that the heat is off him for the time being.  

“Are you saying you’d marry Yoongi then?”

He expects you to be flustered by this question but, the answer is simple.  

“This man?” You raise your brows as you point to Yoongi, “You’re asking me if I would marry this man right here? Hoseok- I would wife this man up so quickly, it would give you whiplash.”

Your comment causes the three of them to laugh and, to add to the shifting vibe of the room, you feel Yoongi wrap his arm around you in an effort to pull you into his side.

“You can’t say shit like that right in front of them, they don’t need to see me soft...” He mumbles shyly in your ear before kissing your cheek, his heart singing with validation.

“Hyung, you act like we don’t already know who whipped you are for this girl.” Hoseok laughs, eagerly accepting the pipe from a coughing Namjoon.

Yoongi ignores him with his arm still around you, checking his phone with the other hand, “The cab should be here soon, do you need anything before we go?”

“Hyung, you’re gonna leave your piece here right? Cause we kinda need it-”  

Namjoon eyes him suspiciously, “What happened to your bong?”

Hoseok cringes, “I may have accidentally dropped it off the rooftop...”

Namjoon’s eyes blow wide open, “What the fuck were you doing on the rooftop to begin with?”

“I wanted to vibe! The bud was good and, I wanted to listen to the J. Cole album and get in my feelings hyung, get off my dick-” He laughs, playfully defensive.

“Hey that’s J Cole song-” You point out giggling at the double meaning, the exhaustion from earlier finding you once again.

“Exactly, I’m glad you caught that-” Hoseok winks at you before Yoongi finally responds.

“I’m not going to take my pipe through international security. Pot isn’t legal in Korea so, I wouldn’t be smoking while we were there anyway.”  

“Oh shit that’s right-” Namjoon remembers, “I really need to keep up with what’s been going on back home, I heard they were opening the discussion about it recently but, I haven’t kept up with it.”

Hoseok interjects, “What about your brother? He probably has connections.”

Yoongi shrugs, “He might but, I'm not going to worry about it.” He glances at his phone again before turning it towards you, “Our car is here, you ready to go?”

You offer him a small smile as you nod, your cheek tingling still as he places another kiss to it.

He stands up first before holding his hand out to you. Eagerly, you lace your fingers with his and, hoist yourself off the couch.

“Alright you two-” Namjoon stands too, brushing his hands over the front of his hoodie, “Try and send us updates when you can yeah?” He shoots a look towards Yoongi that is filled with an emotion that breaches casual concern.  

Yoongi understands perfectly, offering Namjoon a solemn nod in return as he pats his shoulder, “Yeah I will. I’ll text you when we land...”

Moments later, the two of you are in the back of the cab. Yoongi takes the middle seat so he can be close to you, his fingers are interlaced tightly with your own despite the fact that his hand is already sweating.  

He’s anxious.  

You can feel it and, you’re faced with two options.

Address it

Distract him  

It’s not an easy choice but, you figure this weekend will already be filled with heightened emotions so, you’re not sure if you should breach this topic so early. At the same time though, you don’t want to act like nothing’s wrong and dismiss what he’s clearly feeling.  

So, you land somewhere in the middle.  

Yoongi’s jaw is loaded with tension as you reach over and turn his face towards yours. He doesn’t register what you’re doing at first but he is in tune with your touch as always so, he doesn’t question it.    

Leaning in, you tuck your lips between his own, whilst your free hand comes up to encase the side of his face. You feel him relax beneath your kiss, a sigh leaving his nose as he kisses you back slowly.  

You pull away, pecking at his lips a few times, your thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“It’s going to be ok.” You murmur softly for the sake of his privacy, “We’re going to get through this.”

Yoongi’s eyes open just enough to show you the sheer amount of trust present in them.  

He believes everything that comes out of your mouth and, despite the anxiety that’s raging inside of him, he knows you’re right.  

Pressing his cheek against your hand, a soft smirk graces his lips as he resists the urge to pour his heart out to you for the millionth time.

“I wish it was socially acceptable for you to kiss me like that every time I feel like this...”

You giggle, pecking his lips again for good measure, “It would make our psych presentation really interesting that’s for sure.”

He chuckles, his face adorably smushed against your hand, “I keep forgetting that we have to do that. I don’t even remember the last time we worked on it...”

“Me neither.” You say at first before your eyes light up with realization, “Oh my god wait- the last time was when we watched that horrible spider movie at my apartment! Ugh no wonder I couldn’t remember, I’m pretty sure I've blocked those images from my mind as a coping mechanism.”

Yoongi’s face lights up along with you, “Oh shit, that’s right-” He laughs, “Did we even finish our lists?”

The two of you share another round of laughter, caught up in the ridiculous realization that you had lowkey abandoned your final project.  

You lean over to pull your phone out of your purse, “Here let me check-” Scrolling through your notes app, you find the project tab before allowing your eyes to wander over it, “It looks like I still have deep water and you technically still have night clubs and horror movies. But I mean- you did perform in a night club recently so I feel like that should count.”  

He nods thoughtfully before his face lights up with realization once more, “Oh yeah, I already wrote about that in the research journal, I forget to tell you. That was definitely more of a direct confrontation than I was planning.” He chuckles, “We did sit on the beach and read terrifying facts about the depth of the ocean for mine, would that be enough for you to write about?”  

The two of you have maneuvered so that you’re tucked into Yoongi’s side again, his arm draping comfortably around your shoulders.

“You still have horror movies left though so, I feel like I should maybe confront one more directly too. Besides, I have a feeling that I’ll be able to distract myself in the water if you’re there-” You mumble suggestively, which causes him to smirk as he leans his head back against the seat.

“Oh yeah?” He jerks his head towards you “How so?”

Resting your face on his chest, you smile to yourself and think of a response that’s appropriate for a perfect stranger aka your cab driver, to hear.

“Cause if something touches my feet in the water, I could simply latch myself to your back for safety purposes.” You explain matter of factly.

“If something touched your foot while we were in the water, I’d swim away so fucking fast- I don’t think you’d have time to latch on.” He explains through his laughter

Scoffing, you smack your hand against his chest as you sit up fully, wiggling out of his grip, “So you’d just leave me to die???” You accuse, “Also, last time I checked- you weren’t an Olympic swimmer, what makes you think you’d just zoom out of there???”

Yoongi’s cackling at this point, his hand on his stomach, his previously tense features now smoothed out beneath his amusement, “I’m not saying I would leave you necessarily-”

“Necessarily!” You point out, laughter erupting from your lips as you pinch his side, “After everything we’ve been through, you’re really just gonna let a sea monster eat me!?”

His eyes widen, as his laughter increases, “A sea monster?! Who said anything about a sea monster? Where did they come in????”

“I said something touched my foot???? Obviously that means there is a sea monster, lurking in the depths, trying to eat me and you-” You poke his sternum, “You just said you would leave me to die!”

Yoongi’s face is reddened with the force of his own laughter, his hand subconsciously coming up to cover your own. With his eyes tearing up and his mouth parted to make way for his giggling, you can’t help but admire how beautiful he is.  

Especially when he’s laughing...

He wipes his eyes with his free hand, still chuckling lightly to himself even as he brings your hand to his mouth, “Alright, alright- let's be clear- I would never leave you to die.” He promises, still smirking as he kisses the back of your hand, “Realistically, I’d probably panic and jump on YOUR back.”

With narrowed eyes, you wiggle the fingers he has pressed to his lips, “Well I don’t know how that would work out because, I’d probably you know- swim away so fucking fast that I don’t know if you’d have time to latch on...”

Yoongi snickers as you imitate his voice but, rather than retaliate he simply tugs you by the hand his currently holding and, kisses you.  

It’s soft and sweet- lasting only for a few seconds until he’s pulling away.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He says suddenly, the volume of his voice decreasing significantly.

And as usual, you know that he wants to say way more than he does. But you’re perfectly fine with that.

Yoongi’s subtly is a specific brand and, you’ve grown to love how the little things he does allows him to pack so much emotion into a simple phrase.  

You feel lucky to love such a special person.  

“Of course.” You return his simplicity, pecking his lips once more before settling back in your original position.  

The airport was a blur.  

You’re thankful it passes quickly because, the process of getting through security makes you anxious.  

Yoongi ushers you into your seat before taking both of your bags and, storing them in the overhead compartment. You can’t help but smile as he turns to help an older woman with her luggage as well.

He smiles ( :] ) at her, bowing his head slightly as she thanks him. Yoongi offers her a tiny wave and takes his seat beside you, not noticing the way you smile fondly at him.  

When he takes his seat beside you, the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Once the flight crew permits it, Yoongi takes his laptop out and begins toying around with one of his songs. You pull your headphones out as well and find one of your favorite playlists. Leaning back against the seat, your eyes eventually begin to droop until you can no longer keep them open.  

The next thing you know, you’re being woken up by someone gently patting your thigh.  

“Sleepy girl...” Yoongi croons in Korean, the sound of his voice alone making you smile, “We’re landing soon.”

Slightly disoriented, you blink your eyes a few times before you’re finally able to focus on your boyfriend’s face.  

You slump against him, rubbing your cheek against the material of his hoodie. He chuckles softly, his arm sliding out from underneath you in order to drape across your shoulders.  

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” You mumble

He chuckles again, nodding with a false sense of consideration, “Ah yes, you missed so much. Two hours ago, the flight attendant came by and asked if we wanted anything to drink. It was a wild ride...”

Giggling sleepily, you shake your head at his sarcasm before pointing at his laptop.  

“Were you working on your composition project?”

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, a bashful expression on his face “No, it was just a song I’ve been working on for a while now.”  

He leaves it at that and, due to the signal from the flight crew, Yoongi begins putting his stuff away as the rest of the cabin prepares for landing.  

“Are we taking the train?” You mumble, still fighting off the remnants of your nap.

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes narrowed in concentration whilst he scrolls through his phone.

“No, I have a cab waiting for us.” He responds, “It says it’s already here. So, when you get out of customs, just meet me right outside. It should just be a straight shot from immigration.”

You nod and rest your head back against his shoulder, “Okay.”

He puts his phone away, allowing his hand to find yours. Intertwining your fingers, he takes a deep breath- his mind clearly elsewhere. You squeeze his hand to acknowledge this but, the two of you don’t comment on it.  

There is no need.  

With the tightening of your grip, so much has already been said.  

Less than a half hour later, the two of you are once again seated in the back of the cab.  

“It’s probably going to rain a lot while we’re here.” Yoongi explains, his voice low and slow, “This is Daegu’s rainy season. I’ve been checking the weather periodically and it looks like there might be a storm coming but, it doesn’t look too severe.”

You look at the window after his comment, noticing that the sky is overflowing with heavy clouds, swollen and gray with the promise of rain.  

“We’re approaching monsoon season, we call it uh- jangma.” He tells you and his explanation makes you smile.  

Despite the circumstances, you’re very honored and excited to be in Yoongi’s hometown. You know the memories he associates with this place are complex but, there is a shift in his tone now and, he sounds eager to teach you about this place: the place he called home for so long.  

And you’d gladly listen for hours.

“Jangma-” You repeat, trying to get the pronunciation right, causing him to refocus his attention back on you. He smiles softly and nods,

“Good job.”  

Your heart skips a beat at his approval as you return his smile, “Is there gonna be thunder?”  

Yoongi chuckles, “Do you want there to be thunder?”

You nod eagerly, “I love storms. When I was little, I would just sit at the window and watch them go by. I’m pretty sure our neighbors thought I was crazy. But I don’t know- I've always had a thing for bad weather...”

He smirks, glancing out the window and then back at you, “That explains a lot.”

Giggling, you cock your head, “What do you mean?”

Yoongi gestures to himself, his now playful gaze looking at you expectantly. You laugh at his insinuation,

“I see the resemblance.” You concede, gently patting his cheek, “You’re not nearly as gloomy as you think you are though.”

“To you-” He retorts, “You always forget that...”

“Pleaaaase.” You disagree, “You’re soft for other people too, don’t lie. I’ve seen the way you deal with Namjoon and Hobi...”

He shakes his head, “Yeah but things are still different with you, I don’t think you realize that.”

You nudge yourself underneath his arm once more, cuddling up with him as best as you can in the back of a cab.

“I know you’re especially-” You emphasize the word, “soft for me. I’m just saying that you come across more approachable than you think you do.”

Yoongi smirks to himself, seemingly understanding something that you don’t.  

“Soft is an understatement.” He retorts, turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Whateverrrr.” You tease him, your eyes trailing down to focus on his hands, “I’m still right.”

He chuckles, his figure shaking lightly beneath you, “You usually are.”

The cab pulls off of the highway, and it’s then that you begin to notice the way the scenery around you shifts from a middle class/ metropolitan vibe to something much much...fancier.  

Through the winding streets, the cab begins taking the two of you up a pretty steep hill before turning onto a street full of ridiculously nice houses.  

White marble, giant glass windows, and driveways filled to the brim with luxury vehicles zip by as the car turns down another street. Similar in theme but greater in size, the new street had much larger houses on more sizeable plots of land- likely designed to give the owners privacy amongst their neighbors.  

You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you then and, you know very well that he’s observing your reaction.

He knows that even though he told you his brother was wealthy that, that phrase alone wouldn’t be enough to properly convey what that entailed.  

“This neighborhood is really beautiful,” You observe softly, eyes still glued to the window, “The architecture is so different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

And of course, this makes Yoongi smile.  

Because of course, you aren’t making a fuss about the degree of luxury before you. You’re finding the beauty in what otherwise is a very stressful situation.  

Finally, the cab pulls into a driveway right behind a black Tesla before putting the car in park.  

He and Yoongi exchange a few words in Korean as Yoongi hands him a small wad of money.  

“Thank you.” You murmur to the cab driver with a slight bow of your head to which he responds with a tight smile and a similar bow.  

You and Yoongi unload your bags from the trunk and as he is reaching for your hand, the front door of the house swings open.  

A man a few inches taller than Yoongi steps out. His black hair is neatly arranged in a middle part and he’s dressed in a beige turtleneck and white slacks. As he comes closer, the resemblance between the two of them is staggering.  

“Hello!” He calls with a warm smile, his voice bright, “Welcome! Come on in, the rain is supposed to pick back up soon.”

His expression only glows as he spots his younger brother. He looks excited to see him but, his movements are apprehensive.  

The unspoken tension is already present and, you can feel Yoongi almost freeze up as he draws near. Subtly, you coax him along offering his brother a warm smile as the two of you approach the landing just in front of his door.  

Normally, you don’t get nervous when meeting new people but, this situation is laced with so much complexity- you aren’t sure how to act.

Thankfully Yoongi finally speaks, “Good to see you hyung. Thank you for having us on such short notice.” His tone is almost unrecognizable as he gestures to you, “This is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N-” He gestures back to his brother, “This is my older brother Geum-jae hyung.”

Bowing your head slightly, you smile once more, “It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for having me.”

Geum-jae nods, eyeing you softly as his lips press into a tight line, “It’s so nice to meet you Y/N. I promise you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Yoongi motions for you to step in front of him so, you follow his lead and trail behind his brother through the doorway.  

Geum-jae's home resembles a marble statue. It’s clean, beautiful and, elegant- but lifeless. Geum-jae has artwork of various styles all over his walls, crisp white couches, sleek granite countertops and, stainless-steel appliances however, there is not one bit of evidence that anyone even lives here. The house feels empty despite the amount of effort put into its appearance.  

It makes you sad.  

“You have a beautiful home.”  

Your voice echoes off the dead weight of the walls, the paintings themselves seeming to arch a brow at your comment. Geum-jae however, smiles and nods graciously,

“Thank you. I just moved in not too long ago so, there is a lot I want to do. I definitely could have used this one’s expertise-” He nods to Yoongi, “He was always really good at that kind of stuff...”

Your boyfriend smirks, his eyes taking in his surroundings but failing to really focus on anything; he was too wound up, “You could have. I would have charged you though...”

Geum-jae chuckles and you see him glance at Yoongi fondly for a split second before he quickly reverts to his casual demeanor.  

“I put you guys on the second floor facing the skyline-” He gestures to the ivory staircase, “I’m sure you want some time to freshen up and relax so, please take all the time you need. I’m having BBQ brought over tonight but, if you’re hungry- feel free to help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

Yoongi allows you to step in front of him whilst taking the suitcase from your hands. The two men follow behind you as Geum-jae continues laying out the plans for the evening,  

“I have a few virtual meetings to attend that I wasn’t able to move around but, I will be free as of 7 this evening. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I am really-” He seems to take a deep breath for emphasis, “really happy to have you here.”

“Thank you hyung.” Yoongi smiles slightly once the three of you reach the outside of the guest room, “Good luck with your meetings. Let me know if you need help with dinner.”

Geum-jae responds with a tight nod, “Will do. I’ll be in my office so, feel free to explore.” As he pushes open the door for you, he allows his own pained expression to meet yours, “I’m honored to meet you Y/N. Thank you for coming all this way with my brother.”

“Well-” You squeeze Yoongi’s hand gently, “He’s lucky I like him so much...”

Cheeks flushed, Yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his lips are practically puckered against the smile he’s trying to stifle.  

“That’s fair.” Geum-jae chuckles, “Let me know if you two need anything. I’ll just be downstairs...”

With that, Yoongi pushes open the door and allows you to step inside before following behind you.

“Wow.” You whisper to yourself as you take in the scene before you.

The walls are painted a soft gray and surrounding only three sides of the bedroom. The fourth wall is made entirely of glass and given that the house rests upon a hill, you’re able to make out the skyline of the inner city. A giant four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, covered completely in a white duvet and three rows of pillows. Dark gray curtains sit on either side of the massive window as various muted colors accent the room in the form of a dresser, two nightstands and, a set of couches at the end of the bed.  

Yoongi is silent behind you as he sets the bags down at the entrance of the room. He pushes the door shut and allows his eyes to move over the space for a moment.  

It's nice, he thinks, but he can’t find himself to be very impressed.  

He knows where this money comes from and, even though his brother is out of the crime sector now, it still feels strange to acknowledge his wealth.  

Noticing his silence, you turn towards him, eyes tracing over the features of his face to assess his mood.

With a slight and subconscious pout, he looks at you, his body seemingly full of a breath he wants to take.  

“Do you want to lay down for a bit? I know you didn’t sleep on the plane.”  

At your offer, he seems to deflate slightly, lips turning up at the corners, “I think I want to shower first...”

Immediately, you nod with an encouraging smile, “Yeah go shower babe, I’ll just-”

He interrupts you, sticking his hand out and flexing his fingers in a grabbing motion, “Come with me.”

His offer makes you giggle, “You want me to shower with you?”

Yoongi closes the distance between you, using his grabby hands to lock onto your hips, “No, I meant like come with me as in come watch me...yes I want you to shower with me.”

Your laughter heightens as you pinch his side, causing him to recoil before chuckling.

“You’re such a punk today...” You scold.

Yoongi simply chuckles warmly as he kisses the side of your head, the tone of his voice lowering significantly, “That usually means something to you doesn’t it?”

It does.  

It usually means he’s having trouble vocalizing his needs and, he’s in need of attention. And the type of attention is usually a specific brand.  

And it usually comes with a little bit of pain.  

However, you don’t think it’s a good idea to indulge that side of Yoongi’s desires at the moment because, his emotions aren’t fully organized. You know the talk with his brother is causing him a lot of stress and, as much as you liked to wreck his body right now- you know it’s best to wait until later.  

That doesn’t mean you can’t take care of him though...

“Come on-” You urge him, grabbing his hand and practically running towards the bathroom, “Let's get you clean, king.”

He laughs, stumbling into the bathroom which is just as nice and similarly colored as the room.

“I’m a king now?”

His question goes over your head as you notice the ridiculously oversized bathtub in the center of the room. Biting your lip, you turn towards him and point at it.

“Do you want to take a bath instead? The shower looks amazing and all but- this thing literally looks like a jacuzzi.”

Yoongi eyes it curiously, his teeth finding his bottom lip, looking a little apprehensive, “How would you want to sit in it though? I kinda uh- I kinda thought maybe we could stand under the water for a bit together, like last time...”

He wants you to hold him.

He’s not going to say it but, he needs it.  

Like really bad.

You can see his nerves creeping into his posture so, you decide to act quickly before he somehow convinces himself that he’s being too needy.  

Looking around the room, you spot a few things that could aid in his relaxation: candles, bubble bath, a neatly folded pile of fluffy gray towels...

“I’ll show you.” You assure him, “Close your eyes really quick- no peeking. I have a plan...”

Yoongi looks at you, suspicious all over his face, “I’m scared.”

Giggling, you raise your brows for emphasize, “Oh you should be-”

He can’t help but smirk at your tone despite the anticipation swimming in his gut. He trusts you though so, instead of arguing- he shuts his eyes.  

Shuffling around the bathroom, you set things up in record time, turning the water on, pouring the rose scented bubble bath beneath the stream, and lighting a few candles along the ivory counter. Yoongi maintains his smirk the entire time, folding his arms across his chest, stifling his desire to make a snarky comment.  

“Alright,” You sigh, dusting your hands off, “Ta daaaaa.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blinking a few times before taking in the scene in front of him. It changes his smirk into a grin really quickly as his cat-like eyes flit over to you.

“Are you planning on sacrificing me?” He quips, nodding to the candles.

Snorting, you roll your eyes, “If you keep talking shit, I just might-” You threaten, laughter forming on the tail end of your sentence, “Get naked...”

Yoongi snickers, his face full of satisfaction as his finger tuck beneath his hoodie to tug it over his head. The two of you undress in a small bout of silence and attempt to sneak glances at one another’s naked form.  

“I’m going to get in first and then you’re going to sit in front of me, between my legs...” You explain, trying not to shiver as the cool air of the bathroom begins to grow uncomfortable.

His brows raise, “Between your legs?” He confirms, “Say no more...”

Once again, your eyes are rolling but this time, there is a smile on your lips as you move to take your spot beneath the warmth of the water. Yoongi has to take a deep breath as he watches you, his emotions brewing dangerously beneath the surface at the sight of the woman he loves.  

He still doesn’t fully understand it.  

He is still meet with endless confusion when he starts to think about why you’ve chosen to be with him but, he knows better now than to question it.  

You have your reasons, he thinks, and he has a million of his own.  

Looking up from beneath the mountain of bubbles, you pat the top of them, looking at him expectantly, “Come here.”

He grabs the hand that you extend towards him, balancing himself on it whilst he steps into the tub. Modestly, he turns his body away from you for a second so he’s able to bend down before pivoting beneath the water and settling against your chest. The bathtub is big enough for the water to go past his shoulders and, he feels his entire body relax once he feels your body against his.  

“Comfy?” You check, draping your arms across his chest.  

Yoongi nods, his head leaning back and resting against your left shoulder. Once it lands there, you turn and kiss his temple which then prompts one of his hands to reach up rest on yours. Silently, you place a few more kisses against his hairline, allowing him to decompress however he wants to, not wanting to pressure him into talking about anything.  

And he doesn’t, at least not for a while.  

The only sounds between the two of you are the dribbling of water from the faucet and the low whisper of breathing. Every so often, you kiss his temple, just so he knows that he isn’t alone.

“Seeing my brother is really difficult.” He mumbles, eyes still closed, hand still on top of yours, “Even just seeing his face- it brings back a lot of memories.”

You nod, “I can imagine- especially since it’s been so long.”

Yoongi sighs, his eyes fluttering open and honing in on the ceiling, “I haven’t seen him since I was 18. He came to Sejin’s place just before I moved in with Namjoon. He tried to talk to me to let me know that he was leaving the business but, I barely said anything. I was too angry at him.”

Using your free hand, you rub softly at his chest under the water, silently encouraging him to continue.  

“He never helped me when my father would-” He takes a deep breath through his nose, his throat bobbing as he swallows on the exhale, “the time I told you about, when my father hit me...that wasn’t the only time. It happened often towards the end.”

Your eyes shut momentarily, the pain of Yoongi being harmed stinging your heart like a shot.  

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing his temple again.

Yoongi’s face turns slightly into your lips, his hand squeezing over yours, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I held onto my disappointment in him for a while until I realized something: the only reason my father every laid his hands on me and not Geum-jae hyung was because, I stood up to him.”

“Geum-jae hyung never did and, I think he still carries that regret to this day. I can see it all over his face...” His voice is so low now that it barely makes it above a whisper, his eyes seemingly elsewhere. “Is it wrong that I feel like- like I didn’t just come here to save Sejin’s studio?”

You shake your head, “Not at all...”

He swallows again and takes another deep breath through his nose, “It’s hard you know- during winter break especially; everyone would leave campus and go home for the holidays...and I never knew where to go. For the first two years at school, I spent Christmas alone until Namjoon’s mom finally called me and told me that if I didn’t come back with him, that she was going to make him sleep outside.” He chuckles, smirking slightly at the memory.

Your heart fills with despair then. You didn’t piece it together that Yoongi would have stayed behind during the holiday season. There was so much to unpack from the tragedy that he’s endured; it didn’t even cross your mind.  

“Namjoon’s mom was right to threaten you-” You affirm but then you shake your head, “I don’t think there could be a wrong reason to come here. You deserve to have whatever kind of closure or healing that you need.”  

“I wish I knew what I needed...” He admits, licking his lips before turning towards you, his brown eyes holding all the emotions he can’t vocalize, “I wish everything was as easy as this.”

Following suit, you turn your head so that you’re facing him, “So do I. But I’ll always be here through all the not-so-easy stuff.”

Yoongi smiles then, soft and sweet, delivering a kiss to match. He relaxes into you, brushing his tongue along the inside of your lip just for a moment before pulling away.

“I love you Y/N.”  

“I love you too Yoongi.”  

Eventually, you both got out of the bathtub and into the shower so, that you were able to get clean properly. After a few hours of catching up on missed calls/texts and relaxing, Yoongi gets a text from his brother saying that dinner would be ready in 15 minutes.  

Geum-jae had the finest BBQ in the city delivered and prepared right in his dining room. Banchan lined the center of the table, slabs of meat were grilled one right after the other until the three of you tapped out.  

It passed easier than you thought it would. Yoongi and Geum-jae relaxed in the face of a meal, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them as if no time had passed. It was a touching sight to see and, you hoped that it meant their discussion would come out easier.  

You take your leave after you help clean up, thanking Geum-jae for the incredible food and, letting Yoongi know that you’d be up in the room checking on something for school if he needed anything.  

Which was a total lie but, you needed an excuse to leave them alone for a bit.  

Yoongi feels his heartbeat pick up a bit as he watches you leave the room, the realization of what was coming finally hitting him.  

“Hyung-” He wants to rip the band aid off. “Is it alright if we talk for a moment?”

Geum-jae raises his brows at the switch in languages and nods immediately, gesturing to the table, “Of course. Can we sit here? Or would you rather talk in the living room?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Here is fine.” He sits back down in his original seat and, rubs his palms against his jeans.

Geum-jae takes a seat across from him, gazing expectantly at his younger brother, “What did you want to talk about?”

Despite Yoongi’s anxiety, he understands that being to the point would be the most effective way to communicate. He wasn’t sure if any past issues would come up but, right now his concern was on Sejin.  

“I know that I told you I needed your help with something but-” Yoongi begins, “It isn’t me who needs your help exactly...it’s Sejin.”

Geum-jae purses his lips, his hands coming out to clasp rest on the table, “Is he alright?”

“The landlord for the studio he runs is increasing his rent again and, he doesn’t have the money to keep it open...” Yoongi’s explanation gets a little rushed as he gets more and more nervous, “I have some money in savings to help out with rent for the next few months but, it’s not enough to keep it open long term and-”

Geum-jae cuts him off, “Tell Sejin to call me. I will send a team to his location to sort everything out. It wouldn’t be a bad building to purchase but if Sejin is willing- then maybe he can look at other properties and I’ll have the money wired over to him.”

Yoongi can’t hide the shock on his face, “Wait- are you serious?”

“Of course. Sejin is one of my dearest friends. I owe him a lot for what he’s done over the years.”

In this moment, regret washes over Geum-jae's face, his eyes reaching out to Yoongi’s in hopes that he understands what he’s alluding to.  

And obviously, he does.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Geum-jae continues, tilting his head to get a better look at Yoongi’s expression, trying to read him, “I’ve always told you that if you ever needed anything-”

“I haven’t talked to you in 8 years hyung, I wasn’t just going to call and ask you for a favor.”  

Geum-jae nods, his face tightening with solemnity, “I understand.” A brief moment of silence passes between the two of them before a sigh comes from Geum-jae, “There is so much I want to say to you Yoongi, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Yoongi stays quiet.  

He doesn’t know either.  

He just knows that the only way to get rid of the heaviness in his chest is to talk about it.  

“I suppose I could start with an apology.” Geum-jae concludes, shaking his head as a light scoff leaves his lips, “I could never find the words to express how much regret and shame I feel inside. I could never explain how sorry I am for not protecting you, for not being a better example, for not having a backbone, for being selfish...I was blinded by greed. I couldn’t see what was in front of me.”

Yoongi swallows back his emotion, dreading the way his eyes begin to sting.  

Geum-jae continues, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just want to apologize and tell you that, even though I played no part in the man you’ve become, I am incredibly honored to call you my brother.”

It isn’t easy but, Yoongi manages to contain the tears that desperately want to fall from his eyes. His chest tightens as he hears his brother’s words. He wades through all the bitterness he feels towards him, allowing himself to feel the full force of his approval.  

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Yoongi swallows, avoiding direct eye contact with him, “I just wish I understood your actions. You were my hyung, I thought you would have protected me and-” Yoongi blinks away the tears as quickly as he can, “and I still haven’t been able to accept the fact that you didn’t...”

Geum-jae shakes his head, “I wanted to protect you. I just didn’t know how- I was scared of him too. You had more courage than I did. It doesn’t excuse my actions but, it’s the truth.”

Suddenly, he reaches out and places his hand overtop of Yoongi’s, a pleading expression on his face, “That’s why you got out. That’s why you have a life. You have friends, you’re about to graduate university and, you have Y/N...” Geum-jae's voice breaks at the end, “Because of your strength, you finally found happiness.”

Yoongi looks at his hand, observing the evidence of his life present on his skin. Scars, burns, callouses, needle marks...

“Are you saying that you haven’t?” He asks, still not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“I’m not even close.”

Finally, the two meet each other's gaze. For a moment, they just stare, glistening eyes to glistening eyes. Overcome with years of repressed emotions, fueled by the desperate need to try and break the cycle, they wordlessly convey an unspoken emptiness.  

They have missed each other so much.  

“I am here now.” Geum-jae promises, the first tear dangerously close to falling, “Hyung is here if you’ll have him. I want to be in your life but, I understand if you want nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi blinks now, and the tears land upon his cheeks, “You’re my hyung...” And it really is a desperate proclamation, “...you’ll always be my hyung...”

The chair screeches against the tile, causing Yoongi to jump in his seat until he realizes what his brother is doing. Rounding the table, stands to the side of Yoongi with open arms and his own tears atop his cheeks.

He eyes him for only a few seconds before standing up suddenly and accepting Geum-jae into his arms. The two of them seem to collapse against one another. Yoongi breaks down and sobs in the arms of his older brother.  

Just as he would have when they were young.

When times were hard and he could take shelter behind the one person who made him feel safe, the first person who ever showed him love.  

“I’m so sorry Yoongi-ah.”  

His words cause Yoongi to squeeze his eyes shut as he nods against the expensive fabric of his brother’s dress shirt, “I know.” He sniffles and pats his back, “I know you are.”

Meanwhile...

You’ve been upstairs, straightening up the bedroom and trying to pass the time without worrying excessively about your boyfriend’s well-being.  

Which turns out to be impossible...

Cleaning around the room/bathroom only takes you about 20 minutes before your flopping onto the massive bed and, pulling out your phone. Scrolling through Tik Tok, you hope for a substantial distraction and, lucky for you- one arrives.  

But, it isn’t on Tik Tok...

Jungkook: So you know Jimin right...  

The text from Jungkook confuses you as you’re pretty sure it's like the middle of the night back home and, it’s not like him to text you outside of the group chat.

You: I have heard of him yes

You: Isn’t he like your boyfriend or something?

Jungkook: ha ha

Jungkook: about that

Jungkook: what if he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore?

Your eyes widen and, you immediately sit up in bed and hover anxiously over your phone.

You: !!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Jungkook: shhhhhh don’t yell

Jungkook: my future fiance is sleeping...

You’re about ready to get on a flight back home to kick his ass before your vision focuses on the word he’s just sent.

You: excuse me  

You: YOU’RE WHAT ???????????

Jungkook: …

Jungkook: What did I just tell you smh

You: *whispers* WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT JUNGKOOK

Jungkook: -____-

Jungkook: can I call  

You: ?????? Obviously!!!!

Seconds later, Jungkook’s name illuminates your screen.

“Good evening,” He begins calmly, “I’m having a panic attack...”

You giggle, “What’s going on????”

“Well you see- I am in love with Park Jimin and I fear it may be terminal.”

“Terminal huh? Is that how you describe a lifelong partnership with your one true love?”

“...yes.”

“Jungkook,” You urge him through your laughter, “What is going on?”

You hear him sigh, “I think I’m going to ask Jimin to marry me.”

Squealing, you jump up on your knees, “Wait seriously?! Jungkook!”

“Yah! Don’t yell at me! This is all your fault!”  

“My fault??? How is this my fault?”

“Well technically I guess- it's Yoongi’s fault because, he’s the one that convinced me to get in touch with my feelings or whatever- either way, I am STILL the victim. And now I want to be with him forever and it’s disgusting...”

You flop back against the pillows and laugh again, “If Jimin knew this was how you were telling people you were proposing, he would kill you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “He’s going to kill me either way Y/N...it’s bad- the other day, he sent me a selfie and, I had heart palpitations for like 15 minutes.”

“If your man doesn’t give you heart palpitations then, that isn’t your man.” You conclude.

“Y/N...” Jungkook whines now, sounding very much like the boy you met back in middle school.

“Jungkook...” You whine back causing him to finally chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’m scared...”

“I know but, you and Jimin are so perfect for each other, there is no way that this wouldn’t work out.”

“More perfect than you and Yoongi?” He teases, reverting back to being a little shit.

And his question makes you scoff, “Oh sweetheart- obviously not. But second place isn’t bad!”

He laughs now and it’s the full bellied sound that you love hearing.  

“You really think we’re perfect together?”

Despite his inability to see you, you smile at his need for validation,

“Duh. You two are literally soulmates.”

Jungkook is quiet on the other line but when he speaks again, you can hear the giddiness in his voice, “Ok so...will you help me then???”

Back downstairs, Yoongi and Geum-jae are sat at the bar in front of the window that faces his backyard. As he predicted, the rain came back in full force and is now propelling itself against the clean glass. After their emotional encounter in the dining room, Geum-jae suggested that they have a drink together and relax for a moment.  

He had poured each of them a glass of wine, ensuring not to fill his glass up too much.  

“Your girlfriend is a wonderful woman; you made a good choice.”

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s lips twitch, his eyes watching the droplets of water chaotically race down the window, “Thank you. But, it was her who chose me, I’m still working out exactly why.”  

Geum-jae chuckles, “I see you’re still selling yourself short ah? Did you two meet at school?”

Yoongi smirks, “Yeah, we met 6 months ago in my psychology class. She was my partner on our final project.”

“Ah.” He nods, “Things blossomed that way then?”

Yoongi’s heart throbs a bit as his brain begins its recollection of his time with you.  

So much has happened during your relationship, he forgets that he hasn’t known you all his life.

It certainly feels like he has.  

“Yeah.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “You’re so reserved about her.”

Yoongi knows what he means. In the Min family, you always say things as they are. You don’t sugarcoat your sentiments and you definitely don’t play coy.  

“I can’t help it-” He admits, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks now, “I find it difficult to talk about her...”

His brother bites his bottom lip, unable to help how endeared he is, “Can I ask why?”

Yoongi leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, still focusing on the rain, “It’s overwhelming.”

Geum-jae seems to understand but he chuckles anyway, “Do you plan on marrying her?”

His question hangs in the air for a moment. Yoongi’s brain once again travels elsewhere, and he is bombarded with images of you walking down the aisle. He has to take a deep breath as he forces the thoughts out of his head; he’s cried enough this evening.

“I would marry her tomorrow.”  

Geum-jae's laughter increases now but now it bubbles over his lips in an excited fashion.

“Yahhhh! Look at that eh?” He congratulates him, “It’s safe to say you’re off the market for good then? Because I have a few of my friends who have been asking about you.”

This finally makes Yoongi laugh as he turns towards him, “That’s flattering.” He means it too but, he speaks the next set of words with all of the conviction he can muster, “There is no one else for me though.”  

Geum-jae grins proudly and with a raise to his brows, he lifts his glass, “Well, let’s drink to that then.”

The clinking of crystal signifies so much. For now though, Yoongi allows it to represent the future and, all of the possibilities it may bring.  

[bobohu4eva]

Pink Lace - Chapter 5

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, eventual smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo

Masterlist

After your conversation with Baekhyun Monday evening Tuesday was spent desperately trying to get Baekhyun off your mind, with little success. He’d asked you if you liked him like that, and you couldn’t tell him no. Hell, you knew in the back of your mind that the answer was definitely yes, you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it to his face. 

As much as you did like him, the prospect of starting something with a customer who was also your professor was still terrifying. What if you two got together and people found out? Or what if things started to go south and you were still stuck with him as your teacher? 

Despite your other schoolwork, and cleaning basically everything you possibly could, your mind just kept racing with every different possible scenario for if you did tell Baekhyun how you felt. And most of them were quite unpleasant. He could lose his job, you could make class absolute hell for yourself if things didn’t go well, and so on. Different possibilities played themselves out in your mind over and over, and there was little you could do to stop it. 

However the thoughts that stuck with you the most were the ones where things didn’t end badly. Thoughts of his arms around you, his comforting words whispered in your ear, and the gentle touches of his pretty hands on your skin. As much as you fought it, the attraction was there. 

The way your mind bounced between thoughts was stressful to no end. Every time you tried reasoning with yourself, you just thought about how good he made you feel when you were alone together. 

Baekhyun was always so willing to be vulnerable with you, it made you feel appreciated. He was so open about his feelings, and honest with his intentions towards you that it made it difficult to push him away. You wanted to be able to show him the same kind of vulnerability as well, but the possibilities if you did still frightened you too much. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to go on like this forever, sooner or later you had to figure out what to say to him. 

Your essay was plaguing you as well. You’d tried to start it on several occasions, but Plato’s writing was so old timey and incomprehensible you didn’t even know where to start. It also didn’t help that every time you tried to start writing, all you could think about was what Baekhyun would think. The idea of turning a shitty paper in for him to read and grade made you feel sick. You knew you were shooting yourself in the foot putting it off but you just couldn’t bring yourself to start it either. 

“You’ve cleaned everything in the apartment. Twice. What’s with you today y/n?” Mia asked as she walked out of her bedroom and into the common area, finding you once again wiping down all the surfaces in the kitchen. 

“I’m trying to distract myself, was that not obvious?” You knew what was coming next. 

“Baekhyun still on your mind?” 

Yes. He was. In every possible way, good and bad, and you couldn’t stop it. 

“I think I do like him.” 

“See! I knew it!” You rolled your eyes at her. “Anything exciting happen yesterday? Did you decide to keep the money?” She asked, sitting down at the dining room table, you sitting down across from her. 

 “I’m keeping it, I tried giving it back but he told me some stuff and turns out he doesn’t need it after all.” 

“So he IS rich?!” 

“Yeah... although not from anything cool or fun. His rich parents died recently.” 

“Oh shit, that sucks. That must’ve been an awkward conversation.” 

“Not really. I don’t know why but talking to him is getting easier and easier. I even stayed after he told me I could go.”

“You really must like him then, damn. Can’t blame you though, he is hot.” You shot her an angry look but you both knew she was right. “So what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Do about what?” 

“You liking him. He obviously likes you a lot too, so what happens next?” 

“Nothing. He’s my professor.” 

The look she shot you next said something reminiscent of ‘are you fucking serious��.

 “Oh come on y/n this guy is hot, and rich, and super into you. Even if he is your professor you can’t pass up a fling at least.” 

“And when it ends? What then? Or if someone finds out he’s fucking a student? He’d lose his job and it would be my fault.” 

“No, it would be his fault, and he’s rich anyway so it wouldn’t even matter.” 

You thought back to your last conversation with Baekhyun, and what he said about his parents. Even if he did choose to risk it for you, the thought of him losing a job that meant so much to him still didn’t sit right with you. 

“It would matter to me. Either way I don’t want other students shit talking me either. If my classmates found out there was something between us it would be hell.” 

“All I'm hearing right now, is that you just need to not get caught. The semester is only 16 weeks, as long as nothing gets out while you’re in his class nothing too bad can happen. You just have to be careful.”  

You thought about it, and she wasn’t exactly wrong. As long as nothing got out while you were his student, nothing too bad could happen. 

“He won’t lose his job if people find out we’re together later on when I’m not his student anymore, right?” 

Mia shrugged. “He doesn’t hold any power over you anymore then so I don’t see why he’d get in any trouble. People might just think it’s weird since he’s older. How old is he anyway? He looks young.” 

“I’m not exactly sure... Somewhere around 30? Late 20s maybe? I should ask him.” 

“Yeah you should. I still have homework I need to do, I should get back to that.” She said before getting herself a glass of water and retreating back to her bedroom. 

~

The next morning you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep because of everything that was going through your head. You wanted Baekhyun, and he wanted you, but there was still too much risk involved. But part of you kept thinking about what Mia had said as well. Could a fling really be that bad? 

You were nervous to see him too. You still hadn’t given him an answer to his question, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to dodge it forever. Lying seemed like a decent option, but you knew with how honest and vulnerable Baekhyun always was with you, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to lie to him. Especially when you did want something more with him, you were just scared. 

As philosophy class drew closer and closer you felt uneasy. You felt bad seeing Baekhyun again without giving him an answer, but you didn’t know how or what to say. You only hoped he wouldn’t press you for it. 

Class went by and you didn’t speak to him. He didn’t keep you after either, which was a relief. You had been hoping he’d at least go over some stuff that would help you on your essay, but you had no such luck, and you needed it done by midnight if you wanted any credit. 

When you got home you cursed yourself for procrastinating so much, but you had other homework too and you knew you’d be able to focus on that better, so you started it first. 

Eventually your mind got sucked into your physics assignment, and you forgot about Baekhyun and the essay, too focused on the task at hand. 

By the time you were done with your other assignments it was 8pm. Four hours until you had to submit your essay. One hour went by just reading and rereading the text you were supposed to write about. Another was wasted on an intro paragraph you kept deleting, because you still couldn’t understand the text. When 10pm hit, and you started to panic.  

You realized that you weren’t going to be able to do it. Your mind was now in freak out mode and you couldn’t concentrate anyway. Either the paper wasn’t getting turned in at all, or you needed to do something fast. In any other class you would’ve BS-ed  your way through it to turn at least something in, but you just couldn’t do that knowing Baekhyun was going to read it. You weren’t going to be able to submit it that night, but you needed to at least contact him and explain so he wouldn’t think you were stupid. 

By 10:30 you found yourself scrolling through your contacts, staring at his name. You’d thought about emailing him, but he probably wouldn’t see until morning and you didn’t have that much time. 

In hindsight you probably would’ve been fine to just send an email and try to get an extension, but the combination of anxiety over your grade and wanting to talk to him had his name in your phone looking better and better. 

So you called. 

Your nerves were on fire as you waited for him to hopefully pick up. Was this stupid? Would he even answer? Worst of all, what if he was disappointed in you for not being able to do the assignment?

After a few rings, he picked up. “Hello?” 

“Hi Baekhyun, it’s y/n.” 

“Y/n? Are you alright what’s going on?” You could hear the concern in his voice even over the phone, and you remembered why he gave you his number in the first place. 

“I- I can’t do the essay.” You felt your voice shake, before unloading all your grievances in one breath “I read the thing a million times and I still have no idea what it’s about and I put it off until tonight cause it was making me so anxious but I still can’t focus and now it’s too late and I don’t know what to do and I’m freaking out.” 

You heard him sigh. “Slow down, It’s okay, I know it’s a difficult assignment. Have you at least started?” 

“No..” You felt tears swelling in your eyes, threatening to spill and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice even over the phone. “Can I just skip this one? I tried to start it so many times but I don’t know how to analyze something I can’t even understand.” You choked out. 

“Y/n...” You could tell he was thinking of what to do. He probably shouldn’t give you special treatment, and you knew that but right now you hoped he would just give in. Unfortunately you had no such luck. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you just not do it. It would make it too obvious that I’m treating you differently than other students.”

“Then can you at least help me? Or give me more time? Please?” You begged.

“I’m still in my office. I can help you if you meet me here.” 

You felt your palms get sweaty and your heart beat faster at the idea of going to his office again after what had happened last time, especially this late at night and in such a fragile state. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there in 10. Bye.” You said, hanging up before he could respond.

Quickly you got on some shoes and drove yourself to the building his office was located in. Last time you’d been in there he’d asked you about your feelings for him, and now you had to go back. You told yourself to just focus on getting the essay done, but the thought still hung around in the back of your mind as you walked down the hall towards Baekhyun’s office. You felt jittery and embarrassed, but you needed to do this for your grade.

After taking a few deep breaths to ready yourself, you knocked on the door, and heard a muffled “Come in” from the other side, so you let yourself in. Baekhyun was sitting at his desk, which was covered in papers you assumed he’d been grading. Instead of the nicer clothes he would usually wear during lecture, he was just wearing a black t shirt and sweats now. 

“You know you scared the shit out of me when you called. I thought you were in danger or something.” He said to you as you sat down in front of him. “I really didn’t think you’d call me over school work.” 

“I’m sorry..” 

“It’s okay! I’m not mad or anything, just surprised. What part of the text are you having trouble with?” 

“All of it...” You felt your lip starting to quiver. “I’m sorry I know this sounds so stupid and you probably think I’m just trying to take advantage of how you like me but I promise it’s not like that.” You said, looking down and fidgeting with your hands, trying to hide the frustration on your face.

Baekhyun crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “I never said I thought that. I told you it’s not an easy assignment, it’s ok if you’re having trouble. Plato can be difficult especially for people who aren’t used to reading things that old.” 

“I should’ve at least started earlier...” 

“Probably, but it’s too late to dwell on that now. Let’s just try to go over the reading together, yeah?” You nodded. 

He moved his chair to your side of the desk before opening your textbook to the reading for the essay. 

“So the first thing that makes The Ring of Gyges so confusing is that you don’t really know who’s talking. Basically it’s a conversation between Plato and his brother Glaucon where they’re discussing justice, and it’s actually Glaucon speaking for most of it, not Plato.” 

You were listening to what he was saying of course, but you were still distracted by the proximity. Baekhyun was sitting right next to you now, arms almost touching. The only other time the two of you got that close was at the club. And you did not need to be thinking about that while he was explaining your assignment to you. 

“Are you following me so far?” 

Your eyes immediately shot up from the book to meet his, and you quickly nodded. Having him look you in the eyes again like that made your face feel hot.

“Glaucon argues that people only peruse justice for the benefits of it, and not because they actually want to be good people. He uses the example of a ring that grants it’s user invisibility, therefore allowing them to do unjust things like steal without being caught. He tells Plato a story about a man who finds such a ring and uses it do overthrow the king.”

You groaned. “It still doesn’t make sense though, what does some story about a stupid ring have to do with justice?” 

“Well, if you were given the ability to steal and deceive people for your own benefit, without ever having to worry about getting caught, wouldn’t you do it too?” You stayed silent. “Basically, what you need to understand is what Glaucon is arguing. He’s saying that doing good deeds isn’t a part of human nature, and everyone would behave unjustly if they knew they would never get caught. Therefore, justice is something people pursue not out of want, but out of fear of the consequences if they don’t.”  

All you could do was stare at him. It was infuriating how attractive he sounded while explaining it to you. 

“Do you have a bit of a better idea what to write about now? Remember it’s only two pages, so don’t stress too much.” 

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts. “Yeah, it makes a bit more sense now... do I still need to finish it tonight or?” 

“Friday. Just email it to me by midnight on Friday and I won’t count it late.” He said, smiling again. 

“Thank you for doing this, I’m sorry it was so late and everything.”

Baekhyun just chucked, “You know if it’s you I don’t mind. You could keep me here all night with questions and I wouldn’t stop you. But you understand now, right?” 

The way he was smiling at you now along with the closeness was making you slightly dizzy. 

“I think so, Glaucon is basically saying that injustice is better than justice then right? Because everyone would do unjust things if they’d always get away with it.” 

Baekhyun nodded. 

“So according to him the best way to live life would be to do things you know are wrong, but without being caught.” 

“Exactly. See, I knew you were smart, y/n.” A smirk had made its way onto his face as he spoke. 

You couldn’t help connecting what he was saying to what you were feeling inside towards him. You wanted him, and you knew it was wrong, but how could you deny it to yourself when it felt so right? 

“Baekhyun...” You asked, hesitantly. “D-do you think it’s okay to do things you know are wrong, as long as no one finds out?”

“I think it depends what you’re talking about.” He answered, now looking you in the eyes again with intensity. “I would never kill anyone, for any reason, even if I knew I could get away with it. But, if I really wanted something, I think I would take it.” 

You were hyperaware of how his eyes were now scanning your face, lingering on your lips. “Take what?”

A hand made contact with your thigh, slowly moving up until he stopped, right below the hem of your shorts. His thumb drew soft circles on the sensitive inner flesh, giving you goosebumps. 

“I know you feel it too, you want this, don’t you?” Baekhyun asked, now moving a stand of hair out of your face. He let his hand rest on the back of your neck, keeping you facing towards him. 

Your heart felt like it was about to short circuit from how fast it was beating. Your palms were sweaty and you could feel yourself shaking slightly. The way his thumb stroked your neck beneath your ear made you shiver, and you knew he saw. All you could do was stare back at him, dumbfounded. Any words you tried to get out stuck in your throat. He was right, you did want it. Now more than ever. 

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you right now. I dare you.” He said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes fixed on how it trembled beneath his touch. He was slowly moving your face closer his, but you didn’t stop him. 

Your silence told Baekhyun all he needed to know, and his lips quickly found yours. Immediately you let yourself melt into the kiss. You felt your whole body buzzing, finally getting what it had wanted for so long. His lips felt unbelievably soft against yours, moving in a slow rhythm as his other hand came up from your thigh to cup your face as well. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, letting it become messier and more desperate. 

“I like you” you pulled away just enough to whisper “so fucking much.” You felt him grin into the kiss as your lips met again. 

He tasted like strawberries, and you felt high as your lips kept crashing together with more and more need. Your whole body felt like it was set on fire and simultaneously dunked in an ice bath, every nerve vibrating with want.    

When Baekhyun pulled your bottom lip gently between his teeth you let out a soft moan, and he started to lose it. He broke the kiss, standing up and pulling with him, before backing you up against the wall, a hand on either side of your head. 

“Sweetheart, don’t push me” He breathed, and started peppering kisses along the side of your neck, from under your ear down to your collarbone, sucking and biting on the way. 

Trapped between him and the wall, you felt weak and breathless. Your brain was in overdrive and you gasped at his ministrations, hands burying themselves in his soft hair.  His hands had traveled down to your waist, holding you against him tightly.

“Baekhyun” You breathed out, rubbing your thighs together as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Fuck, y/n. Don’t say that.” He forced the words out through gritted teeth.

His body pressed you into the wall, and your arms wrapped around him pulling him into you even tighter. He was completely consuming your senses and your knees felt wobbly from the intensity of it all. He was already smothering your entire front, but you tried to pull him even closer regardless.

You felt something hard press into your hip as his mouth covered yours again, and this time you shamelessly moaned his name into his open mouth. 

Much to your disappointment, Baekhyun immediately detatched himself from you, backing up until his back hit the opposite wall of the office. You could see how turned on he was by the outline of his dick through his pants and the pained look in his face. 

“Fucking christ...” He said, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. You just watched from the other side of the room. He kept his eyes closed and you observed as his jaw clenched and unclenched before you heard him continue. “You have to go. If you don’t I’m gonna fuck you on my desk and I won’t be gentle.” 

Your throat went dry at his crude words, but you couldn’t deny your own arousal. You walked back towards him, reaching out to touch his chest which was now rising and falling rapidly, but he grabbed you before you could make contact. His grip on your wrist was so tight it was almost painful. His knuckles were white, and you could see a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his face. 

His eyes bore into your own with a stare that warned you not to try anything more. 

“I’m sorry y/n but you have to leave. Not tonight. Not like this.” With his free hand he grabbed your belongings off his desk, shoving them into your arms. 

Still speechless, he opened the door and pulled you outside before going back in and closing the door behind him. You stood and stared at his office door for a minute, recollecting yourself and processing what the hell had just happened. 

Eventually your shaky legs began making their way down the hallway, back towards your car. You were pretty sure a janitor saw you as you turned the corner just down the hall from Baekhyun’s office. You kept your head down, trying to hide your face best you could while hurrying past. 

Once you were sitting in your car, you slumped into the seat, mind still in a daze after what happened in Baekhyun’s office. You waited for your breathing and heartrate to slow down before you drove away. 

Baekhyun left shorty after you as well, unable to concentrate on anything but the sound of you moaning his name. He felt terrible for throwing you out of his office but he’d meant what he said. He didn’t want his first time to have you to be in his office, purely fueled by pent up lust. He wanted to give you more than that. 

More than anything, he just couldn’t believe he’d gotten what he’d wanted for the entire summer. It didn’t seem possible, but now it had happened. And you actually kissed him back. It felt too good to be true. He felt himself once again struggling to sleep, but this time because he was too excited. This time, he didn’t have to keep himself up wondering, he knew he had you. He just couldn’t wait to see what would happed now.

You on the other hand couldn’t stop worrying about that exact thing as you stared at the ceiling above your bed. What would happen now? The thoughts weren’t fearful anymore, there was just too many of them to shut your mind down enough to sleep. 

You’d finally allowed yourself to give into him, and there was no more turning back. 

Next Chapter

[libraryofloveletters]

Ok awesome so I kinda want an angsty young to present thing with hotch and the reader? (If that even makes sense) Like hotch was a bit older than her but they went to law school together? And she was always sorta bratty and sneaky but he loved her anyway? And like a past scene with him bailing her out of jail because she got in a fight and then present she gets mad at the unsub and he has to 🌌discipline🌌 her? Sorry if you don't understand or don't want to do it, and thank you for your time!

Let’s Do It Again  

Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, cursing, use of the word “slut”, mentions of prostitution, being in jail, illusions of sex/hooking up, a little steamy making out.

Category: Angst

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Hopefully I've written it the way you liked hun! 

*Bolded Italics are flashbacks*

----

15 years ago. 

That’s when you met Aaron Hotchner. He only had a year left of law school while you had just started that year. He was the TA in your ethics of justice class, he always left snarky remarks on your papers even if you got an A. You were tired of his sarcasm so you went to go see him. 

“Come in” he called from the other side of the door. You walked in and shut the door behind you, 

“Y/n, what can I-” 

“What’s your problem ?” 

He looked up and nodded towards the chair in front of his desk, you sat down. “Is something wrong?” he asked, tapping his pen on the inside of his palm. “What’s with the comments on my papers? There’s literally nothing wrong with them. You give me an A and then write about how I haven't figured out how to write it properly. How does that make sense?” Aaron laughed. 

Is this guy seriously fucking laughing right now ? 

“I wondered how long it would take for you to come see me. The first time was a mistake, I thought your paper was Mr. Shelby’s and I meant to scribble it out but I forgot. When I saw your face, I had to keep doing it. It was too funny not too” He told you. You weren't sure if you should laugh or be embarrassed, you just yelled at your TA because he made a mistake.

“Okay well.. stop that shit” you picked up your bag and walked out before he could say anything else to you. 

From that day on, you and Aaron developed a strange friendship. You fought constantly but you supported and helped each other whenever you could. 

The two of you worked together at the BAU. He was the unit chief and your name was up for a position on the team. You had forgotten that you applied, but when you got the call, you accepted the position without even questioning it or asking for details. 

You walked in on your first day to be greeted by a brightly dressed woman. “Oh! You must be y/n! I've heard so much about you!” She gushed as she walked you up to the unit chief’s office. She introduced herself as Penelope, you automatically knew you’d like her.

“Really ?” you looked at her, “from who?” you asked. 

“Well, the boss man of course!” She walked you to the door, knocking on it before opening it. The name on the door read Aaron Hotchner 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Aaron was going to be your new boss ? You’re in for a hell of a ride. 

“Sir, the new agent is here” she smiled, letting you step in before stepping out herself. “Y/n, good to see you again” He smiled at you from his desk. “Aaron” you nodded before sitting on his desk. “Still hate chairs huh?” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

You were in his office watching him mark papers. You wanted to see your mark before you left for the holidays so he told you to come with him and that he would mark yours first. You paced back and forth in his office, moving things around and flipping through the other papers. 

“These suck major balls. I feel bad that you’ve got to mark these” 

“Yeah, yours is the worst.” 

The two of you chuckled. “Can you sit down? I can’t focus with you moving around constantly” you rolled your eyes at him “yeah whatever” 

You moved your bag off the chair and went to sit down

“y/n! not there!” 

Your ass had already hit the floor, “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!” 

“Yeah, that chair is broken” he said, trying to hold back his laughter. “Fuck you Aaron” you rolled your eyes, laying back on the floor. “I know you want too but this isn't the time darling” 

His eyes were on the paper, he couldn't see the blush his words brought to your face.

----- 

3 weeks into your job at the BAU and you’re undercover at the bar. You just happened to fit the unsub’s type and somehow Hotch convinced you to go undercover. You’re sitting at the bar flirting with the unsub when he asks you to join him in the bathroom. You mentally groaned, you glanced over at Derek who gave you a nod before you walked off. 

You were in the hallway with him, he walked past the bathroom door. “Hey, you passed the bathroom” you shouted to him, he tugged on your arm and pulled you out the backdoor. You really hoped that Derek and Aaron were out there. 

“F.BI! Put your hands up!” Aaron shouted as Derek tackled him. You stepped over to Spencer who had a jacket waiting for you, “thank you bubba” you smiled at him as he held the jacket for you to put on. Aaron glanced over to you when you called Spencer bubba

Back at the station, you were sitting at the desk as Derek pushed the unsub into the interrogation room. 

“You’re up” Aaron looked at you, 

“Didn’t I do enough tonight ?” you got up and walked to the room. 

“Hello beautiful” the unsub smiled at you, you pushed back the urge to throw up. “It’s actually agent l/n” you said as you sat down, he nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. You're too pretty to go to a bar dressed like a slut” 

“Tell me something” you looked over at him

“Anything darling” he leaned forward. 

“Why’d you do it? They were innocent” he sat there for a minute, taking in what you said. “They were worth nothing, selling their bodies and for what? They’re nothing but a bunch of sluts” he spat. You nodded and chuckled, “what’s so funny agent?” he looked up at you. 

“Just like your momma right?” you asked him, he looked at you confused. 

“Oh you didn’t know? All those nights where she left you to go to work, she was, what did you say? oh yes “selling their bodies and worth nothing” Do you know what I think ? I think that you’re just a sexist son of a bitch that isn’t worth the air he breathes” you smiled at him sweetly before getting up. His face was expressionless, “You’re just like them too agent l/n, a slut that’s worth nothing. I’m sure you only got your position by sleeping with someone” 

You were tired and angry, you weren’t in the mood for his shit. “Shut up” you mumbled. “Oh did I hit a nerve agent ? Why don’t you go relieve some stress with agent Hotchner ?” You looked up at him. 

“What did you say?” 

“You heard me agent” 

You couldn’t handle his attitude, you picked up the chair and threw it at him. Aaron walked in “enough. y/n, get out” you rolled your eyes and pushed passed Aaron. 

You had been helping Spencer pack up the evidence boxes. “I’ve got it bubba, go get something to eat. I’ll put these away and come join you.” you picked up the box from the table, “are you sure?” Spencer asked you before picking up his jacket, you nodded and walked out of the conference room and into the storage room. 

“Y/n, what the hell was that?” Aaron asked you as he walked into the storage room, shutting the door behind him. “What the hell was what?” you asked, pushing the boxes up onto the shelf, “you know exactly what I'm talking about, this is exactly why I had to bail you out years ago” 

---

“I want my phone call!” you shouted at the cops, “I know my rights! I’m a lawyer!” They didn’t listen to you, so you did the logical thing and kept yelling. Eventually, they got fed up of your yelling so they let you have your phone call. You called Aaron even though you knew he’d be pissed. You were sitting in the holding cell for what felt like eternity, “L/n! bail’s been posted” the cop called as you stood up. 

“Hey Hotch” you smiled at him, your heels were in your hands and your hair was a mess. To be completely honest, you were still kinda tipsy but you weren’t going to tell him that. “Stop smiling, let’s go y/n” he took your shoes from you and walked towards the door, opening it for you. 

“Okay grumpy pants, I'm going” you walked to his car, getting in and making yourself comfortable, not before grabbing the sweater he had on his backseat. He tossed your shoes into the back of the car

“Hey! Those are red bottoms, be careful!” 

“I don’t care” he grumbled as he started driving. 

“Who pissed in your cereal?” you asked him 

“Y/n, it’s 4:36 in the fucking morning and I had to come bail you out of jail because you threw a chair at someone. I’m sorry if I'm not in the mood to talk” 

You glanced at the clock in his car, you didn’t realize that it was already morning. “How much was bail?” you mumbled, looking out the window. 

“2 grand” he kept driving.

“WHAT! I DIDN’T EVEN HIT HIM!” you shouted, your head whipping around so fast you probably gave yourself whiplash. 

“Stop yelling. I only paid a grand. I pulled some strings so you own me.” 

----

You chuckled when he brought up that he bailed you out all those years ago. 

“If I remember correctly, I paired you back didn't I?”

“That isn’t the point y/n. What you did in there was wrong, you can’t lose your cool like that.”

You rolled your eyes again. Aaron always had that effect on you, a constant state of eye rolling. “Stop that” he stepped closer to you, you took a step back, your back was against the shelves. “Stop what?” you knew he was talking about your eye rolling, he had always hated it. You love to do it whenever he filled in for the professor, you hated when he taught. He took forever and never let you leave early. 

“Don’t roll your eyes,” he whispered. His lips pressed right to your ear, his cheek against yours. 

“Make me stop”  you challenged him.

He just chuckled “you really don't want to see what I can make you do” 

“Maybe I do” your hands made their way to his hair, tugging on the back of it. 

He kissed you, it was rough and needy. His hands were all over you, the two of you wanted this, you needed this but you were both too stubborn to say anything. He grabbed your ass and squeezed hard enough to leave a small bruise, his lips attached to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. 

You and Aaron had always had a connection between you guys, it was more than sexual. You genuinely cared about each other, the sexual attraction was just a plus. 

30 minutes had passed and the two of you were still in there. The top button of your shirt had come off with Aaron’s tugging, you could see all the hickeys Aaron left on your neck down to your breast. His hair was a mess with a few hickeys on his neck too. There was no denying that you two had just had sex, it was so obvious. Even if you came out at separate times, the team would figure it out. 

“Well, that was fun” you ran your hand through his hair, trying to settle it from all your pulling. 

“It was” he gave you a small kiss. 

“Let’s do it again sometime ?” You smiled at him before walking out and shutting the door. 

----

tagging: @iconicc cause she was super excited 

[mayo-advance]

You Belong With Me

Slytherin! Peter Maximoff x F!Gryffindor Reader

Description: Peter Maximoff was the most insufferable Slytherin you had ever met. You thought he was all talk and nothing to show. And here you now were facing a boggart with him. Oh boy how fun. (Hogwarts Au)

A/n: This is 5,000 words. This was supposed to be short fic. I have no self control. Also all of my fics show how touch starved I am. Also this is the second fic I’ve named after a corny song, and there's no end in sight. Also this isn’t edited. My arms feel like jello from typing. Shoutout to my homie @amourtentiaa​ for not only giving me the idea for this because of  comment on my last fic, but also for giving me an idea for Peters boggart.

Stupid

Insufferable

Arrogant

Egotistical

Fucking Slytherin.

You sat in the defense against the dark art classroom near the back. Your arms were supporting you as you hunched over the table. You had some serious murder on your mind.

You weren’t here for  a class.

Oh no life was never that simple.

You were here for detention, because of that stupid Slytherin boy.

Hogwarts was notorious for not being able to hold a defense against the dark arts teacher for long. This year they couldn’t find anyone willing to step in.

Oh except Professor Howlett. 

He was a very angry professor, but his anger was never directed towards the students. He was a large man and if you were being honest, he scared you a little, which is ironic because you were a Gryffindor. 

Well, or so thats what the hat told you. Eventually.

The sorting hat had a great trouble picking a house for you, taking the longest that some of the older students claim they’ve ever seen. It was after the first two of five minutes that you decided you just didn’t belong anywhere.

You were now in your fifth year and your resolution hadn’t changed.

Anyways back to Professor Howlett, though he insisted you all call him professor Logan because he hates the formalities.

His detentions were a bit different then all of the other teachers.

Not that you’d experienced detention with the other teachers.

Instead of scraping moldy eyeballs off the potions tables, or grading papers in the transfiguration classroom, Professor Logans detentions were spend dispelling creatures from the castle.

And he said today would be special. Because unlike trivial things like cursed books or something easy to deal with, it was a boggart.

And that wouldn’t bother you if you had been taking it alone.

But you were spending your detention with the ever so (not) delightful Peter Maximoff.

It was his fault you were here.

You had been stuck without a partner. Your friend group consisted of you, two Hufflepuffs, and a ravenclaw. 

So not anyone who had been in the class with you.

And Professor Logan told the class to pair up. And you and Peter had been the only two left without a partner and so Logan put you two together.

Long story short, Peter had been insufferable. Maybe if he could cast spells as fast as he could run his mouth, you guys wouldn’t be here.

He didn’t have time to block one of your spells so he just ducked and the whole bookshelf of text books blew up. 

The books were not the only thing that blew up, Professor Logan had mortified the whole class with how loud he yelled.

When he declared that you two had detention later all you could do was shoot a scowl at Peter, who cracked a smile at you as burnt paper landed in his hair like snow.

God, Slytherins were insufferable. 

You checked your muggle watch. It had been a Christmas gift from Scott because you constantly got bored during transfiguration class and would continuously ask how much longer. Its not that Professor Raven was a bad teacher, though cold at times, you just struggled with the class.

Your brain kept spiraling, further and further into the zone until-

A sharp knock hit the table before you. “You alive kid?”

You looked up, standing near the table you were sat at was Professor Logan. You had no clue how long he had been trying to get your attention.

Looking around, you didn’t see Peter anywhere. 

Typical.

You looked at where the Professor fumbled with some stuff on his desk. Not papers or quills or anything, but stuff that you had never seen before. None of the students were allowed to touch anything on your desk.

“We appear to be missing-“ Logan was about to make a jab about Peters absence, but in true Maximoff fashion, he just so happened to saunter through the door in that moment.

He saw you and smiled a little wider, “Ah so the lioness is already here.”

Stupid cocky bastard.

Logan looked at him with an unamused expression, “Okay, the boggart is in the teachers lounge, come back when you are done and i’ll let you go.”

Neither you nor Peter moved. But unlike you, the silver haired boy actually spoke up, “Why is there always a boggart in the teachers lounge?”

“Because they wont let me cast any protection spells, now get to it.” The professors voice was gruff, your signal to get moving.

Without saying a word you got up and made your way out of the classroom. Peter could follow you if he really cared, which you doubted he did. You could take a boggart alone.

Much to your disappointment, Peter did follow you. 

“So what form does your boggart take?” He fell into step right next to you.

You didn’t respond, you just checked your watch. If you got this done with quickly, you’d have time to study in the library with Scott, Kurt, and Jean.

Although you didn’t respond verbally, you looked at Peter with that same scowl.

Peter just grinned at you “Ah I see. This lioness is feisty.” He put his hands out, pretending to have claws.

You still didn’t respond but Peter didn’t stop talking. “So oh mighty brave Gryffindor, how shall we take down our prey?”

You took a deep breath, “How many more lion references are you going to make?”

Peter was extremely satisfied that he had gotten a response out of you, “The great warrior speaks!”

Your face flushed at being called a ‘great warrior’. Peter was the same year as you, had he forgotten how long it took for you to be sorted?

As you approached the teachers lounge, you felt like the opposite of a great warrior.

You felt like a coward.

So much for the ‘Lioness’

Fear wrenched its way into your gut. You’ve dealt with boggarts before, so what was the issue?

You knew the issue.

You weren’t alone this time. Someone was here with you to witness your deepest fear. And that someone was a Slytherin.

Peter would probably tell his whole house. The Slytherins adored to gossip about Gryffindor and jab at them. A large portion of the other Slytherins in your year constantly drew attention to how long the hat had taken to sort you, even if that was years ago. This boggart and Peter Maximoff would just be the nail in the coffin.

“Are we.... gonna go in?” Peter still stood beside you as his voiced pulled you out of the zone you had been in. 

To hell with him if you heard even a peep about how you couldn’t stay grounded in the present.

Peter looked at you, he didn’t smile but his expression wasn’t scrutinizing. If you had to label it you would call it tender, but over your dead body would you fall for that. “Why are you so hesitant? You’re loads better than me at defense against the dark arts, plus you are in the house of bravery.”

You ignored him and shakily pushed the door open. How had he pinpointed your emotions so quickly? You were definitely going to be the laughingstock of the Slytherin house by tomorrow.

You took another deep breath. “Okay, I’m gonna take it first. You can just stand to the side and look pretty.” Wrong choice of words.

Peter dramatically pretended to swoon “You think i’m pretty?” His voice radiated sarcasm. 

“If thats what you want to believe.” You looked at the cupboard with the boggart in it. It rattled aggressively and you wanted to walk out. You wanted to leave it to Peter.

But you weren’t going to chicken out in front of a Slytherin. 

Taking out your wand, you cautiously pointed it at the closet handle. 

Peter, who was to the side behind you, also drew his wand.  (Larch wood, 12 1/2  inches, unicorn hair core, pretty bendy, sorry I think wands are so cool)

You closed your eyes, drawing your focus onto something funny.

Something funny.

You thought of that time that Kurt accidentally hexed Scott so that lasers fired out of his eyes. That was funny but you needed something else for a boggart.

You searched and searched for something that was funny enough to overpower your fear and you came up with nothing.

You supposed youd have to wing it.

With a quiet whisper you waved your wand, “Alohamora”.

The closet stopped shaking and clicked as it unlocked. The door silently creaked open but nothing came out yet.

As it fell open more however, you took a step back.

Sitting in the closet stood a three legged stool, with the grubby sorting hat perched on top.

It stayed still at first and you readied your wand with a counter spell. The room was eerily quiet. Not even Peter made a sound

Then with a dusty cough, the boggart opened its mouth to speak.

‘Cast the spell now!’ your mind screamed at you ‘cast it before it speaks!’ but you couldnt move or speak.

Your body was frozen and your mouth was full of cotton as you stared in fear, as you stood in anticipation for what it was going to say.

The buildup felt like minutes, though your little muggle watch only showed a few seconds had passed.

“You cannot be sorted.” Such simple words. Such small simple words in a small simple phrase. Yet it was enough to ensure youd never mutter that counterspell.

“You better get on that train and never come back.” It continued.

You felt Peters hand on your shoulder, a silent offer to step in. 

You put your arm out, holding him back. You had to do this. You were put in Gryffindor and you needed to prove you belonged there.

And then came four simple words. Four simple words that destroyed you. 

“You don’t belong here.” 

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. ‘Its not real y/n. Its just a stupid boggart’ But you felt as if you were lying to yourself.

Peter nudged his way in front of you, but you were too far back in your head to care.

You watched at the boggart became a dead woman, laying on the ground covered in blood. Except unlike you, he didn’t freeze. He may have been too slow in class, but hell he was dealing with this far quicker than you did.

You heard, through the mist of your mind, his voice shouting “Riddikulus!” 

And in a snap of anyones fingers, the boggart transformed into... 

Professor Lensherr???

The charms teacher???

He stood there and he... made a dad joke??? “Hi hungry! I’m dad!”

And you couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the mist of your mind evaporating.

You wondered what made Peter think of that, but you didn’t have time to linger on it as you started laughing a little harder.

You had never thought of Professor Lensherr as the type to make a dad joke.

They say laughter is contagious, and its probably true because soon after Peter had dispelled the boggart, he burst out laughing too.

You looked over at him with a smile. “What was that?

Peter smiled back. But not a smug or cocky smile like he usually gave you. A genuinely content smile. “Oh you haven’t heard?”

You shook your head, and Peter looked back at the now empty closer. “He’s my dad”

As the giddy aura of the room faded, you were put back into the present situation.

Well shit.

You had just made the biggest cowardly fool of yourself in front of motor mouth Slytherin Peter Maximoff.

Tensing up as you had been on your way to the teachers lounge, you checked your watch. Maybe you didn’t need it to check the time as much as you needed it to ground yourself sometimes.

“It’s almost dinner time, we better report back to Logan.” Without saying anything else, you got up and set a brisk pace out of the room.

Peter had to jog to catch up. “Wait!”

For the second time that day, he fell in step with you. “Can I ask about your boggart?”

He was trying to humilate you. You could feel it. (No he wasn’t, you were already humiliated)

“No you cannot ask me.” You tried to pull forward but Peter stayed even with you.

You walked in silence as you heard the chatter of students on their way to lunch. How you wished to be among them.

 Peter didn’t stay silent for long however. “Well after we check in with the Professor can I at least walk you to the great hall?”

You wanted nothing more but to sink into the floor. It wasn’t Peters fault that you were like this.

He thought it was his fault.

“Well we are both going to the same place so do I have a choice?”

“So is that a yes?”

You just let out a huff as you came back upon the defense against the dark arts classroom.

You walked in first with Peter following, and without waiting for him to become even with you again. 

However the professor wasn’t even there.

“He probably went to eat.” Peter said behind you, mostly to himself.

No shit sherlock.

You turned back to Peter. “You go on ahead, I have to stop by my dorm quick.”

“I’ve never been to the Gryffindor dorms before-“

You were tired, “I’ll see you in class tomorrow Peter.”

You pushed past him and walked back out of the classroom. He finally got the hint and did not follow.

——————- 

That night you didn’t meet Jean or Scott or Kurt in the library. 

Instead, you sat in your four poster bed in the girls dorm with the curtains drawn. They had a silencing charm on them so that no one on the outside could hear you.

Not that you were saying anything.

You sat there scribbling down your charms homework. A part of you regretted not going to the library. Jean was one of the best among the fifth years when it came to charms.

Further down in the castle, in the dungeons, Peter was also in his dorm. He laid back while his headphones blasted music into his ears.

He thought to himself about how you probably hated him now.

‘Its okay��� His brain said, ‘I hate you too’.

Peter decided he needed to talk to you tomorrow. To apologize.

Back to the Gryffindor dorm, you heard the other Gryffindor girls all file in. They didn’t pay any mind to your bed as they all gossiped.

‘Thats what they’re doing in the Slytherin dorm too’. You imagined all of the laughter as Peter told them about your most recent flop. About how your boggart was a dusty old hat.

Peter rolled over as his dorm mates all got ready for bed.

One of them even had the audacity to ask how his “date” with that Gryffindor had gone. Peter said nothing. 

You finally rested your head back. Feeling the strain and the fatigue tying you down to the mattress. Who cares what Slytherin is saying? Thats a problem for tomorrow.

As you closed your eyes, you fell into a troubled sleep.

You were back in the teachers lounge, except that it was much much bigger. The whole school was in that room. In the center was you and the rattling closet. You felt so small. A bug that would get squashed beneath someones boot. An insignificant figure in a sea of talent.

You looked around, and right behind you was the worst sight of all. In the middle, was Peter. He wore his smug grin as next to him stood (well... sat) Headmaster Xavier, Professor Logan, and your friends.

Peter didn’t say a word. But at the same time he was taunting you for being so pathetic. And he brought everyone along for the show.

You felt your mind go numb. In the waking world you didn’t find Peter that bad when it was just you and him. You reminded yourself of the weight of his hand when he had offered to step in. It had been warm, and wasn’t in any way scrutinizing.

You shakily turned back to the rattling closet.

The crowd surrounding you erupted in whispers. You couldn’t hear what was being said but the quiet voices pierced your eardrums like pins and needles. All you could clearly hear over the buzzing was the thrumming of your heart as it begged to be torn out of your ribcage, as it beat its way into your throat.

A disembodied voice sounded all around you. ‘Show them how unworthy you are.’

‘No’ you begged wordlessly. ‘I want to belong. I want to stay.’

But you had no choice as the closet door was wrenched open by some invisible force and the hat stood in front of you again.

“Back again eh?” It said in its dusty voice, whipping your ears as free as the wind.

The hat transformed. Now before you stood (sat) the headmaster as the boggart continued.

“You don’t belong here.” The headmasters voice, usually warm and welcoming, was cold.

The boggart transformed again, this time

into Scott.

You begged again, ‘Stop. Please.’ You felt your heart pounding in your ears but it did not drown out the voice as it wormed its way through your brain.

“We don’t want you here.”

It transformed into Kurt.

“Why don’t you just go home.”

It transformed into Jean.

“Who are you to call yourself a witch?”

You finally found your voice as you screamed. You screamed and you cried at the top of your lungs as you fell to your knees and begged for the voices to stop.

The boggart transformed again.

This time, it was Peter.

Boggart Peter didn’t get a chance to speak as you, with a hoarse voice, interrupted.

“There,” You let out a bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a cough, “You showed them all how pathetic I am.”

You looked down at the ground, not able to meet the eyes of the boggart. “You win.”

And with that, you woke up in your four poster bed, you drew back your curtains to find the dorm empty, the sunrise shining through the window. 

‘You win’.

The words echoed in your head, the dream not fading. Why was it always the good dreams that slipped away like sand through your fingers? Why were the bad ones all that remained?

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow.

Maybe you should skip classes. That was a good idea.

But yet, you pulled yourself out of the covers and prepared for a long day of being exhausted. Nightmares took more energy than an all nighter.

————————

As you walked from Defense Against the Dark arts to potions, you were greeted by a presence to your side.

“You look exhausted.” Peter took in the features of your face. The heavy bags under your eyes, the droopy eyelids, the messy hair.

You had ignored him all through defense against the dark arts, which wasn’t hard today. Today you were assigned to write an essay on the unforgivable curses. 

Of course he had tried to get you attention. He threw a wad of parchment at you, but you just tucked it in your bag as Professor Logan scolded him for it.

You didn’t acknowledge Peters comment about your current state of well being. You glanced sideways at him briefly. “Just because we served one detention together does not make us friends.”

You tried to pull ahead but as you should have known by now, Peter was well capable and willing to keep up.

“I need to talk to you.” He sounded dead serious. 

“You are talking to me.”

Peter didn’t answer. He took this as conformation that you hated him. But he needed to apologize. He wanted to apologize because he thought all of this was his fault.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, you ignored the stares of onlooking students.

You thought maybe Peter had finally dropped it. You let out a little of the tension you had been holding. 

Big mistake.

As you passed an empty classroom, Peter grabbed your arm. Before you had time to protest he pulled you through the doors. Set off balance, you looked over as Peter shut the doors.

All of the gawking students outside started talking. Rumors about you had been started yesterday, but not by Peter.

The students on the way to dinner had seen you two walking together back to Professor Logans room, and Peters dorm mates took his silence as a sign that something was going on.

And yes, something was going on.

But not what they all thought.

The rumors spread through the hallways like vines, spreading ever so quicker until it had reached everyone.

Peter Maximoff and Y/n L/n had some sort of relationship going on.

Some students said they just made out between classes with no strings attached, while others thought it was a full blown out relationship.

Either way, a Gryffindor and Slytherin together? Absurd.

Meanwhile, in the empty classroom, Peter turned back to you.

“We need to talk, he reinstated.” He did not approach you, he was aware that dragging you in here would not make you like him any more.

“What we are going to do is get to potions before we both are late and end up with detention together again.” You muttered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t lowkey attractive.

Okay highkey attractive. Though youd never admit that to him.

Peter looked at you, “I shouldn’t have interfered yesterday. And I’m sorry”

Wait what?

Big cunning Slytherin apologizing?

You scoffed, “Are you really? If i were you i would feel satisfied.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. Satisfied? 

Was his interpretation of what had happened yesterday different than yours? Because from what he remembered, you had prevented him from stepping in, but he did it anyways.

He did it because once he heard the words, “You dont belong here.” He couldn’t bare watching anymore.

Peter knew what it was like to feel like you don’t belong, and seeing that you had the same issue shocked him.

You had always appeared so collected. You were everything he imagined a Gryffindor could be.

He took a few steps away from the door. “About what the boggart said yesterday-“

You crossed your arms, the nightmare you had resurfacing on your mind.

“Oh yeah that must have been like an early Christmas for you. I mean the perfect gossip laying itself at your feet.” 

You were confused by the expression on his face. He looked at you with a soft expression, there was no scrutiny, or triumph.

And he was confused by your words. Did you take him as an unfeeling prick? Was that how you saw him?

You suddenly felt every ounce of bitterness towards Peter leave your body. Maybe it was going to get brunch. 

“I mean, so much for the ‘mighty warrior’, or the ‘brave lioness’.” You put air quotes with the nicknames as you mocked yourself. “Or even the simple, easy title to hold such as ‘Talented at defense against the dark arts-“

You froze as everything clicked into place. You had never been bitter at Peter. You were broadcasting your own feelings of yourself onto him. 

You were very late for potions at this point. The other students in the potions class told Professor Mccoy that you and Peter were probably off fucking somewhere.

Peter took a few more strides towards you, stopping when he was only a foot or so away.

He looked down at you with such tender concern. 

As everything in your mind kept making more and more sense, you felt like the worst person on the planet.

Maybe you were the stupid one. And the arrogant one. And the insufferable one.

Peter observed you as this vulnerable, hurt look crossed your face.

“I still see you as all those things.” He whispered to you as he gently took your hand in his. 

It was such a small form of intimacy. But you felt the resolve to stay strong that lay deep inside you crumbling.

You didn’t meet his eyes. “So you didn’t... go around telling people about how pathetic I am?”

Peter searched your face for any sign of mockery. He found none. He let out a small huff, a display of silent laughter. “Well not to break your whole world view Princess, but I’ve got no one to tell.”

You looked up at him.

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t have used the word pathetic.”

He adjusted his grip on your hand, making it a little more firm and comfortable.

“If I had someone to tell that story to, I would have called you brave and strong.” He looked you in the eyes before wiggling his eyebrows, “and not to mention sexy-“ he added in his normal voice.

You gave him a weak smile and whacked his arm with your free hand.

“We are very deadly late for potions.” You suddenly remembered, you had places to be.

‘Screw it’ you thought to yourself. You had been planning to skip today anyways.

Peter didn’t move and neither did you. “I’d rather stay here with you.”

“In a dusty classroom?”

“It reminds me of my comfy basement back home. Except my basement doesn’t have the gorgeous girl in it.” 

God, his flirting was cheesy as all hell.

You both stood there in silence. It was loaded with questions, but it was a comfortable silence you decided.

After a long moment of just standing there and basking in each others company, you were the one to break the silence.

“How could you look at me quivering at the sight of a boggart, and call me brave?” You looked away from Peter again.

He took your other hand, his hands were surprisingly soft, and just held them.

“Well... Because I know what its like to feel like you don’t belong somewhere.”

You looked back at him, you found it increasingly harder to tear your eyes away, his features were mesmerizing. “Well you can belong with me now.”

Peter released your hands and pulled you into a hug. It was a good hug. It was a warm hug. Who needed potions when you have yourself a huggable friend?

You sighed with contentment into the hug.

But you still had questions.

Without releasing Peter you asked, “Who was that lady? The one that the boggart turned into?”

Peter had not been expecting you to ask him about that. But it was only fair that you knew.

“It was my mom.” Much to your dismay Peter pulled away to face you. “Shes a muggle, and with the rise of dark wizards I have nightmares. About... losing her” He whispered to you.

He didn’t say any more, and you didn’t push him to say anything else. It was personal to him and you understood. 

“Well then I guess we will have to become stronger than those stupid dark wizards now wont we?” You smiled at him, and you slipped back into a comfortable silence.

If you had known for all these years that all it’d take to become friends with Peter was three minutes of talking about your emotions then maybe you would have been friends a long time ago.

But you still had one last thing to get off your chest while you two sat in the shadowy empty room. “I had a nightmare last night too.” You confessed.

Peter didn’t say anything, but nodded at you to continue.

And so you did. You spilled to him about the cupboard and the school and your friends. You spilled to him about how he was there and how you screamed and begged.

After you had told him every detail you could remember, you felt a weight off your chest. Because he just pulled you back for another hug and whispered into your shoulder that “its not real.”

“But still, I saw you as the bad guy. When in fact you were the one who saved me.”

Peter grinned into your shoulder, although you couldn’t see it, “I wouldn’t call it rescuing-“

“Well upgrade your vocabulary then.”

A beat passed.

“Its not your fault for seeing me that way. Thats how everyone sees the Slytherins and I cant blame them.” He didn’t let go of you.

You squeezed him, trying to pull him impossibly closer, “Well then I guess I need to check my prejudices Mr. Snake sir.”

“Mr Snake?”

Before either of you could say anything else, the doors were flung open and before you stood Professor Mccoy. 

You and Peter both instinctively pulled away from each other.

The potions Professor put his hands on his hips like a tired suburban dad. When he saw you two fully clothed he let out a sigh of relief.

“All of your classmates said you were engaging in sexual intercourse, so this is a pleasant surprise.” He started, waving you two out of the room.

“but I still assume I will see you both in my room after dinner to make up for the class you skipped?” He said once you two exited the musty room.

You and Peter glanced at each other. You two both spoke at the same time.

“Of course Professor.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the end of the world.”

Mccoy nodded and shooed you both off to your next classes, which you (unfortunately) did not have together.

————————

You now had herbology with the Hufflepuffs.

As you ran into the green house, hastily shoving your dragon hide gloves on, the professor looked at you with a very unimpressed aura.

You took your place with Kurt and Scott and the teacher rolled their eyes at you and continued on.

Scott leaned over to you and whispered “So you and Peter huh?” with a smug expression.

If Peter was the master of smugness, then Scott was in second place.

Kurt nudged you, “Yeah, the whole schools discussing how you two missed potions to make out.” 

Oh boy you had a lot of explaining to do.

----------------------------------

Taglist: @amourtentiaa​

[cursestothemoon]

Hey lovely! Is it ok if i ask for a blurb or hc (whatever suits you the best) with fred? Like after the war and everyone makes it (as well as freddie) and the people from the order and the weasleys (with their partners) have Sunday meetings at the burrow, like them having dinner and playing quidditch or outside having like a bonfire night and everyone tells stories 🥺

All Of Us

F.W. X READER

Warnings: mentions of war/battle, mentions of past injury , kind of sAD WOW I WASN’T EXPECTING THAT, mentions of people who had died, one curse word, mentions of being nauseous 

The wind swept through the tall blades of grass, each haulm moving balletically in the hills that rolled behind the warm, brown, slightly askew, home. During the months of war the Burrow had been a symbol of safety, for you, the Weasley children- old and young- and members of the order. 

The second Wizarding War was a dark time for most people, trust dissolved into code words and relentless questioning. Remus Lupin sat with a plate half full of pancakes absolutely bathing in sticky sweet syrup- breakfast had ended thirty minutes ago- as he tickled his son, bouncing the small boy on his knee. It seemed to have been a lifetime ago when he had begged Harry to let him join the hunt for horcrux, begged to free his wife and unborn child of his self. 

“Uncle Pads is here!”  The voice followed a familiar pop. 

Sirius Black waltzed through the room greeting everyone, his head of healthy hair-ever since the war was won Sirius seemed to glow- bounced around his face. A dark veil had followed Sirius around most of his life, growing up with the cruciatus curse as a guiding hand and the cracking of human bone morphing into that of a canine was a sound he knew would ring in his ears for lifetimes to come. 

You walked over to Sirius with a soft smile, “Hi, Sirius.”

The quiet buzz of the group had grown into a rowdy rumble of voices and laughs as Bill and Charlie Weasley joined in, coming from the backyard. You made your way to the bottom of the stairs, waiting to hear Fred start to descend the stairs. A stumble sounded from the top of the steps, followed by a few grunts as someone went down the stairs one step at a time. You moved to watch Fred slowly make his way down. 

Fred was laughing, eyes crinkled, an honest chuckle passing his lips made the crumbling of the wall behind him almost unnoticeable. What was noticeable was the weight of the rubble hitting him, it had knocked the air out of his lungs and he was sure that was it. He thought of you when it happened, he hadn’t told you, but he thought of you and he thought of never seeing you again. Fred decided he just couldn’t allow that. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, yours going around his waist, as you two walked into the kitchen. Fred now walked with a limp, the wall had caused him to lose feeling in a little less than half of his right leg and injured it beyond magical mending. His new gait was something he worked to get used to, the pain slowly but surely fading with each day. 

“Thanks, love.” He smirked, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before walking over to his brothers. 

Your time to admire Fred was cut short as Ginny and Tonks apparated next to you, Ginny on your right and Tonks on your left. 

“I hope one day it won’t be so nauseating catching you eye fucking my brother like that.” Ginny said with her face screwing into one of disgust. 

You gave her shoulder a playful shove, “Shut it.”

Tonks laughed at the both of you before suggesting to get lunch ready, a tall feat when there were over ten people starting to get hungry. 

The day passed with the same lightness of the morning and noon, and more people made an appearance for the traditional Sunday at the Weasley’s. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva Mcgonagall had even decided to attend dinner, showing up just as the sun started to set. 

McGonagall usually had to fight the urge to shed a few tears when she arrived to these dinners. Little Remus Lupin sat with his wife and son, a blinding, boyish, smile making the scars on his face disappear completely. Charming Sirius, who had suffered through so much, now holding a newborn baby-Bill’s first- with such gentility you could barely tell he only learned such care at age fifteen when James Potter took him into his home and held a crying boy with the same gentleness. Harry looking over his godfather’s shoulder was almost too much for poor Minerva to take in, he looked just like James. 

“Where do you think you’re going, poppet?” Fred asked as you removed yourself from his lap, stretching as you stood up.

The older woman watched with a smile as you pressed a loving kiss to your boyfriend’s forehead before walking into the kitchen, presumably to help Molly. She remembers when you two had gotten together, flamboyant as it was, who could forget it? It was your sixth year, and Fred had walked into the Transfiguration classroom with so much vigor he hadn’t seen you trying to leave. The force at which he knocked into you had knocked you to the ground and caused Minerva to let out a gasp. From that point on Fred had made sure to turn the charm up to one hundred and you two were dating in no time. 

Seeing the way Fred looked at you made Mcgonagall sure that she’d be receiving a wedding invitation soon. 

“Alright dinner’s ready! Bill! Charlie! Put that quaffle down and come help the others bring the second table out.” Molly called, her head sticking out from the kitchen window.

Bill and Charlie landed on the ground and tossed the quaffle they had been playing with onto the ground along with their brooms. The brothers jogged into the house, only to come out holding up the end of a table helping Sirius, Remus, and Ron. 

You helped set the table along with George and Ginny. The napkins were folded, utensils placed uniformly near each plate, and strings of lights strung up around the dining area- curtesy of you, George, and your wands. 

Everyone sat down to eat, Bill pulled out Fleur’s chair before sitting next to her and placing a hand on her growing bump- Molly cradling her first grandchild to her chest. Remus, Tonks, and Teddy sat next to each other, Remus helping cut up his sons food into manageable pieces as Tonk’s morphed her face into that of different animals to keep the toddler entertained. George sat on the right of Professor Mcgonagall and Sirius on her left, both talking their former head of house’s ear off- Angelina Johnson was a hot topic for George, she had noticed. Harry and Ginny sat at the end of the table, Ginny talking animatedly about something as Harry listened with a lovesick gaze. 

“Seems like I haven’t seen you for ages.” Fred smirked, sitting down in his usual chair- the one right next to yours. 

You turned to look at him with eyes that clearly had tiredness weighing them down, “I’m sorry, helping kept me busy, there are more people here today.”

Fred brought his hand to rest on your thigh, his thumb caressing the skin with a calming back and forth motion as his other hand cupped your jaw. He brought your face towards his, your lips met in a tender kiss before he pulled away not before giving your nose another soft kiss. 

“Tomorrow I’m keeping you all to myself.” He lowered his voice, hand gripping your thigh now. 

You rubbed your foot against his shin, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Fred gave you a wink before turning to his food, you following suit, giggling into your mashed potatoes. 

Dinner progressed with stories shared and gentle smiles passed between the close knit group. Sirius talked theatrically, his hands flailing wildly as he told the story of the time the ‘Marauders’ had pranked the entire house of Salazar Slytherin with a rogue stag in the common room. 

“We barely got Prongs out of there in time, Filch was hot on our trail.” Sirius grinned along with a giggling Remus. 

Silence fell over the group as Sirius’ eyes started to water, Remus not far behind. Suddenly, heavy emotion had blanketed over everyone as they thought about everyone they had lost to get to where they were. You gripped Fred’s hand under the table, hoping to ground yourself for a moment. 

Sirius raised his glass of fire whiskey slowly, a tearfully smile painting itself onto his handsome features. 

“To us... all of us.”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@maraudersgirlxx

@famdomhideout

@raabya

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge (it wont tag i am sorry)

[s1ut4harrypotter]

Boyish- Fred Weasley x Reader

Fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: you and Fred have been dating for about a year, but something in your 6th year feels different between you. 

a/n: surprise you get two fics in one day.

 this is based off Boyish by Japanese Breakfast. holy fuck that’s such a good song i don’t think i’ve stopped crying since I heard it. so naturally I wrote a fan fic about it. I will NOT tolerate any Angelina slander on this post, or anywhere on my page for that matter, holy shit she was my gay awakening (fictional character wise) but anyways I almost cried while writing this.

warnings: a whole lotta angst because it wouldn’t be one of my posts without it. not cheating or anything but fred wishing to be in a different relationship while you’re dating, just sad in general. sorta happy ending but not really

Lyrics in italics/bold

You and Fred had been dating for almost a year now. You loved him and it felt like he loved you back. It was your 6th year. Things felt different this year though, Fred felt more distant. It felt like you were falling deeper and deeper for him as he was getting further and further away.

Your boyish reassurance is not reassuring when I need it 

You didn’t know how to feel about it, but he still told you he loved you, so you figured you were just being insecure. His reassurance that he did love you, never felt true as you wanted, but ‘no matter’ you thought as you pushed it down. But as the months went on, it got to be a bigger problem. It felt like you and Fred never saw each other. Like anytime you were coming into the common room, he was leaving, and vice versa. You were getting fed up with never getting to see your boyfriend, so you decided to ask George what was up with him.

“Hey George! Can we talk for a second?” you said, as you finally caught George alone. 

“Hey Y/N/N! What’s up?”

You and George were close before you met Fred. Fred saw stepping foot in the library as the 8th deadly sin, but George occasionally found his way in there on quiet afternoons. You had clicked instantly, and when he introduced you to Fred, you were crushing pretty quickly. 

“I was wondering what’s been going on with Freddie lately? He feels so distant this year” you said sadly. 

“You know, I’m not sure darling, I think you should talk to him about it, I’ve noticed he is different this year too” he said, giving you a pat on the back before heading out of the common room. 

Unsatisfied with George’s answer, you decided to find Fred. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it or not. You and Fred still did all the things couples would do, you held hands as you walked down the hall, sat next to each other at meals, and cuddled on the couch at night. But it didn’t feel like he was fully there anymore. At the start of your relationship, he was so warm and inviting, but now you didn’t feel only complete happiness when you were with him. You were upset, you wanted to know what you had done wrong, if anything, so you could fix it. 

And all of my devotion turns violent

You finally found Fred later that day, sitting in the Great Hall with George and Lee. 

“Hey Freddie. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?” you asked, timidly.

“Of course darling, here let’s go to the common room. I’ll see you later boys.”, he said leading you out of the great hall.

Once you got back you decided not to beat around the bush. 

“What’s been going on with you lately Fred? It feels like you’re miles away. Did I do something wrong?” you asked, wiggling your way out of your spot, he had you tucked into his side, but this was a conversation you needed to have face to face. 

“ Nothing is wrong Darling. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off for a bit, my love. Nothing to worry about.” he said with a smile that seemed genuine.

“I’m sorry Freddie, is it about what happened with your mom?” you asked, suddenly feeling bad for even thinking something was wrong.

Earlier that summer, Molly had confiscated their batch of joke products, and they were the only ones Fred and George had. They were devastated.

“Yeah, we just worked so hard to make them and for her to just take them was kind of disappointing.”. The lie slipped out easily, he never meant to lie to you, but he couldn’t tell you the truth.

In reality, Fred was fighting a battle in his head. At the end of last year, Fred was hopelessly- what he thought was- in love with you. But it turned out to just be infatuation on his part. He figured if he waited, he would fall in love with you for real. He did like you, he just didn’t like you the way you liked him. When they got back to school, his old school boy crush on Angelina Johnson came back and hit him like a ton of bricks. He was falling hard for Angelina, and you were stuck thinking he loved you just as much as you loved him. 

I want you and you want something more beautiful

You started noticing things, you’d be looking at Fred, and he’d be looking across the room at something. You quickly realized what that something was; Angelina Johnson. You always thought of her as the prettiest girl in your year. She was gorgeous, funny, athletic, and she just walked around like she was sure of herself. You weren’t best friends, merely acquaintances, but you had always respected her for the way she carried herself. She had the confidence you always wished you had. 

What do you want from me? If you don’t like how I look then leave

The day professor Mcgonnagal announced the Yule Ball you were excited. You were still, foolishly, holding onto hope for your relationship with Fred. You figured that the ball would be the little push he needed to realize he still liked you. But, as I said, it was foolish to hope.

I can’t get you off my mind. You can’t get yours off her 

(the lyric is hostess but i changed it to her for fic purposes)

Fred had decided he would try to push his attraction to Angelina down, he figured it would fade away if he paid it no attention. But the more he tried, the more he thought about her. He was constantly scolding himself for thinking of her, instead of his girlfriend, who was so in love with him. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He thought you were attractive for sure, and he liked your personality, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he were with her.

“Hey darling,” he said one night when you were alone in the common room.

“Yeah Freddie?” you replied.

“I know we’re dating already, but do you want to go to the ball with me?”

You giggled. “Of course I’ll go with you Freddles”

“Oh? Freddles is new”. He said poking you in the side.

The poking turned into a full on tickle war. Fred was laying half on top of you, tickling you mercilessly, and you were laughing to the point where you could barely breathe. It almost felt, to you, like it was back to normal. You had decided to just not notice his lingering stares at Angelina, and hold out hope that he really did love you like he said he did.

While it might have felt like it was back to normal, it was really just the calm before the storm.

The ball was finally here, you had gone out with Ginny and Hermione earlier that week to get dresses. Your dress was a gorgeous, floor length,  long sleeve, y/f/c dress. Ginny had done your hair for you, and you had a simple makeup look. Ever since you and Fred started dating, Ginny had started calling you her older sister.

“My sister is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, as she pushed the last bobby pin into your hair.

“Oh hush you! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the ball Ginny, Neville is a lucky man.” you said, trying to hide your blush. You felt like a princess, you had really felt like things were turning around with you and Fred. You were hoping that tonight would be a good night.

You watched her lips reserving tables

You arrived at the top steps with Hermione. You both looked absolutely gorgeous, and you felt it too. George tapped Fred on the arm, and jerked his head in your direction. As he looked over to you, he felt his heart drop. You were breathtakingly gorgeous, but he just didn’t love you anymore. He felt like a foul git for leading you on for so long when he was in love with another girl. You were all the right things, you were a perfect girlfriend, but he just couldn’t love you the same way he loved Angelina. He had planned on breaking up with you sometime a few days after the ball. He was smart enough not to break it off before the ball, leaving you dateless and heartbroken. 

You both danced almost the whole night. It was one of the last few slow dances, and you had reached the end of your rope. From the outside, it looked like you and Fred were having the time of your lives. In actuality, you had spent the night watching your boyfriend stare longingly at another girl. 

As my ugly mouth kept running “love me, love me”

You were dancing to a muggle song, swaying back and forth.

“Why Fred? You snapped.

“Why what, my love?” Fred asked, confused.

“Why can’t you just love me?” you said, as tears began to cloud your vision.

Fred felt his heart drop for what felt like the millionth time that night. He thought he had been somewhat discreet with his watching of Angelina. You begged to differ.

“What do you mean darling?”. He really didn’t want to have this conversation yet. As much as he knew it was wrong, you were safe for Fred, if you had to have this conversation, it meant you were over. 

“Don’t play daft with me Fred, I’ve had enough of this. For months, I’ve watched you stare at her, I’ve watched you fall deeper in love with her, and further out of love with me. If you even loved me in the first place. I can’t do it anymore Fred. If you didn’t love me anymore, fine, but tell me. It’s been gut wrenching to know you don’t feel anything for me anymore.” you said. 

He was speechless. He didn’t know how to respond, he wanted to deny it, he wanted to tell you he did love you and that he didn’t love Angelina. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, because it wasn’t the truth. 

“Love me” you said, tears now freely falling down your face. “Love me” 

His heart broke at the sight of you, he did this. He made you cry like this, and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it. 

“I’m sorry” was all he said, his voice cracking. That was all he could say? ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t good enough. So there you left him, standing alone, with just a softly spoken “Goodbye Freddie” and a shake of your head.

After about two days, news had spread to pretty much the whole school that you and Fred had broken up. 

After 2 weeks, Fred and Angelina were together. Turns out she had always had a bit of a crush on him too. 

But you were stuck in the same place. You barely left your dorm, only for classes and occasionally the library, Hermione and Ginny would bring you food, so you could avoid Fred as much as possible. Ginny was furious with him, she didn’t talk to him for almost 2 full weeks. You felt as though you were moving in slow motion. The events from the yule ball played out in your mind every night in your dreams, you felt like you were cursed to relive those events nightly as everyone moved on around you. You were so hopelessly in love with Fred that the initial shock of the break up had you nearly incapacitated. Anytime you did see him, you quickly walked the other direction. 

After a month, you started feeling more human. You still felt empty inside sometimes, like there was something wrong with you, like there was something you could’ve done differently. You still broke down when you were alone, you sobbed and sobbed, you were a mess of a person. You’d gotten dark circles under your eyes, but as the days went on, it got easier. You started eating meals in the Great Hall again, you started doing things more with your friends, you started feeling more and more like yourself again. Fred may have broken you, but you pieced yourself back together, slowly but surely.

It did hurt to see Fred treating Angelina the same way he treated you at the beginning of your relationship, looking at her like she hung the moon and stars, like she was the only person in the room, but it was manageable. You knew that you and Fred were just not meant to be. 

You sat on the lawn one day, since you and Fred broke up, you had started journaling. It helped to get out all your thoughts on what happened. It was the early evening on a Saturday, the sun was setting, painting the sky with gorgeous shades of yellow, orange, pink, and blue. You could hear birds chirping in the trees around you. And right then, you knew you’d be ok.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Klaine it up! 2, 7, 12, 21, 50

Okay...I got this. PROMPTS FOUND HERE

2 - you accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you open the lid the wrong way. 

This was not Kurt Hummel’s first time opening yogurt but it might’ve well have been. He was sitting at a picnic table in Central Park on his lunch break from Vogue.com having just picked up a BLT, sweeten iced tea, and strawberry yogurt from his newfound favorite sandwich shop. It just happened to be two blocks down from the Vogue offices too. 

After eating half a sandwich, he found himself watching three young girls practicing their hula-hooping skills. Of course, while entranced by the colorful swirls of plastic, Kurt grabbed his low-fat yogurt and pulled at the lid, and the minute he did another man was being dragged by his golden retriever over to Kurt’s table. 

Before he could stop it, a splash of light pink yogurt was splattered across the front of a bright blue polo. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” they both said. 

Kurt had a lap full of puppy and the man covered in yogurt. 

“She’s really friendly and has a fondness for bacon,” the man said, gesturing to the sandwich. “And who can blame her.” 

With that comment, Kurt pushed his meal away slightly. Out of reach of the dog’s mouth. 

“I usually am way more careful with my food,” Kurt said. 

The handsome man only laughed, “it’s no big deal, do you happen to have a napkin?” 

“Oh yes!” Kurt reached into his bag to grab one. 

“Thanks,” he said, “come here, Lacey.” 

The puppy sat right at his side and waited. Kurt stood up to wipe the yogurt away while the man kept Lacey still. 

“I can...” he started to say but Kurt was already pulling away having cleaned it up the best he could. 

“Lacey and I also share a fondness for cute boys but I don’t suppose...” he trailed off, blushing. 

Kurt still wasn’t used to being flirted with but this wasn’t small town, Ohio. 

“And who can blame you,” Kurt replied, already grabbing a pen and paper from his bag to write on. 

THE REST OF THE PROMPTS CAN BE FOUND BELOW THE CUT

7 - you both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle

Kurt told his dad to pick up an extra heavy whipping cream three days ago when Burt asked if Kurt needed any other ingredients for Thanksgiving dessert. He told him. 

“I only need 3 things: dark chocolate, heavy whipping cream, and almond extract.” 

Burt had gotten everything but Kurt needed whipping cream for both the chocolate mousse itself and the whipped topping he planned to make. Now he was at the crowded grocery store one day prior to Thanksgiving. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. 

 Of course, every grocery store made you walk all the way to the back of the store for dairy products. I’ll just grab milk and eggs real quick, you think, then suddenly you have a cart full of snacks you didn’t need. 

Kurt found the red and white carton fairly quick. He backed up and started to make his way to the self-checkout. Before he could think about the temptation of potato chips, he was stopped by another body. 

They both stopped and shifted their feet to make way for the other. From right to left and back again for several seconds before both falling into pits of laughter. Kurt looked into deep hazel eyes that twinkled at him. He wondered how long he could do this dance just to stare at them some more. 

“That’s my fault, I came around the corner too quick,” he said. 

Not quick enough, Kurt thought, we could’ve fallen to the floor. You on top of me would be quite nice. 

“No, it’s all me,” Kurt replied, “I should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

He fumbles into his pocket for a business card. Isabel’s one-month anniversary gift. 

“If you’re in town longer than tomorrow, I’d love to buy you some coffee as an apology,” Kurt said, handing the card over. 

“Oh.” Kurt watched him scan the card, flipping it over in his hands. “I’d love to, Kurt.” 

A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he should thank his dad for forgetting the cream. 

12 - you kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of your head

Blaine used to hate having an older brother. Growing up, he felt constantly in competition with Cooper’s larger-than-life personality. Now that Cooper had settled down in LA with Lisa, his wife, and had two wonderful kids, having an older sibling didn’t seem too bad.

It was summer break, Blaine was free to leave the confines of his NYU dorm room. He was trying to get lost in the sunshine of California to forget he was about to start his final year of college. Time with his niece and nephew was sure to put any nervousness out of his head. 

They were playing soccer in the park when it happened. It was bound to. Everyone in LA was hot. It was like the law. 

Cute boys and Blaine’s non-existence coordination weren’t a good mix. 

Blaine went to kick the ball and caught sight of a bicep. An unusually pale bicep. A rare sight in sunny Los Angles. Arms, Blaine fantasized, he’d love to see wrapped around him or possibly pushing his legs apart. 

He was sure he tighten his laces. This is why Blaine Anderson didn’t wear sneakers. Missed the ball by an inch but the force of his kick sent something flying through the air directly towards the cute guy: a sneaker. 

It happened so fast, Blaine heard the yell of surprise before realizing his sock was exposed. Once he realized what happened, he rushed over to the man. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Blaine said. “Can I do anything?” 

“Well, an aspirin would be great,” the man teased. 

Blaine sat in the grass and chuckled. Still extremely embarrassed. 

“Not exactly the fairytale I always dreamed of.” 

“Fairytale?” Blaine asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion. 

“Cinderella,” he said, like it was obvious, “a lost shoe as it were.” 

“I’m not Cinderella,” Blaine told him, “sorry to say. I’m more of a Blaine.” 

“Kurt.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I do believe this is yours,” Kurt said, handing over the shoe. 

21 - Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are. 

His dad always said pour your drinks yourself. Blaine became that friend who grabbed drinks for everyone for this reason exactly. He wasn’t sure what the occasion was exactly but his study buddy from his songwriting workshop invited him. It was at some loft in Bushwick but Blaine didn’t mind the adventure. 

Until tonight he had no reason to venture to this part of the city. 

“Blaine!” Elliott exclaimed, pushing a solo cup into his hand, “Drink up, karaoke at eleven!” 

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine headed straight for the kitchen and poured the toxic mixture down the sink. He found a new cup and started reading the labels of the bottles spread out across the counter. Mixers and any alcohol of your choice seemed to be available. 

Rum and coke sounded good. He went into the fridge for a cold soda first. Blaine was happy the kitchen was empty he wasn’t quite ready to start making friends. As far as he knew, Elliott was the only friendly face here tonight. 

He poured the rum in for some semblance of tracking his alcohol intake. The last time he got drunk, he dialed the professor he TA-ed for, who thankfully overlooked that incident. Blaine cracked open the coke and while he poured surveying the living room. 

People were dancing to an upbeat pop song that Blaine strangely didn’t recognize and others were mingling in doorways or sat on scattered sofas and chairs chatting. He caught a pair of blue eyes in the crowd. 

The man they were attached to was stunning. If he hadn’t blinked, Blaine could’ve mistaken him for a marble statue carved by the gods. They didn’t lose eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until the man stood on the other side of the counter that Blaine noticed his hand was covered in soda. 

“Papers towels are behind you,” the man offers. 

Blaine set the now empty can down and spun around for paper towels to clean up his mess. 

Just great, he thought, make a fool out of yourself. That’ll score you some points. 

He cleans up his hand before wiping down the puddle of bubbling coke on the counter. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he continues, “and this is my party so I like to know all my guests.” 

“Your party?” Blaine stutters. 

“It’s my birthday.” 

“I’m Blaine,” he introduces. “Elliott invited me. We have a class together.” 

“Oh, you’re Blaine. From songwriting workshop.” 

“That’s me.” 

Elliott’s obviously talked about him before to this man. This gorgeous, completely out of Blaine’s league man. 

“God, he’s relentless,” he says. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Um, might I ask why? I can leave if there’s an issue.” Blaine knows when he isn’t welcome. 

“No, no,” he replies, “don’t go. It’s just he’s been trying to set us up for months now.” 

It all clicks.

“Oh god, you’re Kurt.” 

“That’s me, the birthday boy. and you are Elliott’s idea of the best gift ever.”

Blaine blushes. “I don’t know if I can I've up to that but if I can have the next dance I can try.” 

Kurt nods. “I’d like that, Blaine. A lot.” 

50 - getting paired up on an amusement park ride that requires even-numbered riders

All of Kurt’s friends hated rollercoasters. Rachel didn’t like heights, Elliott refused to do anything with loops, and Santana, well, she was too caught up in her new girlfriend to be bothered. 

“I only wanna hear screaming tonight,” she told him. 

So, Kurt waited in line himself. Some fun day at Coney Island this was turning out to be. He was so glad he was spending the day with friends. Kurt rolled his eyes. 

The woman directing the ride gave Kurt his row number and moved down the line. Behind him someone tapped on his shoulder, Kurt turned around and found himself looking at a curly-haired man around his age. 

“Guess we’re both odd men out then, I’m the single rider in my group today.” 

“Oh, um, no, my friends were too chicken to even ride,” Kurt said. 

“I’m really surprised Wes and David are good to go. They both hate being upside-down.” 

Kurt smiled.

“I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt.” 

The ride emptied out and Kurt crawled over to the far seat. They buckled themselves in and listened to the instructions to keep all body parts inside at all times. Then, the bar came down and the ride launched. 

After the ride ended, Blaine and Kurt were chatting all the way down. Wes and David trailing behind them.

“That second loop really threw me,” Blaine was saying. 

“I saw,” Kurt exclaimed, “I thought you were going to fall out of your seat.” 

“Downfalls of being short and compact.”

When three more people joined their day at the park, no one questioned it. 

[anika-ann]

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.2

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3530

Summary:  Steve’s been hit hard with the events involving bad poetry on campus too. He thinks he knows what needs to be done; but sometimes, what people truly need is a really good friend who knocks some sense into them. 

Enter Bucky Barnes and Penny Cooper.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the Attached series. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: mentions of name calling and humiliation, brief violence, swearing, some angst and lots of talking

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

The friendship between Bucky and Steve had begun with a beautiful chain reaction.

On a cold November day many years ago, a six-year-old Steve Rogers witnessed a pair of stupid boys stealing a girl’s hat and tossing it around and he stepped in; a seven-year-old Bucky Barnes saw two jerks hitting a younger and obviously weaker kid and decided to take it personally.

That day, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers and instantly became a protective older brother, for he recognized that Steve had a brave and kind heart. That day, they became easy friends, because Steve recognized the same qualities in Bucky.

Even if they grew as people, they had their ups and downs, they never grew apart completely and stayed best friends for life – and the protectiveness over each other never disappeared. Which was only one of the reasons why Bucky felt an unbearable urge to punch someone – preferably the idiots who got his OTP into this mess.

Fairly enough, he wanted to punch you a little bit as well for keeping Steve in the dark and hurting him too, but hey – you were entitled at least, you were the target of the jest that the three antichrists came up with.

Hell, Bucky even considered reaching out to you himself since you kept ignoring Steve; not necessarily to scold you, god forbid actually punch you, but just to beg you to talk to his friend.

In the end, he decided against it, because it wasn’t quite his business and you probably knew better than him when you were ready to talk. God knew that seeing you broken and in tears would hurt Steve too and it would only feed his doubts and as Bucky suspected, misplaced guilt.

No one wanted to see that right? Bucky surely didn’t.

He truly just wanted his friend happy and the thing was, you made him the happiest Bucky had ever seen him, even with the complications and ‘controversy’ surrounding your relationship.

So when after days of silence on your end Bucky entered the office and saw a sombre expression on Steve’s face, somewhat more pensive than his recent usual, and a phone in his hand, he froze in the doorway, heart stopping in his chest.

Oh. Oh no, please don’t let that be it.

His heart kicked back in when he focused on Steve’s eyes – they were downcast, but visibly not teary and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Manly men and all that, but fuck, Steve would shed a tear or two if you two were completely definitely over. Oh, and he would probably devastate the office in a burst of frustration.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky hummed nonchalantly, closing the door behind him and making his way to his desk. “Who was that?”

He purposely didn’t look at Steve so the punk wasn’t shy about talking about whatever conversation he had. It happened on occasion, Steve keeping stuff to himself, when he was thinking he was annoying Buck – but joke was on him. Yes, Steve could be annoying as fuck, but Bucky could stand a few emotional talks when his friend was on the verge of losing what seemed to be the love of his life.

“Uhm… nobody,” Steve responded simply, putting the device away. He started going through the papers on his desk as if searching for something in attempt to look busy.

Bucky rolled his eyes. As if that would work on him.

“Right. Try again.”

The rustling stopped, a resigned sigh falling from Steve’s lips before he admitted the truth. “Penny Cooper.”

Bucky’s head snapped to Steve, eyebrows jumping for a second.

He did not expect that answer, but he couldn’t say he found it an unpleasant surprise. When Bucky had thought about contacting you, he considered getting in touch with your best friend too.

And yes, he knew Penn Cooper’s name; hell, he had met her on a sort-of friendly hang-out night where you and Steve tried and very much failed at not being a disgustingly-in-love couple when having a night out with friends. Bucky hadn’t complained nearly as much as he could have, mostly because he was delighted to see Steve so lovestruck for a girl who was evidently just as lovestruck for him.

Anyway.

“Ah, Penny. You finally decided to call her. Good. How did it go?”

Steve didn’t appear to share Bucky’s hopeful sentiment, running a hand down his face and turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Bucky narrowed his eyes; while his heart sank at what seemed to be no good news, he could tell that this was not a mourning Steve. In fact, looking closer at Steve as he approached his desk, it was dawning to him that this was Steve overthinking something he heard from Penny.

Great. That’s probably even worse.

In attempt to prevent a catastrophe in making, Bucky did the only thing that came to his mind. He probed.

“That bad, huh?” he stated more than asked, crossing his arms on his chest. “She told you to leave her bestie alone?”

Steve grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing; a clear sign that he was digging deeper into a hole he was creating for himself in his head. The pit of misery and gloom. The pit of despair.

“Not exactly… I think.”

That was the problem with Steve really – sometimes, he thought. Steve Rogers was in fact known for occasional and epical impulsiveness, but so the gods above help if he sank into a well of overthinking. Because that usually led to a stupid decision, which was practically irreversible due to Steve’s infamous determination and stubbornness. It was next to impossible to talk him out of something once he made up his mind.

“Stop that, punk,” Bucky warned him silently, uncrossing his arms and giving Steve a glare.

“Stop what?” Steve asked with a sigh, as if he didn’t know.

“Overthinking. Get out of your head. It just produces loads of bullshit right now.”

“Bucky-“ was all that Steve said, sending his friend an imploring gaze, but Bucky was not fooled. The wheels of doom were still turning in Steve’s head, inevitably leading to the aforementioned bullshit.

And as Bucky had learned the hard way, once the final stage of decision-making was reached, there was no going back. Not with Steve. Which meant he had to stop that disastrous thought before Steve’s stubborn ass grew it into an apocalypse plant.

Then, Steve’s expression shifted; a minor change, yet all too visible to a man who knew him since he was a kid.

Bucky recognized what just happened… and he panicked.

When Bucky Barnes was panicking, he did things he wasn’t necessarily proud of later, but of which he was certain would work.

Plus, the quickly set-up plan was bound to kill two birds in one stone, giving Bucky’s unbearable urge lasting for the past few days an outlet. Win-win, crisis averted, right?

“Get up off your ass,” Bucky ordered, earning a half-heartedly invested surprised and confused raise of eyebrows from his friend.

However, Steve did not stand up.

“Get up, Steven.”

Slightly annoyed but resigned, Steve rose to his feet, the movement a testimony of how exhausted he was. How much energy the past few days had stolen from him… how much of energy he had spent on navigating through the maze of confusing and self-doubting thoughts.

But that was ending now; Bucky was going to make sure of that.

“What?” Steve sighed, clearly expecting more of the pep-talk, possibly more intense since he was asked to stand upright.

He was wrong.

Sorry, Steve.

Like a lightning, Bucky’s fist shot up to Steve’s nose and connected with it with a snap.

Steve stumbled back into the chair, barely catching himself and his nose, staring on Bucky wide-eyed and hurt.

To be fair, Bucky was hurting too – fuck, he forgot how punching people without boxing gloves felt.

“The fhuck-“

“-is wrong with you?!” Bucky finished as he was wondering the same, shaking his hand in hopes to distract himself from the pain.

For a brief second, satisfaction flashed in Steve’s eyes; but Bucky could tell that his get-out-of-your-head technique worked, so he was pretty satisfied himself. Not to mention that Steve probably felt that punch in the back of his skull, having literally rocked his world.

“I wah jugh godda hask!” Steve mumbled, checking the fingers hovering around his nose for blood, frowning as they indeed stained in some crimson – but nothing terrible, Bucky thought.

Then again, he wasn’t the one with cracked nose.

“Outta your head now?” he asked, unable to hide all of his smugness.

Steve frowned at him, clenching his jaw, but didn’t try to punch him back as he probably realized which purpose the unexpected and unusual violence served.

“Bhacky, wah ta hell-?”

“Right before I punched you – you decided to give up on her, didn’t you?” Bucky questioned, being 95% sure about it. Steve’s face told him it should have been 100%. Idiot. Sad and having the right, but still an idiot. “The Steve Rogers I know wouldn’t give up.”

“How did you even-?” Steve asked incredulously, not trying to deny it, not even with his words.

As if Bucky still needed words with him. He knew him almost better than himself.

Also, it was funny how quickly Steve’s punch-induced mumble disappeared.

“You kidding? You’re acting like I didn’t know you since you were six. And during all that time, I didn’t see you give up, not fucking once!”

The slight raise in volume of Bucky’s voice stirred something in Steve – or perhaps it was the accusatory tone by which Bucky was shamelessly trying to provoke a reaction. Because really, Steve desperately needed to leave his overactive brain behind and experience some new emotion besides pure misery and guilt. Anger was okay, Bucky supposed – not great, but okay.

“Jesus, Buck! You know this isn’t it! Look at the mess we already made!” Steve exploded, throwing his hand in the air. “What about in the future? She was planning doing her master’s here! And what about in her future job? It was on the Internet – it never goes away! It will stay with her like a fucking plague, a bomb loaded with C4 ready to be set off! They’ll do a background check and come across it and decide that it would send a bad message to people. Or they’ll humiliate her again, mock her that she’s gonna start an affair on the workplace too. She won’t get the job just because of being with me and they’ll call her a whore on top of that--she doesn’t deserve that!”

The name you had been called stood out even in the long passionate monologue – Steve spited it out with so much venom and hatred towards anyone who would dare to call you that that Bucky nearly had to take a step back from the intense crackling in the air.

He watched Steve take a deep breath in silence, frustrated and sorrowful blue orbits watching with a silent plea to understand.

And Bucky did; he really did. To a point.

“She doesn’t deserve that, Buck,” Steve echoed in a whisper.

A whisper of a broken man, torn between seeking his own happiness on expense of someone else’s and doing what was right in his mind.

Bucky reciprocated the stare, simultaneously impressed and unimpressed as his mind had already put together what Steve had been thinking before saying it out loud. Steve’s speech only confirmed his fears of how Steve would twist what was happening into something he was to be blamed for completely... and would come up with doomsday scenarios.

Except there were always two people (well, sometimes more), when it came to this sort of thing, weren’t there? Two people who were equally participating in this relationship, both very much willingly.

“…you done?”

The plea in Steve’s eyes seemed to deepen before he averted Bucky’s gaze in shame.

Like Steve should be ashamed for the crimes against human decency others committed. Crimes like writing bad poetry and putting in on walls.

“No. You know what else is there. I know you know.”

Yes, Bucky knew.

“You bet your perfect dramatic ass I do, Rogers. I figured they weren’t exactly love letters, because you have zero poker face. How many times? What did they call you? A perv? A molester?” Bucky grinded his teeth, the urge to hit someone returning instantly, hungry and thirsty for blood – and Steve’s nose wouldn’t do this time. He needed a real asshole so he could feel like he made a difference.

Bucky was aware that Steve had started receiving the hate letters almost as soon as the whispers about the relationship started. He had never said a word about them to Bucky and at first, Bucky had been thinking they might have been love letters from someone else, causing him to frown, because in which universe wanted Steve someone unhappy, let alone because of him?

But it soon dawned to him; precisely because Steve hadn’t shared them. Not with Buck and not with you, he suspected. He couldn’t decide which was worse.

“…among other things,” Steve sighed and shook his head. “It would be tiring, it is, but… you’re right. I don’t give up easily. That kind of hate letters… those I can handle. But they said I’ll ruin her future too… and they’re right, it’s already started. I can’t-- not her, Buck. I can’t watch her deal with that bullshit. This can never happen again. I—I have to let her go.”

Weren’t they just over it? That Steve’s head was in no state to make reasonable choices?

“You cannot unring a bell, Steve. It’s done. You said so, it’s on the internet. Tony’s done his best to delete the trail, so the digital print is practically non-existent, but it’s done,” Bucky remarked matter-of-factly. “The things you’re saying, they might be true to some extent, not as tragic as you paint them though. The question is – are you gonna fight for the two of you, so the good stays too… or are you gonna leave like that, on that real fucked-up note and regret it in few years’ time when you look back at this?”

Bucky could pinpoint the exact moment all fight left Steve’s body – his shoulders slumped and his expression turned resigned, almost desperate as he looked up into Bucky’s eyes, his gaze speaking thousands of words.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve whispered, averting Bucky’s gaze then, focusing on his desk instead, staring blindly ahead. “She wouldn’t talk to me, Buck. I tried, you know that. She’s done with me.“

Bucky sighed and leaned his palms onto the desk, easing the pressure on Steve’s poor tormented soul by softening his demeanour. In the end, all he was trying to do was to help – no matter how frustrated he was getting.

“Of course she wouldn’t talk you, Steve. She’s probably just as caught up in her head as you are in yours. I just hope that Cooper is working on getting her out. What did she tell you?”

Steve gulped and bit on the inside of his cheek. Bucky would swear he saw a hint of a blush on his friend’s cheek and an unpleasant hunch crept up on him.

Oh no, he didn’t.

“…that I shouldn’t come over so I don’t push her too much. That she might not be responding, but she’s listening to all of my voicemails and reads all the texts and e-mails, so until she explicitly asks me to lose her number, I should keep trying,” Steve mumbled, traces of both hope and shame lacing his voice.

Bucky pushed off of the desk and huffed loudly, looking up to the ceiling and pleading God for strength.

A dumbass. His friend was a complete and utter dumbass.

When Bucky spared him a glare that told the blond what he was thinking, Steve sunk further into his chair.

And Bucky was honestly so so done.

Hadn’t he been delighted at the turn of events and Penny, the best friend, giving them hope, he might have punched Steve again for being a dramatic fool. And for being an idiot.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched, Steven, I have no other explanation,” Bucky deadpanned and then closed his eyes and went to massage the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was starting to build up in reaction to stress. He loved Steve to bits, honest to God, but he really could be an idiot sometimes. “So you talk to the friend, who probably knows her through and through, she tells you this and still you go: nah, let’s leave her alone, let’s break things off, let’s give up. Jesus, Steve.”

Steve held up his hands palms up, apparently lost and clueless.

Okay, Bucky felt for him. But still.

“I don’t know what else to do, Buck. I- I love her. She’s everything I could ever want, I cannot imagine losing her. It’s… it’s making me sick to just think-- but I don’t want to ruin her life either, Buck, I don’t want to-“

“Be happy?” Bucky interrupted, earning a deadly glare from his friend. “Don’t give me that look. I told you. Now, she’s probably still processing, just like you. Her head is probably a mess… just like yours. I know it’s hard, fuck, I know. But try and do what Cooper is telling you and stay patient. Oh, and I don’t know, maybe just-- don’t. Give. Up.”

Bucky had to gather his next thoughts, not at all happy about what he was about to say next, feeling like he was undermining the message he was trying to get through. But he believed that Steve needed to hear that too – his righteous side would love it, in fact.  

“And then, let her make the choice. It will hurt like a bitch if she decides to break up, but at least you won’t be making her choice for her. I think there’s a fair chance that she’ll come around. She likes you a lot too, you know.”

“She said anything to you?” Steve’s head snapped up automatically, his face lighting up with a hint of an eager smile.

Hadn’t he been so cute, Bucky would have rolled his eyes at him. Instead, he shared his observation that took zero effort to gain. Everyone who had at least one functioning eye would notice… which included Fury. Anyway-

“She didn’t have to. It’s written all over her face, in her body language. Shit Steve, you practically live together, how can you even doubt her feelings for you? I thought you were like… soulmates almost. Shared everything and stuff…” Which lead him to another thought, a brief surge of fear that there was one thing that might complicate this matter further if possible. “But she doesn’t know about those ‘love’ letters, does she?”

“God, of course not!”

“Good, then she can make a decision to overcome this on her own, just like you decided to deal with your problem alone,” Bucky offered and a smile slowly spread on his lips. “Just… share it with her once things are a bit calmer, will ya’? You don’t want her to find out on her own.”

Steve mirrored his expression, the tension in his body visibly easing. Bucky could kiss Penny Cooper at that moment. Hell, maybe he would the next time he saw her, just because.

“…you really think I should keep trying?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, but obviously knowing the answer already, seeing as his bashful smile widened.

Really?!

“Steven, my hand hurts, don’t make me punch you again.”

“…point taken,” Steve chuckled, turning his palms to Bucky in a show of meaning no harm. And not wanting to get hit again, probably. “I can’t believe you hit me.”

Bucky had to admit that it wasn’t his brightest moment – but hey, it worked, so guess it was sort of a genius move after all.

His eyebrows jumped suggestively, teasing. “Didn’t think I’d see the day you’ll be on the receiving end of the infamous Barnes’ super-jab.”

“Oh, quit bragging.”

“Blah blah blah, you’re just mad because my fists are like made of iron,” Bucky exclaimed, clenching them and showing them off, causing another chuckle bubble in Steve’s chest.

Bucky’s heart jumped in joy – it was like gift from heavens to see Steve like this after the days of gloom.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

“Thank you,” Steve retorted in the same manner, but Bucky read honest gratitude in the two simple words.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with the similar simplicity and depth they both understood. “Drinks?”

“God, yes.”

“No hard liquor tho, we need you in good shape when your girl calls you back,” Bucky pointed out, satisfied when Steve’s smile widened a fraction more.

“You got yourself a deal, Buck.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

The night before graduation ceremony, Steve forwarded one of the strangest texts he had ever received to Bucky: Come. Incognito. Blend with the crowd till you get a signal.

Steve apparently wasn’t sure what was your best friend trying to say – or he rather had no clue why would she ask him to do that, why come to the graduation (which made him hopeful) and why in secret (which confused the heck out of him).

He and Bucky agreed that Steve should listen to the advice though; what did he have to lose anyway?

Few minutes before midnight, Steve sent a simple answer: OK.

Several moments later, somewhere in the campus, another phone beeped on a young woman’s nightstand.

Operation: Morons is on.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 3 (final for Attached: Hurtful Words)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading! 

It got a bit out of hand... I really had planned this to be a two-shot for the series, but my usual longwinded writing got in the way. I hope that’s okay and that you liked the Steve-Bucky bro moment at least a bit :)

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 68

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It was one of those old crush dreams. And I could tell it was a dream. It had Weiss in it and she was wearing her old Beacon era outfit so I knew it was fake. That it wasn't real. It put the dream in that odd category of semi-lucid.

I was dealing with the Boarbatusk in Ports's old classroom. I was using my old sword. I felt small as I fought it.

"Save that kid!" Weiss shouted down at me. It was disorientating like she was shouting through molasses. "Jaune, save him."

I turned away from where she was alone in the seats calling to me. There was this kid down in the pit with me. I couldn't make out his face. It was that kind of dream. Colors blurred and I slew the professor's Boarbatusk.

Instead of dissolving into ash it turned into a matted mess of worms and centipedes. They overran the kid who called out something as a centipede slid over his wrists and locked tight.

I took a step forward but my legs got wrapped up by one of the Grimm worms. It wrapped over my flesh and the slime it left behind stung me.

A centipede wrapped around both my wrists and locked tight. It looked at me. It made a smug, Grimm face at me.

I tried to scream as the bugs ran over my body.

I woke up trying to scream but it only came out as a meek groan. I couldn't move and my wrists and legs still burned where the bugs had touched me.

I was awake enough to know what I was going through. Sleep paralysis, they called it. I drooled on myself a little and couldn't shut my mouth as I lay in the cot they'd stuck me in.

I waited and eventually I was able to move again. I sat up. An orderly came by in the hospital. They had to check on us every thirty minutes just in case one of us tried to commit suicide. That was the kind of ward I was stuck in. It seriously sucked.

I stood up, tired of being watched from the doorway when the nurses came by. They hadn't taken my armor or my huntsman clothes. That told me that they wanted me comfortable. Just so long as I wasn't dangerous.

I was still dangerous. I had my gods damn semblance. Nothing could take that from me.

I striped the clothes off and hung it all next to the sink as I stepped into the in suite shower and washed myself down. I felt fucking disgusting and my dream had left me shaking. My wrists and legs burned still.

Sleep didn't even hit the same anymore.

I couldn't trust it. I couldn't trust in my mind while I rested. I wasn't allowed to rest. It fucking sucked. Plus they took my weed from me and I hadn't had the chance to talk to a doctor who could prescribe something real for me.

All I had was reality. Cold and sober even in the hot shower. At least Neo could bust me out anytime I wanted, basically. They'd taken my scroll too so I couldn't call her but she'd be around. I might just take her up on it, too.

They had me locked in this place. This hospital had us under watch from the doorways at all times even through the night so my rest wouldn't have been restful even if I didn't have the nightmares.

I scrubbed at my eyes hard and thought about the people I was doing this for. Ruby. Weiss. Yang. Blake. My old friends. I had to give this a try otherwise I was a coward. Otherwise I wanted to be sick.

I picked at the inside of my ear as I stood in the shower. I could feel things crawling around beneath my skin. The shower water pounded against the ground and with it came the whispering sound of Mother's voice.

“Come to me… lend me your strength…”

I shuddered.

“I have a favor to ask you, child. Run. Run away.”

I wanted to slam my head into the shower tile wall. I hosed myself off with the little soaps they'd provided me and tried to relax as best as I could. It wasn't working so great. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to smoke. I wanted to die. I wanted to see my friends.

My feelings were all bottled and mixed up into a hue of utter nothingness.

It was still fairly late and I was sure I wouldn't get any more sleep tonight. Nothing good would happen to my thoughts if I did. That was when she got me. While I was sleeping I was vulnerable to her.

I was so fucking unsafe and had been for a long time. A month or more. Ever since that day I'd murdered my own friends nothing had gone my way. The things I'd learned about myself only dragged me down.

I hated it. I hated being alive. For the thousandth time I cursed Merlot who'd doomed me to this existence without a care in the world. My creator… I would make him pay. He would suffer for bringing me into this world and dooming me to be tortured so. I could feel her fingers on the surface of my mind.

They were surgical and touched me so gently but they were there, digging deep into my thoughts like tentacles. It would feel so good to give in to them. It could be everything I ever wanted.

"Mr. Arc? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I called out to the nurse outside of the bathroom. "I'm the same as I've always been," I whispered in a quieter tone.

I could get through this. I was a hunter damnit. That meant something to me.

Does it?

The voice questioning me was my own. And it had a good point. All my dreams about being a hunter were fake. It was as fake as my name. It was given to me by an alien goddess.

She was working her way into me. She was breaking me down. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it up. It felt like water against a rock. Eventually it would erode. Except the rock was my mind. It was my psyche pit against hers.

"Can I get you anything Mr. Arc?"

"Something to help me relax and sleep?" I asked back.

"Just a moment." The male nurse walked away. He came back and placed a pill on a counter. "It's Clonazepam, just let it dissolve under your tongue. It should help with anxiety and sleep."

"Thanks," I breathed.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I savored the rough feel of the towel against my skin. The cloth was low quality and boy it felt good. I took the pill and let it dissolve under my tongue. It was incredibly sweet to the taste. I swallowed.

I immediately felt a little more relaxed but it was a bit more relaxed about being mind raped. There was only so much the drugs could do, surely. I was in it for real and I was in deep.

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"So tell me about what brings you in here Mr. Arc." My counselor was a woman. Middling height with brown hair and green eyes. She looked trustworthy. A strong jaw and high cheek bones made her classically good looking, too. She was maybe fifty, maybe a bit older. She didn’t have the good looks of a hunter, though.

Dr. Caulbaugh was her name. And after a short introduction I was supposed to share with her my deepest darkest secrets. It was necessary for this thing to work.

"The general didn't tell you anything?" I asked. We were locked alone in a room. If I so chose I could rip her in half. Probably not a good sign that I was thinking like that. But I was.

"No, he didn't. It's up to you what you share with me. But the more honest you can be the better we can make things for you." She smiled at me and picked a pen at the corner of her mouth. An actual pen as opposed to a data pad.

"And you work with hunters?" I asked.

"Primarily. My background is in trauma victims. The overlap, I think, would surprise you."

“Not really.” As far as trauma went hunters had to be up there. Between killing people and watching their friends die day in and day out there was a lot of trauma to be had. I maybe knew a thing or two about that. I nodded and flushed out my half cape in the chair. I swept it behind me."That's why you lot let me keep my armor and clothes."

"Hunters are more comfortable in their wear. And armor isn't exactly a threat." She smiled again, trying to disarm me. That's the real reason she let me keep my cloak, armor, and clothes. That's the real reason I wasn't in a gown.

I kept nodding anyway.  

"Please, tell me about yourself, Mr. Arc."

"My father was a test tube and my 'mother,'" I gave the word quotation marks. "Was an incubator. I was created in a laboratory by a scientist named Merlot from the genetic material of a woman named Salem. My other mother."

"You're serious?" Her jaw dropped a little. It shouldn't have been outside the range of possibility. Especially in a technophilic place like Atlas.

I nodded again.

"Okay." She started writing.

"I'm biologically twenty but I'm chronological three or four."

"Oh my gods." She swore a little. She seemed a little shocked. I had been too, though. So there was that.

"Yeah. I joined Beacon academy when I was 'seventeen.' I was there when the academy went down. My partner was killed in the action. Her name was Pyrrha."

"Okay." She murmured scrawling at her clipboard.

"I killed for the first time maybe nine months after that. I just ripped this bandit in half."

"How many people have you killed?"

"I've lost count. Maybe a hundred. Maybe more," I confessed. "A lot of people."

"Okay. Alright." She kept writing frantically. "You're very young to have such a high body count."

"You've met other four year olds with a higher body count than me?" I laughed.

"N-no."  She mumbled. She picked the pen at the corner of her mouth. A nervous habit, maybe.

"Sorry. Bad joke."

"No, please go on."

"I was there when Haven was attacked. A month ago or so. Not sure if you heard about it."

"I hadn't…"

"I'm sure some details are classified. But while I was there my Mother, Salem took control over my mind. She made me kill two of my friends."

"You mean, like with a semblance?"

"Kinda," I shrugged. "I bet details about my Mother are classified above top secret. I'm sure I can't share much with you."

"That's alright."

"And ever since then I've had tactile, visual, and auditory hallucinations. I hear her voice. I see shadows. I feel bugs crawling around in my face and in my eyes."

"I see. I see. Then what happened after Haven?"

"I found my 'father's' laboratory. That's where I learned the truth about me. I had fake memories, you see. Then I came here."

"From Mistral?"

"I snuck into the country. Report me."

"I'm not going to report you."

"I was so worried you would," I said facetiously. "So what do you think, doc? Do I have PTSD?"

"Almost certainly," she was still writing very quickly. "Mr. Arc you have quite the tale to tell."

"Do I make your list of top ten weirdest patients or what?"

"You just might." She laughed. "Have you ever tried to take your own life?"

"Just after I killed my friends at Haven I tried to kill myself."

"What happened?"

"Couldn't focus. My aura wouldn't let me." I squeezed a fist as I recalled the memory. I inhaled deeply and tried to relax like I was about to try it again now.

"I see. I want to run through some mood scales with you. Is that alright?"

"Sure." I shrugged. I had no idea what those were.

"Now I want you to tell me if you've experienced these things over the past month. If you've experienced it all of the days, most of the days, half of the days, a few of the days, or none of the days."

"Shoot."

"Feeling down, depressed or hopeless?" She asked.

"All of the days."

"Feeling like a failure, like you've let yourself down?" She went on.

"All of the days. My father classified me as a failure of an experiment, even."

"Feeling like you'd be better off dead or having thoughts of hurting yourself?" She was unrelenting.

"All of the days."

"Poor appetite or the reverse, over eating?"

"A few of the days."

"Poor sleep or the opposite, getting too much sleep?"

"All of the days."

"Which one?"

"I have nightmares from Mother. I can't sleep. I'm even afraid of sleeping. She gets me while I sleep."

She wrote notes on her clipboard. "How have you been sleeping since you arrived?"

"Poorly."

"Okay, I'll prescribe you something for that. Next scale. Moving too slow, to the point someone would have noticed or the opposite, being more fidgety than usual?"

"None of the days."

"Fear or worrying about a great many subjects?"

"All of the days."

"Well Mr. Arc…"

"What? Never had a mind controlled patient before?"

"I can't say that I have. It seems to me you don't believe I'll be able to treat you."

"That's because I'm not actually crazy. I have someone else in my head."

"I don't think you're crazy Mr. Arc. That's not what PTSD is. I'm going to get you started on some of our atypical antipsychotics. They'll help stabilize your mood and you should notice the effects immediately."

"Which one?"

"It's called Asenapine. Have you heard of it?" She asked.

"No." I shook my head. I hadn't heard of any of the medications. I was no expert. My brain was in this woman's hands. I had to just trust her.

"Well it should help stabilize you. I want to run a genetics test on you to see which medications you'll respond best to in the meantime."

"I'm willing to bet my genetics are classified."

"Because of your origin?"

"Yeah. Because of my creation."

"Well I'll see about getting through on those. In the meantime I'm keeping you on Clonazepam and Asenapine."

"And you think that'll help?"

"Well it's not an exact science but we should be able to find a medication combination that works for you," she returned.

"We'll see, doc. I'm told you're who I should talk to about being released. About getting my weapon back, too."

"You hunters are all about getting your weapons. You're not ready to leave here, Mr. Arc. I'm putting you in for a three day hold."

"Three days?"

"Three days minimum. It's my professional opinion that you need serious help. You don't need a weapon in your hands right now."

"I could be doing real serious good. I could be saving lives."

"You could also be taking them."

"That's the job. That's what hunters are for. Let alone what I am for. I was made to kill people. I think. I’m not sure."

"You mentioned your friends. What were their names?"

"Ren and Nora." She looked over her board at me, looking deadly serious.

"Unless you want there to be more like that you'll remain calm and go through the therapies I recommend."

"Very well."

"You still seem doubtful. That sort of obstinacy is counter productive to your treatment. A large part of it is your belief."

"I'm being mind controlled. There's no cure for that. And the things I am? Where I came from? That shit's permanent."

"This mind control event is where your psychosis started? It's why you resorted to marijuana?"

"Maybe. There might have been psychosis before.."

"Then let us help you Mr. Arc. This isn't forever. You'll be back out in the field. It's my firm belief that your stay here is temporary. Have faith in the treatments. I think we can make some serious progress with your psychosis."

"I agreed to this in the first place."

"Then have faith. You're not doomed, Mr. Arc."

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-WG

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Prologue (PG-13, Romione)

Now, for something totally different...

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 1/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday.

Thank you to adnei for all of her beta feedback!

While I really enjoy Legally Blonde, it has some things that need a bit of updating or calling out in the year 2021. This fic will attempt to do those things but not lose the fun and fluffiness of the concept.

Also... I love the pop culture/time capsule references of the movie so plan to see that same vibe in this fic. If any of them are unclear to you, let me know in the comments because I love to talk pop culture!

Finally, lots of our favorites are scheduled to appear throughout the story - I eagerly anticipate all guesses as to who will be who!

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter or Legally Blonde or any of their characters are owned by me and are not being used for profit.

Link to AO3 or click below to read more.

“Hey Tim!” Ron Weasley shouted, raising his hand to greet the guy behind the coffee cart but not breaking his stride.

“Hey Ron! Thanks for that recommendation. She loved it!”

Ron grinned and kept on running his recreational route that wove through the Los Angeles campus of California University. Even though his cross country career had come to an end with the conclusion of his senior season this fall, he didn’t intend to let his personal records slip. In fact, he was almost working harder. If everything went according to plan tonight, he planned to be competing in the iconic Boston Marathon next April.

“Ron! We still on to study tomorrow?” shouted his chem lab partner Kelsey as he strode past her.

“Yep! We’re going to rock that test out!”

“Hi Ron!” he heard a few female voices chorus together as he passed the Zeta Beta house. Several girls were doing yoga out on the front lawn.

“Great form ladies!” he yelled back, grinning as he heard the giggles.

He grabbed his shirt to wipe his forehead and glanced at his watch. 4:30. He was approaching the house and he had time to do some cool down stretches, shower, check that they had enough brothers to cover the Animal Aid fundraiser tomorrow, send his Econ professor his problem set, and dress for dinner before he had to leave for the Delta Nu house.

He slowed to a jog as his feet hit the driveway. He took the porch steps two at a time before entering the house. Immediately, he was greeted by a snort.

“Pig! Good boy,” he greeted, scratching the pug behind his ears.

“Come on boy,” he said, starting up the house stairs to his room, Pig following dutifully behind. As president, he lucked out with his own room with an en-suite bathroom but as was typical for his life, it wasn’t empty.

“Hey brother brother!” two voices said.

Ron rolled his eyes at the twins. “That joke will never be funny.” Fred and George grinned, one sprawled on his bed and one in his desk chair.

“We just have this last semester to even make the joke. Afterwards, it’ll be pathetic,” Fred said.

“That 40k is so close I can taste it,” said George.

His twin brothers were two years older than him, however, they’d dropped out after their sophomore year to open a retail shop selling joke and novelty items. They quickly realized they were more interested in conducting their own research and development; manufacturing their own products to distribute and sell. It was certainly more profitable. In order to get the seed money, they returned to college after two years. Their schooling, like Ron’s, was financed by his Aunt Muriel and upon receiving their bachelors degree, Muriel also handed over a $20,000 cash gift. The crotchety old broad put a lot of value on their schooling.

“And little Ronniekins is going to spend his on a girl,” Fred teased. It was then that he noticed Fred was fiddling with the small gray ring box that had previously been hidden in Ron’s sock drawer. He moved to snatch it back but Fred tossed it across the room to George.

Ron frowned. “First, I’m not spending it all on a girl. Part of it will be for the wedding and the rest I’ll save for a down payment on a house. Maybe not in Boston because we may not stay there after she finishes law school.”

“Oh yes, Bah-stan,” George mocked in a truly terrible accent.

“Yes. She’s sure that it’ll happen. She’s a legacy or something like that. I hope so because I think Boston Beer Company is going to make me an offer.”

“Free Sam Adams? I’ll take it,” Fred nodded.

“Secondly,” said Ron. “She’s not just a girl.”

The twins groaned. “Ugh, Ronnie, there’s no free beer yet. I can’t listen to this sober.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“I have to ask,” started George. “Are you sure about this? You’re so young and it hasn’t been that long. You could still go to Boston with her without getting engaged.”

While it was annoying to get another “you’re too young” speech, it wasn’t often that his brothers asked him a serious question. “I’m sure. She’s the one.”

“Well then,” said George, flipping the box to him. “Go get her.”

A few hours later, he was shifting nervously in his seat at their table at Chaudron Qui Fuitfont, playing with the same gray ring box in his pocket. The dinner course had been cleared and they were now waiting for dessert to arrive as well as the bottle of champagne he’d surreptitiously requested.

“Astoria, have I told you that you look absolutely breathtaking tonight?”

“Just three or four times,” she laughed.

“Well, I might tell you a few more,” Ron said.

“It’s not everyday that you put so much effort into a date. I had to deliver on my side as well,” Astoria replied.

“It’s appreciated,” Ron smiled. “I-I appreciate everything about you. How gorgeous you are, how driven… the past 18 months with you has really made me sit down and focus on what I want for my future, you know?”

“That’s great, Ron,” Astoria said, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze. She glanced around him. “I want another glass of Merlot.”

“Yeah. You know I’m in the final stages for jobs at three companies,” he said.

“Mmm,” she said distractedly.

“Including Boston Beer Company,” he added.

“That’s a reputable company. Although make sure the job isn’t on the Truly brand. They’ll never get the market from White Claw. Mark my words, they’ll fizzle in two years.”

“Astoria, I see my future with you.”

She looked up at him sharply. “What?”

“Yes. I love you. I’m ready to start the next stage of our relationship. Astoria - ” Ron stood up, pulling the ring box out.

“No.”

“Will you marry me?” Ron asked, kneeling next to her.

“No, now get up.”

Ron’s blood suddenly ran cold. “Wha-what?”

“I said, no, now sit down.” He numbly followed her direction.

“Ron,” Astoria sighed. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

“But… why?”

Astoria gave him a pitying look. “Look, we have had so much fun. You’re a great guy.”

“Great guy? You told me you loved me,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low to avoid more embarrassment.

“And I do. As a college boyfriend. You are a great college boyfriend. You’re president of the second best fraternity on campus so you get all the best party invites. You’re on the cross country team so I can tell everyone I’m dating a Division I athlete, but you aren’t in one of those sports where it like, takes up all your time. You had a cool internship, everybody on campus loves you because you volunteer and help and you’re nice to everyone, even the janitors. You’re sweet and you’ve got a great body and you… you know,” she dropped her voice now “always deliver on what’s promised. You’ve been the perfect person to spend the last few semesters with.”

“I… I don’t understand what the problem is. I sound great from what you’re saying,” Ron seethed, frustration clear in his tone.

“I need a man for the next part of my life. Not a frat boy, not even if he doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype. I’m going to Harvard Law School in the fall. Do you understand how big of a deal that is?”

“Yes! That’s why I am pursuing a job in Boston. To be with you.”

“At a beer company.”

“I’m not opening a bar with my buddies. It’s a research and development role at a major corporation!”

“You have a degree in food science,” Astoria replied, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not like we spend all our time eating. It’s a real field. I got an A in Organic Chemistry.”

“Org Chem with Murphy. The serious students take it with Professor Kettle.”

Ron just gaped at her.

“If I’m going to be a federal judge by the time I’m 40, I need to stop dicking around. And I’m sorry, you’re not a Marty Ginsberg.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not an Armie Hammer either. Feels like there’s some wiggle room between those two extremes.”

“You’re a great guy. And I’m sure you’ll be a great husband to a marketing specialist or a pharmaceutical sales rep. And maybe if I was going to go to Wayne State or Northwestern, things would be different. But this is Harvard Law. There are just… expectations that any potential spouse meet a certain intellectual bar. Or at least a social bar. I mean, my sister is engaged to a Kennedy!”

At that point, the waiter approached the table with their desserts. Astoria stood up. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just call an Uber.” She paused and kissed him on the cheek before exiting the dining room.

“Uh, should I wrap these to go?” asked the waiter as Ron watched Astoria leave.

[rmnamjoons]

Love Language [KNJ]

summary: Exactly one year before one meets their soulmate, their love’s first words spoken to them appear as a tattoo on their wrist. When Namjoon’s tattoo appears, however, it’s not of words, but of the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen.

pairing: Namjoon x reader

genre: smut, fluff, soulmate au

word count: 14k

tags: soft dom namjoon, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, just a little bit rough, overstimulation, first time, spanking (only a little), loving possessiveness (i.e. lots of “you’re mine” during sex), like 10k of this is just smut

[read on ao3]

Namjoon was sitting in class when it happened. He suddenly hissed in pain, grabbing his wrist, catching the attention of a few people around him. They all realized what was happening and watched with wide eyes, the professor continuing the lecture without noticing.

Namjoon’s heart was racing. He breathed hard, afraid to take his hand off his wrist. Before checking, he looked up at the clock on the wall — it was almost 10:30 in the morning. He needed to remember to write that down, along with the date. He wanted to know exactly when he was going to find his love.

Namjoon slowly took his hand off his wrist, holding his breath.

He tilted his head in confusion.

It was supposed to be words. That’s what everybody always said. Your soulmate’s first words to you appear on your wrist. That’s all he’d ever heard of. That’s what’s in all the movies and songs about it.

Namjoon’s wrist had a tattoo of eyes. A beautiful, black and white set of eyes, sideways on his wrist, eyelashes long, the expression soft and curious. They looked about life size, one over his pulse on his wrist and the other further down his arm. Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

After class, Namjoon decided to skip the rest of the day, figuring it was a special occasion. He went back to his dorm and spent hours researching on his computer for other cases like his. He found ones where their soulmate’s words were in a different language, which had been his first guess — just that they didn’t speak the same language. But that proved to be a bust.

Not everybody in the world had a soulmate. It only happened to maybe twenty percent of the population, but Namjoon had always suspected he was one of them. He usually kept that to himself and chalked it up to him just thinking he was special, as everybody did, but now he had the proof, he had the timing, all he had to do was wait.

Namjoon made an appointment with a specialist. There were people who studied the concept of soulmates, the science behind it, what caused the marks to appear and how free will was connected to it. He figured somebody out there had to know why his wasn’t words.

And yet, even after seeing two specialists, then three — none of them had ever heard of a case where it was eyes instead of words.

It was now only one month away. Namjoon had graduated and was almost halfway through his two year masters program, majoring in philosophy, his goal to get a doctorate and end up a professor. He thought about you constantly, wondering how you’d fit into his life. He bought you things sometimes, though he didn’t know anything about you yet. He’d gotten you a necklace he saw one day, books, trinkets, jewelry, and more, and he wrote you poems. He’d always loved writing, and he loved you so much already, he wanted to write you a whole collection of books full of poems, all for you. He swore he could write a thousand poems dedicated just to the eyes tattooed on his wrist.

Sometimes he would stare at the tattoo and try to imagine what the rest of your perfect face looked like. At first he was scared by his tattoo not being of words, thinking something was wrong, but now he was thankful. It meant he already knew a little of what you looked like. Nothing else mattered — he’d find out why he just had your eyes later. All that mattered was you.

The week before the meeting, Namjoon was so nervous he couldn’t sleep. He hung out with his friends a lot, who all teased him, saying that they were about to not see him for a while because he’d take his soulmate into his bedroom and never come back out. Namjoon rolled his eyes, but he knew they were right. He was so overwhelmingly in love with you, and he hadn’t even met you yet. Sometimes he imagined the first meeting and saw himself hugging you so tight and never letting go, carrying you off into the sunset bridal style.

The day before the meeting, Namjoon couldn’t even get himself to eat anything. He skipped his classes tomorrow and planned to do the same the next, and was thankful that it was almost Friday and he’d have his whole weekend dedicated to you.

He laid in his bed that night, his heart and mind both racing. He was so excited, every ten minutes or so he’d just flap his hands or thrash around and grin, his veins overflowing with the pure excitement and joy and nerves of knowing tomorrow was finally the day. He should be sleeping, knowing he should be his best when meeting you, but he didn’t care. He thought about how this time tomorrow, he’d be able to hold you, hear your perfect voice, touch your perfect skin, see those perfect eyes in person, in color. He was planning on kissing every inch of your body, letting you know right away that he was going to dedicate his life to loving and pleasing you.

His alarm went off at eight. He hadn’t slept, but he felt refreshed, excited, ready for you.

Namjoon took a shower, looking down at his wrist every few seconds. He was extra thorough getting ready today, wanting to be perfect for you. He tried to do his hair nicer than usual, but it didn’t look right no matter what he did, so he went back into the shower and rinsed off all the product he’d put in and started over.

He tried to dress nice for you, but didn’t want to overdo it. He ended up choosing his favorite red flannel shirt, rolling the sleeves up for the warm May weather, and his dark unripped jeans he wore most days. Keep it simple, he told himself.

By the time he was finished, it was almost nine thirty. He had an hour to go somewhere, anywhere, and he had no idea where.

Namjoon left his apartment, slowly walking down the street with nowhere in mind. He walked toward campus, wondering if you were a student too. On his way into town, he passed the flower shop he always walked past on his way to class. He took about ten steps past it, not paying it much mind, before he suddenly turned around, entered the little shop, bought a dozen roses, and then continued on his way. Always best to be prepared.

When ten o’clock came around, he was hit with an overwhelming urge to go to the campus library. He’d spent a lot of time there in his undergrad years, but hadn’t been there much since getting his own apartment and getting out of the dorms. He became worried for a moment, wondering if his soulmate was an undergrad — he didn’t want to be with someone significantly younger than him, like an eighteen year old. He tried to hold on to the fact that it was almost finals, so more people than the usual stressed freshmen were here, studying and cramming.

Namjoon stood in the lobby for a moment, turning around slowly, looking at the different doors leading outside, the large window in front of him, the first floor of the library behind him.

He stopped spinning, facing the expanding first floor. There were mostly just computer stations here, and Namjoon felt himself drawn to the grand staircase at the back of the room. He needed to go up. He had no idea what section, but he felt himself being pulled.

His hand on the stems of the flowers was squeezing too hard, his knuckles white, and he had to focus on relaxing his grip. He could barely hear anything besides his own heartbeat. He made it to the third floor before walking out of the stairway, out into a much less crowded part of the library. Namjoon glanced at a clock on the wall, his heart stopping when he saw it was 10:20.

He knew it had been almost but not quite 10:30 when his tattoo had appeared — he didn’t get the exact time, that day one year ago. But he knew it was so close; his hands were shaking, his breathing rugged. God, you’d probably think he was pathetic.

Namjoon walked slowly down one of the aisles of books, trying to distract himself and calm himself down. He was on the fiction floor, the aisle he was walking down full of older books not special enough for the rare books room. That was probably why nobody was here — English majors were pretty much the only ones who read fiction books, and his friend, an English major, said that their finals were just writing papers, so not much time spent in the library with books.

Namjoon stopped at a section dedicated to Jane Austin, the Brontë sisters, and other similar books. He’d read Pride and Prejudice a few years ago for a class, but none of the others. He wondered if his soulmate liked books like these. If you did, he’d read every single one of them, starting with your favorites.

Namjoon decided to leave that section, turning around the corner of the aisle and immediately running straight into a person.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, jumping back. “God, I’m so sorry—” Namjoon had been holding his flowers up, so they’d become crushed between him and this person, a few petals falling to the floor.

The person turned around, and Namjoon swore his heart stopped. He’d know those eyes anywhere. Namjoon’s breath caught in his throat, his expression softening, his lips parting as he looked at you in awe.

Your beautiful eyes he’d spent so long staring at were behind big, almost-round glasses, the rims thin and gold. You wore a little red sweater with a white collar sticking out. You were staring at him with wide eyes, the same look of recognition and love on your face that he knew he had to have too. You were perfect.

“God,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides, forgetting about the abused flowers he held. “You’re her… I found you.” Namjoon knew he must look dazed, looking at your eyes, your lips, your perfect face.

“My name is Namjoon,” he said, and as he waited for your response, he sighed dreamily, a dumb smile on his face, never wanting to take his eyes off of you ever again. He had no idea now why he’d been so nervous. He knew he’d love you immediately, that he’d loved you already, even before meeting you. Now you were here and everything was all right.

Your expression turned shy, then embarrassed. You bit your lip and looked down, wanting to hide your face. Namjoon felt a surge of emotion; protectiveness, love, adoration.

He watched as you pulled out a folded piece of paper from your little purse. You held it out to him, your eyes full of emotion, almost as if you were scared. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, taking the paper from you, ready to do whatever you asked but not wanting to stop looking at you.

Namjoon unfolded the letter in his hands, awkwardly trying to hold it and the flowers.

“Oh, here,” he said quickly, holding the flowers out to you. “I got these for you.” You took them, smiling shyly, your eyelashes fluttering and Namjoon’s chest feeling tight with emotion just at your cuteness.

Namjoon opened your letter, seeing your beautiful, careful handwriting.

To my soulmate,

I know that we’ll be meeting soon, and I’m so excited to meet you, my heart can barely stand it. I know you’ll be perfect. I feel joy when I think of you, but I also feel fear.

I want to give you this letter as soon as possible, but you’ll probably have already noticed me not speaking. My love, my soulmate, I wish for nothing more than to be perfect for you. Not to get too into disability activism now, but there is nothing inherently wrong or broken about the way that I am. Despite this, I’m still scared of your reaction to finding out your soulmate is mute. I can hear, but you will never be able to hear my voice. I can explain this more to you later.

I want to be able to give you everything, and I know that speaking and conversations are a huge part of a relationship, obviously. We can find other ways to communicate! I can teach you sign language, we can write, we can text, and more. I know that I have done nothing wrong, but I still want to apologize to you.

You’ll probably have questions about me, so I’ll answer some of them now so that it’ll be easier. My name is Y/N. I’m a grad student, I work in the library, and I want to work in the library forever. I am mute due to a condition that affects the way my brain communicates with my vocal cords. I can make some noises occasionally (not on purpose), and I can hear perfectly fine. I like plants and flowers and nature and being outside. I like art, cooking, and reading and writing. I wonder sometimes if you’re a bad boy (in a good way!) because your first words to me are “oh fuck.” Are you a bad boy, cursing at your soulmate?

I can’t wait to meet you. I think about you so much, wondering what you look like, how you’ll react to me, what we’ll be like together. I think I love you already. Is that weird?

Love, your soulmate

PS: You owe me, for making me have to walk around for a year with “fuck” on my wrist, you naughty boy. I work in a school setting!

Namjoon was a fast reader, so he went back through and read it again as soon as he finished it. His eyes welled up when he read your apologies and fears. How could you ever think he’d do anything but love you? He needed to dedicate every moment to showing his love to you from now on. And to learning sign language as fast as possible.

“Princess,” he said, looking up at you. He stepped forward slowly, motioning for a hug but stopping for a moment to gauge your reaction. When you looked up at him, not backing away or showing any sign of not wanting it, Namjoon took the final step forward and hugged you, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair.

“Never ever apologize to me,” he said softly, holding you so close. “Never, especially not for that. You’re so perfect, Y/N,” he said, tasting your name on his tongue for the first time, knowing that name would be said by him so many times in the future in just as many ways.

He felt you shudder a little at that and wondered if you’d started crying, knowing that seeing you upset would definitely make him cry too. But you looked up at him, your big eyes wide and hopeful.

“God, you’re perfect,” he said, bringing a hand up to your cheek. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he was doing it, but he moved in and kissed your forehead, then over your hairline, then your temple, anywhere he could reach, covering you in soft little kisses, holding you close. You giggled soundlessly, closing your eyes, and Namjoon touched the tip of his nose to yours playfully.

At that, you got shy and buried your face in his chest, giggling more as you covered your face with the hand not holding the flowers. Namjoon kept his arms around you loosely, his heart singing as he felt his soulmate against his chest. You were maybe six inches shorter than him, the perfect height, he thought, for easy-access kisses but also for you being able to hide in his chest like this.

Namjoon kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair again. He’d felt so protective of you before meeting you, but now, he felt like he’d kill or die for you already. He’d go through anything for you, dedicate his life to keeping you safe, physically and emotionally. He knew that it was old-fashioned and not necessarily in a good way, but you were his, and he now considered himself your protector. He’d read about soulmates being overwhelmed with feelings like this when meeting, but he’d never thought he’d feel like such a caveman, possessive and ready to fight anything or anyone who’d threaten you. You hiding against his chest made him feel like he mattered, like the entire purpose of his existence was to protect and worship you. The person he was before today didn’t matter; he was your soulmate, first and foremost.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times as you searched his eyes. You parted your lips slightly, and Namjoon had never seen anything so breathtaking in his life.

Mine, he thought, looking from your eyes to your lips and back up.

Namjoon brought one of his hands down and held your free hand.

“Sweetheart, squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no, okay?” he said softly, leaning in again to touch the tip of his nose to yours again.

You squeezed his hand once, nodding.

“Can I kiss you, baby?” he asked, watching carefully for your exact initial reaction.

You smiled, looking down shyly as you nodded and squeezed his hand once. You looked back up at him through your eyelashes, and Namjoon thought he might die. How could something so perfect be his?

Namjoon slowly closed the distance between your mouths, pressing his lips to yours so gently, he almost couldn’t feel you at all. He heard your soft gasp, and could almost hear your voice in it. That noise made him see stars, and he pressed his lips to you more firmly, parting your lips with his own, taking you.

He felt you drop the flowers and grab onto him, and he smiled into the kiss. How could you be this adorable and precious? Namjoon felt and heard your little noises, your sighs, your almost-whimpers, and he moved his lips, parting yours even further, asking permission as he slowly ran his tongue along your lower lip.

You opened your mouth for him, and he felt you squeeze your fists where you held onto his collar, pulling just slightly. Namjoon slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you touched yours to it. He swore he could pick you up right now and carry you off to a church and marry you, or off to a bedroom to worship and ravage you for days. You’re so sweet, your mouth so soft, your little noises too good.

Namjoon moved one of his hands up to the back of your head, holding you in place as he tilted his head, his tongue diving deeper, swirling around your mouth. He took a step forward, and then another, and then your back was against a bookcase and Namjoon’s body was pressing into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he said against your mouth, and you sighed, looking dazed.

Namjoon was already harder than he’d ever been in his life, but he didn’t want your first time together to be like this. He wanted to make it so special for you and to take his time, worshipping every inch of you. He moved his hands along your back and then up to your arms, feeling your skin, pressing his body against yours more.

“Do you wanna go home?” he asked, trying to make his voice gentle, but it’s deep and gravely and rough. He watched as your eyes widened at that, your lips parting again, and you nodded eagerly.

“Your house or mine?” he asked, taking both of your little hands with his, swinging them gently.

You pulled your hands away for a moment, and Namjoon already missed you, but he watched as you reached into your bag and pulled out a small notepad and pen. You flipped it open and showed him the first page, where you’d already written something.

I brought this in case you don’t know sign language, since you most likely don’t.

Namjoon knew he had no way of knowing before today, but he wished that he’d magically known so that he could’ve had the whole year to learn sign language and practice.

You flipped to the second page and wrote something down, and then showed it to him.

We can go to whoever’s house is closer. I live near the Bowman dorms.

“Your place is closer, then, I think,” Namjoon said. “I live up past 5th Street.”

You nodded. You bent down quickly, picking up the dropped flowers, and then smiled at him, holding out your free hand to him. He took it immediately, not taking his eyes off yours, feeling his love and adoration for you radiating off of him and hoping you felt it too.

Before leaving the library, you stopped at the front desk and signed something to one of the other library employees.

“Oh, you found him?” the girl said excitedly, standing up and looking at Namjoon.

You nodded, turning to Namjoon and burying your face in his chest, hiding yourself in shyness. Namjoon beamed, immediately wrapping his arm around you. He loved being shown off like this, he loved you being excited and proud of having him as your soulmate and lover, and he still adored how you turned to him and hid in his chest when you felt shy. He could get so used to this, to loving you.

The other library employee yelled for another coworker, who ran out of the back room. The two of them gushed over Namjoon, and you signed some things to them, looking up at Namjoon and smiling, your eyes sparkling. Namjoon wished so badly to know what you were signing, but promised himself that he would learn as fast as he could.

You finished communicating with them, and led Namjoon outside and down the street. He kept watching you turn and smile at him, your eyes so bright. How could anything be so perfect? Namjoon wondered again, feeling your small hand playing with his fingers.

Your apartment was close to the library. You let yourself and Namjoon inside, stepping in and taking off your shoes and motioning for him to do the same as you set the flowers down on a table by the door. As soon as his shoes were off, you stepped forward, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him again.

Namjoon laughed against your lips, complying with your wants, willing to do anything for you already. He wrapped his arms around you and took the lead in the kiss, slowing you down and setting a teasing pace. You pulled his hair, whimpering, and Namjoon wondered what other noises you were capable of.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth again, this time going for depth, and you opened for him and melted in his arms. Namjoon tilted his head, trying to go even deeper, and brought one hand up to hold the back of your head and knot in your hair. You seemed to really like that, pulling on his hair again and sucking on his tongue, and Namjoon growled into your mouth in response.

Reaching down to your legs, he picked you up and you jumped, wrapping your legs around him instinctively. He put both hands on your ass, feeling you and securing you, and letting you take over the kiss. You stopped for a moment, gasping for air, before turning and covering his cheek and jaw in light kisses over and over.

“Baby…” Namjoon moaned, his eyes closing, focusing on breathing and staying in control of himself.

He heard your soft giggle, and he opened his eyes and tried to look at you, but you hid your face in against his neck.

“I’m gonna get you to stop being so shy around me,” he said gently, teasingly, smiling at your little expression when you pulled back to look at him. “I do love it, though. You’re so cute.”

You crinkled your nose at him, and he did the same back to you, teasing you.

Just to surprise you, he let go of your ass for just a moment with one hand, bringing it back with a soft smack and then squeezing. You gasped, your hold on him tightening, and he watched as your eyes lit up and you looked up at him with wide, almost scandalized eyes.

Namjoon smiled, biting his lip as he looked from your surprised eyes to your parted lips.

“Baby, I want to have a talk before we go any further,” he said, walking carefully over to your couch and sitting down, still holding you and keeping your legs wrapped around him.

You looked at him carefully, tilting your head, questioning.

“You still have your notepad in your purse?” he asked, motioning where the little crossbody thing still hung across you. You pulled it out, along with the pen attached to the spiral, and looked at him, waiting.

“I want you to tell me what you like, baby,” Namjoon said, bringing a hand up to brush your hair back from your face. “I want to know what things you like, and what you don’t like, so I don’t cross any lines. I want to make communication as easy as possible for you. Okay, princess?”

You looked at him carefully, a small smile coming over your face as you processed what he was saying. Namjoon knew that once you two started, he was going to have to pay extra close attention to your facial expressions and reactions, because it would be that much harder for you to tell him to stop if he did something you didn’t like. He wanted to spoil you and treat you like his little princess, but he wanted to know now if there was anything he should never do.

You thought for a moment, and then started writing on your notepad. He tried to read what you were writing, but you pulled it back, hiding it from him and smirking. In response, Namjoon tickled your sides a little, making you gasp and giggle and squirm.

After a moment, you turned the notepad around and held it up for him.

Joon,

Can I call you that? I guess you can’t stop me. Ha!

I already love you so much. Gosh.

Okay, so I guess I don’t really know what I like. I haven’t really done this stuff before. I think I like when you call me pet names, like princess, sweetheart, baby. I like you being sweet to me. I also liked when you spanked me earlier. Is that bad? ;)

Namjoon smiled as he read, his heart swelling at your sweetness.

“I’ll be your first, huh, sweetheart?” he said, fake cocky, and you actually blushed, hiding your face behind your notepad. When you looked at him again, he winked at you, and you hid your face again, your body moving as you laughed.

You quickly wrote something else down, and showed it to him again.

I like you teasing me.

“Yeah?” Namjoon said, smirking. “I like teasing you, baby.” He followed that with a small but sharp pinch on your ass, and you gasped and jumped before realizing what he’d done.

You smacked his chest playfully as he laughed, and he leaned in and gave you a kiss, slowly, which you immediately melted into, dropping your pen and notepad and putting both hands on his chest.

Namjoon surprised you again, this time by biting down on your lower lip, and you whimpered for him, a quiet noise Namjoon already knew he was going to become addicted to getting out of you.

You leaned back and signed something to him, holding out one hand and tapping the fingers of your other hand on that palm. Namjoon’s heart sank, again wishing he could automatically understand you fully.

You repeated the motion, making him carefully watch what you were doing.

You picked up your notepad, and wrote a single word.

Again.

Namjoon swallowed hard, nodding. He brought his hands up and did the motion, and you smiled and leaned in, giving him a quick, sweet kiss. He grinned, knowing he’d learned his first word.

Namjoon listened to you — he leaned in and kissed you again, slowly, and bit your bottom lip, a little harder this time, giving you what you asked and pulling on it, smiling and watching your reaction. Your eyes lit up in delight as he still held your lip, and you let out a small whimper when he ran his tongue along it between his teeth.

He let go of your lip, and you sighed, your breath catching in your throat.

Namjoon stroked your hair again, looking at your eyes and wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. You were so expressive, so curious, so honest in your needs. He felt like you told him more with just your eyes in a moment than most people could communicate in an entire novel. He knew it would take time to adjust to never being able to hear your voice or talk to you in a literal sense, but he knew the two of you would make it work easily. There were so many other ways to communicate, and he was sure you knew of even more ways that he wasn’t even thinking of. Plus, he figured, it would be so much easier for you once he knew sign language.

“Teach me another one, baby,” he said, taking both of your hands and kissing each palm.

Namjoon watched as you took one of your hands and touched your throat, slowly moving the tip of your fingers down to the base of your neck. You repeated it, not breaking eye contact with him, and Namjoon swallowed hard.

You reached for your notepad, and Namjoon picked it up for you, handing it to you carefully and watching as you wrote.

I want you.

You did another sign, spreading out your fingers, your hand up and palm facing your mouth, moving your hand slowly in a small circle in front of your face. Namjoon’s hands rested on your thighs, your legs still wrapped around him, and he wondered if you could feel how hard he was.

You wrote down this new sign quickly, holding it up for him to see.

Make out with me.

Namjoon smiled, not needing to be told twice.

He kissed you slow, tasting your honey lips, waiting until you were holding onto his shirt collar with both hands and whimpering and trying to move in his lap before he dove in deeper. You tasted so good, your lips so soft, now a little red and swollen from his kisses. Namjoon was lost in you, felt your little sighs in his mouth, moved however you wanted him to.

You parted for air, gasping against each other’s lips, and Namjoon thought of something then.

Fingers wrapping around your small hand, he brought your wrist up to look at your soulmate mark. It should fade in the next few days, so he wanted to see it before it left. He knew you were watching him, and he gently moved you to look at your wrist at a better angle. Just as you’d written to him, your wrist said ‘Oh, fuck.’

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, smiling at you sheepishly. “I should watch my mouth, huh?”

You smiled, waving your free hand in a “no, it’s okay” gesture. As if to illustrate that you were okay with cursing, you flipped him off, and Namjoon fake-gasped in mock offense.

Reaching for him, you took his wrist, wanting to see what his mark was. He showed you, holding it up for you to look back at your own eyes.

“I had never heard of it not being words before,” Namjoon said, watching as you studied the mark, running your fingertips over it. You looked at him, shrugging and making a face. “I thought you might speak another language, but I read that the tattoo just appears in whatever language your soulmate speaks. I was so confused. I was kind of worried you were going to be dead or something,” Namjoon confessed, half-joking, and you looked at him, your expression unreadable.

You picked up your little notepad again, writing something down slowly. Namjoon sensed the shift in mood, and waited patiently for you to write. Fuck, why had he said that?

I was scared you were going to curse at me. That you’d say ‘oh fuck’ because you were angry or upset that I can’t speak. I didn’t know what tone you were saying it with.

Namjoon blinked as he read and reread what you wrote, trying to process it.

“No, baby, never,” he said, bringing both his hands up to yours. “Never, never, never,” he said, taking the notepad from you and setting it beside him, now holding both your hands. “You’re so perfect, baby. How could you not be perfect? You’re my soulmate.”

Namjoon watched as your eyes started to well up, and you dropped his hands and picked up your notepad again. Namjoon noted that from now on he would leave you completely in charge of when to put the notepad down, because right now that was your main form of communication.

You wrote again, this time even longer. Namjoon’s heart ached, looking at your pained expression, watching you sniffle once as you wrote. How had he messed everything up already? He knew you were sensitive about his reaction to you not being able to speak — why the hell did he make a joke about it? Especially about you being dead. Jesus Christ, Namjoon was certain he was the stupidest person alive.

You held up the notepad for him to read, and he swallowed hard.

I know my worth and I know that nothing is wrong with me as a person. I am a different kind of person than what is considered “normal,” and the world is not made for me. I am still afraid, though, because of how I have been treated in the past. My biggest fear was that you would be the same, like them, even though we’re soulmates. It was all I could think about at first when I found out I had a soulmate. I need to learn how to trust that you love me and won’t treat me like that.

Namjoon looked at you, his lips parting when he saw a tear escape your eye. He brought both of his hands up gently, moving around where you still clutched your notepad, and cupped your face with both hands. He wiped your tear away with his thumb, and watched how you pressed your cheek into his palm, closing your eyes as you felt the warmth of him caressing you. He moved his thumb on your cheek gently again, stroking your skin, and he hummed to you, making a small noise in his sad attempt to comfort you, wanting to rip out his heart and give it to you.

“Angel,” he said gently, and you didn’t open your eyes, still feeling his hand hold your face. You let go of your notepad with one hand, bringing your hand up to rest over his on your cheek. Another tear escaped from your closed eyes, and Namjoon caught it, stroking his thumb across your cheek still. His heart ached when he felt you hold in a small sob, your expression looking pained, your eyes squeezed closed tight now as your lips quivered.

“Y/N,” Namjoon said softly. He prayed his voice wouldn’t crack, because seeing you like this made his throat tight, his eyes welling up, his muscles tense. “I could never be mad at you for anything. Let alone something like that. You say you know your worth, and I do too. You’re perfect, and I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life reminding you of how perfect you are.”

You opened your eyes, looking at him carefully. You were hesitant, and Namjoon understood why, though he knew he couldn’t comprehend what it must’ve felt like to experience whatever made you feel this awful in the past. He felt a surge of protectiveness, possessiveness, something overwhelm him, and he was about to tell you something stupid — like that he would die for you or lead an army for you or kill who ever made you feel like this in your past — when you turned your head and kissed his palm gently, effectively melting every thought in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching you. You gave him a questioning look, and he continued. “I shouldn’t’ve made that joke about you. It was stupid and insensitive and not funny. I was wrong and I hurt you, and I reminded you of bad feelings. I’m sorry, baby.”

Your eyes welled up again, and Namjoon wondered if he could be any more stupid. All he was doing was hurting your feelings and making you cry, even with his stupid attempt at an apology.

You looked up and must’ve seen the emotions on his face, because you quickly turned the page in your notepad and started writing, glancing up at him with a small reassuring smile, even as you sniffled and wiped away a tear threatening to escape.

You held the notepad out to him, and he read.

I’m crying (now) because I love you and you’re so sweet, you doofus.

He looked up at you, and you made the “I love you” sign with your hand, the one singular piece of sign language he and everybody else definitely knew.

“I love you, too, princess,” he said softly, mirroring your sign back to you as well.

You put the notepad down and brought your hands up to his face, and he watched as you just looked at him, your eyes curious and learning, ignoring the tear still on your cheek. You touched his lips with your fingers, running your fingertips over him, and Namjoon relaxed under your touch. He focused on breathing and calming down, not wanting to cry right now with you watching him so closely.

He leaned back against the couch with a small smile, watching you explore his face. You ran two fingertips down his nose, over the lines of his face, around his jaw, over the swells of his cheeks, again and again over the curve of his lips. He closed his eyes for you as you oh-so-gently touched his eyelids, so light he could barely feel you, touching his eyelashes, the puffiness of his eyes, his monolids, his eyebrows.

Your fingers moved to his dimples. Namjoon felt you giggle a little, which made him smile, and he knew you could play with his dimples even more now that he was grinning. You poked your finger in his left dimple, the one he knew was much deeper and more prominent, and then ran your fingers over his lips again. You touched his lips again for just a moment, and then took your hands off of him, giving him a thumbs up and smiling, signaling to him that you were all done, making Namjoon laugh.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he said, and he almost didn’t recognize himself, his voice so much deeper than usual, like how he sounded in early mornings. Your eyes lit up, and you arched your back slightly, as if you were presenting your chest to him and grinding down on him through your clothes. Namjoon groaned, feeling your warmth and pressure against his erection, and he dug his fingers into your thighs where he held you.

You signed to him again, this time raising your hand and moving it near your chest, palm facing your body, moving your hand in a circular motion in front of your breasts.

“Touch you here?” Namjoon guessed, his lips parting as he glanced down to you, a dazed look on his face at just the idea of getting to touch you.

You giggled, grabbing your notepad again.

That’s the sign for “please.” But you can touch me there all you want, handsome.

Namjoon snorted when he read your words. He copied your motion, practicing so he could commit it to memory. That was definitely a word he wanted you to sign to him often.

“Can I take your sweater off, princess?” he asked, watching your face. You nodded, smiling, your perfect eyes lighting up again, and Namjoon took that for an enthusiastic yes.

Starting at your hips, Namjoon slowly ran his hands up, feeling the curves of your body on each side as he spread his hands wide, trying to touch as much skin as possible. He dragged your sweater higher, exposing stomach, then abdomen, then your little lacy bra. You lifted your arms for him and he threw your sweater off to the side.

“Jesus, Y/N. Did you wear this for me?” Namjoon said, his hands coming back to your breasts and feeling you with both hands over the thin fabric.

You sighed, your head tilting back as you closed your eyes and felt him massaging slowly. Namjoon watched you nod, and he set his jaw and groaned, imagining you picking out your bra and panties this morning, thinking about meeting your soulmate.

The lacy little bra you wore left nothing to the imagination, your hardening nipples poking through already, and Namjoon could see their color and shape through the thin, sheer lace. Without another thought, almost out of instinct, Namjoon leaned in, pressing a sloppy open-mouthed kiss in the valley between your breasts, wrapping his arms around you tight to hold you in place. Your hands came to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair, and he licked a wide line up your sternum, his eyes closed, tasting your skin, before stopping at your collarbone and sucking, kissing, claiming your skin as his.

You whimpered and signed “please” for him again.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, his dazed eyes barely even seeing anymore, and he pressed another kiss to you in the same place, this time leaving a trail of kisses up the center of your chest and then down to one of your breasts. He opened his mouth, taking your nipple between his lips through the lacy little bra, sucking on it as he brought a hand up to palm your other breast. Your hands knotted in his hair as you gasped, pulling his hair harder whenever he sucked or used teeth. He pinched your nipple between his fingers and you made a small noise almost like a moan, and he glanced up at you, seeing your lips parted and eyes closed.

“Do you like it, baby?” he asked, squeezing your breast firmly, feeling your nipple press into his palm. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”

You nodded eagerly, opening your eyes and looking at Namjoon with so much need. You quickly signed “please” and “I want you” to him again, so fast he almost didn’t recognize them, and then you added a third sign. You held out one hand, palm down, and touched the middle finger of your other hand to it. You then pointed at yourself. You repeated the motion, your face desperate, wanting him to understand so badly, and this time followed it with pointing at your chest, then your stomach, then lower.

“What’s this one, angel?” he asked, repeating the sign, practicing the motion.

You sighed, picking up the notepad yet again where it sat beside you on the couch.

Touch me.

You put the notepad down the second he read it, and repeated the sign again, quickly, and then pointed at your chest, then between your legs where you pressed against his erection between both your clothes. You did the sign one more time, this time pouting and letting out a small whiney noise that Namjoon hadn’t known you were capable of.

“My needy little girl,” he said, smirking as he watched you.

You rolled your eyes at him, still smiling.

Namjoon surprised you then, suddenly standing up, holding onto you tightly with both hands. He felt you squeeze him with your legs, holding onto him too.

“Which way’s your bedroom?” he asked, and he watched as you pointed down the small hallway. He walked carefully, holding your body to his, and you tucked your head in against his neck, holding onto his shoulders and peppering his neck with little kisses and squeezing him tighter with your legs wrapped around him. You giggled when he almost tripped over a pile of books, and despite his heart skipping a beat and his hurt toe, he laughed too, holding onto you even tighter now.

Your bedroom was like you. Soft colors, beautiful, peaceful. The walls were light pink, covered in art and shelves. The room had a few plants, a few candles, a few lamps. Your bed was made, your room neat. He wondered if you’d cleaned for him, expecting him to come home with you. He’d definitely done the same to his place.

Namjoon laid you down on your bed, carefully placing your head on your pillow. The sheets were soft and he watched your body sink down into the comforter, and he climbed on top of you, careful to keep his weight mostly off of you.

“Baby, this is important,” he said to you then, catching your attention. “If you want me to stop at any time…” He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something you could do that you wouldn’t ever do normally during sex.

You reached up and very lightly tapped the side of his head three times, smiling up at him.

“Hit the side of my head three times?” he said, smiling when you nodded and did it again.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling you to him, and he greeted you with a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth again, remembering what he’d done last time that made you pull his hair and whimper. He stroked your hair with the hand that he wasn’t propping himself up with, the gesture apparently too tame and loving for what you had in mind.

You pulled his hair, making him look up at you, and repeated the “please” and “touch me” signs to him.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed.

Namjoon moved down your body, taking his time with you. You may want him right now, but he was going to try to get you to teach him the signs for begging. He kissed down your stomach, all over your hipbones, across your ribcage. His kisses were open-mouthed, his tongue tracing your skin.

“You taste so good, baby,” he moaned into the skin just below your bellybutton. “I bet your pussy tastes even better.”

He felt you gasp when he said that, and he smirked, looking up at you. He knew you’d said you were inexperienced, but the look on your face right now killed him, looking equally scared, excited, and turned on.

The two of you made a brief eye contact, and Namjoon, feeling bold, winked at you. You whimpered and let your head fall back on the pillow, letting out a long sigh and spreading your legs for him further.

Namjoon sat back on his legs, pulling your pants slowly down your legs, revealing more of your skin to him. You helped him, lifting your hips and then moving your legs with his hands.

You now laid almost bare before him, your legs spread, showing him your matching little lace panties, your perfect thighs, and your center, which Namjoon’s eyes zeroed in on. He swore he could see your slick wetness soaking through your panties, and wondered just how worked up you were.

You reached out for him, whimpering, and he came back to you without a word. He kissed you deeply, your tongues swirling together, his hand moving up to your hair, his legs spreading to part your thighs further. He was still fully dressed while you were down to just your bra and panties, and you seemed to realize this at the same time he did, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He moved back from you enough to get his shirt off, sloppily unbuttoning it and tossing it to the side, and when you tried to pull him back, he instead moved back down your body, kissing your skin again, this time moving slowly down, further and further until he reached the edge of your panties.

You parted your legs, sighing, and Namjoon pressed a kiss where he could see your wetness soaking through. He opened his mouth, sucking on and licking at that spot until your legs parted even further and your fingers came down to knot in his hair.

Namjoon felt cocky. He slipped his tongue around the side of your panties, pulling it out enough to bite it. He brought his hands to your ass, lifting your hips just enough to start sliding your panties down using just where his mouth was latched on, though he used his hands some to help them off of your ass.

You looked down at him with wide eyes, watching him as he moved down your thighs, dragging your panties down too, and he looked up at you and made unbroken eye contact. The wet part of your panties was still in his mouth, and he could taste your sweet wetness and knew he could drown in you if you’d let him.

He sat back on his legs just long enough to drop your panties from his mouth and tuck them in his back pocket. You were watching him closely, your eyes widening when you saw him do that move.

Namjoon moved back between your legs, kissing up your perfect thighs, squeezing them with his hands, feeling them, massaging them, pressing his face into them. He’d always loved big thighs, and yours were exactly what he’d always fantasized about. He wondered if he liked big thighs all along just because that’s what you had.

“Fuck, baby, you’re perfect,” he moaned, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh, nearly animalistic, just barely holding himself back in his desire to just bury his face between your legs. He turned his head and bit down on your thigh, making you honest to god squeak.

Namjoon turned his attention to your core, where you were spread open and dripping for him. His mouth watered as he looked at you, your clit shining from your wetness coating it. He looked up at you and saw you watching him. Your hands were gripping the sheets on either side of you, your lips parted as you watched him with hooded eyes. Leaning in, Namjoon blew cool air on your center lightly, watching your reaction closely and smiling as you whimpered and writhed and threw your head back. He moved his hands up to hold your thighs apart, pressing your legs down into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he said, sounding more commanding than he’d meant, but you looked up at him immediately, your eyes needy and wanting. “You want me to eat your pussy, princess?” he asked you. He didn’t let you even react before continuing. “I wanna fuck you with my tongue, pretty girl. I bet you taste so good, like honey and candy. Can I taste you, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, and let out a loud gasp when Namjoon just immediately buried his face in your pussy, nuzzling in hard, his mouth open, his tongue diving into you and flicking in and out of your entrance as he sucked up as much wetness as he could.

You were everything Namjoon had ever wanted, and so much more. Your pussy was like warm, wet silk, and he moaned that to you, his mouth still against you so his words were muffled. He moved his lips around, licking and sucking your folds, your entrance, your clitoris. He took your clit into his mouth and sucked as hard as he could, his cheeks hollowing, while flicking it with his tongue. You grabbed his hair with both hands, arching your back dramatically and letting out the loudest noise he’d heard out of you so far, an honest to god moan that made Namjoon want to flip you over and take you as hard as he could.

Namjoon ate you ferociously. He’d never felt so overwhelmed by lust, and he poured his desire into the work he did with his tongue and lips, even moving his head around just to give you that extra stimuli, rubbing the tip of his nose against your clitoris whenever his tongue was fucking your entrance. He drank you like a starving animal, sucking up every last drop, moving his tongue in and out of you as he glanced up to watch your head falling back. You pulled his hair hard, which felt incredible, reminding him of how painful his erection was in his jeans.

Your first orgasm hit you suddenly. You arched your back and stopped breathing, your whole body freezing as you climaxed on his tongue. Namjoon kept his same pace, bringing a hand over from your thigh to rest on your lower stomach, his thumb coming down to rub your clit hard and fast.

He hadn’t known it before, but apparently you were capable of screaming. Your leg that wasn’t being held down moved, your whole body twitching in overstimulation, and Namjoon growled against you and brought his hand that wasn’t on your stomach to the side of your thigh, spanking you once, feeling your skin jiggle and feeling the vibration in his mouth.

“Another. One more for me. Come on, baby, I know you can,” he said against your clit, and he looked up at you and saw tears streaming down your face.

He pulled back then, worried he was pushing you too far, too fast.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked, his grip on you loosening as he watched your face carefully.

You looked up at him, your eyes dazed, and he’d never seen anything more perfect. You were breathing hard, which made your breasts rise and fall rapidly, and Namjoon cursed himself for not having taken off your bra earlier.

You signed to him the first word you taught him, your hands shaking. Again.

Namjoon smirked. He pressed his face back into your slick heat, this time bringing a hand up to slide two fingers into you. You let out a breathy sigh, and Namjoon moaned, your clit between his lips, as he felt your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby, how are you this tight?” he asked, moving his fingers slowly, curling into you. “Keep squeezing my fingers like this and I might lose it.”

He hadn’t meant it as a threat or challenge, but you looked down at him, your eyes lighting up. He felt you squeeze his fingers as hard as you could, purposefully, and Namjoon’s eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned, his cock now throbbing painfully in his jeans as he involuntarily moved his hips forward against your bed, desperate for friction.

“You want me to lose it, huh?” he said, and he watched you smile down at him, a fake-innocent look on your perfect little face. “You’re gonna kill me, princess.”

Namjoon refocused, moving his fingers inside you and bringing your clit back to his mouth. He held you down by your stomach with his free hand, his arm laying across you like a safety bar, and you held onto his arm with one hand, the other back in his hair.

When Namjoon added a third finger, he felt you clench around him again, this time your pussy fluttering as you neared the edge of your second orgasm.

“Don’t cum until I say you can,” he said suddenly, surprising even himself.

You looked down at him, your eyes wide. He could tell you were surprised by that, and Namjoon winked at you again, not taking his mouth off of your folds.

“Tap my arm when you’re close,” he growled around your clit before sucking it back into his mouth.

You started tapping his arm immediately, which made him smirk against your pussy. He pushed you a little further, curling three fingers into you as deep as he could while flicking his tongue around your perfect swollen clit, before he finally let you have your way, knowing too much more of this would be cruel, especially since this was your first time with someone doing this to you.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, his voice muffled, not taking his lips off your clit, and you immediately fell apart. Namjoon moved his mouth to catch your wetness, drinking up every last bit of you, trying to get his tongue inside you along with his fingers.

Namjoon drank as if your pussy was the last thing he’d have before trekking through the desert, moaning into you in raw pleasure. Removing his hand, he focused on you with his mouth again, pressing his face in hard and licking and sucking until your legs twitched and you pulled on his hair.

With an obscene wet noise, almost the same sound as someone innocently blowing a kiss, he gave one last parting kiss to your clit before climbing back up to you. He was almost sad to leave it, but he knew he was going to love whatever you wanted him to do next. Namjoon’s mouth and chin were covered in your wetness, nearly dripping from it, and when he came back up to face you, he watched your expression as you looked at how soaked his face was. He saw shame play out in your eyes, which quickly changed to arousal and amusement.

You held his face with both hands and pulled him in for what he thought was a kiss, instead licking at his lips and around his mouth. Namjoon had never in his life imagined a woman licking her own wetness off of his face, but here you were, his soulmate, making his eyes flutter closed as he almost moaned just from you doing this.

“See how good you taste?” he said, his voice deep. He opened his eyes and saw you looking up at him through your eyelashes, looking like you felt shy. “What?” he teased, moving in and touching the tip of his nose to yours.

You giggled and tried to hide your face behind your hands, but Namjoon caught you by your wrists and held them both above your head.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he said, his lips just barely skimming yours. “I could eat you up.”

You smiled at that, clearly interested in his offer. You wiggled a little under his grasp, grinding up against his body, reminding him of his erection that he’d been neglecting.

“Do you want my cock, baby?” he asked, again surprising himself with how direct and dirty he was being with you.

You nodded eagerly, though, and Namjoon swore he could marry you right then.

“Where do you want it?” he asked you, letting go of just one of your hands. “Your mouth, your pussy, your hands? Where, angel?”

You used your now freed hand and took his hand, moving it down your body. You stopped when his hand was resting on your lower stomach.

“You want me inside you, princess?” he asked, and you nodded, biting your lip. He leaned in and gave you a sweet, chaste kiss. Parting from you, he said against your lips, “I wanna be inside you too, baby.”

Namjoon stood then, finally taking off his jeans. His hands fumbled with his belt and zipper, his excitement almost making his hands shake. You watched him closely, propping yourself up on your elbows, and Namjoon reminded himself that he absolutely needed to get that pretty little bra off of you immediately.

He brought his jeans and briefs down together, his hard cock bouncing free and hitting his stomach. He looked at you, your wide eyes glued to his erection. He almost want to blush and hide away under your intense stare, but the way your eyes looked up and down his length, how you licked your lips, the way you spread your legs further, just slightly, made him feel incredible. He’d started working out in the past year, wanting to be perfect for his soulmate whenever he found you, and it was all worth it, seeing you looking at his body now.

You pointed at his chest, then your own.

“You want me on top of you?” he asked, starting to move toward you.

You waved your hand, indicating he’d guessed wrong at what you were trying to say. You smiled and reached out for him with both hands, and he stepped forward, crawling back onto you and holding himself up.

You took both of your hands and touched his chest, feeling him. He knew he’d worked out a lot with chest exercises, but he’d never anticipated this reaction from you. You tapped his chest a few times, looking at his face expectantly.

“You like my chest?” he guessed.

You nodded eagerly, and then did a muscleman pose with your arms, then pointing at him again, grinning and giggling.

Namjoon snorted. “You think I’m strong and muscular?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, smiling still. “You think I’m sexy?” he asked you, tracing the tip of his nose along your jaw. Your breath caught in your throat in a small gasp with that, and you ran your hands up his upper arms, feeling his taut skin, squeezing his muscles at his biceps.

“What do you want, princess?” he asked you, letting you feel his arms, chest, whatever you wanted. Your small hands were slightly cold compared to the heat radiating off of him, and he shivered as you ran your hands over him.

You looked up at him, blinking your innocent doe eyes, tilting your head a little as you thought. You then did a gesture with your forefinger of one hand and fist with the other that made Namjoon snort. He hadn’t known that one was officially sign language — maybe it wasn’t — but you were signaling to him very clearly and graphically that you wanted his cock inside you.

Namjoon listened to you, ready to give you anything and everything. He stopped only to reach behind you and unhook your bra, carefully helping you out of the thin material and watching as your perfect breasts came into his view. Your skin had lace patterns pressed into it, and he just couldn’t help himself. Namjoon ducked his head, tracing his tongue along the patterns, feeling the grooves and ridges and swirling his tongue around your nipple where a lace pattern was indented into your skin.

You pulled on his hair, bringing him back up to you. Your beautiful expressive eyes conveyed your need to him, how badly you wanted him, and he could never keep you waiting.

“I’m your first, right, angel?” he asked you, double-checking what you’d said earlier, and you looked away from him, frowning and pouting in embarrassment. “No, no, it’s okay, baby,” he quickly added, bringing a hand to your cheek to bring you back to him. “I was just checking, so that I know to be extra careful at first. I don’t want to hurt you, yeah?”

You looked back up at him, your expression unreadable before it shifted and you smiled and nodded. You pointed at him and then held up one finger, telling him yes, he’s your first.

Namjoon nodded, quickly pushing aside all of his caveman ‘taking her virginity’ instincts and instead leaning in to give you a gentle kiss, which you reciprocated eagerly.

“We’ll go slow at first, okay, baby? And if you wanna stop, remember, tap my head three times,” he said against your lips, and you nodded. He didn’t know why he was so into these pet names, calling you his baby and princess, but he wasn’t questioning it. It felt right.

Namjoon reached down, stroking himself a few times before rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you whimpered, and back down. He spread his precum around your slit, where you were still soaked for him, a small act of possessiveness, claiming you as his.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, and you listened, doing exactly as you were told, making Namjoon’s stupid caveman instincts swell again for just a split second. God, he wanted to just take you. He’d always liked being just a little rough in bed, but he really needed to be gentle at first, before he figured out what you liked. He would match whatever you wanted him to be for the rest of his life.

Namjoon lined himself up with your entrance, and he already knew it was going to be tight. Looking down between your bodies, Namjoon sighed, biting back a long moan at just the sight of his cock teasing your slit, your legs spread for him, your body laid bare for him and him alone.

You reached up and took his face with both hands. You made a small noise, one that Namjoon responded to with a low hum, and then he moved his hips, gently moving into you, only a little at first. You gasped, one of your hands falling to his shoulder, gripping tightly and holding on for your life.

“Fuck, baby…” Namjoon moaned, already feeling you squeeze him and pull him further into you.

Your lips parted, whiney gasps falling out of you, and Namjoon watched you in awe. He cupped your face with his hand, holding you gently, wondering how he ever could’ve been nervous for meeting you when he should’ve known you’d be this perfect. He rocked his hips further, being so gentle with your despite all the foreplay. You hummed softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and Namjoon leaned in, covering your neck in kisses, sucking on your skin with his lips, marking you as his, his, his.

You were his everything. He’d known you for maybe two hours now, but the connection he felt with his soulmate overshadowed every other aspect of his life and mind. Looking at your perfect face, the way your eyes searched his, how your hair splayed out around the pillow like a halo, the way he felt inside you, he knew you would be the only thing in this world he’d ever love this much. He suddenly fully understood the scale and weight of all those songs and movies about soulmates, and thought they were not at all doing justice to the way he felt right now.

Your pussy clenched down on him again and he groaned, instinctively bucking his hips forward in one fluid motion, bottoming out and smacking his pubic bone to your hips and then freezing in place. You gasped, your mouth hanging open, and Namjoon cursed himself — he’d wanted to take it slow. He held your body close to him, feeling your pussy fluttering and adjusting to his size, your breasts pressed against his chest, your legs wrapped around him, the entirety of your small form under him and his body pressing down into you. This feeling was what he was made for, why he had a soulmate.

“You feel incredible, baby, so fucking good,” he moaned, biting his lip, wanting so badly to move his hips but knowing you needed him to wait. He could feel you throbbing, your wet pussy stretching to take him, and he thought he might die from how perfect you felt. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as he buried his face in against your neck, but you tapped his shoulder twice, wanting him to look at you.

You signed something to him, what he thought looked like letters.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I don’t even know the alphabet,” he said, breathless, stroking your hair back from your face. He was vaguely aware that he was sweating and breathing hard, eyes glazed over, and he wondered what you thought of him like this, already so lost in his pleasure.

You rolled your eyes, flashing him a smile to make sure he knew you weren’t actually mad. Reaching up, you pressed your fingertip to his chest, and started slowly spelling the short word you’d tried to sign to him.

“Big?” Namjoon asked, paying close attention to what you drew on his skin with your finger.

You nodded, smiling like the cat who ate the canary, and Namjoon laughed.

“You think I’m big?” he asked, and before you could answer, he bucked his hips once, quickly sliding almost completely out before slamming back in fully, making your whole body move with the force of it.

You gasped, Namjoon’s favorite noise, and then you gave him a look — your eyes almost watered, your lip pouting, your expression innocent and fake-hurt. He rolled his hips slowly, smiling as the pout on your lips melted into an explicit o-shape before you bit your lip.

“You take me so well, baby,” he said, watching your face closely as he rolled his hips again, this time even slower, trying to make you feel every inch of him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were made for each other.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing silently, and Namjoon leaned in and bit your jaw, suddenly picking up his pace and smacking his hips against yours, pulling your thigh up higher to take him. You gasped and held onto him as his thrusts became rough and fast.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your jaw, pressing his face against your cheek hard and bringing the hand he wasn’t supporting himself with up to cup your cheek on the other side, his thumb moving down to rest over your throat. “You hear me, Y/N? You’re all mine, forever. Your tight little pussy belongs to me now. Your pussy was made to take this cock.”

What the hell was coming over him? Namjoon wanted it to be slow and gentle and loving, but he couldn’t stop the words falling out of his mouth as he moved inside you faster and harder.

You moaned, and he felt you nodding, agreeing with his words, which only made his hips move faster. He kept his face pressed against your neck, feeling your racing pulse and every harsh breath you drew in. He could hear the whole bed moving with his thrusts, the headboard smacking against the wall in unison with his hips slamming into yours. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and breathed raggedly from his efforts, but he’d always liked working hard to please his partners, and you made him want to give every last drop of his blood, sweat, and tears.

He felt your little fingers knotting in his hair, your other hand on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around him tight. You kept gasping and making small noises in pleasure, and Namjoon pulled his head back just enough to watch your face as he kept up his brutal pace. Your eyes were lost in ecstasy, your kiss-swollen lips parted as you gasped and whimpered, all for him. Your whole body moved with his thrusts, and he glanced down between you and watched your breasts bouncing with the force of his movements, which only made his mouth water.

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, looking back up at your eyes. He watched you try to focus on him, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, much sweeter a gesture than the rest of what he was currently doing to you.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. You take me so well.” He groaned when he felt your pussy clench down on him. “I think you like being praised,” he said, smirking, but you looked like you weren’t hearing a word he was saying, your eyes closing, your mouth falling open. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. He brought his hand down from your cheek to your hip, his thumb moving to your clitoris and stroking hard and fast.

Your reaction was instantaneous — your entire lower body thrashed, your walls clenched so hard Namjoon almost came, your fingernails digging into his shoulders so hard he swore you broke skin, your back arched up into him as your head tilted back and you let out a long, loud moan that Namjoon felt in his core. He kept his pace with his thumb and hips and watched you fall apart underneath him, your third orgasm making your eyes roll back in your head as you stopped breathing, your whole body shaking.

“Christ, baby,” Namjoon moaned, watching the show you were putting on for him. He made his thrusts harder but slower now, slamming into you purposefully, stopping with his cock fully inside of you at the height of your pleasure, making your feel his full length and letting himself feel you throbbing and squeezing him.

You let out a noise that almost sounded like a sob, and Namjoon nearly came just from that.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you could sound like that,” he said, and your eyes focused again as you looked up at him innocently through your lashes.

Namjoon set his jaw, looking down at his soulmate. You were breathing slowly, steadily, your skin flushed red, your body absolutely glowing. If it wouldn’t be cruel at this point, he swore he could go down on you again right now. He wanted to so badly, but he knew you were way too sensitive at this point for that. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could last much longer. He was trying so hard to hold out and make everything so perfect and all about you, but he was nearing the end of his resolve.

He felt you squeeze him and watched as you smirked so that he knew you did it on purpose. Namjoon brought a hand down to where your legs were wrapped around him, palming  the outside of your thigh, before giving your one fast, hard spank.

You moaned, your head lulling to the side as you closed your eyes in pleasure, but Namjoon brought his hand up to your face and turned your head back to look at him.

“Turn over, baby,” Namjoon growled, smiling down at you and watching your eyes light up in delight at his command.

You quickly turned over in his arms, his cock slipping out of you before you laid down on your stomach beneath him. He sat back on his legs between your spread thighs, and he reached out and grabbed your ass with both hands, squeezing hard.

Glancing up at you, Namjoon saw your head was turned as it rested on the pillow. You couldn’t look at him, but you tried to, tilting your head as far as you could. You moaned when he squeezed your ass harder, and then gasped as you felt him kiss your lower spine, then the back of your hip, and finally your ass, between his right thumb and forefinger where he kneaded your flesh. He moved his hand away, kissing your ass again before surprising you with a sharp smack on the other cheek with his left hand. The hit made you moan, and Namjoon’s cock twitched at the sweet sound.

“Do you like it when I spank you?” he asked, his voice low. “Hold one finger up for yes, two for no.”

He looked up at you and watched you weakly hold up one finger, moving it around to make sure he saw it.

He spanked you again, this time massaging your ass gently after the strike. Not even thinking, he leaned in to the spot he’d just kissed and sunk in his teeth, biting your ass as he squeezed again with both hands. He felt you melting under his palms, your back arching so that your ass stuck up for him more, presenting yourself to him.

Sitting up again, Namjoon moved to where he was on his knees behind you and pulled you upward by your hips. You complied, moving exactly as he wanted, and you moaned when you felt his hand move down your spine slowly. He squeezed your hips, grinding his cock against your ass, making you feel how hard he still was for you. You moved back against him, pressing your ass into him, grinding and whimpering and trying so hard to get him to move more.

“You want me to fuck you like this, baby?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You held up one finger again, burying your face in the pillow and letting out a sob.

“Yes, baby,” he said, taking the noise you’d made as a command for him to pleasure you.

Namjoon reached down and lined himself up with your entrance once again, sinking back into you slowly, back where he belonged. You moaned and squeezed him as hard as you could, only partially on purpose, and he moaned and spanked you again.

“Naughty girl,” he growled, bringing the hand that had just spanked you down to prop himself up as he bent over you, his body perfectly curved to yours. He held himself up with that arm, his hand resting on the bed beside yours, and he kissed your shoulder as he bottomed out, feeling himself fully inside you once again, your pussy throbbing and him feeling every heartbeat. It was so much better like this, so much deeper, and Namjoon could hardly see straight at this point, he was so desperate for release.

“Hit my hand three times if you need me to stop, princess,” he said against your shoulder, turning his head and nuzzling his nose behind your ear. He smiled when he felt you reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing tight.

Namjoon started off slow, letting you get used to the new position and how much deeper he could go. His hand you weren’t holding was wrapped around you, holding your body against his, your ass up and pressed to his pelvis and your head against the bed. He moved gently, each deep stroke with purpose, feeling your shudders and whimpers and gasps. You were so wet, so warm, so soft — the only thing Namjoon could think or feel was how overwhelmingly good his cock felt buried so deep inside you.

“Baby, you feel like heaven,” he moaned against your shoulder between kisses, his lips moving against your skin as he spoke. “All mine, all for me, forever. I could fuck you for days and not need anything else.”

You squeezed his hand, trying so hard to turn your head back to look at him as you let out a small noise, whining to him, and he responded by leaning in and claiming your lips, kissing you as well as he could with the angle. He picked up his pace, his hips smacking against your ass, a wet slapping noise hitting your ears with each hard thrust that shook you to your core and moved the whole bed forward. You were a mess under him now, gasping, breathing hard, nearly in tears. You couldn’t think, you could barely breathe, you just closed your eyes tight and felt your soulmate pumping pleasure into you, your lips parted as you whimpered for him.

You brought your hand not holding his down to your stomach. You didn’t know what you needed, but you whined, pouting, and Namjoon seemed to realize what you wanted before you did, reaching down with the hand that had been holding your body to him and rubbing your clit vigorously.

Your whole body writhed, fucking back against him instinctively, meeting his thrusts as you cried out in ecstasy for him. You were so close again, and Namjoon knew he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers kept up their pace on your clit, rubbing it with two fingers so hard he was pretty sure you were going to be bruised there. You sounded like you were sobbing and god, you were loud, your body writhing as he felt you drawing so close again.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon moaned, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His hips snapped into you once, twice, three more times before he cried out, and you felt him spilling into you, filling you up, his whole body shuddering as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. The sensation of his hot cum deep inside you, dripping down between your bodies as he thrust into you a few more times and continued his fingers on your clit, pushed you over the edge one last time, this orgasm much gentler as you gasped and shuddered.

Namjoon was breathing hard and steady, his breath warm on your skin. He gently let you lay down before rolling off of you, collapsing beside you and staring at the ceiling, his mouth open as he just tried to breathe and calm down.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon said, turning his head to look back over at you. You were still laying on your stomach, but you moved so that your head was turned toward him. You had a lazy smile on your face, your expression telling him you were just as thoroughly fucked-out as he was.

You reached out and put your hand on his shoulder, smiling weakly, not having the energy for anything else.

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmured, watching you breathe slowly. He pushed himself up as best he could, moving onto his side so he could face you. Reaching up, he stroked your hair back out of your face slowly, smiling to himself when he could see your eyes properly.

You brought your hand up and cupped his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin as the two of you watched each other for a moment like this.

When you felt you had the energy, you moved onto your side as well, the two of you laying almost nose to nose, touching each other’s faces and looking at each other, smiling.

“I love you,” he said, his deep voice a gentle rumble in his chest. You made the sign for ‘I love you’ with your hand, and Namjoon brought his hand up and touched you softly, feeling the way your fingers were positioned with his large hand.

“I love you, forever,” he said, quieter now, and he reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him.

You settled in against his chest, feeling like you were right where you belonged. You closed your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder, listening to the lulling sound of his slow breathing as he kissed the top of your head gently, over and over, humming quiet promises of forever to you.

[olliedollie1204]

by the book

Virgil didn’t think this day could surprise him further. He was wrong.

Pairings: Platonic Virgil and Logan, Romantic Moceit, Familial Moceit and Logan

Word Count: 3,268

Tags: Librarian Virgil, Kid Logan, building towards eventual Romantic Anamoceit

sequel to my last fic for future reference, bc i’m gay and library meet cutes are ESPECIALLY cute

(Read it on AO3!)

If you had asked Virgil how he’d be spending his afternoon, he wouldn’t have said this.

Usually at this time of day, he’d be finishing up whatever book he’d decided to read during his shift the night before. He’d take his lunch break in the back (which consisted of listening to music as he debated what book to bring in the next day), and by the time he was back on the reference desk he’d be ready to spend the rest of his shift trying to beat his high score on Temple Run.

Today, though, his pattern seemed to be disrupted just a bit. Probably by the fact that a five year old child with a mouth that ran a mile a minute had come up to him unsupervised, asked for his help finding a very specific book, and basically kidnapped him back to the children’s section, where the two of them had spent the last hour doing anything and everything that Logan wanted.

Virgil tried to summon up an ounce of irritation at that fact. He was, overall, unsuccessful.

Right now, Logan was in the bathroom (after giving Virgil an amusingly childish explanation of how he didn’t need his dads to help him go potty anymore) so Virgil was taking the time to straighten up the game table from their activities. Logan had moved on to the library’s Lego collection, so he figured it was alright to put the checkers, dominos, and Connect Four pieces back into their proper boxes.

“Fuck,” he muttered softly as he dropped a handful of game pieces onto the floor. He leaned over to scoop them up, but to his surprise there was already a hand there to grab them.

“Maybe no swearing in the playzone, okay, Virgil?”

Virgil raised his head, giving Dot a guilty look.

“Sorry,” he replied. He always had to fight the urge to call her ma’am, considering she was only a few years older than him.

Dot waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re not used to being near the kids, but something tells me you weren’t given much of a choice today, huh?”

She smiled and nodded her head toward Logan’s book basket on the floor. Virgil huffed a laugh.

“Yeah. You know he walked all the way to the ref desk?”

“I watched him go,” Dot replied. As Virgil’s eyes widened, she shrugged. “The library really isn’t that big, sweetie. I can see your desk from here.”

Virgil furrowed his brow. He straightened up in his seat, turned his head almost all the way around, and— oh, huh. There was his desk, half obstructed by the shelves and book displays, but easily within sight of the children’s section.

“Guess I don’t look up that much,” he admitted. Dot snorted as she helped him close the last box, grabbing them all and sliding them back into place on the toy shelf.

“Definitely wouldn’t kill you to look at the world around you once in a while,” she agreed. Virgil felt a small burst of anxiety at the notion that she was reprimanding him for not doing his job well enough, but her kind smile and teasing tone made him relax just a bit.

“The book club’s just about done, by the way,” she continued, standing up and walking back toward the children’s desk. “Keep an eye out for his dads for me, hon? I’ve got shelving to do.”

Virgil hummed in assent, now focused on watching the bathroom door as he waited for Logan to exit. While he waited, he saw a group of people spilling out the community room and dispersing through the library.

Keeping one eye on the bathroom door, Virgil bent over to move the young boy’s book basket from the floor to the table. He collected the two baby name books in his arms; just as Logan said, they were too big and heavy to fit into the already overstuffed basket.

He glanced back at the door, a sudden twinge of worry hitting him when he still didn’t see Logan exit. He spun around, ready to scan the library to make sure he hadn’t wandered off again—

And immediately Virgil tripped over his own feet, falling to his knees on the thin colorful carpet. He fumbled the books for just a moment before they, too, fell from his arms and slammed loudly against the floor.

Virgil hoped that his face wasn’t as red as it felt, but he knew he was probably fooling himself.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil nodded, eyes on the floor as he quickly tried to pick up the books. “I’m fine.”

“Are you lying?”

This voice was different from the first, and that fact combined with the strange phrasing made Virgil’s brow furrow in confusion. “No, of course I’m not—”

He looked up, and now his face was certainly as red as it felt (possibly even redder), because he found himself staring at two of the most handsome men he’s ever seen outside of his romance novels.

“Um,” Virgil said eloquently. “I—”

His words cut off as the first man (tall, heavyset, with a pair of wire rimmed glasses on his face) abruptly grabbed his arm, helping him keep his balance as he slowly stood up again.

“Did you enjoy your vacation?” he asked, and Virgil had half a second to wonder if he somehow got a concussion before the man finished, “Because that was quite a trip you just took!”

Virgil felt his jaw drop a bit at the… frankly atrocious pun, holy shit. The other man seemed disappointed but not surprised, whapping the first man’s arm with no real strength.

“Please excuse my husband,” he said formally, his dark eyes shining out from his lean, angular face. “He somehow thinks punning at random strangers is both appropriate and appreciated.”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” the first man interjected, wrapping an arm around the second man and giving him a kiss on the temple. The second man huffed, but Virgil was quickly understanding that his irritation was mostly for show.

“My name is Janus,” the second man continued, reaching a hand out to shake Virgil’s hand. “And this is my husband Patton.”

It took Virgil an inordinately long second to respond, but he finally managed to shift the books in his arms and shake Janus’ hand.

“It’s, um, very nice to meet you,” he replied. God dammit, did his voice sound weird? Why did his voice sound weird? Did he get a concussion? “Uh—” 

“Oh my gosh, are you expecting, too?”

Virgil cut himself off as the first man, Patton, gasped in delight. Virgil’s brow furrowed before he could help it, but after a moment he realized Patton was pointing toward him, toward the books in his arms. The baby name books in his arms.

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh! Um, I—”

Janus gave an overdramatic groan. “Please, Patton, I thought we came here to get away from all of the baby talk.”

“No, I know, but—” Patton replied, waving his hands in excitement. “We did this to meet new people with common interests, and look! A new person with a common interest, right?” 

The corner of Janus’ mouth twitched. For some reason, Virgil very much wanted to see his full smile. “You’re right, darling. Maybe if we give our new friend a moment to speak, we can arrange an outing together.”

“Please say yes,” Patton interrupted, and for a moment Virgil considered doing whatever the hell he asked for as long as he kept talking. “Please say yes! I wanna get to know more new parents in the area!”

“We’re hardly ‘new parents’, dear. We’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for years, honey. And not with twins!”

Oh. Oh. The pieces clicked together in Virgil’s head embarrassingly slowly.

“Wait,” he interjected, causing both men to look at him. “Are you—”

A small gasp came from behind them.

“Daddy! Papa!”

Just like that, Logan darted forward, diving in front of Virgil to wrap his arms around Patton and Janus’ knees.

Patton’s face somehow broke into an even larger smile at his son’s sudden appearance. “Hey, kiddo! Are you okay?”

Logan nodded, bouncing on his heels. “I found the books! I found the books!”

“What books, professor?” Janus asked, resting his hand on the top of Logan’s head in a move that was both fond and protective.

Logan reached up, yanking at the hems of his parents’ shirts. “I found the books for the babies’ names! Mr. Virgil helped me!”

Both men paused for just a moment. Their eyes flickered between Logan, to Virgil, and back again; after a beat, their eyes went wide in understanding.

“Did you do that for us, Logan?” Patton asked, picking Logan up and hoisting him onto his hip. His hands were large and calloused, and yet he somehow managed to hold Logan like he was made of glass. “How did that go?”

Logan took a deep breath.

“I told Mr. Virgil I need to name my baby brothers and he went with me to find some baby name books and I learned that there are ten thousand and one names and that names even mean things and people can name their babies after books and then he went with me back to the playzone and I told him about the cephalopods and we played Checkers and I built a robot with Legos and now you’re here!”

Virgil watched the two men as Logan spoke, intrigued and impressed that they seemed to be catching every single word.

“Well, it sounds like you had a lot of fun, kiddo,” Patton said fondly. He smiled back at Virgil, but his words were directed to Logan as he asked, “Is Mr. Virgil holding your books for you?”

Logan nodded and made grabby hands at Virgil, who belatedly realized he was still standing with Logan’s books clasped against his chest like a shy teenager in a coming of age movie.

“Oh, um,” he stammered, fumbling with the books before showing the two men their titles. “He, um, he wanted to get these two. I know they’re a little dense, but—”

“But our little brainiac asked you to help him find the biggest books possible, right?” Janus asked, his hand coming up to tweak Logan’s earlobe. “We’re used to it.”

Virgil felt a smile growing on his face. “Yeah. And, uh, for what it’s worth, I don’t think they’ll be that hard to read. It’s just lists of names, it’s not, like, in-depth etymology or anything.”

“What’s etymology?” Logan asked.

Patton made a slightly panicked noise, pulling Logan closer to him. “Isn’t that the study of bugs?”

“That’s entomology, dear,” Janus replied kindly. “Etymology is the study of words.”

“Oh,” the first man replied, giving Virgil a relieved grin. “Well, I think Logi’s already got quite a few words under his belt, huh?”

Virgil gave a small laugh; it was obvious Logan always spoke like he was training to become an auctioneer. “All that reading’s gotta go somewhere, I guess. Do you guys come here often?”

Too late, he realized how painfully close his words sounded to a cliche pick up line, but thankfully neither man found it weird.

“We just moved to the area, actually,” Patton replied easily. “I guess that means you’re a librarian, then?”

Virgil nodded, gesturing awkwardly behind them as he replied, “Yep, I’m a reference librarian. I work at the, uh, reference desk.”

Janus slowly raised one eyebrow. “How interesting. Logan, I believe we agreed that you didn’t have to come to our book club meeting as long as you would stay in the playzone, am I correct?”

Both men looked at the small boy, who was beginning to look very sheepish. “Well, technically—”

“Technically I came here first,” Virgil interjected, drawing all three of them to look at him in surprise. “I was making my rounds around the library, Logan asked me where to find the baby name books, and I thought that if it was better for me to take him to them than to risk him walking off by himself.”

Logan looked at him with wide eyes, but kept his mouth shut. Smart kid.

“Oh!” Patton said, pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s alright then, since you stayed with a librarian the whole time.”

“And I got the babies’ name books!” Logan added, seemingly trying to move the conversation away from his and Virgil’s lie.

“And you got the babies’ name books,” Janus agreed. He held his hands out, and Virgil transferred the weighty books into his arms. “Oh, goody, this one has a thousand pages. How fun.”

“It does sound fun!” Patton added cheerfully, swaying Logan back and forth. “We have nine months for the babies to come, and a thousand pages over nine months is…”

“About 111 pages a month,” Virgil said quickly. “Divided by 30 days, that means you just have to go through about 4 pages a day.”

Patton gaped at him, Janus’ lips quirked into the tantalizing near-smile, and Logan— well, Logan looked at him like he’d just spoken another language. Which, to a five year old, he might as well have.

“Are you… are you a robot?” Logan asked seriously, causing all three men to smile at each other in amusement.

“I don’t think I’m a robot,” Virgil replied, but to his surprise Janus hummed in suspicion.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, leaning into Logan’s ear to whisper conspiratorially, “Doesn’t that sound like something a robot would say?”

Logan gasped, causing Patton to giggle.

“Hey, Logi! How does a robot sit down?”

The small boy paused, looking at his dad with a wary distrust. “Daddy, this better not be a joke.”

Patton merely grinned. He gave Virgil a quick wink before finishing, “On his ro-bottom!”

Both Logan and Janus groaned, Logan flopping over in Patton’s arms. “Daddy! Your jokes are not funny!”

“Oh, they’re not?” Patton asked, reaching up to quickly scribble his fingers against Logan’s stomach. “Then why are you laughing?”

Logan burst into giggles, wiggling and kicking his feet. “I’m not!”

Janus and Virgil shared an amused look at the scene of total adorableness happening in front of them, before Janus cleared his throat.

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, placing a hand on his husband’s arm and allowing his son to breathe. “Let’s take this outside of the quiet library, alright, dear?”

Patton smiled back at him, reaching around to cover Janus’ hand with his own. The three of them there looked so— so perfect, Virgil realized. They looked like a perfect family.

“Well,” Virgil said abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I could help your son today. If you have any more questions, Ms. Dot at the children’s desk can help you find what you’re looking for.”

Patton blinked once before his eyes went wide. “Oh, gosh, you’re still working right now, aren't you? I’m so sorry we took up so much of your time—”

“No!” Virgil insisted. “No, no, no, it was no trouble at all, really.”

“Well, regardless, we thank you very much,” Janus added, shifting so he could also grab Logan’s book basket from the game table. “I expect my family and I will be coming here again in the near future, and I hope we’ll see you again.”

Virgil felt his face go warm. He knew Janus just meant it as a friendly, regular-library-visitors-getting-to-know-the-staff kind of way, but for a moment, he couldn’t help but imagine what if they actually meant they wanted to see him again.

“Yeah,” was all he said, nodding once. “It was nice meeting you all. Bye, Logan.”

He gave a small wave before walking past them, moving back toward his desk with a distracted feeling in his head. Maybe if he skipped some of the boring heterosexual sex scenes, he could still finish his novel of the day before his shift ended— 

“Mr. Virgil!”

He froze at the sound of Logan’s tony voice calling his name. As he turned, he saw as Logan managed to wriggle out of Patton’s hold, trotting over to him.

“Logan!” Patton called, making an apologetic face at Virgil as he and Janus followed their son. “I’m sorry, I think he just wanted to say something else—” 

“I really wanna say thank you for the babies’ name books,” Logan interrupted, screeching to a halt just in front of Virgil. “And— and thank you for the, um, the checkers, and the Legos, and— and—”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted softly, kneeling down and smiling at Logan. “You are very welcome, kid. I’m happy I could help.”  

“And I wanted to know if please can I come play with you again when my dads and me come back to the li-berry, please?” Logan finished in a rush of breath, looking at Virgil for just a second before his gaze dropped to the floor.

Virgil hesitated. “...Oh.”

“Logan, darling,” Janus interjected gently, “Mr. Virgil might not be able to play with you anytime—”

“Actually,” Virgil cut him off, eyes darting up to the grownups before he gave Logan an awkward smile. “I, uh, I can’t guarantee I’ll always be able to play in the playzone, but if you wanna come say hi and… and tell me about the cephalopods, I’ll love to hear about it.”

Logan’s eyes widened, and he broke into a delighted grin. “Really?”

“Really?” Patton repeated, sounding gratefully surprised. “I mean, if you have to work, we wouldn’t want to do distract you—”

“I… don’t actually do much work when I’m at the reference desk,” Virgil admitted. “I usually just sit back there reading all day.”

“Except for when you make your rounds around the library, like you did earlier today,” Janus corrected, giving Virgil a look that revealed he 100% knew Virgil had lied earlier.

“Yep,” Virgil replied anyway, eyes locked onto Janus’ as he gave a slightly cheeky grin. “Except for that, of course.”

Janus stared him down, but didn’t call his bluff; instead he smirked, slow and satisfied, and his smile was somehow even better than Virgil had pictured it.

“Well,” he finished, “the sooner we check these books out, the sooner we can read them. Logan?”

He held out the book basket, and Logan took it with all of the determination of a child on a mission.

“I have to check out the books because I remember-ized the number,” he informed Virgil seriously.

“Well, it’s a good thing your dads have you, then, isn’t it?” Virgil replied. The big grin Logan gave him was only rivaled by the giant one Patton was giving him over Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright, kiddo,” Patton said, placing a hand on Logan’s back and ushering him toward the check out desk. “‘Read’ the way! Get it? Like ‘lead the way’?”

Logan groaned. “Daddy!”

Virgil laughed to himself, watching as the three of them walked away. Just before they turned the corner to the checkout desk, Logan turned around, waving like Virgil was miles away rather than a few yards. Patton and Janus waved too, and something about the way the two of them were looking at Virgil— friendly, fond, and grateful, all mixed into one— made his stomach doing a rather interesting acrobatic move.

It wasn’t until later, when he was safe behind his desk again, that he realized what that feeling was. That blush-causing, stammer-inducing, stomach-flipping feeling. It was a feeling he was well familiar with— not because he’d felt it before, but because he’d read about it.

In his romance novels.

Virgil froze, staring blankly ahead of him.

Ah. Well. Okay then.

He was fucked.

[wollymalfoy]

Hogwarts is my home...

Snapes child reader

Description: after Voldemort was defeated and Y/N’s mother was sent to Azkaban, Severus snape had become a single father and kept his child at Hogwarts with him.

Writers note: I got very carried away on this so I’m sorry if it’s boring but I just thought this would be a good idea :)

You was only young at the time when that day occurred. You was just a sweet innocent child. It was a crisp cold night, you was wrapped up in blankets and cradled in your mother’s arms. Her long chocolate brown hair blowing in the wind, twirling and whipping around occasionally hitting your face. ‘STUPEFY!’ You heard a deep voice say and your mother hit the ground you doing so as well. However your mother wasn’t going to give up easily, she fought magnificently. To protect her child and to protect herself I am not leaving my child while I’m locked up in Azkaban she thought. This thought helping her persevere through this fight. Throwing spells in every direction as you lay on the floor crying. But your mothers efforts to win the fight were stopped and she was wrapped up in thick ropes. A man to the left of her walked towards you with two wands in his hand. You guessed the second was your mothers. ‘What we going to do with the child?’ The man questioned with a sad look on his face. ‘Don’t fucking touch her’ your mother yelled her anger boiling to the top. ‘We can’t leave her here miss’ said another voice this one much deeper than the other mans. ‘Take her to Snape, Severus Snape. It’s her father’ she said breathing heavily. And with that they did as they was told. As they dragged you both in opposite directions you heard your mother weeping and yelling ‘I love you so much Y/N! I’ll come back for you one day baby.’ And that was the last time you saw your mother.

Growing up in the castle was great, you lost your mother when you was very young so the castle was all you knew. You formed great bonds with each teacher and could flutter about the castle however you pleased but of course mustn’t leave the grounds. And absolutely not enter the forbidden forest. You would sit through classes with other students and by the age of 7 you had the knowledge of a 6th year. Potions was your favourite, probably taking after your father. you’d often show off in class as you could do many potions easily without the instructions your father put up on the board. When your father would praise you you would look around the room with a very smug look on your face. At meal times you’d sit at the teachers table, you wasn’t old enough to get sorted so you didn’t belong in any of the houses just yet. Everyone at Hogwarts knew you, many calling you the princess of Hogwarts. Unlike your father you had a very bubbly attitude your father assumed it was because you would hang around with the Weasleys and other bubbly students. Bill and Charlie were your favourite people at Hogwarts and when George and Fred came to Hogwarts you loved them too. You loved Percy but he wasn’t as fun as the others. You and the Weasley twins where a troublesome match, you knew every nook and cranny of the castle along with the passwords to every door and passage while they had knowledge of pranks and tricks. A chaotic match. You got into a lot of trouble being friends with the red headed twins but you didn’t seem to mind. Being so close with the Weasleys made it so you spent a week at the burrow each summer and when Fred and George where in their first year you even spent a Christmas with them. Molly and Arthur also treated you like you was apart of the family and would knit you an infamous jumper or scarf at Christmas time. Many other students would try to teach you curse words when you was young and if your father found out who it was he’d give them a hard(er) time in class. Once you learned a word you knew you wasn’t allowed to say you seemed to say it even more. You’d be heard skipping down corridors and shouting the words with students laughing and pointing as they watched.

Professor McGonagall was like a mother to you. A very strict mother. She treated you like any other student and it made you feel included. You spent countless hours sat in her office drinking tea while telling her about your day.

Dumbledore would let you into his office whenever you wanted he would tell you stories or babble about random stuff to you. He’d show you the penseive and you would become obsessed with it, wanting to look at every memory he had stored in his cupboards. You fell asleep in his office countless night either sat in his lap or lied on his desk and each time he would carry you or use magic to take you to bed.

You tried to stay away from Professor Trelawny because like Harry Potter she predicted your death countless times. It scared you the first couple of times but as you got older you realised she was probably just an old fraud.

Spending time with professor sprout was a lot of fun she’d show you all kids of plants in the greenhouses and would often invite you to come to lessons she thought would be very exciting.

You loved playing in the kitchens and talking to all the house elves. You’d often convince them to let you help prepare the feast so after all these years you became an excellent cook.

Your father may act cold and horrible to the students of Hogwarts but he was an absolute softie when it came to you. He’d read you a bedtime story most nights (when you wasn’t with Dumbledore) and every morning when he’d go to wake you he’d bring you a different flower each day. Rose one day and Lilly the next and so on. Snape was very proud of you for being so intelligent and you’d ofter hear him bragging about your abilities to students and staff. When you was only young he’d have to rock you in his arms as he taught a class to get you to settle down after a toddler temper tantrum. Many students that watched this thought it was strange to see this side of him and they stared in awe glancing looks as if to be talking to each other telepathically. Your father didn’t speak about your mother but if you had a question he would try his best to answer it. Snape didn’t love your mother since he had always loved Lilly potter he had told you this when you was older. Your parents never married and only knew each other because of them being very close to Voldemort. Knowing this information didn’t bother you, it was quite funny to you that you was clearly an accident and you didn’t let it bother you.

Every teacher in Hogwarts seemed like your parents and you had one giant family. Even without your mother you was still happy but you still longed to be able to see her again one day.

When it was your year to be sorted you was put into Y/H/N and no matter the house your father was proud. He was even happier if you was put into his own house. You was in the same year as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione granger and you also became friends with them. The whole school loved you and you had many friends in your year from Neville Longbottom to Draco Malfoy. You’d ofter comfort Neville after a bad lesson where your father was very horrible. You had many arguments over how your father treated your friends but he was a stubborn man and didn’t like you trying to change him. ‘Your a good person dad I know you are you just need to show it!’ You’d shout at the end of lesson. ‘I’m not having this conversation Y/N! Now run along or you’ll be late for charms’ he said not moving his eyes from his desk. You shook your head and left.

Being friends with so many different people made people question you on why you was friends with certain people. The Gryffindors would question you on your friendship with Draco and the Slytherins and Draco and the rest of Slytherin house would do the same to the Gryffindors. You would always respond with the same answer ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover.’ As cliche as it sounds it was true. No one knew how nice Draco was behind closed doors and Draco couldn’t see past his ideas of blood status. You didn’t even try and get them to like each other it was clear it wouldn’t happen if only you alone tried.

Thanks for reading :)

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun 

iii.xviii. (a,m)

Eunbi had helped you so much in the last few days, she explained everything to you and you spend many days in the cafe to learn. You have been sleeping very badly lately because your twins always thought they had to start moving at night. Your concentration was therefore hardly available. "I hope I can pass the exam. I can hardly sleep lately." You sigh and Eunbi tried to cheer you up. "You can do it, you have learned so much for it." When she said that, you could see in the corner of her eye that Matthew was coming into the cafe. It was weird because you've seen him unusually often lately. "He again?" Even Eunbi noticed that this was no longer normal. "Hi." Of course, he came to you and he actually smiled very friendly. You try to smile too, but you just feel your babies start to kick and cause a little stomach ache. "Are you going to the party after the big exam too?" What annoyed you a little was that he kept staring at you. You knew he was just being nice, but you're starting to feel uncomfortable with him. "I'm too old for that." You shake your head. "Come on, nobody notices that you are older. Just have a look." He tried to persuade you and you wonder why he was always so persistent. "Yeah come on, it'll be fun." Eunbi also looked at you now and you could see that she is excited about it. "I will think about it." You hope you can make him reasonably happy with it. But it worked. "All right. But I will come back on that later." He kept staring at you and you just nod. You don't know why, but somehow you had a bad feeling. When he disappeared, you packed up your books and sighed. "Matthew is a little creepy or am I wrong?" Maybe you just got paranoid because Jaehyun sees danger in every man all the time. "I heard that his father was in the military and he moved from country to country as a child and could never find friends because he was only there for a short time. I think that makes a person a little bit weird. But I think he is really nice and he helps us all a lot." Eunbi shrugged and smiled. She was so nice and always saw a good thing in a person. "Yes, maybe you're right." But you still had a strange feeling.

As always after your learning sessions, you take Eunbi home. You didn't want her to go home alone every time because sometimes it got late. It was already a little dark today and Eunbi's house was on the way anyway. "Hey, could you think about the party? I'd like to go, but you're my only friend here. I don't dar to go alone." She looked sadly at her hands, which were on her thigh. "Eunbi, I don't know ..." You sigh, you'd be out of place at a student party. You park in front of her dormitory and look at her. "You know, I didn't have an easy school time. I was always bullied and I hoped that things would get better at university. But I hardly dare to meet people. And it seems that people really like you here." It took a lot of strength to say that and she didn't dare to look you in the face. "Eunbi, there is another secret that I will trust you now ... you have to promise first that you won't tell anyone." You turn off the engine and turn to the side. "Yes, I don't tell anyone anything." She looked at you with wide eyes and you turned to her. "I think it's not a good idea to go to the party because I'm pregnant with twins. You put your hand on your stomach and now she could see the contours through the big sweater. "What? Wow! Congrats! That's why the big clothes!" She looked at you in surprise and could hardly believe it all. "But will you continue studying?" Suddenly her look became sad and it hurt you to see her like this. "No, I finish after the big exam. I could prefer a few small exams and I can also send the papers by e-mail. It is harder for me to go to university every day." Eunbi's face grew even sadder. "But then you have to go to the party. You will be away longer with twins. One last time before we all don't see you anymore." She smiled and you softened. "Okay okay. We're going, but I won't stay long." Eunbi then hugged you joyfully and she was joyful. "You will see it will be fun." She packed her backpack and opened the car door. "Yes, yes, you will see that I am super boring." You laugh and Eunbi waved before you drive off.

When you get home, your children are already sleeping. That always made you totally sad, because it has happened a lot in the last few days. "I've just barely seen them lately and I miss them so much." You sigh and lean against the sink while Jaehyun is washing his face. "It will get better soon. From next week, when the exams are over, you will be back home." He dried his face and smiled. "Eunbi, the girl who always helps me. Asked me if I could go to the semester's closing party with her." You sigh and look uncertainly at your husband. "That sounds good, doesn't it?" He smiled and continued with his skin routine. "Yes, but I'm pregnant." You grab your stomach and Jaehyun had to laugh. "You don't have to drink anything. Remember that we will soon have four children, it is probably the last chance that you can do something like that." He turned to you and looked at you. He was right somehow. "Yes, that’s true. Maybe I will take a look there and I want to make Eunbi a favor. I'm just glad I have her right now. Without her, I would never be able to do this all with the exams." You smile and you two go to the bedroom. "You really like her." He smiled and kissed your forehead. "Yes, I do. She is such a sweetheart. You know, she was a fan of yours. She's a fan of NCT at all." You smile and see Jaehyun sit down in bed. "Oh really?" He laughed and you walk up to him. "Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be a fan of yours." You sit on his lap and put your arms around him. "Aren't you a fan?" He laughed and put his hands on your hip. "Oh Jaehyun, I'm your biggest fan. I want a child from you." You smile and Jaehyun had to laugh too. "Thank you for your support, but I'm not allowed to do anything with fans." He winks but at the same time, his hands went to your ass. "Oh, that's a shame. Can't you make an exception for me? I'm your biggest fan, after all." You reach between his legs and start massaging him. "But I’m married." Jaehyun leaned back a bit to get a better look at him. "I can make you happier than your wife." You push his pants down further and take his length in your hand. "Oh? Can you?" He suppressed a groan, especially when you put his tip on your lips. You start to put it completely in your mouth and move your hands up and down. Jaehyun threw his head back and buried his hand in your hair. "Oh yes. That's good," he groaned, and you pressed your lips closer together. You push his cock so far that you almost had to cough because he was so deep in your throat. His whole body twitched and reacted to each of your movements. And when his lower abdomen bulged, you can taste the slightly bitter taste until his cum completely covered your tongue. Jaehyun was out of breath and you swallow his orgasm quickly. "That's what I call fan service." He laughed and pulled you up so you could lie in his arms. "Anything for you." You kiss him and he put his hand on your stomach. "Are the twins awake?" He kissed you too and felt you. "They are calm right now." You smiled and slowly closed your eyes. "I hope I can feel them soon." Jaehyun also wanted to feel something from the two of them. "It's getting tight for them now, I think it can only be a matter of days before they make themselves known." And Jaehyun then kissed your forehead and you fell asleep in his arms.

You had preferred to take an exam with a professor in the evening, so it was really late. After you finished it and got told that you were positive, you are happy to went finally home. You write to Jaehyun that you are on the way and quickly go through the campus. It was all deserted and almost a little scary. You quickly go to your car, which almost parked there alone. You put your bag in the back seat and close the door when Matthew suddenly stands next to you. You startled and held your chest as you tried to calm down again. "Matthew. What are you doing here?" It was sometimes more than coincidental that he was always where you were. "I was still in the library." He grinned and you tried to smile. "Oh okay, I have to go home." You were about to turn around when he grabbed your wrist. "I wanted to ask you something else." You quickly pull your hand back and didn't know if you should feel threatened. "Maybe we can go on a date? Do something nice?" He smiled, but it all seemed so wrong to you. "Hey Matthew, that's really nice. But I'm married." You are unsure about all this, you brushing away a strand of hair and hope that the topic is done. But now he was getting a little more serious. "You lie." This statement surprised you and you could not believe what you are hearing. "What? No!" You were totally shocked by the reaction. "You don't wear a wedding ring." He took your hand and looked at your fingers. During this pregnancy, you could not wear your rings because they were constantly swollen. You are slowly realizing that the situation has become more threatening. "Matthew I have to go home now." You try to get your hands off of him but he held you. "It's always girls like you who think they deserve someone better. Do you think you earn more just because you are beautiful? You women always have it so easy. Always want more. More money, more luxury, more fame. What are you driving there? A Porsche? Who did you have to fuck to get such a luxury?" Now it was clear that you had to get out of here as quickly as possible. You tried to tear yourself away from him, but you weren't that strong. "Let me go." Your pulse rose and you start to panic. But then you hear a voice from a distance. "Hey, are you okay there?" Someone has passed by and saw that something was wrong. Matthew let you go out of fright and you take the opportunity to go. When you set off, you heard Matthew hit your car with his fist and you knew you had to get out of there quickly. Your pulse was extremely high and you drive home extremely fast. You're sure to get a complaint because of speeding in a few days, but it didn't matter. You like to pay that. You were at home faster than you thought, and when you park in the garage, you finally feel safe again. When you turn off the engine, you take a deep breath and feel your baby start kicking. Your pulse was extremely high and adrenaline shot through your veins. "My babies, everything is fine now, we are back home." You look at your belly and gently stroke it. You were sorry that they experienced all the fuss. You just want to make your children feel good.

When you go inside and see Jaehyun, you fall into his arms and breathe a sigh of relief. "Hey, are you all right?" He noticed that something was wrong, but you just wanted to be with him. "Now." You put your head on his chest and realize that everything has calmed down. The babies also no longer kicked so wildly in your stomach. Jaehyun stroked your back, held you tight in his arms, when suddenly Johnny came to you. "The baby is coming. Johanna just called me and she is on the way to the hospital." Johnny smiled and was very excited. "Can I leave you alone and drive Johnny to the hospital?" He knew something had happened, but you couldn't tell him. "It's okay. Go on." You smile and Jaehyun took his things as well. "I'll be right back." He kissed you and then ran with Johnny. And now you were alone in the house again. Your children were already asleep and somehow you feel lonely. The thing had bothered you more than you thought. You first go to Miga's room and watch her sleep for a while. You hope that nothing like this will ever happen to her. You wish that everything you experience, like this and your miscarriage, never has to experience your daughter. You never want her to feel such pain. You will always take care of them and you also know that Jaehyun will always protect her. After kissing her, you go to Sunoh and stroke his hair and he opened his eyes and looked at you. "Mummy." He was very sleepy and his eyes were very small. "Go back to sleep, Mummy is here." You smile and kiss his forehead. But Sunoh reached out to you and started crying. "Mummy, stay." He looked so sad and you sigh. "Do you like to sleep in bed with Mummy?" You couldn’t be alone anyway and when your son nodded, you lift him up and go to bed with him.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[snapetrash]

so I wrote a crack fic where Snape and Harry smoke weed and talk about their problems. kinda.  It’s posted on Ao3 if you want to read it there. It’s pretty ooc and an adult smokes weed and tobacco with an underage student, so there’s your warning for moral ambiguity. Starts at the beginning of book 5, in an AU where everything is the same except Harry picks up a smoking habit to self medicate his slightly crippling anxiety and depression. Looking for a Beta so let me know if you’re interested!!!

Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had been here for weeks while he had to deal with his relatives, and fucking demetors- what a load of bollocks. Harry dumped his trunk and bags in his room and made a beeline for the attic of Grimmauld Place, grabbing his pack of menthols and lighter as he went.

 They’d arrived at the Order headquarters a little after 2 am, so he knew no one would come looking for him until morning. He’d told Remus after a brief hug that he was exhausted before he’d headed to his room. Harry climbed the rickety, spiraling stairs leading to the topmost floor of Grimmauld without so much as a glance behind him. 

Harry knew Sirius was in the house somewhere, and probably awake, but anxiety and anger had tied his stomach in knots. He would go see his godfather after his smoke. After. Everything had to come after he’d had a moment to himself, or he’d blow up and regret everything. 

As he struggled to wrench open the window, he briefly considered smoking inside, smell and lingering smoke bedamned, but as the thought crossed his mind the window gave a little shriek and popped open. Harry crawled out onto the dirty shingles and moved to sit beside the window, looking out onto the backyard of the house. 

He opened his pack, pulled out a joint and popped it in his mouth, lighting up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. Harry’s eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply, pulling in air after his hit and exhaling, long and measured. As he went to take another hit, he opened the pack of cigarettes one more time to retrieve a menthol and tuck it behind his ear, for later. His hair was such a mess that it covered the white of the paper completely, and kept the fug from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be fun if he was caught and chewed out by Mrs. Weasley for smoking. 

The sky was dark and overcast, sounds of the city muffled by the powerful wards on the house. It was a fairly hot night, temperature perfect for Harry and his penchant for being chilly in all seasons. After three or four hits he could feel the tension bleed from his body, finally making way for bone deep exhaustion.

“ Potter, what on earth-” If Harry hadn’t been halfway through his joint, he would’ve startled at the sound of Snape’s irritated growl coming from the window beside him. But he’d been awake for more than 24 hours, and hadn’t had a decent meal for just as long. The energy to care about being caught smoking on a roof by his professor? He just didn’t have it at the moment. 

“Are you smoking pot?” The utter incredulity in the Potion Master’s voice prompted Harry to actually turn and look at the other man. Snape was leaning out the window, arms braced on the sil with his wand in a relatively loose grip. He was wearing what looked like a long sleeve tee and worn sweatpants- both black of course- but surprisingly muggle. It made the older man look softer, younger; the small part of Harry’s brain that hadn’t checked out the moment he lit up was shocked at how Snape looked, even as he glared at him. 

There were other things Harry noticed about him too; his paler-than-usual pallor, the way his body seemed wound tight like a spring and the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes. Snape wasn’t staring him down, not like usual. No, he seemed like maybe he’d come for a bit of solitude too. In fact, when Harry’s gaze flicked down to the potion master’s hands he saw a wooden pipe, shiny and black just like the rest of him, clutched in his non-wand hand. 

It was 2 am and everyone else in the house was probably in bed. Harry realized he’d been staring, not answering, and Snape was looking tenser and moodier by the second.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” He blurted out, immediately regretting everything. Fuck, he was gonna get so many detentions. But Snape was wearing pajamas, it was beyond strange, and Harry had gone ahead and said the first thing that’d come to his mind like a complete idiot. 

Snape gave him a look of utter loathing, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Harry couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes, and again did something incredibly stupid. Marijuana in the wizarding world didn’t hold the same weight as it did for muggles, but still. He was sure there was a rule written somewhere that said ‘thou shalt not smoke cannabis with thy potions master.’ or something. 

Harry offered him the joint wordlessly. It was quite a normal gesture, in general terms; Snape stared at the offending apparatus in what seemed like numb shock, his eyes a little wide, his mouth drawn down into a tight line. It hung in the air between them, and just as Harry thought that maybe he really was going to die at the hands of his teacher that hated him, the older wizard reached out and plucked the burning thing from his fingers. 

The moment Snape took it, instead of watching him(his fucking professor!) Harry grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up just in time to see Snape exhale a fat cloud of smoke and look at the joint with a thoughtful expression. After a moment they swapped; Snape had the cigarette and Harry had the joint. 

The younger wizard watched the other inhale and grimace, before his professor quietly muttered. “Of course you would smoke this muggle menthol crap.” 

Harry snorted. “You certainly aren’t the first one to give me shit for it.” 

This was probably the quietest, nicest moment he’d ever had in Snape’s presence. Who knew all it took was a little weed to win over the nasty dungeon bat? Harry had to force a cough, lest he giggle at the thought. 

The deserted city before them had infected both wizards with a sense of calm; no nightmares, or oaths or dark lords could reach them here. When Harry saw the joint going down, he pulled out another and put the other out in seamless rotation. Snape made a soft noise that might’ve been a scoff, but otherwise said nothing and took a long drag of the new joint. 

Neither man knew how they’d stumbled upon this fragile peace, but they weren’t going to go out of their way to break it now. Still, Harry couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“I keep waiting to wake up from this bizarre dream, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He muttered with humor. 

Snape side-eyed him, blowing a bit of smoke out before fucking smirking “Why does it matter? No one would believe you if you told them about this.”

That had Harry fighting back horrified laughter, coughing a little on the smoke caught in his throat, because this was another level and who knew his evil git of a teacher could be so devious? In a funny way, not his usual ‘Potter, detention for breathing’ way.  Stealing a glance at Snape, he saw that he’d relaxed a lot more. He had an elbow on the sill, his chin propped up in his hand- and a little quirk on his lips that was almost a smile.

This side of Snape was completely new to Harry; but he vowed silently to himself that he’d try to draw it out as often as he could. Clearly the guy was under a lot of pressure, playing for both sides. Maybe he was a completely different person, outside of all the acting and playing the field he had to do. 

“You’re different, like this.” Harry’s brain to mouth filter had said sayonara at this point; the small part of his mind that was rational, and screaming at him to ‘shut up, Potter, you utter wanker’ was drowned out by his high and the strange night. 

“I know we have to keep hating each other- keep up appearances, I mean- um. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I just- I’ve been realizing how much you do for the war, for me and I- You’re not a bad guy at all, is what I might be saying. Who knows, I’m stoned. Ignore me.” Please, Harry, shut the fuck up now. 

Snape’s burning gaze bore holes into his forehead as he hurriedly stuck his fug in his mouth to silence himself. The younger wizard didn’t take his eyes off his own hands, cheeks burning, waiting for the end. 

“Why in Merlin’s name would you want to spend any more time with me than you have to? It’s not like I haven’t given you every reason to hate me that I could think of.” The older man replied, and oh god, both of them were way too tired and totally not sober enough to have this kind of conversation. If they were sober they would never have it in the first place. 

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, not sure how to respond. “Well it’s not like I didn’t figure that out eventually- and you’re one of the few people in this entire, fucked up secret society that treats me like a normal person. From everyone else it’s either hero worship, pity, or they hate me for shite I can’t control.” He paused and took another drag of his cigarette. “Or they expect me to be a carbon copy of my dad. I guess you also did that for a while too, but you have to keep up appearances for the all the kids reporting back to their death eater parents.” 

Snape turned his eyes on Harry again, showing a myriad of emotions across his face, all hard to decipher. He seemed almost angry. “Don’t be daft. I publicly humiliate you whenever I have the chance. I’m not a nice man, it wasn’t always an act!” 

“Well you just admitted that it’s an act now! Why are you so afraid to admit you like me, professor?” That shut Snape up pretty effectively, because all he did was relight the joint that had gone out in his hands. 

Harry sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees, facing Snape. “You’ve always reminded me of my muggle teachers in elementary, kind of. The ones that knew from speaking to Petunia that I was a delinquent, but were still determined to teach me. It gave me a sense of normalcy amongst all the magic, in a place where suddenly I was popular and sought after for a glorified tragedy I don’t even remember. I dunno.” he laughed bitterly, remembering his first year. The months after his letter came, wondering if he’d go to sleep after classes that night and wake up in the cupboard. 

Snape looked very tired, as if every word Harry spoke took what little energy he had left. “You’re not anything like your father was, as your age. How could you be, you’ve never met the man.” He mumbled the last sentence, but Harry heard it anyway. 

“Exactly! You understand. Fuck.” The teenager took a shaking breath, and then the joint when Snape passed it to him. They fumbled for a second when he nearly dropped it, hands brushing in the dark, but it made its way into Harry’s shaking hands and he hit it once, with feeling. 

After a few minutes of silence in which they finished the second joint, and Snape lit his pipe(which to Harry’s surprise) actually had weed in it. They passed it back and forth for a little while longer. 

“Albus wants me to teach you Legilimency this year. You’ll come to my office once a week after class, and call it remedial potions when anyone asks.” 

“Cool, we’ll be able to hang out more without anyone around to ruin it.” Harry replied absently. When he realized that he’d just indicated, verbally, that he’d enjoy hanging out with Snape(and his mind was really blown at that one) he looked up to see Snape staring at him with his eyebrow raised, a picture of unimpressed. 

“You realize you’re going to actually have to learn to be a Legilimens, right Potter?” 

“Oh yeah. It might just be the weed, but I’m feeling much better about it now than I would’ve if we hadn’t had this conversation.” The teen replied with good humor. It was true; he was feeling much better about Snape in general. Harry remembered how much of a hardass his professor was, and was quick to reassure him. “I’ll do my best to learn all I can from you.”

Snape’s face softened a little. “See that you do, Potter.” He straightened, Placing his pipe in his pocket and pulling himself back into the attic. The older man reached a hand out for Harry to help him inside. “Come now. It’s bedtime for wizarding saviors.” 

Harry smiled, caught the larger, rougher hand in his own and allowed himself to be lightly manhandled back into the attic. He felt beyond tired. When he stumbled on the stairs, Snape dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and left it there. 

“To the kitchen first, I have a vial of dreamless sleep for you.” Snape said quietly. The younger man grunted a wordless acknowledgement and they made their way together through the house. The potions master beelined to a high cabinet in the corner and pulled out two small bottles, uncorking one and downing it and passing the other to Harry. 

“Thanks, professor. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Snape was rewarded with a blinding smile as Harry made his way upstairs. He went to his room, and fell asleep quicker than he’d had in years.