#the week after my birthday is filled with subjects i have to study for and after that im moving asap???

[devotedlystrangewizard]

am i selfish or have i just been convinced that not letting others take advantage of me or not wanting to always be cast aside in favor of others is selfish

[toorusluvr]

❥ ҉ CHAPTER EIGHT - RUMOR HAS IT

❥ ҉ CONTENT WARNINGS: reader (y/n) planned a petty revenge lol + pregnancy scare + pretty much a normal chapter + birthday surprise!

❥ ҉ NOTE FROM NIS: hey everyone! i'm dropping chapter 8 for ain't my fault! please have a read and lmk if i missed any warnings. my brain has stopped working this week :/ anyway, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you <3

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The Spring High qualifiers were just around the corner. The entire Aoba Johsai volleyball team practiced very hard. Iwaizumi was often frustrated around this time, especially with the upcoming mid-term exam. He was even more snappy than usual. Oikawa told you that this is very normal of him. 

You got scared every time you saw his scowl. If you’d let it continue, he might have a permanent scowl on his pretty face. That would be a huge waste! You once accidentally bumped into him while reading a book and he glared at you like he could tear you apart. 

“You have got to calm down, Iwa,” you spat, not knowing he was on the brink of his running thin patience. 

Iwaizumi groaned, probably annoyed at your words of command. You do not know how hard he pressures himself. How hard he’s been studying and juggling practices. Oikawa might look laid-back but Iwaizumi could sense he was also freaking out at the pressure from their coaches. As the co-captain, the term pressure was just a better word for carrying burden. 

“I like it better when you are not talking, you know?” he jeered as he walked towards his table, leaving you behind. 

You gasped and caught up with his steps. Slowly, you pulled your chair from your seat and made yourself comfortable in front of him. Iwaizumi looked up at you and let out a deep sigh. He tried to ignore you at first by flipping through the Chemistry textbook. Fuck, he was going insane with this subject, despite it being one of his stronger subjects.

With a careful observation – his scrutinised eyebrows, his inner cheeks bitten, you could bet that he was indeed stressed out. The wheels inside your mind was busy working and thinking about what you could say to him to make him feel slightly better. Maybe, emphasise on maybe, it would work. 

“Need someone to talk to?” You tried to get the words out of your mouth but Iwaizumi remained silent. He continued fiddling with his pen and jotted down some notes in his notebook. His sprawling handwriting broke down the topic into bullet points. 

Getting a guy to talk about what he’s thinking might be the equivalent to asking a rock to talk on its own. It would be a huge miracle if they can start opening up. This was how you felt when you were talking to Iwaizumi. Well, as a friend, you were just offering your help to him. 

“Mm, tough crowd,” you murmured. Both of you locked eyes and your face turned warm all of a sudden. You didn’t avert your gaze because then it would mean you surrendered. 

Iwaizumi did not know how to talk about what he was going through. He was not much of a talker, to be very honest. But his observation skills are always sharp. That’s why he doesn’t like talking. It’s also a waste of time and energy to be talking about irrelevant things. 

“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Iwaizumi uttered. 

Right. You might have pushed him and made him uncomfortable just now with your actions. Shit. You owe him an apology, that’s for sure. 

“Oh. Okay. I was just checking on you. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be right here. After all, we are friends,” you reassured before giving him a soft smile. You could see that his expression brightened a bit at the reassurance. 

“Right. We are friends,” Iwaizumi’s gaze filled with a glint of mischievousness. He was hinting something and you could see right through it as clear as day. 

With a light huff, you crossed your arms to the chest. “We are at school, Iwa. Come on, man. Come to your senses!” 

Your reply earned a soft laughter from him. Wow. This man needs to laugh often because it’s so freaking beautiful. You wanted to demand him to laugh again but that would lead to another catastrophe. Huh, exaggerating much. 

“Enough jokes for today, Y/N. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep it up,” Iwaizumi said with a smirk. He was playing with you just to get a reaction from you. To rile you up until you cannot take it anymore. It’s a challenge he likes to keep up with. 

Rolling your eyes at him, you dismissed his teasing with a gesture. “Keep doing that, you’ll never see it coming, ” you winked at him before getting back to your seat.

Iwaizumi’s tongue poked the inner of his cheek. Intrigued by your remark. He wanted to test you more, push you again but too bad that the teacher had already come in and your deskmate, Oikawa, finally returned to class. He did not say anything the entire class time which made you wonder if something’s wrong. 

“You good?” You nudged Oikawa in the arm. The brunette was quick to snap out of his thoughts, it seemed. 

Oikawa then shrugged it off, “Yeah, just thinking about something.” 

You let out a huff again. Why is it so hard for these two people to speak whatever is on their mind? 

“Man, I think I should help you guys to seek the counsellor’s help or something. Keep bottling up your feelings, God knows what’ll it do to you,” you exclaimed. 

Oikawa turned to look at you with a confused look. “You’re one to talk, dude.”

“At least I am a very self-aware person,” you said with a grin. Oikawa opened his mouth to speak but he bailed at the last second. He then shrugged it off saying ‘Nothing’. Well, if you weren’t overthinking before, now you do! 

“Girl, you better tell me what you were about to tell me,” you threatened him by taking away the pen he was holding in his hand. He let out a soft gasp when you took it away without any trouble. The guy was holding it quite tightly, he might add.

“Nothing, I swear!” Oikawa tried to take the pen back from you but you moved it away, further from his reach. 

“I’m not giving you this pen until you tell me. No negotiations,” you cut a deal. 

Iwaizumi then kicked your chair from behind. “Stop it. He’ll cry if you keep this up.” With a sinister chuckle, Iwaizumi glanced over Oikawa. The brunette was already glaring at him in a subtle way. 

“Both of you are a match made in hell. Good for both of you, then!” Oikawa said almost cynically. He was acting weird and something was definitely up with this guy. 

You and Iwaizumi exchanged looks, silently communicating with each other facial expressions and body language. Apparently, Iwaizumi did not know what was going on with Oikawa either. 

During the weekend, you and Iwaizumi made a plan to get the project done. It was almost in the final step and both of you decided it’d be great if you guys could get it done outside the comfort of your respective homes. To celebrate the victory of getting the project done, both of you went to a local coffee shop nearby his house.

The local coffee shops around your house are not accommodating enough because they are always filled with people, even outside the rush hour. Doing your work there would be a problem for both of you. 

Iwaizumi was the first to arrive. Well, considering the distance, obviously he would be here first. You entered the less busy coffee shop and tried to spot him in the crowd. In a few seconds, you finally found him sitting by the glass window overlooking the busy road outside. He was scribbling something in his notebook, not even sparing a glance around the coffee shop. 

He was donning a casual outfit, just a plain black hoodie and jeans. Not too far from your table, there was a group of girls around your age doing their work as well. You saw some of them had books on the tables. The other girl was whispering something to her friend while trying to peek at Iwaizumi. 

“Don’t tell me they’re about to shoot their shot now,” you grumbled under your breath. As if possessiveness took control of your body, you quickened your pace to walk over to your shared table where Iwaizumi was waiting for you. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw the said girl was about to walk over here but bailed at the same time you showed up in front of Iwaizumi. That was a bit out of character for you. You gave him a soft smile, “Hey booboo, sorry I’m late!” 

Booboo was just another pet name that you mocked him for. Turned out his ex-girlfriend used to call him booboo and you fueled fire to his annoyance. But this situation actually started from him. If it wasn’t him who started it first, you wouldn’t have taken this route. Blame it all on him, then. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows perked at the pet name. He did not know how he slipped out the other day and now it’s all you ever call him. He let out a scoff in disbelief, “You’re not late. I’m just early. How was the traffic?” 

You then took out a chair across him, “Well, it was not terrible, per se. Oh, have you ordered? I am quite hungry. Should we order now?”

“What do you want to eat? I’ll go order for you,” he said before closing his notebook. He then clasped both of his hands on top of the table, waiting for you to speak. 

With a mischievous smile, you then said, “Ooh, acts of service must be your love language then.” 

Again, Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh. You and your endless snarky remarks. Now that you said it, it might be true. But should he admit it? Hell no. You’ll just tease him endlessly and he will never hear the end of it! 

“I’ll let you starve if you continue to act this way,” he lowkey threatened you. 

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Your lips pursed, “Mhm, I think I’ll just order the tuna croissant and an iced caramel latte. Thanks!” 

Iwaizumi nodded and he immediately left to order at the counter. You looked around the coffee shop and suddenly locked eyes with the girls from earlier. They were looking at you without blinking. Maybe they finally realised that they were being weird, they then plastered a half smile. You then returned the same gesture. Oof. They definitely talked about you as if they haven’t made it clear. 

Not long after, your orders were delivered to your table. Iwaizumi and you thanked the waiter. The girls from earlier were still there at their tables. Funny because the whole time you and Iwaizumi were there, he did not even once spare them a glance. You were unsure whether he’s oblivious or he just simply doesn’t care about all the staring. 

“You don’t mind all the staring you’re getting?” You asked as you stirred your iced coffee in the glass. Were you jealous? No way in hell. But did it justify your behaviour from earlier? Only God knows! 

Iwaizumi took a sip of his americano while shaking his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Full of disappointment, you sighed. Perhaps he just simply doesn’t care. Must be nice to not give a damn about anything even if it comes to receiving attention. In a good way, of course!

“The girls were staring at you. You never once realised it?” You asked – the bitter taste of coffee coated your tongue. The same taste that could describe your behaviour now. Just kidding. 

“Why? You jealous or something?” Iwaizumi asked, half-laughing at your ridiculous question. He did realise the stares he was getting. He just did not act on it. Why would he act on it? He is here to do his work, not to find a date. 

Your shoulders stiffened at his accusation. No! You were not jealous at all. 

“Sometimes, I regret asking. Never mind. I will just seal my lips. Zip!” You rolled your eyes at him and he had the audacity to laugh. It’s the same laughter from the other day when you were stunned hearing him laugh. A sudden rush of butterflies swirled in your belly and you did not know how to react. 

“If you’re jealous, you could have told me,” he teased. “Jealousy looks good on you, though!” 

You let out a sigh, “You saw how crazy I acted right? Looks good on me? Nah man, I’ll probably choke a person if they make me jealous. Let’s not go down that road, shall we, booboo?” 

Iwaizumi gave you a pointed stare. The petname is ridiculous but he loved hearing it when he was in a relationship. Now that he’s single, he finally realised that it’s a bit cringey. How did he let it slide before, though? Only heaven knows. 

“Man, I’d love to see something keep your mouth shut,” he murmured under his breath as he took out the notebook from earlier. When he glanced at you, your body turned stiff. He then realised that what he said just now probably carried two meanings. 

You slowly grinned sheepishly, “Aw, booboo. You slipped again?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a disappointed sigh. This banter will never end. Being a bigger person here, he finally ended it for good. “Get your mind out of the gutter, princess. Let’s focus on our task.” 

“Aw, shucks,” you pursed your lips but quickly retaliate when Iwaizumi gave you another pointed stare. He looked scary when doing so. Not trying to push your luck, you dismissed his pointed stare with a wave. 

The second after, it finally clicked in your mind that he called you princess just now. He often – wait, no, he always uses the ‘princess’ petname when you guys are going down for it. Your eyebrows furrowed but you dismissed it as a mockery. That sounds more like it. 

Almost two hours into finalising the project, both of you were finally done! You let out a deep sigh of relief. A heavy weight was finally lifted off of you and that was a bliss you wouldn’t take for granted. Nothing is ever as rewarding as finishing your important assignment. With the amount of hard work you and Iwaizumi had put into this, you really hoped both of you will get an A, so that for finals you don’t have to think much about it. 

Iwaizumi looked at you, “We’re finally done!” 

You couldn’t help but grin happily. You raised your hand in the air and Iwaizumi high-fived you. Unknowingly, he interlocked your fingers together, giving it a firm squeeze before letting it loose. A tingly feeling swirled in your stomach at the skinship. It was a small gesture – heck, a friendly gesture even, but it was more than enough to make you blush. In silence.

“So, how should we celebrate this?” You cleared your throat, tucking both hands under your chin. Well, a celebration sounds really nice now, especially since both of you decided to celebrate it. Maybe a drink? Both of you had just eaten, though. 

Iwaizumi had some ideas in mind but he was unsure if you’d be on board with his ideas. “Should we head back to my house? We can have some drinks if you’d like. My parents are out for an errand, so it’ll be just the two of us,” he suggested. A few days ago, his parents brought home a really nice bottle of wine. Not that they offered it to him. He just took a sip when he saw the bottle and couldn’t get enough of the taste. 

“Mhm, that sounds nice. A drink sounds good, though but isn’t it a bit early for that?” You chuckled under your breath. To be fair, it was still daytime. To be drinking at this hour sounds a bit weird and out of habit for you. 

“If you’re not okay with it, then that’s fine. We can do something else instead,” Iwaizumi said. Honest to God, he did not mean anything weird by that. Sometimes, he just slips out and it gives you room to overthink about what he says! 

It’s only until you gave him a skeptical look that he realised how it must have sounded. Iwaizumi sighed again when you asked him, “What is this something else you were talking about?” 

“I meant, like ordering a pizza or anything,” he clarified with a serious look on his face. Why did he not think before saying anything just now? Ugh, it gave you a chance to make fun of him again! 

You stifled a laugh. He seemed like an angry kitten when being teased. 

“That sounds nice too. So, let’s just hangout at your house!” You said cheerfully as you packed your belongings. Iwaizumi ensured nothing else was left behind before finally leaving the coffee shop. 

Both of you then walked back to his house, which was like 10 minutes walking distance. The weather was nice so there was no harm in taking a walk. While you were busy rambling, Iwaizumi suddenly switched places with you. He walked on the side of the road. At first, you didn’t read too much into it but as time passed by, you were kinda touched by his silent gesture. Sure, it might be a friendly gesture. The gesture was more like a protective friend instead. 

“I never noticed you have a garage,” you pointed a finger to the garage in the doorway. Iwaizumi’s gaze moved towards the direction you were pointing. Slowly, he nodded. 

“It has always been there. Maybe you just noticed it today,” he replied. The garage is filled with car parts that his dad always uses to work on his old cars. His old man collected cars and passed them down to his dad. Sometimes, Iwaizumi worked on them together with his dad over the weekend when he didn’t have any practices. 

You shrugged your shoulders. Before entering the house, Iwaizumi looked at you, “So, what are we going to do?” 

Your eyes blinked several times as the wheels in your head tried to digest his meaning. That could carry double meaning. “Well,” you paused while fidgeting in your spot. Moving back and forth in one place, you looked up at him, “What do you suggest?” 

Maybe other people wouldn’t notice it but you were sure you saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. Iwaizumi then turned on his stoic face again. He just gave you an annoyed scoff before turning the door knob. Feeling this unusual desire took control over your consciousness, you then grabbed onto his forearm and pulled him into a kiss.

Iwaizumi’s hands instinctively went to hold onto your waists. He was caught off-guard but the familiar feel of your lips eventually made him soft. His lips pressed against in a leisure and slow pace as his hand slowly made its way to squeeze your ass. 

You moaned softly into his mouth, looking up at him with a dazed expression on your face. The way your body responded to his kiss was indescribable. Something about the way his body pressed against yours, his eagerness to kiss you, and the soft thump of his heartbeat that somehow made you calm being around him. 

Both of you might not realise it yet, but the chemistry between both of you are obvious and intense. It’s like both of you can never get enough of each other and nothing can get in between both of you. Well, it is a bit early to be saying this, given the circumstance that you just know him for a few months. 

At first, you couldn’t believe you just pulled Iwaizumi into a kiss. In front of his house. Your heart almost took a leap out of your body but the moment he reciprocated the kiss, your racing heartbeat finally stabilised. Your knees felt weak and wobbly, but the strong grip that Iwaizumi had on you kept you steady. 

Not breaking the kiss, both of you staggered backwards the moment Iwaizumi opened the door behind him. Both of you stumbled through the front door, and as soon as the door opened, he pushed it closed with his foot, your lips sealed in a soft, urgent kiss. You wrapped your arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling him closer as you moved into the hallway.

Iwaizumi felt this looming presence inside of his house. He knew for a fact his parents were not around at this hour because they went out. They let him know they will be back in an hour. The proof of their absence is that there was no car outside in the driveway. He couldn’t be more wrong. Who was in his house at this hour? It cannot be an intruder because if then, both of you might be in danger. 

He opened his eyes and widened at the sight of his friends, Oikawa, Makki, Matsukawa, and the rest of their volleyball team were there in his living room. Their mouths hung open seeing what just unfolded in front of their eyes. The whole team fell into an awkward silence while holding the birthday banners, balloons, and even the confettis. 

Iwaizumi’s shoulders automatically tightened seeing the ‘small’ audiences that he had in his living room. He was unable to decipher why the heck they would be in his house but judging from all that fancy decorations, it finally clicked. They are here to surprise him on his birthday. 

A flicker of surprise appeared on Iwaizumi’s face when he suddenly broke the kiss. Good lord, Iwaizumi sighed audibly. You looked at how his face turned sour. His attention was not on you anymore so you whipped your head around and your heart dropped seeing the amount of people that were in his living room. 

“Fuck!” You cursed in your mind. At least that’s what you thought until you realised you had said it out loud. In your defence, that was not your intention to yell it out loud. But being in this situation has never crossed your mind. It was not humiliating because it was rather embarrassing! You’d rather be out in the streets right now to save your face from further humiliation. 

Iwaizumi placed a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were still pinned on his teammates. “What are you guys doing in my house?” There was a hint of surprise in the tone of his voice. 

“Surprise!” The whole team, still in obvious shock, cheered happily. One of the seniors popped the confetti and your body jerked in surprise. Iwaizumi kept you steady, one hand moved to hold you by the waist. 

You locked eyes with Oikawa. The brunette staring at you with a smug grin on his face that you wished you could wipe it off in an instant. Matsukawa and Makki were speechless, on the other hand. The obvious shocked expression was all over their faces when they realised their friends are… well, rather intimate with each other. 

Oikawa had this suspicion that both of you are still hooking up but he just doesn’t know how to prove it unless he gathers enough evidence. Trying to prove a point to Iwaizumi when he’s hiding it so well is like jumping into the lion’s den. His best friend would probably kick him in the ass if Oikawa buries his nose in his business. 

“The surprise birthday party just became a lot more interesting.” His voice was casual and nonchalant, but there was an undertone of teasing in the way he phrased his hints. The brunette then took several steps towards both of you who stood still like deers caught in headlights. 

You bit on your lower lip out of guilt. Slowly, you turned to look at Iwaizumi. Hesitantly, you asked him the one question that’s been nagging in your mind. “Your birthday is today?” 

Iwaizumi looked down at you. Those eyes were staring at him and he did not know how to explain to you. He did not mean to not lie to you. “Uh, yeah. But not today. It was yesterday, actually,” he awkwardly ran his hand over his nape. A deep sigh followed after. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, idiot? I would have joined them to surprise you,” a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you jokingly hit him in the stomach. But your fist was met with rock hard abs instead. 

“Well, it’s unlike me to go around sharing my birth date. It’s no big deal. You didn’t miss anything, though,” he shrugged his shoulders casually. You gave him a pointed stare when he pulled off a joke like that. You were being serious and he played it around like that. One way to get you pissed off. 

Iwaizumi’s expression turned soft, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude or anything.” 

“You better be,” you huffed. “Aight! Let’s celebrate your birthday with your beloved and precious teammates!” You then pushed the larger man to where his teammates were waiting for him. They sang the birthday song and you chuckled seeing him standing there awkwardly. It pained you to watch him being awkward all of sudden. Very unlike him. 

When it was time to blow the candles, the rest of the team yelled out, “Make a wish!”  to their co-captain. Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, thinking of what he should wish for. He then shut his eyes for a brief moment and then blew the candles in one go. His teammates cheered for him before asking the man to cut the cake for them. He rolled his eyes at the pestering guys in his team. 

“Y/N! Feed Hajime now!” Makki asked in a very loud voice that startled you. You grumbled at him, “Why should I? You feed him!” 

“Well, because you are his girlfriend? Isn’t it sweet?” A first year junior suddenly said. All heads turned towards the owner of that voice, with a questioning look on each other’s faces. “What?” He retorted with a panicked look on his face. Poor kid probably thought he was getting jumped. 

All of them groaned in defeat. “I have no hope in this dude,” his friend next to him sighed, making everyone laugh in unison. You just shook your head at the said junior. He was just being pure and that is rare these days. 

“Don’t make fun of him, guys. He was telling us the truth. Come on, Y/N. Don’t leave us hanging!” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows at you. At this point, he was literally forcing you to come forward and put on the ‘caring girlfriend’ act. And you were sure this will not be his last agenda to push you and Iwaizumi together. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows slightly raised as he turned to look at you. You were feeling guilty that you didn’t know that his birthday was yesterday. So, being the good friend that you are, you walked up to Iwaizumi. Another senior then handed you a plate of a small piece of cake with a spoon on the side. 

You grabbed onto the spoon and scooped some of the cake. “Here comes the airplane,” you teased with a playful tone, moving the spoon as if you were about to feed a baby. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a slight smile on his face. He felt stupid to have you feeding him like this, with lots of eyes fixed on both of you. Trying to match your height, he bent down his knees so you could feed him. 

Both of you locked eyes the moment you fed him, his lips closing around the offered bite with a playful glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the gesture sending a warm feeling through you. He smiled back, chewing slowly, clearly enjoying the moment. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the team erupted into cheers and teasing remarks. "Way to go!" Matsukawa shouted, while another voice added, "Get a room, you two!" Their laughter and playful comments filled the room.

You felt your cheeks flush, but you couldn't stop smiling. His eyes stayed on yours as he swallowed and licked his lips, savoring the food and the moment. It was a small, silly act, but it held a warmth that stood out in the noisy, bustling living room.

“Lots of you seem to be having too much fun, huh?” Iwaizumi snickered. His form turned to the rest of the team surrounding him. Some guys laughed at his accusation. Well, too much fun when the man is having his guards down. That seems like the safer way to poke the bear. 

“Just enjoy your birthday, old man,” Matsukawa said. Even though he appears like the oldest, you actually learned that he is the youngest among the seniors. Iwaizumi glared at him before a smile appeared on his face. 

“Thanks for uh- feeding me just now. These guys can be galling, I know,” Iwaizumi then approached you again to express his gratitude. He knew you were a victim of their mischievousness just now. 

“Ah, it’s nothing. It’s really nothing compared to what they saw earlier,” you said and then shuddered at the reminder. Geez, if you could rewind the time, swear to God you’d rewind it and change everything. 

Iwaizumi chuckled, suddenly reminded of the whole fiasco. He needed to figure out who planned this, but it was obvious Oikawa was the mastermind. He was the only person that could get his house key from his parents. 

“Alright. You okay, though?” He asked, concerned about how you were doing in case you got uncomfortable. You nodded, reassuring him you’re fine. The man then went to meet with the rest of the team, checking up on them and the snacks they brought. 

Oikawa, then not so subtle, made his way next to you. He looked at you with a grin on his face, arms crossed to his chest. As if it was his way to tell you, “I knew it!” Without stalling his time, he finally got his question out in the open. “So, how long has this been going on, huh? I freaking knew it! I had an instinct that you guys are still hooking up! Good god, I just wish I found out about it sooner!” 

You glanced at Oikawa, your expression a mix of surprise and guilty. “Seriously, Oikawa? You’ve been snooping around, haven’t you?” You crossed your arms, mimicking his stance as you tried to suppress a smirk. “For your information, it’s not like we were hiding anything. We just weren’t broadcasting it to everyone. Not everyone needs to be in the loop about our personal lives, you know.”

You took a deep breath, attempting to keep your tone even. “And, if you really must know, it’s been a while, but that’s really none of your business. We’re okay with it. Well, you are not going to take a peek into our business or anything, right?”

“Right?” You repeated the last question, scared if Oikawa would be out of his mind to catch both of you in the act. That would be traumatising. 

“Euw, do you really think my life is that pathetic? If you must know, I have my ways of getting laid too, ya know?” Oikawa winked and nudged you in the arm with his elbow. He then paused to say something. “I just hope both of you know what you are getting yourselves into. It’s going to be hard for me to make decisions.”

Your face turned into a puzzled expression, “Why would it be hard for you?”

Oikawa gasped. The man was disappointed when you couldn’t take a hint. “I cannot pick sides, shortcake. That’ll be the hardest thing to do. Both of you are hard-headed. How could I solve that?” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong though. About the hard-headed part. That was 100% accurate. You pursed your lips as if in thought, “Both of us know the arrangement. Feelings aren’t involved. So, you don’t have to worry.” 

That’s what you told yourself too. There is nothing to worry about. Right? 

Oikawa then gave you a slight nod before excusing himself to join the team again.

Speaking of the devil, Iwaizumi then came up to you with a slice of cake. “Cake?” His voice was gentle and soft. You took the plate into your own hand, “Thanks, birthday boy. It’s not too late to be calling you this, right?” 

Iwaizumi let out a snicker, “I’m gonna let you decide.” Both of you locked eyes before bursting into a fit of laughter. Just by a mere second of exchanging looks, both of you knew what was on each other’s minds. It was ridiculous how the tables turned today. Almost comical. 

“Looks like we need to postpone our appointment, then,” you paused to chuckle before continuing the rest of your sentence. 

Confused at your statement, Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows. “What appointment?” 

You looked at him with a slight disappointment plastered over your face, “Your dick appointment, duh.” 

Iwaizumi groaned in defeat as a blush crept to his face. He could clearly feel the blood rushed to his cheeks and face from how the sentence affected him. How could he not pick up on it sooner? “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

You laughed – clearly enjoying the time of your life to poke on Iwaizumi. “Insufferable? I’ve heard things that are way worse so you’re good to go, booboo .” You then picked up the spoon and fed yourself a spoonful of cake. 

The icing on your lips was licked suggestively with Iwaizumi as the audience. His jaw ticked, “Trying to rile me up? You’re so cute, princess. Good attempt, though.”

“Aw, thanks,” you grinned. “Glad to know it’s working,” you then winked at him before closing your lips around the spoon. 

“I don’t like you right now,” he groaned with a flicker of a smile on his lips. Iwaizumi wouldn’t know how much he can take while being alone with you so he dragged you to meet with the rest of the team. Just to be safe. Yup. That’s what he told himself. 

When Iwaizumi was busy chatting with his friends, he suddenly got a notification. You were standing by his side so you could see who was the sender. It was from an unsaved number. Iwaizumi seemed relaxed about it, though. It almost felt like he knew who the sender was. He then opened the text and a photo of him and his ex-girlfriend kissing then filled the screen. Both of them were smiling and from the look of it, the photo might be from a year ago. Your blood boiled seeing the same girl whom your ex-boyfriend cheated with. Naomi.

Below the photo, that bitch had the audacity to say, “Sorry I missed your birthday, booboo. Happy belated birthday! You know I’ll always love you, right? I’m here for you, always. Look at how happy we were, Hajime. I want the old us back… No one else.”

Iwaizumi’s thumb quickly pressed on the delete button without replying. As far as he is concerned, that girl is no longer his problem and she doesn’t deserve any ounce of his attention. That’s for sure. He then kept his phone inside his pocket and carried on like nothing happened. 

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, seething with anger. She had the audacity to mess with him again? After everything that she put him through? After everything she put you through? She messed with the wrong person. Guess she hasn’t seen your crazy side yet. And you will show her hell. 

By doing a few detectives’ work, it was not that hard to find what you were looking for. You just needed to put some effort and sacrificed some of your time to finally get what you wanted. The most important resources were in the palm of your hand now. You then looked at the box with the important resource together with a note. Yeah. This should be convincing. 

You are doing this for your own good and no one else’s. You admit, you were consumed by a petty grudge, your mind looping endlessly on the minor slight. But the determination to get back at them festered, growing stronger with each passing day.

With a careful touch, you wrapped each positive pregnancy test in delicate tissue paper, taking time to ensure that they looked as pristine inside the boxes. The boxes, filled with two separate positive pregnancy sticks, were adorned with crisp, white envelopes sealed with a simple note.

In the paper for the sweet Naomi who did you wrong, a typed letter awaited. The heading written, Pregnancy Verification Letter. Its content verifying that the pregnancy test belongs to the girl turned out positive. Other than the note, the positive pregnancy test was enough to convince her whole family to receive the news. 

Oh! Did you also mention that you’re sending the pandora box to her beloved daddy’s office? Yeah. You heard from the vines that her beloved daddy is a director at a huge international business company. It wasn’t difficult to track down her dad’s name and the office address. Easy peasy. 

Then you moved to the next box. This box is specially reserved for Semi. Inside the box, there was also a short note. Inside the note written, “Semi. I couldn’t reach you anywhere! The pregnancy test I took turned out positive. Please call me back! 08148765399. Don’t leave me hanging like this, please.” And you ended the note with her name. This special box will be sent to Semi’s house. He treated you like shit so now it’s his turn to be treated like one.

It was a petty act of revenge, but to you, it was the perfect way to unsettle them — delivering chaos with a touch of sweet, sinister satisfaction. 

Now, it’s only a matter of time before the boxes get delivered to right hands. You smiled in satisfaction, knowing what you just did will raise hell within their families. They will never know it is from you. That’s the best part. 

“You look happy,” Iwaizumi said the moment he saw you entering the school’s area. You didn’t realise he was standing there the whole time. Confusedly, you took off your earphones. 

“I look happy? What did you mean?” You scoffed at his ridiculous assumption. The twisted earphones then were kept inside the pocket of your skirt. 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes on you, not believing your casual dismissal. “You look different. Not in a bad way, don’t get me wrong!” 

You laughed at his statement. Well, you weren’t sure what he saw on your face that you couldn’t see but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Today, after so long, you finally felt a little better than the previous days. Perhaps your petty revenge did lift most of your grievances from the betrayal you got from Semi. 

Your laughter somehow got Iwaizumi feeling stuck in the moment. It made him freeze for a brief second with this indescribable feeling. Quickly, he retorted, “Why are you laughing? If this is what I got from complimenting you, then I won’t do it again.” Iwaizumi put both of his hands up, surrendering to you. 

With a soft smile, cheeks already hurt from laughing, you turned to him. “Nah, man. Don’t give up on me so easily. Thanks for the compliment. In any fairness, I wasn’t that happy. Look happy? Yeah that might sound true.” 

Both of you fell into steps side-by-side. You looked up at him, his side profile came into your sight. His side view was effortlessly alluring, with a sharp jawline that seemed to naturally catch the light. His slight tan skin brought out the boldness in his black hair, while every sharp feature added to the magnetic pull of his profile. 

Iwaizumi then let out a soft, amused laugh. “You sure do have ways of twisting what you are feeling, princess.” 

You nudged him in the ribs. Hard. Then, the man winced in pain. His reaction caused you to feel guilty in an instant. You were terrified if you had injured the man on accident. “Ah, I’m sorry!” You consoled Iwaizumi who was bent at his waist, crouching in pain. 

“Shit, Iwa. You okay? You need me to bring you to the nurse?” Your words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other as panic seized you. ‘I didn’t mean to—are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay.” 

Iwaizumi was dying from holding back his laughter. He then stood straight, shutting his eyes close before heaving out a deep sigh. “Glad to know you care,” he laughed airily. He then saw your expression changed as if you just got betrayed.

You then punched him in the arm, “I don’t like you right now. I don’t want to talk to you for the rest of the week. BYE!” Dramatically, you walked away from him and he chased after you. Some other students were looking at both of you, wondering what’s going on. The scene almost seemed like it’s out of a k-drama scene. 

Iwaizumi then grabbed you by the arm, stopping you in your tracks. You glared at him and he flashed you a boyish grin that could cause other girls to melt. Yourself included. Damn him. 

“Our class is that way,” he pointed to the building. You bit on your lip, suppressing your increasing anger. 

“Fine. Lead the way then,” you said to him, pushing his body forward. Iwaizumi laughed seeing your frustrated expression. He walked in front of you and you jumped onto his back. Thankfully, he caught you just in time. If he didn’t, both of you would have been on the corridor’s concrete pavement. 

Iwaizumi laughed again. He never laughed this much early in the morning. Especially in school. “If both of us fell just now, I’d blame you for it,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“You’re so dramatic. Did we fall? No, right?” You rolled your eyes at him. “You can be dramatic like Oikawa does sometimes. Geez. No wonder the two of you are best friends.” 

He broke into laughter again. “I’m losing my mind talking to you.” 

“Drama queen,” you threw lighthearted jabs his way, the tone teasing but affectionate, knowing he would take it all in good humor. Iwaizumi then nudged you using his elbow in which you swerved. 

As you dodged the quick jab aimed your way, your reflexes betrayed you for just a moment, sending you stumbling into a solid form. Startled, you looked up to realize you’d bumped into none other than the football team’s captain, a towering figure whose name slipped your mind in the rush of the moment. His broad hands steadied you before you could fully register what had happened.

“Whoa, there. You good?” His deep voice was tinged with concern as he held you steady, his grip firm but gentle.

Your heart raced, caught off guard by the unexpected collision. The warmth of his body against yours sent a flush of heat rushing to your cheeks. You stammered, struggling to find your words. “Uh… sorry I bumped into you!” 

The guy, standing tall at least 6’1”, merely shrugged it off, his expression easygoing. “Nah, it’s okay. You okay, though?” His gaze softened, genuine concern creasing his brows.

As if snapped out of a daze, you found yourself momentarily tongue-tied. Iwaizumi, who had been watching the whole scene, narrowed his eyes, his usual calm demeanor cracking just a bit as he noticed the way you seemed almost flustered in the other guy’s presence. A twinge of something unfamiliar—jealousy, maybe—gnawed at him, making his fists tighten at his sides.

You finally managed to compose yourself, offering the football captain a soft, slightly embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said with a slight nod, your voice steadying as you spoke.

But Iwaizumi noticed everything—the way your smile lingered a fraction longer than usual, the faint blush that still colored your cheeks. He shifted his weight, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary. “Ready to get back to it?” he asked, his tone casual but with a subtle edge that you couldn’t quite place.

The football captain’s gaze flickered to Iwaizumi, reading the situation with an amused smirk before turning back to you. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, “I’ll leave you to it.”

As he walked away, Iwaizumi’s eyes followed him for a moment before returning to you, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “You good?” he asked, his tone softer now, more focused on you, but still carrying that hint of something deeper.

You nodded again, the blush on your cheeks finally fading. “Yeah, let’s go,” you replied, but there was a new awareness between the two of you—a silent acknowledgment that something had shifted in that brief, unexpected moment.

Maybe Iwaizumi was overthinking the whole situation just now. But, the feeling that gnawed at him just now was real. What he was feeling was real and it scared him a little bit. In that brief moment, he was feeling jealous. Even if it’s a little bit, it almost crossed the line both of you had drawn in this arrangement. 

“What’s his name? The football captain?” You asked, glancing over Iwaizumi who had fallen into silence. He looked at you, the stoic expression had slipped, replacing it with something more… intense. 

“Kazuya,” Iwaizumi said, his voice carrying a hint of nonchalance, but beneath the surface, you could sense a flicker of something else—maybe a touch of unease or reluctance.

When the name was mentioned, you repeated it, but Iwaizumi’s gaze had shifted slightly—just enough for you to notice the faint edge of doubt in his expression. Iwaizumi smiled, but the expression didn’t quite match the tone. 

Iwaizumi glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. “Interested in him?” he asked, the words coming out sharper than he intended. It wasn’t that he meant to pry or sound so direct; his mind was betraying him, letting his emotions slip through his carefully maintained facade. 

Beneath his casual tone, there was a flicker of jealousy that he tried to suppress, but the tight set of his jaw and the flash of irritation in his eyes betrayed him. He knew his emotions were getting the better of him, and though he tried to mask it with a shrug, the tension in his posture and the underlying frustration in his voice were unmistakable. He couldn't help but feel unsettled, caught between his desire to appear indifferent and the undeniable sting of his own feelings.

You looked at Iwaizumi, a laugh escaping you before you could contain it. The question seemed so out of place that it struck you as almost absurd. “Interested in him?” you repeated with a chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. I didn’t even know his name until just now.”

You noticed Iwaizumi’s shoulders relax slightly at your response, though his expression remained guarded. His eyes, still sharp, softened as he took in your amusement. The tension that had briefly clouded his demeanor seemed to dissipate, replaced by a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. You couldn’t help but wonder if the underlying concern he had showed more about his feelings than about the other person.

The word you have been meaning to say was caught in the back of your throat. Throwing the word out of your mouth would have been a suicide to this arrangement that you asked for in the first place. Letting your emotions take control would be the end of this casual relationship you are having with Iwaizumi. You cannot afford to lose this just yet. It’s what you needed. The thrill of having him close to you, the chemistry that you guys are having. This friendship comes with its own benefits and you cannot risk losing this relationship. 

But what would happen if Iwaizumi found someone else? What if he has a girlfriend? What will happen to you? To us? 

The question suddenly nagged at you. Your expression changed sour, shoulders tensed at the sudden overthinking of what’s about to come. Trying to lighten the sudden shift in mood, you chuckled, “I have you, right?”

Iwaizumi’s heart turned giddy. It was not a confession and you probably meant it in a friendly way, not romantically. He then shrugged, “If you think of it that way, yeah, why not?” 

“You don’t have to be cocky about it, huh,” you shook your head while looking at him. Iwaizumi scoffed, “Let’s not waste our time arguing about this. Come on. We’re about to be late.” 

[themarsmaiden]

Accolade

Yuri x Gn!Reader

alternate universe

Summary: [Name] and Yuri have known each other since they were kids. Always competing, and now they prepare for their final year in high school. For their colleges of choice, the science fair, and in love.

Case Study 2: The Partner Punnett Square

September; Yuri’s Birthday

September had started, and the year-long project that Dante had announced a few weeks ago is finally starting.

It would be a partner project, and [Name] already had a few ideas on what them and Rui would be doing for this-

“[Name], Yuri, not so fast.” called their professor, pushing up the glasses that rested on his face. “Come here for a minute.”

Before either of them could start talking to anyone around them, they went over to where their professor was.

“You two will be working together.”

The two of them were stunned silent, he had to be kidding right? “Don’t give me that look, I warned you this would happen.” He sighs, “I’ve known you both for four years now, and every year is the same.” He organizes the stack of papers in front of him as he speaks, “Fighting, fighting, and more fighting. Now, I’m glad the both of you are showing interest in learning. It's a wonderful thing to see as a teacher, but its not wonderful when two of your students start bickering so much you can’t hear your own thoughts.”

He pulls out a sheet of paper from his desk, “So, I’m taking matters into my own hands. You two will learn to get along whether you like it or not.” He gets back to the stacks of papers in front of him, and without looking up he dismisses them, “You can go now.”

The two of them scramble to their tables, [Name] looking down and scowling at the paper in their hands that had become scrunched in their hands.

________

Rubric:

100% - Worked on by both partners, clear interest and understanding in the subject. Min. 500 word essay documenting your findings.

80% - Worked on by both partners, some understanding in the subject. Essay reaches 500 words, but barely exceeds 500

60% - Worked on by both partners, minimal understanding, no essay

40% - Not worked on by both partners, no understanding, no essay

Partner Punnentt Square

You will learn about your partner over the course of the school year, find out about their parents and genealogy and how it aligns with them today. Make punnentt squares of 4 key traits, they could be visible or mental. In your essay, both of you must understand each other thoroughly and genuinely. It must be an unbiased view on the individual.

NOTE: I understand the other students get to choose what they do, however you will not get the privilege of doing so. Consider it punishment for continuing to bicker after I told you to stop :)

________

Yuri stomps over to them, “Stop gawking over that piece of paper, follow me to my table, we must discuss the contents of our project.”

[Name] hurriedly grabs their bags and mouths, ‘Save me’ to Rui as they run over to the otherside of the lab where Yuri sat.

“Now as much as I hate you, I think we should continue working on Project: Jiro, the mysteries left to solve just cannot go untouched.” He immediately spoke, blissfully unaware of what was written on the paper in his unwilling partner’s hands.

“Yuri.”

“He has a rare genetic disease that makes it hard for him to live,” He continues on, most likely intentionally ignoring the coming calls of his voice from his rival.

“Yuri.”

“So I think we can-”

“Yuri!”

Finally their voice, now booming across the loud chatter filled room, cut him off from his train of speech. “What?” he looks down at them, annoyed and unamused. They hand him the paper, which he takes aggressively. “Project must be worked on by both partners, 500 word essay… Partner Pennett Square?! An idiot could have done this!!” he crumples the paper even further in his hands. “Am I being reduced to a little kid?”

“And this is why I don’t like you.” [Name] mutters under their breath. “What was that?” He turns to them, “You’re conceited to the point you won’t hear me over your own talking, you reduce thought out projects to kid projects because they aren’t ‘good enough’ for you, it’s annoying.”

“Get over yourself [Last Name], you’re the exact same person you just described and you know it.” He crosses his arms across his chest and scowls.

The bell dismissing the school day rings. “I do not look forward to working on this with you.” says [Name] as they walk away, grabbing their bag. “Likewise.” responds Yuri, who goes his own way from the classroom.

Thus marks the start of Case Study: The Partner Punnett Square, a year long study that will take [Name]’s sanity. On a positive, they note, it will help advance Case Study: Isami Yuri, but at what costs?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A week later, [Name] found an email in their inbox from one Doctor Yuri Isami, it read, as follows:

_____

Dear [Name],

As much as I do not like working with vermin such as yourself, I have found it within myself to put this aside for a grade. As such I expect only greatness from a lab partner chosen to work with me, failure in living up to these expectations will face dire consequences. Fortunately I, unfortunately, have faith in your want for a good grade as well. Thus, I invite you to start working on this project as soon as possible, so with all due disrespect, you are cordially invited to my birthday bash on September 14, I expect to see you there,

Sincerely

Isami Yuri

______

They stared, eyes gaping at their computer. “If you stare any harder you’re going to burn your retinas out.” A hand is placed on the chair behind them, “Oh Haku, hi, how did you get in here?”

“You left the door wide open.” He chuckles, moving to their side to read the email they had been staring at.

Kusanagi Haku, their Step-brother after both of their mom’s divorced their husbands and got married to each other. “A birthday invitation? From Yuri? Stare away then.”

They groan, finally reacting to the email, rubbing their hand against their forehead, “I forgot that day even existed. How is it possible that a man that terrible was actually birthed, and didn’t just spawn out of the darkest pits of Tartarus in a bursting pimple of ugly goop?”

“Hey, He’s not that bad a guy, he’s just… like a worse you. I mean, Mama birthed you, and you came out just as nerdy.” He pinches their cheek between his fingers, to which they slapped away. “And mom somehow birthed you.” They pushed him aggressively, shoving him to the side, “Now please don’t compare my genius with that of monsters.”

Haku laughs, “You’re so dramatic.” There was a momentary beat of silence, “So are you going to go?”

[Name] sighs, “Do I have a choice? If I don’t at least attempt to start on this project, Dante’s going to kill me.” They slide down further into their swivel chair.

“What about the secret evil third option?”

“Haku Kusanagi! I am not failing this assignment.” They say, appalled at the fact that he may even suggest the idea of failing a major grade. How will that look to Harvard Medical? Certainly not good, especially, especially, considering the fact it was a biology project.

[Name] mentally dismissed the fact that applications would have already been due and sifted through by the time this project was over, it didn’t matter, if they weren’t Harvard material throughout their entire school year, they weren’t Harvard material at all.

“Fine, fine, but you could always not go.” He waves them off, to which they shake their head. “No, I have to go, I have to cross this hurdle for the sake of my grade.”

Haku sighs, “Whatever you say…” He raises his hands as if in defeat, “But don’t complain to me about it when you get home, I know you. Complain to Edward or that Luca boy or something.”

[Name] feels a slight flush of embarrassment flush on their cheeks, “You can go now Haku! I’ll remember your words later.” They stand up and push him out of their room. “Maybe.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The dreadfully fated day has come, September 14th, Isami Yuri’s birthday. [Name] had his case study mentally on hand for whatever interactions they might have this unfortunate day. When they arrived at the location, a decent sized house came into view. It was nothing grandeur, but it stood out for its gothic architecture compared to the relatively more modern houses that laid around it. One could only assume it had been there for a few generations already.

There was no crowd present anywhere near the house, perhaps one or two vehicles had been around but nothing more than that. [Name] always assumed Yuri had no friends, but they didn’t actually believe that was the case. However, it seems now that perhaps they had been right in that assertion.

When they walked up to the door they had been alone. They could not have work be ruined by distracting comments from Rui or Haku, and Edward was too ill to be invited out. When they knocked on the door they knew that this was it, there was no going back, they were now at Isami Yuri’s birthday party.

They were greeted by a tall boy, he loomed over them, quiet and intimidating. They had recognized his face almost instantly, Kirisaki Jiro. A boy who was technically enrolled in their school, but one no one had ever truly seen. Rumor had it that it was he who killed his brother a few years back, but [Name] knew that wasn’t the case. Mainly because their step brother had been friends with the victim, as had they been by proximity.

That’s how they knew the truth of Jiro’s mysterious disappearance, his illness. He had an autoimmune disease that made it hard for him to live normally, which left him hospitalized in a coma nearly 2 years ago.

His presence here does not surprise them in the slightest though after Yuri’s not subtle bragging on the matter of ‘reanimating’ him.

“Yuri, there’s someone here.” He calls out, not bothering to turn around towards the inside at all, choosing to continue to look down at the student in front of him instead.

Soon the man himself appeared behind Jiro, causing the taller boy to move out of the way. This allowed [Name] to get a good look at him. He wore a turquoise button down shirt that was not 100 percent button at the top, exposing just the slightest bit of his chest. Underneath his untucked shirt were a pair of black pants that matched the black shoes at his feet. Overtop it all laid the final piece of his ensemble, a white lab coat.

It was strange. It was really, really strange. They had never once seen Yuri outside of an academic environment, he always wore that nerdy sweater vest in their head. Though, if they had to guess what he’d wear in a semi formal setting, a lab coat is definitely on the list. It was nerdy and pompous, right up his alley.

A devil of a thought passed through their mind, ‘he looks good.’ A thought purposely buried far back in the depths of their subconscious. That one would never get out.

“[Name], you came.” He sounded a little surprised, as if he was not actually expecting them to come. He quickly masks his own emotions, clearing his throat, “Good, only to be expected of someone who values their grade. Now I will put aside my hatred of you for today, so please come in.”

He moves out of the way, allowing them to enter. This was still so odd. Everything about this was odd.

Yuri really was a real person, with a house, and other clothes, and a life. It was a thought that never really crossed their mind, and they’d prefer to bury it back in their mind and pretend that he secretly was Hades right hand man. Though they couldn’t do that, not here, not in his house, not with him on his birthday.

Though, they will later.

“You can set yourself down in the living room, and we can begin discussions of baseline topics for the project after Jiro leaves.” He led them into his house, there was a small hall into the living room that shared a slightly open space with a large kitchen. The inside was practically identical to the outside, gothic. Yuri Isami was not beating the Victor Frankenstein allegations he faced amongst the intellectual circles at school.

“Isn’t there anyone else here?” They ask, sitting down on a dark purple flur de lis couch. “Huh?” He stops his walking, turning his body half around. “You said that we could start once Jiro leaves, is there not anyone else here we have to wait for? Like your parents?”

He goes quiet, “No. There isn’t. Do not bring this subject up again.” His face dropped (if it could), and an awkward energy filled the space. “Okay, I won’t, sorry” They responded, with as little attitude as they could manage.

He turned back around, “Jiro, come with me to the kitchen, the cake is nearly ready, you need to decorate it.”

He walks into the space that occupied the kitchen. They could see in through the half wall that barely separated the two spaces. As Jiro fumbled around with the cake, [Name] fumbled around with what was in their hands.

A bag, it contained one notebook and a few pens and pencils, and also a small gift. It was nothing special, just a copy of Frankenstein. It was a small dig at him while also being “polite” to their host, as Haku said they should be.

They looked up after taking everything out, “Would you like help?” They ask as they see Jiro alone struggling to ice the cake. He nodded, “Sure.”

Now, they did have a problem with the fact that they offered to decorate Yuri’s cake, but they couldn’t sit there watching as a dead friend’s brother struggled alone, so they walked over into the kitchen and took the icing bag from Jiro.

“To his room.” he says blankly. They nod, “Why?”

He watches as they carefully pipe the chocolate cake with the white frosting. “He needed to grab something. Also I think he was a little uneasy with your-”

Before Jiro could spill any of Yuri’s secrets for Case Study: Isami Yuri, the man in question came back through the kitchen yelling his name. “Jiro! Do not fraternize with such speak with the enemy.”

[Name] rolls their eyes, pushing his cake away that is now very nicely decorated with a squiggly border and piped rosettes at the bottom. “I should just ruin your cake shouldn’t I?” They’re inside thought was voiced allowed in a small mumble, though one that everyone could hear.

Yuri looks over at the cake in surprise, “You’re actually capable of doing feeble tasks?” He voiced, somewhat admiring the work done to the cake. “Rui likes to bake a lot, well more like Ed likes to eat a lot of sweets. I just picked it up from that.” They say, ignoring his insult to the best of their abilities as they pick up a teal gel to write ‘happy birthday yuri’.

As much as they wanted to write something mean, they decided against it. It was for the grade, they told themself.

Oddly enough, there weren't any more scuffles between the two before Jiro left. It was possibly because the awkward boy served to mediate any arguments just on the basis of, ‘jiro’s here.’

Once he left however, things became… rough.

[Name] grabbed their pencil and sat down on the living room couch, “Let’s start on this I guess.” They opened their notebook and made a small traits chart.

Yuri clears his throat and agrees and sits down next to them, taking out his own notebook. They took turns going over simple traits like hair color, eye color and height. “What about your parents? We should start with our moms.” [Name] suggested, “What can you tell me about yours?”

Yuri stayed quiet, as if searching his mind for an answer. “No.” More silence filled the air, “No?” They asked. “No.” He stood up, setting his notebook down. “I shouldn’t bare repeating myself to someone as naive as you.”

They stood up, “That was out of nowhere??” They set their notebook down. “And this is why I don’t like you.”

Yuri turns around, “You look down on everyone else.” They walk closer to him, “What makes you say that?” They roll their eyes, “One small thing and you insult me.” They walk closer again, making him back up, they point their finger towards his chest.

“Don’t act like you’re better [Name]” He rolls his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing. “I am better, Yuri.” They take one step, “You don’t have any friends because you’re that unbearable.” Another step. “You consume yourself in your work and make it your entire personality.” Another step. “You then make yourself seem like the smartest person on earth.” Another step, “The only time I’ve seen you smile is when you’re bragging about your genius.” Another step.

“You just turned eighteen, but you’re still a child, Isami.” Suddenly the boy was against a wall looking down at them, his face hid a small amount of panic and fluster. [Name] seemed to realize their proximity and stepped away after a few too many seconds in this position.

“I’m sorry. That was inappropriate of me.” They seemed to realize everything they had been ignoring before, though they couldn’t realize why. Perhaps it was because the weight of their words was unwarranted and they finally noticed they weren’t better. Haku was right.

Yuri stayed silent and still, as if he hadn’t exactly processed what happened. They couldn’t blame him, they had just pinned him to the wall and berated him, over one sentence.

[Name] excused themself and left, leaving the copy of Frankenstein untouched and uncommented on.

At home that night they reflected and came to the conclusion that they’re resentment had just been growing the whole night and that they had just kept it in for the sake of appearances. It wasn’t something they were used to doing, and it got to them.

Still, they meant every word, and they knew it. It was just how they’ve felt this whole time. Yet? They felt bad.

The image of Yuri under their gaze, quivering almost, it portrayed him as human, not as a monster.

This would certainly cause interesting developments for both case studies regarding the man.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/N: The end was rushed 💔 this was already posted to ao3 :3!! The Greek mythos stuff was specifically references to the Pjo/HoO/TOA versions of the stories because I love it sm!! I kinda wanted this to be released on his birthday but no… yeah idk if there was anything else for me to say but :3

Also this was 3100 words

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Masterdoc

[kidcataldo]

Going through an old email and found this from 2019. It explores my hc of Drakken’s extended family (specifically his daddy issues) as well as their reluctance to become parents.

By this time I was already drifting from the fandom (personally I never fade out of fandoms completely, I always just linger after I’ve had my fill), so the characters might be a little ooc, idk.

Warning: NSFW content.

Title: Hello/Goodbye

Drakken didn’t like talking about his dad. Even after they started dating, he rarely spoke about it. One time, she remembers, while staying at his old family home, his mother mentioned a man called Percival during dinner. Drakken visibly tensed at the mentioning of his name, so Shego changed the subject and Mama Lipsky went off on a rant about half priced grape juice at her local market.

Later that night, while Mama Lipsky was busy washing dishes—both Drakken and Shego offered to help, but she insisted she could do it alone—Drakken showed her the wall where his mother displayed all her family photos. His family was Jewish, but non practicing. He far preferred Snowman Hank and all things Christmas. But remnants of that culture lingered on the wall, especially in the old photos. “The black and white photo with the couple frowning at the camera are my grandparents,” he said. “Grandpa died when mother was just a teen. My baba died when I was ten.” He also showed her a picture of a young Motor Ed, looking more innocent than radical, crying while standing next to a goat. “He was afraid the goat might bite him, like it did the year before, but Aunt Libby wanted the photo,” Drakken told her. Then he showed her a picture of his Uncle Robert, who died when he was eight. “He was the best babysitter,” he said, “because he made chili dogs and let us build a blanket fort in the living room.”

In the center was a picture of Drakken with a birthday cake. He was small, five said the candles before him. In the background there was a man sitting in a chair, looking off in the distance, away from the birthday boy.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing.

He only shook his head and moved on to the next photo: a picture of him and Ed with their mothers and grandmother with Drakken clutching onto his grandmother, his “Baba.” He looked so happy.

Years passed and he still had trouble talking about his father. Once he cried on Shego’s shoulder; a few other times he got so angry about it, his blue face turned purple. “He had another family, you know,” he mentioned once.

After the crying stopped, they made love in the room that used to be Drakken and Ed’s childhood bedroom. Now it was a mix between a study and a guest room. They started out on the creaky couch bed, but moved to the grandfather chair when Drakken became paranoid about his mother hearing them.

They had no protection because they weren’t planning to have sex with Mama Lipsky just behind the thin wall. But he seemed so sad and it was the only way she knew how to comfort him. It was their first time making love. At least it was her first time making love to him; he could have been making love to her all the times they had been together. She watched his face carefully as he struggled not to come, stroking his back gently. It was then she realized. And she had the urge to sigh out the dreaded L word as he penetrated her, but she didn’t. She waited until they were vacationing in the Bahamas three weeks later. She gave him a hand job snuggling in a hammock and the words slipped out like the come inside of him. But that night, in his old bedroom, she stayed quiet. His mother was in the other room.

Shego found out she was pregnant while Drakken was house sitting for Mama Lipsky some years later. She had been feeling ill all week and she finally decided to see a doctor about it. By that time, Commodore Puddles was Mama Lipsky’s dog fully and Drakken called her complaining about how demanding the dog was. She kept quiet about the pregnancy on the phone, and she really wasn’t listening to anything he was telling her, but at the end of the conversation he begged her to come over to keep him company.

She told him yes.

They were back in the old creaky bed, because Drakken did not feel comfortable sleeping in his mother’s room, nor in the room his Baba died in. He asked her why she was so quiet, if it was something he said at dinner—he had taken her to an old Italian deli that was once his favorite place in the world. She pretended that it was something over dinner. But when he kept nagging at her, she finally blurted out the truth.

He was too calm for her liking. “Oh,” came his response much later. He rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling, instead of at her. “That explains it.”

She burnt her pillow and threw it at him, then went to sleep in his dead Baba’s creepy old room. She took care of her brothers most of her life. That should be enough.

They fought the next morning. Drakken was angry, and exhausted, because they had only talked about having kids once and they both, he thought, agreed they did not want any. “Well… things happen,” was Shego’s quick witted response, uncertainty consuming her. After the yelling stopped, they sat down at the Lipsky’s ancient kitchen table and talked until noon. Things were discussed, and other things were decided. And suddenly they felt so separate. Pain lingered. She wanted only to take back the, “I love you.” Bit her tongue instead.

“Nrgh, this isn’t what we wanted!” The words surrounded them, haunting them as time passed. Mama Lipsky was the only one who seemed happy. She proudly framed the sonogram and hung it on her wall of family pictures, right below the picture of Drakken and his dad at his fifth birthday party. She wanted to celebrate. Shego left almost immediately. Drakken stayed a few extra weeks.

They made up, sort of, when he eventually came home. Sex. Always sex, rarely any talking. But nothing felt the same.

Nine months later, fourteen days before Drakken turned fifty, Shego’s water broke. It wasn’t like how she saw in the movies. Her body ached, sweat glistened all over. She was sitting up the entire time, her hands gripping the rails on each side of her, with a focused expression on her face. A pale Drakken stood dutifully beside her, waiting…

And suddenly a small whimper—Drakken’s—as the doctor proclaimed he could see the head. She saw only fear and knew he was thinking about him. It had always been about him.Where was he, Drakken’s… Percival? Was he even still alive? They don’t talk about it. Not even Mama Lipksy.

“It’s a girl,” somebody declared, sounding more like an echo than a nearing voice.

With one final push, it was out: gooey, crying in the gloved hands of the doctor. Something burst within Shego as it was placed on her chest, feeling so foreign in her arms, so breakable.

Drakken’s eyes remained glued to the crying thing clutched to her chest. Was she what they wanted? The nurses took her before she could decide and she closed her eyes. They called her “Mama” while doing so. Mama Lipsky was Mama. Shego was… Shego. Was this what she wanted? Exhaustion consumed her; she felt herself fading.

She awoke in an empty room. No crying. No doctor. No… She searched for any sign of him. Nothing. He was gone.

Alone.

He was nearly fifty. She was pushing forty. Not to mention they were criminals, technically—with a few new loopholes, but still… She was on the no fly list, banned from entering twenty-something countries in just Europe alone.

Sitting up, she yanked out her IV and the alarm set off. Maybe she could start a new life in Bermuda or somewhere. But when bare feet met hospital tile, tiredness once again took over. She could not find the strength to fight her way out.

The door was ajar with hurried footsteps coming near it. Shego extended her arm for the nurse to mend it, already formulating some lie about how it fell off while she was asleep.

“Um, I have to go now, mother,” came Drakken’s voice, clearly. He stepped inside with the baby cradled in his arms and his phone up to his ear balanced by his lifted shoulder and craned neck. “All right. I love you. Call you later.”

Did he tell his mother he loved her? Without her nagging at him first? And did he openly promise to call her later? What kind of drugs did the doctor have her on?

Struggling at first, unable to cradle the baby with only one hand, he easily decided to let his phone slide out of his grip and onto the ground. The baby remained unfazed, calm in the comfort of his big blue arms. “Shego… what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Um, nothing.” She allowed herself to lay back down. He moved to her side, again struggling to do anything with the baby in his arms. She pulled the sheets up to cover herself, and he simply watched on. “I just… thought you left.”

“Oh.”

The nurse came trodding in, muttering something about patients needing to follow directions. He fixed the alarm and then the IV, making it extra tight this time to assure the incident would not happen again. And he was gone again in an instant, as another nurse poked her head in asking her for help.

Drakken and Shego’s focus remained on the sleeping baby the entire time. She had Drakken’s nose… maybe his everything else, too. It was too early to tell. She was white, but tan in comparison to all the blue around her.

“That was mother,” he clarified after a moment, gesturing to his phone abandoned now on the ground. His unibrow raised. “Oh, um, Mazel tov, she told me to say.”

“Lemme guess, her mama senses were tingling. She phoned because she knew I’d be out cold.”

“I called her, actually.” He sniffled. She realized, suddenly, he had been crying.

“Oh.” She sat up and pain shot through her, like a thousand needles stabbing at her insides. The drugs were wearing off. And her mind was clearing. “Look… I know this isn’t exactly—”

The baby’s face wrinkled and she began to cry. Drakken tried cooing her, rocking her back and forth to ease her back to sleep. His movements were awkward but gentle… loving. Another nurse entered, the one who needed help before. She smiled, gesturing to Shego. “Sounds like it’s time for your first feeding, mama.”

Mama. It still felt so foreign. Would they call Drakken’s mom Baba Lipsky now? Mama Shego sounded so sour in her mouth.

“Feeding?” questioned Drakken, hesitating before handing the baby over to the nurse, who then gently placed it in Shego’s reluctant arms. The curtain was drawn, the nurse stripped her from her gown, and then angled the tiny mouth to her breast. It latched, instinct taking over. “Oh. Feeding.”

The baby was back in Drakken’s arms about an hour later. He told her he couldn’t understand. All this time his mother loved him this much. And he couldn’t understand, until now. The confession took her by surprise. He seemed unfazed.

He slipped back into his old self easily; she still needed more time. “I can see it so clearly, Shego. My greatest idea yet… A play house! With a blue door and a garden—ooh, and a full kitchen set.” And he stopped, suddenly looking at her with uncertainty. “Um, Shego?”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“Is the plan still to take over the world?”

Something inside her ached. It had been, hadn’t it? Taking over the world one day. Even after all these years. Even after all their defeats. But now, she honestly could not say.

A/N: My hc for these two as parents is Drakken finally finding something he’s good at and enjoys (sort of becoming the new mama lipsky) while Shego becomes reluctant/unsure about her goals in life. Also, I always hc them being older parents ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?”

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE NINE || SMALL FLY AND REVERSE RETRIBUTION

↳ featuring : gojo satoru + ieiri shoko (mentions of fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + nanami kento) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of corpse + mention of blood + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 09 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.4k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : boredom

↳ next episode : idle transfiguration 

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ once again, thank you all for the birthday messages you have given me and the love that you all have for Y/N, i’m really glad that you love her character ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode even though it isn’t that interesting at all to be honest...

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“At this point, I’m not going to get any sleep if I keep doing this,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, as you leisurely walked down the stone steps that lead to the familiar track field you had been going to for the past few weeks for training due to the up and coming Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

Currently, there was nothing more than a few mild wind breezes as well as the brightness from the moon keeping you company as you decided to come out of your room for the night - how many times have you done this? You wouldn’t even know the answer yourself, you just let yourself go outside to get some fresh air.

Finally reaching to the bottom of the steps, you casually made your way to the tree you always sat under during training with your classmates and second-year upper-classmen before taking off your black longline coat to place it on the ground like a cover as you processed to sit before laying right on top of it leading your view to change from the field to the sky that was slightly shielding by the branch and leaves from the trees.

“What...am I even doing here?” you questioned yourself while raising your arm slightly above your face as you stared at your hand absently like the answer you were looking for was at the back of your hand.

From what you have learnt at being at Jujutsu Tech for some time, you learnt that everyone had a purpose of being at the institution that you were currently residing in now. 

Everyone you have met and knew here at this moment in time had a purpose or a goal of being a jujutsu sorcerer.

What about you?

Fushiguro thought the world was unfair and the reasoning behind his reasoning of becoming a sorcerer was to be a tool within a system that ensured kind people were given more chances in living. However, unlike you, you weren’t really fond of his reasoning at all. 

What happens if those ‘good’ people you saved become the criminal you refused to save? What happens if those ‘good’ people you deemed ‘good’ become the most immoral and sinful person you ever encountered? What happens if those ‘good’ people you save that smiled at your actions for them lead that smile to fade?

Like you mentioned, you weren’t fond of his reasoning at all. There were too many risks.

Kugisaki's reasoning was humorous as she wanted to move out of the countryside without any worries of financial issues but you knew somewhere in your heart that there was another reason she wasn’t telling you when you asked her during your usual weekend shopping trip with her. On the other hand, you admired her in some way, she was the personification of not needing to choose between strength and beauty.

However, that wasn’t the answer you weren’t looking for at all.

Zenin (Maki) wanted to escape the ties of the Zenin clan due to her situation of not being able to possess any kind of cursed energy compared to the averaged sorcerer, yet with the heavenly restriction that was traded with the lack of cursed energy, she processed superhuman physical prowess that was more powerful than most sorcerers you come to know. 

Her reasoning? To become the head of the Zenin clan to irritate the other members.

When she mentioned her ambition to you, you were quite sceptical in the beginning but that slowly diminished once you saw the cheeky grin on her face, you soon came to realise that she wasn’t like any of them from whom you could recall due to your mother’s knowledge of them when she was still alive. Zenin was extremely strong-headed and straightforward which led to her motivation causing your respect for her to slowly rise up as each day went by.

On the other hand, you had escaped the ties of the clans, you had that advantage ahead of her since the day you came into this world, yet that changed the second you came into school that night. That wasn’t the answer you were trying to discover.

Then there was Gojo Satoru. A man that is known to be the strongest in this generation as he processed both the Limitless technique as well as the Six Eyes after 400 years assumingly and was the lone standing member of the Gojo clan unless your adoption made a change to that to which you knew it wasn’t likely at all.

To be honest, Gojo never told you his reasoning on becoming a sorcerer and it must be said that he didn’t really have a choice, to begin with. He was immediately placed into this world as the fate of the jujutsu world was resting on his shoulders while your clan was the maintenance of that order and if anything happened to the man himself, you were the next sorcerer to restore the stability of the world.

‘Ugh, what a drag…’

Although, without his words, you could predict what he wanted. Gojo seemed like he wanted a revolution. A change and actively collecting sorcerers that had the same mindset as him was one way of beginning it. You couldn’t deny that Gojo was a smart man but one with a hint of narcissist meaning to it. 

Slowly, you come to realise that you were a tool within his plan.

Something you slowly wanted to take advantage of for the time being.

However, as much as his plan was one you were tensely going to follow, that still wasn’t the answer you desired at all.

“Because I’m not supposed to exist Fushiguro, you’re a Zenin by blood, you should know that my clan shouldn’t exist after the golden age, we disappeared,” 

“That’s right...I wasn’t supposed to exist…”

Slowly you finally placed your arm back down to your side before closing your eyes allowing the darkness to consume your sight but you didn’t allow it to consume the whole of you since you weren’t willing to fall asleep outside in the world where you felt most vulnerable.

It was quiet.

From what you could sense around you at this current moment in time, there was no one around you right now, no sound of footsteps that were out of place and no lingering sense of cursed energy around you.

You felt free.

Completely free.

Even if it was for a couple of seconds.

“You know, instead of being a drag, maybe inform that you are here,” you stated, as you opened your eyes slowly to discover a well-known face staring down at you as their body towered over yours. 

“You can sense me that quick?” Gojo asked, with a cheeky smile painted on his face as he tilted his glasses down to reveal his crystal indicolite eyes that somehow looked as if they were brighter than the moon that was above the both of you right now.

“You have an immense amount of cursed energy, it’s quite easy to sense you to be honest...too easy,” you mentioned, before turning on to your side as if to avoid eye contact with him due to the feeling of him studying you like you were s subject - it was creepy.

“If you are going to study me about my ability, just go to the library in the school to read about my clan, I’m sure that is enough,” you informed your teacher, causing him to giggle at your comment before inviting himself to sit next to you.

“Nah, I got the real thing of the lingering L/N clan here and I don’t like reading~” Gojo amusingly stated, before placing a hand on the top of your head before gently ruffling your hair. “Besides, you and I both know that something is going on right now,” Gojo seriously mentioned, causing you to become slightly tense as you began to recall the unexpected attack against him that he was hinting to you.

“Do you know any curse users that are willing to work with the two curses that you encountered?” you asked Gojo in the same serious tone he gave you only for silence to fill the atmosphere leading you to turn your head slightly to see what was wrong with your adoptive father, only to notice him staring off into the distance with a nonchalant look on his face only for it to change instant with the usual playful smile he always showcased to you.

“By the way, I told Shoko to expect you tomorrow to practice your reverse cursed energy technique,” the playful teacher stated before removing his hand from your head as he stood up on his feet. “It might be difficult for you to understand since she’s not the best at explaining, but I know you’ll get it! Get back inside and get back to sleep~” he said with a teasing tone, before making his way back into the Jujutsu Tech building, leaving you alone again with your own thoughts as you stared at the direction that he had headed off to.

“What a drag…”

                                               ꕥ

“Shoko-san?” you called out, once the metal door slid open only to discover her standing between two metal tables with what seemed to be curse corpses resting there with blood splattered messily on their resting surface.

“Oh Y/N! Satoru said you were going to come by,” Ieiri mentioned with a small smile, as she turned to look at you while tying her hair back leading you to notice the very visible purple under eye bags she had.

Ieiri Shoko was the doctor within the Jujutsu Tech institution and was one of the only people that was able to use reverse cursed technique like you but more at an advanced level leading you to mentally thank Gojo for allowing you to learn from her since you had been struggling to use it to the level that she was. Even your mother was struggling to help improve your technique since the only time you were able to use it to your full potential was when you were in critical danger.

“What’s going on?” you curiously asked as you observed the gruesome sight in front of you while trying to ignore the horrible smell that was coming from the corpses as you gently placed your hand over your nose to block the scent.

“There was been an incident in Kinema Cinema and I have been asked to check out these since one of the sorcerers that were assigned to the mission stated there was something odd about them,” Ieiri explained before handing you a black elastic band leading to a confused look to invade your face.

“And I want you to help since Saturo said you have a really good sense of seeing residue of cursed energy, as well as sense, cursed energy itself,” Ieiri informed you leading you to take the hairband from her grasp as well as the other surgical mask that was needed in case you both needed to dissect something.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to do this? I don’t have a license,” you questioned, as you placed the mask over your mouth causing Ieiri to look at you before saying to not worry since she was here - which caused you to look at her with a sceptical expression before going on to the task at hand as you stood next to her to peer over one of the deceased curses that were laying on the metal bench.

While observing the gruesome sight, you began to steadily see a trail of the lingering residue of cursed energy from the whole body, yet for some reason, there was a connection to the brain as you continued to stare that the sight much to your dismay.

“Human?” you stated in a perplexed tone while continuing to look at the head as the most amount of residue was there for the most part. “There’s a connection to the brain, so I assume the brain stems have been tampered with to alter the formation of the body, but the person wouldn’t know any of that due to probably their now impaired consciousness...it’s as if the human has been transfigured in a way like the other one behind us,” you informed Ieiri, who seemed to agree with you as she lightly nodded her head.

“Though the relationship between the brain and the cursed energy is still a black box right now, they died because of the modification and not because of the sorcerer,” the doctor added, causing you to give a side glance in her direction as you continued to listen to her explanation.

“Do you think it’s to do with the soul?” you asked, as you fully turned to look at her while she looked at you in confusion.

“Right now, we’re looking at it in a biological sense but if we are talking about a cursed spirit like Sukuna for example that is doing this, it has to do with the soul rather than the body itself,” you informed the doctor, causing her to look at you with widened eyes as she didn’t expect her old schoolmate’s daughter to have such a high capability to come to different ideas since it was Gojo that was your parent after all.

“Kento will have to ask the culprit about their cursed technique to see if your theory is correct,” Ieiri mentioned, leading you to look at her confused once again as you threw your surgical mask in the bin, only for her to swiftly inform you that a grade one sorcerer by the name of Nanami Kento was the one to inform her about the situation.

“I have to make a quick call to him to explain the discovery we made. Can you step outside and wait for me before I call you back so we can proceed to your lesson?” the doctor asked you with a smile leading you to nod at her before making your way towards the metal door that had come through before as you took one more peek at the Jujutsu Tech’s doctor’s direction with a perplexed and doubtful sense.

‘What’s the reason for me to be out of the room if I got involved with the investigation? What are you hiding from me?’

However, you didn’t want to make a whole fuss about your suspicion since you really didn’t have the effort to voice out your concern leading you to leave the room with more questions plaguing your mind as the ringing tone carried itself in the air.

“This is such a drag”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[cupofteaguk]

let the games begin

PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES

summary: in hindsight, acting out against prankster Jung Hoseok wasn’t entirely good for your sanity. after all, it’s not very fun to have hiccough sweet mixed in with your morning breakfast—a feat that goes about as well as one would think. 

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader 

genre: hogwarts au, pranskter!hoseok, enemies to lovers | fluff 

warnings: there’s mention of Nayeon in this fic and yes it’s the same Nayeon from new romantics because i love crossovers lol, talks about Hogwarts curriculum (definitely not technically accurate but I tried my best), slow burn, ~banter~

word count: 19.5k 

a/n: a birthday fic for jung hoseok <3 

.

As soon as his name is called, a silence falls across the dungeon as students stand a little straighter and become a little more alert to the situation about to unfold. Murmurs rise up amongst the crowd as people look around, stand on tippy-toes, poke their head up, all trying to seek out the owner of the name—the brash individual who has piqued interest and has guaranteed an excellent show of skill for today’s lesson.  

There’s a moment of silence, before a hand raises briefly into the air. “Present, professor.” It’s a voice from the back, a low tone but full of confidence. All the eyes flicker towards the source, a boy stepping away from his group of friends in order to walk towards the center of the room. At the center sits a long table, stretching across the expanse of the class. The surface is colored blue with decorations of wands and colliding spells, explosions of rainbow patterns. The perfect backdrop for a dueling lesson. 

“Ah, wonderful Mr. Jung!” The professor announces, curling her fingers into each other. Professor Wong is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who has recently employed a dueling class once a week as part of her curriculum to interweave real life practices with academic intentions. 

For every single duel that has been conducted, it’s always the same: pair two students against each other who have one assignment: disarm the other. There’s always a comment on the form, always a comment on the reflexes of the participants, and never a repeat of students who are volunteered for the activity. 

With the exception of this one. 

Jung Hoseok steps onto the table with practiced ease, his arm sweeping his cape back so he can step towards the center of the table. A light flurry of giggles pass through the air, of students already in awe of a move as simple as moving his cape. Hoseok doesn’t react outwardly to the shower of affection, he merely looks down to fiddle with the rings that decorate his longer fingers. 

“And the student who will go against Mr. Jung today is…” Professor Wong refers down to her parchment. “Kim Mingyu. Mr. Kim?” 

For a brief second, silence envelops the room until a distant voice is heard. “Oh fuck, Professor Wong is trying to get me killed.” 

Professor Wong lowers her parchment. “Language, Mr. Kim. And facing off against Mr. Jung shouldn’t be a problem—his form is good but you’ve had weeks to study the art of dueling from previous students who have come up before you.” She pauses for a moment as Mingyu makes his way towards the center of the room. “And I have every confidence that you’ve been preparing.” She lowers her neck to fix him with beady eyes. “Did I presume correctly, Mr. Kim?” 

Mingyu hoists himself up onto the table, managing an uneasy smile. “Of course, professor.” 

“Filling me with confidence as always, Mr. Kim.” Professor Wong sighs. But she steps off the table and whirls around to address the two now situated atop the dueling table. “Now, the purpose of this duel is to provide real world context to this aspect of wizard combat. You two are not to injure each other but simply disarm your opponent. Nonverbal spells or verbal spells are allowed. Now, you know the rules. You may begin.” 

Hoseok turns to Mingyu as the pair approach each other, the air weighing down in tension and anticipation. Once in the middle, the two bow before turning around and making their way to their respected ends of the table. Mingyu shuffles around nervously, while Hoseok whirls with the spin of his robe. 

Mingyu launches first, stepping forward as a bright burst of light flickers out from the end of his wand and zaps straight towards Hoseok. A nonverbal attempt at expelliarmus—one that is immediately thwarted by Hoseok’s deflection. The light of the spell reflects off, creating a sound of hollow space, before the pair are once again back to where they started. 

Hoseok attacks next, his own silent spell flying towards Mingyu, who mirrors a shield charm. But Hoseok steps forward and another attack flies at Mingyu, who has to step back hastily to reflect the spell. The latter boy looks exhausted, as nonverbal spells are still a challenging subject to master. Most seventh year students have the concept of casting spells nonverbally down, but require more practice beyond what a single year can provide. A lot of it comes down to practice, discipline, and mental fortitude—all things that Mingyu is losing hold of right now. 

His opponent, however, doesn’t seem to be losing steam. Hoseok merely narrows his eyes and continues stepping forward. With every step he takes, he attacks with yet another expelliarmus spell aimed at Mingyu. After the second spell, Mingyu has reached the end of the table before the wand flies out of his hand. In the midst of the confusion, his foot slips off the edge and everyone gasps as Mingyu teeters, about to fall.  

Bringing his wand towards him, Hoseok brings an end table from the other side of the room, lining it up to the edge of the long table so Mingyu has an additional surface to step on. The latter boy stumbles but maintains his footing at the higher ground. 

Hoseok smiles slightly. “I can’t have you breaking your back during a disarming duel.” 

There is a moment of stunned silence from Hoseok’s save, but as soon as the silence passes, the crowd erupts into claps and cheers. 

“A wonderful benchmark for fair dueling practices once again, Mr. Jung,” Professor Wong starts up again as she steps onto the table. She waits for Mingyu to step back onto the main long table, waits for Mingyu and Hoseok to bow to each other again, before she’s turning back to the class. “Alright class, what did we learn from today’s duel?” 

As the class engages in conversation about what has just occurred, several gazes flint over to Jung Hoseok. The boy appears calm and composed as always, making sure to pocket his wand before he’s running fingers through his hair and creating a curtain in his hair that exposes his forehead. Several more giggles arise from the movement. No doubt the conversations would carry on after the class time about Jung Hoseok is confident, posed, and absolutely—! 

. 

“Dreamy…” Nayeon sighs as she finishes recounting the events of the duel to you, ending it on the kind of note that makes you want to stab yourself with a fork. “You should have seen him—it’s like he gave Mingyu a chance to go on the offensive before Hoseok just tore into him. How do you think he did it? I’ve never seen anyone our year be able to conjure up so many nonverbal spells in a row.” 

“Seems like Jung Hoseok never has anything better to do than learn that shit,” You grumble under your breath as the pair of you step into the next lesson of the day: potions. Your statement is dripping in sarcasm because it’s entirely false. Jung Hoseok can conjure up many nonverbal spells in a row for a variety of reasons, and most of those reasons have nothing to do with burying his head into a book. 

Nayeon doesn’t seem to hear you as she slides into the seat next to yours to continue gushing about how attractive Hoseok had looked sweeping his robe back or pushing the hair out of his face. Although talking about Hoseok makes your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, you indulge her infatuation because she’s a friend. A new friend, but still a friend regardless. 

Nayeon is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Despite the six previous years spent in the same castle, Nayeon is not someone you were very familiar with as you were growing up. The pair of you just ran in different social circles throughout the previous years, and her popularity as a player for the house team has always made her seem like some faceless figure in your conversations with other people. That is, until a few weeks ago when you ran into Nayeon leaving a party in the Room of Requirements. It was after the first Quidditch game of the season—Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and Gryffindor had lost out on the opportunity to advance to the next round. 

To be fair, Jeon Jungkook is a monster on the Quidditch field. 

Regardless, Nayeon had gone to the party and had been seconds away from being caught by Head Boy Min Yoongi had she not run into you heading back from the library. You saved her from detention that night, had played along with her claim that the pair of you were partners for some upcoming project. As the pair of you were walking back to your respected houses, you both made good conversation and decided to start hanging out in between classes. Nayeon is unlike some of the other friends you have within the castle walls—she’s much more outspoken and extroverted, but she is really sweet which is why you’re indulging her the way you are right now. 

Because despite Nayeon’s parading of how cool and amazing Jung Hoseok is, he definitely is not. 

“Yeah, wasn’t I so cool? Mingyu tried his best, but he just couldn’t handle me coming after him with my spells.” 

You sigh through your teeth, and don’t even bother watching as Jung Hoseok himself appears in the potions classroom. His Slytherin friend Park Jimin is at his side, and they both slide into the seat behind you as Hoseok continues to brag about his victory during the dueling match. 

This carries on for a little before the potion lessons start. In preparation for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, there are less students and higher expectations than ever before—all lessons expertly crafted to help students prepare for their examinations. 

And it all starts here: with an assignment from the professor to construct a potion for dreamless sleep. “Some of you might need this in the coming months, depending on how many N.E.W.T.s you have to take,” He had remarked humorlessly, before sending the class off on their own. As with many classes during a seventh year at Hogwarts, students are usually left to their own devices to finish up whatever assignment may be in store for them. 

In the case of the potions class, it’s typical to get an ingredient or a potion to either write a paper on or recreate the mixture where a grade would be received on the spot. For today’s potion, ingredients are situated in the back and the textbook on Advanced Potion Making in the reference tool. With everything set up, you go off to gather your ingredients before returning back to your desk. After setting up your cauldron, you get to work setting up your station. 

As you’re turning around to gather your textbook from your bag, an unwelcome figure approaches his own desk in order to set his own materials down atop the table. He notices you immediately, and flashes you a smile. “Hey Y/N, you should have seen me today in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I kicked ass at our dueling lesson.” 

“Unfortunately for you Jung Hoseok, I’m not taking that class,” You sneer, whirling back around to focus on your current assignment, trying to focus. You can do this. Every grade distributed in your classes is important and you cannot afford to be distracted. 

“You mean Dark Arts isn’t in your wheelhouse,” Hoseok says as soon as you’ve tried to settle yourself into a comfortable silence. Nayeon watches from next to you, eyes flickering in confusion between the two of you. 

You turn back around to give him a sweet smile. “Herbologists aren’t required to have a Dark Arts N.E.W.T. Not that matters much, since it doesn’t affect you in any way.” 

You turn around, staring down your first ingredient of the day: a sopophorous bean that needs to be cut in order for the juices to help with the construction of the potion. 

As you start your chopping (or attempting your chopping), Park Jimin’s voice resumes from behind you. “So how exactly were you able to go like three nonstop nonverbal spells against Mingyu? Doesn’t that require a lot of concentration? At least, according to the textbooks.” 

“It does,” Hoseok answers. “But I like to think I’ve had a lot of practice in casting spells. It requires a lot of mental commitment and you really have to think about what spell you’re trying to use as you’re using it. Luckily, I think my skills are pretty solid so Professor Wong is pretty smart in having me be a good reference point—!” 

Unable to take it anymore, you place your knife down on the table and turn around once more to face the two boys behind you. Hoseok and Jimin look up, but you only focus your attention on Hoseok. “Jung Hoseok,” You seethe. “Some people are actually trying to do well on these assignments and pass this class so we can set ourselves up for success. Not everyone here is protected by a family name.” 

At your final sentence, the people within hearing range react immediately. Jimin’s eyes widen as he lowers his own knife to study you. Even Nayeon looks over her shoulder to stare at you. 

Hoseok, however, just raises an eyebrow at your attack. He takes in a breath of thinly veiled frustration before giving you a nod. “Fair enough. Focusing is really important in class, I get it. Here.” He picks up his wand from his desk and gives it a wave. “Consider this water under the bridge.” 

Your eyes follow the movement of his wand with narrowed eyes, before you turn back around without saying a word. You turn back to your ingredients, not thinking anything of it as you manage a clean cut through the sopophorous bean. You pick it up, sprinkle it into the cauldron—! 

And the contents inside immediately implode. You jump, Nayeon screams, and the ends of Hoseok’s lips tug up into a grin. 

Professor Slughorn is at your table. “What seems to be the problem, Miss. Y/N? Put the wrong ingredient into the potion so soon?” 

“N-No professor, I promise!” You stammer, frantically sorting through your materials before settling on the pages of the textbook you’ve been referring to. “It says to put the juices of the sopophorous bean into the cauldron first. I did and it just—I don’t know…” You continue, borderline helpless as your eyes shift. 

Professor Slughorn is quiet for a moment before he leans forward to pick up one of the ingredients you have on the table. He observes it before placing it back down. “No worries, Miss. Y/N. It seems like your ingredients have been tampered with—with an aging charm no less. If ingredients like these are past a certain threshold, they lose their magical properties and end up damaging the potion. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, so go ahead and grab the correct ingredients once more—Mr. Jung?” 

Hoseok falters slightly with his own mixing as Professor Slughorn turns to face him this time. 

“Now, Mr. Jung, just a quick word.” He lowers his chin to give Hoseok a more beady look. “Considering the wastefulness you’ve treated my ingredients, I am partial to just removing you from class for today. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Next time I’d be a little more mindful about picking up my wand before threatening another student. Just detention for you this time, Mr. Jung.” 

Hoseok hardly seems fazed by the punishment, like he has been expecting it. He lowers his head slightly. “I’ll be more careful, professor.” 

Professor Slughorn walks away, unable to see the wink Hoseok throws at you, unable to see the way your lips part in realization and the way your teeth clench together. Because Jung Hoseok has done it again. 

. 

“Argh!” You scream, bringing your curled fists up to your hair, ignoring the curious glances you receive from your classmates. The fingers land into the strands as you make an extra note not to pull too hard. “I’m gonna kill Jung Hoseok one day, mark my words.” You catch Nayeon’s wide-eyed stare. “He’s not that pretty to look at, come on.” 

Nayeon blinks for a moment, before her lips curl into a smile. “You seem to know Hoseok pretty well.” 

You groan. “I’d rather not go into it right now, I think I’ll burst a vein in my forehead.” 

Nayeon keeps quiet at that, giving you the few seconds you think you mentally recover from the day. You did manage to get your potion done for the day, no thanks to Hoseok, and now you and Nayeon are walking through the outdoor pathway that drops off into the courtyard. The greenery is fresh underneath your shoes as you and Nayeon continue until you see another familiar figure laying atop a picnic blanket with a book in her hand. 

But this time, rather than irritation, the sight of this person brings a smile to your face. You exhale the last bit of your frustration. “Sana!” You sing, quickening your pace with Nayeon following closely behind you. 

Sana looks up from her reading material and waves wildly at the two of you. “Hey guys, how was class?” 

“Pretty calm,” Nayeon starts as she carefully slips off her shoes and steps onto the blanket Sana had laid out. “Until someone got into a fight with Jung Hoseok.” 

Sana gives you a side glance. “What did he do this time?” 

Nayeon blinks, having not expected that. “Wait, you know about that?” 

Sana laughs, gesturing to you with the point of her book. “They’ve had bad blood since year one. Jung Hoseok has done a few hair-pulling pranks throughout his Hogwarts career. Sometimes they’ve affected just one person or sometimes they’ve affected a whole dormitory. But Y/N is usually caught in the middle of it all and thinks that Hoseok is full of shit.” 

“Whoa, whoa, wait, what stuff? I’ve heard of a few pranks going off in the Hufflepuff Common Room and an incident with house arrangements but I didn’t think—!” Nayeon starts. 

“Yep, all Hoseok’s fault,” You cut in, digging into your bag and pulling out a bag of food. 

Nayeon’s eyes light up. “Sounds like there’s a lot of tea to unpackage then—I honestly figured something was up. Hoseok seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons and your insult about his family name seemed very specific. What was that all about by the way?” 

You give her a look as you rip apart your bread. “Oh that’s right, I forgot that a lot of people outside of Hufflepuff don’t really know Hoseok’s history. But I’m sure you know about the Jung family line in the Auror department.” 

Aurors were highly trained law enforcement officials who dealt with crimes relating to the Dark Arts and the dark witches and wizards who engaged in that dangerous magic. The training to obtain an auror position was known for being vigorous and intense and the reputation of the job was even more so. Despite that, wizards and witches who worked as an Auror were highly respected. It’s usually rare for even one wizard from a family to become an auror, but to have an entire family with the skills, talent, and grades to become an auror is a rarity in of itself. 

Knowing that, Nayeon nods. “Of course. The Jungs are legends. Not only did they have generations of family members both heads and regular aurors in the department, but they have such an impressive streak of finding dark witches and wizards. But wait—are you saying—?” 

“That Hoseok is from that Jung family? Yes, one hundred percent.” 

Nayeon’s lips part as her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s pretty crazy. I’m guessing Hoseok is expected to become an auror too.” 

“At this point, just being a Jung is enough to probably get him in. He just needs to get the right number of N.E.W.T.s and he’ll be smooth sailing. I don’t even think he’ll need the grades to get in.” You move around in your blanket so you’re resting on your stomach. “That’s why I think Hoseok is full of shit. He doesn’t take school seriously because of his family. His job and way of living has already been predetermined, so he just spends his time creating havoc everywhere he goes and literally dampening everyone else’s day with his horrible pranks. Seriously, now that I think about it, he pulled some crazy shit once a year.” 

“Oh, like remember that time during first year when he set off a dung bomb in the Hufflepuff common room?” Sana asks, shuttering at the thought. “Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still smell the bomb in my nose. It was awful. The smell was in the room for days.” 

Intrigued, Nayeon listens in as you and Sana briefly recount the annual party of pranks Hoseok created for everyone around him, or for you more specifically. 

In second year, while trying to impress a student, Hoseok tried levitating a bottle of ink into the air during a lesson but lost control of the bottle. The actions caused the ink to spill all over your white blouse, colored with an ink so poignant that it required help from the Headmistress. You doubt Hoseok even knew you existed before then. 

In third year, Hoseok spread quick dry glue all over one of the moving staircases—a product that, like the name implies, dries quickly when activated by the movement of a person, place, or thing. Unfortunately, you and Sana had been the person, place, or thing, to arrive atop the moving staircases. It was following a post-dinner bliss, seeing you and Sana trying to head back to the Hufflepuff common room before the plan was promptly thwarted by glue. 

“Oh hello there, I remember you,” Hoseok had said, teary eyed and grinning from his previous laughter—just appearing from the shadows. “I spilled ink on you last year, nice to meet you!” 

It had been your first conversation with Jung Hoseok, and the first time you wanted the ground to swallow him whole. But sadly, it doesn’t end there. 

In fourth year, Hoseok made everyone’s quill disappear throughout the whole duration of the lesson only to have them reappear moments before class ended just to chase the poor professor out of the classroom. And of course, the final cherry on top had been a firework of feathers, the byproduct of the quills colliding and exploding over the whole class. The feathers had stuck to you for weeks, and Jung Hoseok had been laughing the whole goddamn time. 

He had even cornered you after class with his classic shit-eating grin. “You look like a bird,” He commented. 

In fifth year, he did something that surprised you: he walked to your desk and gave you a present. 

“I hear you’re into plants or whatever,” Hoseok said, placing a small pot onto your desk. “So I found this and thought of you!” 

He had seemed polite enough for you to indulge him. “It’s herbology,” You corrected him, but you wave it off. “But it’s fine. Uh…” You take the pot, curling your fingers around the edges. “This is very nice of you, Hoseok. Thank you.” 

But turns out it was not a very nice gesture for you because the plant had been jinxed—a bewitched thing that became dangerously overgrown through the night and latched onto you in its path. You had woken up the next morning with branches and leaves curled over every part of your body, your entire bedpost covered with greenery and you right at the heart of it. You, lifted several feet above the bed, trapped in the plant Hoseok had given you. The Headmistress was called to help you out, and you refused to stand next to Hoseok in the greenhouse for the rest of the year. 

And finally, the cherry on top of pranks was during sixth year. In an attempt to fix an admirer’s robes, Hoseok ended up bewitching the entirety of the housing system. The crests people wore on their robes were mixed around and swapped out. The gesture ended up fucking up who was allowed or denied access into the different houses—a crazy day that you remember extremely well. The paintings that guarded the common rooms couldn’t let in certain students, especially the first years because new students are still trying to be adjusted into the school. The day had been an overall frenzy where the attention of the Headmaster was needed to undo the mess. Hoseok had gotten a week of detention following that incident. 

“Wow,” Nayeon says, back in the present, with her chin in her hand and her eyes wide. “I didn’t even know most of those pranks were done by Hoseok.” She looks at you. “I didn’t know you were the one who got attacked by the plant overnight.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut in, looking embarrassed. “It was all very terrible and horrible and Jung Hoseok is a gigantic piece of trash—!” 

“Piece of trash? You don’t mean yourself, do you?” 

The familiar, shit-eating grin in his voice causes the three of you to jump as you pivot your waist to find Jung Hoseok and his stupid equally-as-naturally-talented friend Jeon Jungkook by his side. They’re both staring down at you. 

You glare at him. “Are you stupid? If you’re selectively eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for you, it’s clear that you know I was talking about you.” 

Hoseok slides his hands into his pockets. “Tactful as always. Anyways, this is my friend Jeon Jungkook. You may know him.” 

“What’s up,” Jungkook introduces himself, eyes flickering to Nayeon as he grins. “Hey Nayeon.” 

Nayeon gives him a weak smile in return. You wonder if she’s still upset about her loss against Jungkook in the Quidditch match. Or, deeper than that, you wonder if she’s more upset that he invited her to that party in the Room of Requirements and never showed up.  

“Pleasant,” Hoseok comments in regards to the atmosphere that has been crafted before he’s turning back to you. “I’m hearing about a potions exam coming up.” 

You nod. “You’re correct. Why, you’re gonna try and study this time?” 

Hoseok laughs at that. “Nah,” He brushes off. “It doesn’t seem that important. I’ll look over a guide or something, but that’s it.” 

Your stare hardens slightly. “I think it’s a little more important than you’re making it seem. You do realize that if you fail your exams, you won’t even make it to the N.E.W.T.s, and it seems like that’ll definitely fuck up your chances of doing anything significant with your life.” You pause. “Don’t you need to continue that family legacy or something?” 

Hoseok laugh melts into a frown. The group you’re surrounded with becomes significantly quiet, as everyone seems in shock about the direction you’re taking the conversation. “Why don’t you just mind your business? My ‘family legacy’ or whatever dumb shit you want to call it isn’t of your concern. More than that, how I decide to go about my business is up to me.” He smiles, all teeth but no humor. “Your concern for my grades is cute. But I’m a Jung. I don’t need help and certainly not from you.” He readjusts the page on his shoulder. “Have a good rest of your day.” 

As he and Jungkook take their leave, you roll your eyes and turn back to Sana and Nayeon. You smile. “He’s a dick. So, Sana, What kind of food did you bring out for us?” 

. 

When Jung Hoseok said he didn’t think the upcoming potions exam struck much importance to him, he didn’t think the universe would actually take him seriously. That is all that can run through his mind as he stares at the POOR classification written across his test. 

His mind whirls a little as he starts to flip through the parchment, to figure out what had happened. Sure, he didn’t study specific ingredients closely, but he’s always known the gist of what different potions were meant for. That is, after all, how he passed his O.W.L. in potions.  

“Yeah… I guess the more advanced courses look into what certain ingredients can do,” Jimin says, where his OUTSTANDING classification is over his own exam—of course. “When you get out in the real world and need to make something specific, it’s better to have the foundation of materials. Anyways I thought you knew that. I gave you a copy of a study guide for you to reference.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you were out with Namjoon again.” 

Hoseok sighs. “Whatever. It’s just one exam, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

He’s about to collect his belongings when Professor Slughorn’s voice calls him from the front of the room. “Have a bit of trouble studying for the test, Mr. Jung?” He asks as Hoseok steps towards the desk. 

Hoseok looks down at his test and plasters a smile. “Just wasn’t sure what to focus on, Professor. It won’t happen again.” 

“I hope that it won’t, Mr. Jung.” Professor Slughorn puts down his quill before folding his fingers atop one another. “Because if you fail another one of my exams, it’ll be clear to me that you aren’t fit to take the N.E.W.T. for potions. And I understand you’re interested in the auror program after graduation. That is something I can’t guarantee right now. Unfortunately, just being a Jung won’t be enough if you can’t even make it to the examination period at the end of the year.” 

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, pressing his lips together. “So what do I need to do?” 

Professor Slughorn ponders for a second. “An Outstanding classification would do you well, Mr. Jung. Good luck.” 

With that, Hoseok leaves the confines of the dungeon with a head full and a panic brimming at the corners of his consciousness. An Outstanding was a Park Jimin level of smart and a 24/7 level of commitment—something Hoseok himself has only accomplished once. What the fuck was he going to do?

He ponders this question as he leaves the dungeons of the potions classroom, where Park Jimin is waiting near the entrance. 

Jimin grins, detaching himself from the wall to approach his friend. “Are you still my potions partner?” He asks jokingly, matching Hoseok’s pace as the pair of them make their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. The tall glass windows bring in that morning light, the haziness of morning stretching out past the horizon of the mountains outside. 

Hoseok huffs. “Maybe not for long. Professor Slughorn says I need an Outstanding classification for his next exam or he’s gonna kick me out of class.” 

Jimin whistles. “That’s the highest grade in the school from one of the hardest classes you’ll take at Hogwarts. Potions exams are no joke.” 

“I know that,” Hoseok snaps. “I took the exam. I’m aware they’re hard. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in this fucking position right now.” 

“Spicy,” Jimin rebuffs, nudging Hoseok with his shoulder. Hard. “But hey, don’t be a dick to me. You failed on your own merits. You’re lucky Professor Slughorn is actually nice and is letting you off with a warning. If this was first year and he didn’t know jack shit about you, you’d be gone.” 

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t apologize, however, but it’s implied with his momentary lingering glare. “So, uh,” He starts. “You got time to help me out during study periods? Outstandings require like… near perfect scores. I only got that score on the O.W.L. for Defense.” 

Jimin gives Hoseok a long look. “I would help you Hobi, but I recently got roped into some Ministry of Magic project with that transfer student from Ilvermorny. Professor McGonagall’s orders. It’s a pretty heavy assignment, so I could still try to arrange some time for you…” 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Hoseok cuts in, waving him off. “I’ll figure something out.” 

Jimin ponders this for a moment as he and Hoseok linger outside the Great Hall, waiting for their other friends to show up as per usual. “You sure? I could make time. No worries dude, seriously.” 

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Hoseok brushes off once more, eyes roaming around the hallway. Several unfamiliar students pass the pair of them before you show up and catch his eye. “Uh,” He starts with Jimin, looking at you but directing his voice to Jimin. “If the guys show up, go ahead without me. I’ll catch up in a second.” 

Jimin looks over Hoseok’s shoulder, looking vaguely curious about where Hoseok’s interest in engaging conversation with you has come from, but shrugs it off when Kim Taehyung appears. 

“Hey!” Hoseok calls, saying your name and making you look up from your conversation. “Hi,” He repeats, smiling from you to Sana and back to you. “I need to talk to you.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, Jung Hoseok, I didn’t rat you out to Professor Slughorn and no, I didn’t imply that you were the one to mess with my ingredients.” 

Hoseok snorts. “Okay first of all, I know Professor Slughorn figured that out on his own. I know you weren’t smart enough to piece anything together—!” He cuts himself off when your glare narrows into something that implies you’ll murder him in his sleep. “Right.” He readies himself. “I need to talk to you.” 

You look at Sana and sigh before looking back at Hoseok. “What is it?” 

He’s quiet for a second. “You’re good at potions, right? Like, you’re actually good at knowing ingredients and shit?” 

“Where exactly is this going?” You snap back, looking slightly hurt that your expertise in potions was being put under question. Not that it was ever Jung Hoseok’s responsibility to know your grades. Not that he cares, anyways. 

“She’s good,” Sana interjects politely. “She got an Outstanding classification on the recent test.” 

Hoseok brightens. “Thank you Sana.” 

“Hey,” You protest. “Who’s side are you on?” 

Sana gives you a look. “Are you saying that you were just going to ignore him? While he’s standing right in front of you?” 

Your glare deepens. “Why don’t you go and save me a seat for breakfast? I’ll catch up.” 

Sana laughs. “Alright then.” She turns to Hoseok. “See you around, Hoseok.” 

Hoseok tilts his head up. “Later, Sana.” He waits until Sana has entered the Great Hall before he’s turning back to you. “So, an Outstanding classification. You’re pretty smart then.” 

Your glare doesn’t go away. Instead, your eyes narrow in suspicion. “What do you want?” 

He seems to ponder this. “I’m giving you an opportunity. I’m in need of a tutor for potions and you seem…” He waves towards all of you. “Vaguely qualifiable. What do you say?” 

You look like he’s grown a third head. “Are you serious? If you’re actually trying to get me to help you out, you’re not doing a very good job of selling yourself. In fact, you’re coming off as more of a dick than usual.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Why don’t you ask your actual smart friend over there?” You gesture towards the entrance of the Great Hall, where Park Jimin is only now sliding into one of the tables. Around him are the company of Jungkook and Taehyung—all three of them laughing mid-conversation. 

Hoseok turns back to you. “Jimin is busy.” 

You give him a tight smile. “And so am I. Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.” 

“Hey, wait, come on,” Hoseok cuts in, not entirely used to rejection of this degree. He’s more accustomed to friends rearranging schedules for him, to students watching his movements with awe. Not disgust, which is the look you’re giving him right now. “Don’t be like that. I need help.” 

“Wow, you’ve really built up a case this time. I’m jumping out of my seat with glee and anticipation,” You remark sarcastically. 

Hoseok bites his tongue. He speaks without thinking. “You should be honored I’m asking you for help. I’m a Jung—people part for my family because they know how important we are. What’s up your ass anyways?” 

Your gaze on him turns from annoyed to appalled. “What’s up my ass?” You echo. “You think I give a shit about how you’re connected to your family? Based on your work ethic alone, you’re unrelated to them for all I care. The fact that you’re using them to justify your dick behavior is blowing my mind right now,” You sneer, taking a step back away from him. “Tutoring you isn’t an ‘opportunity’, Hoseok. It’s an anchor.” With that, you turn around and Hoseok alone in the hallway. 

To say he’s frustrated would be an understatement. He lingers, watching you make your way into the Great Hall to join your friends. For some reason, your rejection just makes him even more attuned to your actions and gestures—the way you join your friends at the table, the way you reach for the food lined up along the center of the long table, the way you smile as if you hadn’t been snapping Hoseok out just seconds ago. 

With a huff, he too steps into the Great Hall and slides into the corner seat along with his friends. 

Jimin laughs, sticking his fork into some bacon and eggs. “What happened?” 

Hoseok scoffs. “What makes you say something happened?” 

“Dude, it’s written all over your face,” Jimin retorts, gesturing to Hoseok with his fork. “She pissed you off. What happened?” 

“Does it even matter?” Hoseok returns, reaching over to grab the cup laid out for him. It immediately fills up with the morning drink of his choice—coffee. “Just being frustrating and yelling at me, as per usual.” 

Jungkook laughs. “That is true.” 

“Anyways…” Hoseok starts up, craning his neck just slightly to see you further down the table, still smiling and joking around with your own friends. “She said something that really bothered me. So I think I’ll send her a little present of thanks.” 

Very slowly, he takes his wand out of his robe and rummages through his bag for a box. With the mutter of a spell underneath his breath, the box turns invisible with only the vague shimmering blurriness of its space to give an indication of its location. Hoseok raises his wand up, and the box follows, as it floats soundlessly down the table and past the other small clusters of students partaking in their own morning eating. Most don’t notice, too involved in their personal conversations or trying to shake off the morning exhaustion in time for lessons. 

The box lingers when it reaches you, and Hoseok drops his wrist so the contents inside the box sprinkle all over your breakfast food. 

“Accio box,” Hoseok hisses, watching as the box flies towards him before catching it with one hand. At his friends momentarily bewildered look, he flashes the now visible product towards them. “Hiccough sweet,” He explains, tossing it to Jungkook when the latter opens up his arms with a silent question. 

Jungkook catches the box and turns it over to read the product description on the back. “A Zonko’s Joke Shop Product,” He reads. “Induces a hiccoughing fit when consumed.” He looks up. “So you just need to eat this and…?” 

An utter of your name is heard from across the table. “Are you okay?” 

You cough, hitting your chest with the palm of your hand. A round of hiccups escape you as your whole body jerks with each spasm of your diaphragm. “Maybe I—hic—ate too fast—hic—!” You try for a glass of water, but your hiccoughing makes you choke just before you can down the liquid, causing only further coughing and discomfort. 

Hoseok watches the whole thing with a grin on his face. 

In the midst of your coughing fit, you catch Hoseok’s eye and don’t have too much trouble deceiving his grin this time. It also helps that he’s waving the box of Hiccough Sweet at you. 

Your lips part in shock. “Jung—hic—HOSEOK—!” The noise of your hiccups grow louder to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent. 

Your lips part in shock as the noises of your hiccups grow loud enough to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent. 

Sana seems to catch wind of this and places a hand on your back as you gasp in between your fit of hiccups. “Maybe we should go to Madam Pomfrey and see if she can fix this,” She says, helping you out of the seat as you cough in between your hiccups. 

You point to Hoseok as you and Sana make your way out of the Great Hall. “I’m—hic—going to kill you—hic—so you better make sure I don’t—hic—see you in the hallway—hic—you dick!” 

Hoseok is still mid-laughter as you and Sana leave the hall, bringing the curiosity of whispers and rumors along with you.

. 

You don’t return to the house dorms that night, something about how Madam Pomfrey couldn’t figure out how to combat the hiccough sweet and had to take some time to figure out how to settle your diaphragm down. Hoseok had giggled about it then, and continues to smirk about it hours later as he exits the castle and makes his way down to the Gamekeeper’s hut along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Today is Saturday, and the breeze is calm but the clouds are collecting along the edges of the sky with the telltale signs that a storm is coming up soon. 

Regardless of the weather, Hoseok is still making the trek out as he crosses down dirt pathways and rocky inclines—finally reaching the hut and the gates of magical creatures that are housed within the area. Today, Kim Namjoon is out there begrudgingly combing through the cages of the Blast-Ended Skrewts. 

Hoseok lingers outside the cage for a moment, watching his friend partake in the very activities he had talked about and laughed about months prior. 

He speaks finally. “If I decided to hit this cage, would the skrewts start shooting fire at me?” 

If Namjoon is surprised by the visit of his friend, he doesn’t show it. “No, they’d start shooting fire at me so for the sake of our sanity, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” 

Hoseok grins. “I’m sure that the zookeeper who is supposed to be mentoring you would appreciate the sentiment.” 

Namjoon flicks him off instead, and the pair wallow in silence as Namjoon continues cleaning up the cage until the area is spotless. Quickly, he opens the cage and shuts it behind him to signal his completion of the task. The silence stretches on as Hoseok reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll, referring to a common activity between the two of them, as the air quickly fills with purple smoke that smells of berries. 

“What about your problem?” Namjoon asks after a few minutes. He shakes his roll. “The potions girl had a bit of trouble recovering from your hiccough sweet prank, so I’ve heard. Is that supposed to help convince her that she should tutor you?” 

Hoseok blows smoke. “Probably not. But she called me an anchor!” 

Namjoon snorts. “Because you’re asking someone to help you study when you can be pretty shitty at studying because of your even shitter attitude? Especially regarding potions, AKA your hardest subject?” He looks out. “I’m surprised she didn’t say anything worse.” 

Hoseok narrows his eyes at his friend. “You dick. You’re not exactly a model citizen either. What the fuck do you think got you into this position in the first place?” 

The pair of them bicker for a little longer—conversations indulging through the activities of different classes and the different affairs going on amongst their friend group, before the aforementioned heavy clouds groan from above. It’s an angry sound, a crackle of noise that splits through the sky and gives a warning of what’s to come. 

It’s a warning that only lasts a few seconds before rain starts pouring down from the sky, loudly pittering and pattering against the ground. Taken aback by the sudden nature of the weather, as well as the heavy weight of the rain drops themselves, Hoseok and Namjoon scramble to collect their belongings. Namjoon turns his attention back to the magical creatures around him, the rain starts to soak through his hair. 

“I need to clean up,” Namjoon says, slightly begrudgingly, but firm nonetheless. 

So Hoseok nods. “I’m gonna try and head back.” The pair of them exchange one last final parting before going their separate ways. 

Despite Hoseok claiming a trip straight back to the castle, he doesn’t follow through immediately. He takes a bit of a detour, towards another place he knows he can remain alone and unbothered—a place that usually allows him to wallow in his thoughts given how it’s always unoccupied during certain days. 

He heads towards the greenhouse. 

But the time he’s reached the outskirts of the house, he’s soaked through his robe and his hair is promptly sticking to his forehead. The cool temperature invokes a slight shiver as Hoseok still pushes open the door of the greenhouse and closes it behind him. 

He basks in his alone time for a grand total of five seconds before—! 

“Jung Hoseok?” It’s your voice, and Hoseok groans. You’re not exactly the first person on the list of people he wants to see right now, especially after the whole hiccough sweet thing the other day. Not that he’s actively trying to avoid you, but seeing you is like salt in the wound. It’s definitely vice versa for him to. 

He whirls around to see you having stepped out from an enclosed area of the greenhouse, a separate place of the building separated by more glass for advanced herbology students. It’s closed off from the main portion of the greenhouse to ensure that curious first-years don’t accidentally mess with plants that could alter one’s memory or other forms of dangerous enchantments. You, however, are prepared for this—with your dragon-hide gloves and rolled up sleeves of your white polo shirt. 

When he doesn’t say anything immediately, you only further narrow your eyes at him. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, idiots don’t need to drop by the greenhouse.” You jerk your chin towards the outside. “In the rain of all times.” 

He ignores your insult to approach you instead. “I was just escaping the rain, thank you very much. Very cozy in here. And I’m totally fine, thanks for asking.” When you don’t say anything, he clears his throat. “So, what are you doing here?” 

You gesture towards the area of the greenhouse you’ve just emerged from. “Do you have eyes? I’m here for an assignment.” 

“Ah.” Hoseok nods. “That’s right, I forgot you like the play with plants.” 

You frown. “It’s not playing with plants, I’m observing them—!” You cut yourself off, seeming to decide it wasn’t worth fighting this battle. You raise your hand and make a noise of self-protest in the back of your throat. “You know what? Whatever. I’m done for today anyways so I’ll let you roam free in here. Touch a plant and lose your memory for all I care.” You disappear back behind the advanced herbology section of the greenhouse once more to put your equipment back in the proper place, leaving Hoseok back at the entrance.

A few seconds pass before you’re emerging once more with your school blazer over your shoulder, brushing past Hoseok and turning the knob to exit the greenhouse—leaving Hoseok behind. 

Watching you leave, somehow, is even more frustrating than enduring a conversation with you, which is why Hoseok dashes towards the door you’ve just closed to pull it open again. You’re up ahead, blazer over your head and your shoes splashing into the puddles on the ground. 

“Y/N, wait!” Hoseok calls, closing the door and jogging over to catch up to you. 

Your pace doesn’t let up. Neither does your disdain for him as you look over your shoulder to continue barking at him. “What do you want, Hoseok? Doesn’t putting hiccoughing sweet into my breakfast fulfill your quota of torturing someone for the week?” 

“What?” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not about that. It’s about the thing, the—the other thing!” 

“The other thing…?” You trail off, before stopping dead in your path. Hoseok would have crashed into you had he been running behind you rather than next to you. But alas, he slows down into a standstill. The rain continues to pour down on the two of you, further soaking Hoseok past his already wet clothes. You yourself lower the blazer off your head, allowing the rain to touch the strands of your hair. “Are you seriously bringing that up with me again?” 

Hoseok swallows. Every little micro aggression you direct towards him only eats at his confidence more and more. Not used to being rejected as many times as he currently has, he finds that he has a harder time trying to formulate the right words into the right sentence, he actually stammers. “I just thought…” 

“Thought what?” You interrupt. “That avoiding me would make me forget how much of a dick you are? That’s right, you don’t think I noticed what’s been going on for the past few days. You’re filled with guilt and you think ignoring the problem will just make me forget it long enough to be your stupid tutor. But let me tell you something, Jung Hoseok.” You take a step closer to him, close enough where he can see the rain drops clinging to your lashes. “Nothing can make me tutor you.” 

You step back, turn around and start your walk towards the castle once more before Hoseok sighs loudly into the air. He says something that he hasn’t said since he was ten. “I’m sorry!” He calls out, yelling it through the space between you. 

That makes you falter slightly, having never heard those two words spoken to you before. You stop walking, looking over your shoulder to stare at him—give him a chance to further explain himself. 

Hoseok sighs again, trying to quickly formulate his thoughts into words before you lose interest and continue to think he’s full of shit. “Professor Slughorn called me in the other day and said that if I don’t get an Outstanding classification on the next exam, I’m basically out of the potions N.E.W.T.s. If that happens then I won’t get into the auror program after graduation—and yeah, I’ll be a disappointment to my family. So I, uh… need your help. Please.” He says the last word more as an afterthought, more of a grumble. 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of rain pattering against the grassy pathway. A part of Hoseok really thinks that you’re going to curse him out again, tell him to piss off now and forever. But you speak. “What was that?” You say. “The last part.” 

There’s a slight smile in your voice, as if you know what he said but just want to hear him repeat nonetheless. 

“Please,” Hoseok tries again, a little stiffer but a lot louder. 

“One more time?” 

Hoseok glares harder, but he’s not sure you can see it through the rain. 

Finally, you take a step towards him. Your shoes squish against the mud, stopping when you’re arms length away from him. “You must be desperate,” You say at last, running a hand across your forehead to rid of some of the water that has collected there. At last, you yourself emit a sigh as you rummage through your bag for your wand. You pull it out, pointing it up to the sky as a clear veil comes out from the tip—an invisible umbrella. The rain hits the surface of your spell-produced umbrella, but it’s a protection that only covers you up. Hoseok continues to feel the rain soak through every part of him. “Fine,” You acknowledge after a moment. Hoseok feels his heart lurch in his chest. “I’ll tutor you—but, if you fuck with me even once… if you show up late or don’t take this seriously, then I’m out. I won’t even give you a warning. This is my warning.” 

Your strong-hold and straightforward attitude about your conditions to tutor him leaves Hoseok vaguely starry-eyed. Not that you aren’t normally no-nonsense, but to see you take so much control over something he is a part of makes him stunned. 

So he utters the only thing he is capable of uttering with a full head. “S-Sure,” He manages. 

That seems to be enough for you, because you give him a curt nod. “Tomorrow afternoon, 2pm,” You throw out. “That’s when I’m done with lunch. Meet me in front of the library.” 

“Y-Yeah…” Hoseok says, trailing off as he watches you leave, taking your energy and the pitter-patter of your umbrella with you down the pathway and back toward the castle. 

.

He doesn’t even want to try and entertain the possibility of fucking around the following day—doesn’t even want to see if you were perhaps joking around when you threated to back out of the tutoring arrangement if he so much as breathed wrong in your direction. He shows up five minutes before the agreed time.

You show up a minute before, readjusting the strap of your bag, but you stop at the sight of him lingering outside the library. You wear an unreadable expression as you approach him. 

Hoseok stares right back. “What?” He says, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. 

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Nice to see you passing the first test of showing up early..” Without another word, you make your way into the library with Hoseok hot at your tail. 

The two of you eventually settle into a tiny corner booth encompassed by shelves of books. The library is quiet considering it’s a Sunday afternoon when most normal students are probably fighting the food coma of lunch. Normally, Hoseok would be one of those people—would prefer to just relax outside in the courtyard with his body laid out amongst the grass and the conversations of his friends putting him to sleep. The momentary visual of that is contradicted to his current predicament: inside the library and the uncertain nature of the current situation leaving him apprehensive. It’s an emotion he isn’t accustomed to. 

“So,” You start just as Hoseok is settling into his chair. You lean forward, fingers lacing together as you regard him with a curious look. “We need to figure out how much you know. Can you tell me what bezoars are and what it’s good for?” 

He stares at you. 

You kiss your teeth as you twist in your chair to collect parchment from your bag. “Alright. This’ll be a good next few weeks.” The dryness in your tone is hard to ignore. 

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows. “Why, what’s wrong? What’s a bezoar?” 

You sigh. “What’s wrong is that bezoars were the first things we studied this year in class. Honestly, Jung Hoseok, how did you even make it to this level of potions?” 

“Hey,” He exclaims, actually pouting at you. Just a little, but the defeat in his tone is present—still guilty for not knowing what bezoars are. “The O.W.L.s were easier. And Park Jimin is one of my best friends, he usually tutored me right before the exams. And exams from last year were made for more memorizing rather than actually giving me a foundation for this shit.” 

You waver in the collection of your materials to give him a look. 

He looks right back at you. “What?” He asks again, a little sharper this time. 

You lift your hands up as if to deflect his self-conscious attitude. “Nothing, it’s just—you’re pretty observant about that kind of stuff. And I would even go so far as to agree with you. Those tests were pretty brutal.” 

“Yeah, exactly…” The notion of you actually agreeing with him feels like a few weights off his shoulders. Hoseok settles himself deeper into his seat. “So I honestly just forgot the information as soon as I finished the test.” 

You nod slowly. “Okay… that’s fine. It’s a problem, however, because you really need to know all this information if you’re gonna need to pass the upcoming potions exam and even further for the N.E.W.T. exam. Just memorizing and forgetting for each test isn’t going to work this year. But, for this upcoming potions test, this is what you’ll be tested on.” You produce another parchment that contains a small list of ingredients and actual potion brews. “Professor Slughorn said that the next exam will be a combination of concepts learned from the first test as well as the lessons after that.”

Hoseok takes the parchment from you and feels his eyes almost bug out of his head. The list itself isn’t too long—just a handful of ingredients and potions—but the subheaders are filled with different points that would need to be covered in the exam. Like where specific ingredients could be found, what season would be the best time to grow them, if they could be grown, what potions from class one would find this ingredient, and the general purpose of the ingredient. For potions, pointers you’ve written cover the intention of the potions and the ingredients required. 

The new knowledge that he would need to know all this information fills Hoseok with a sense of dread, before the doubt settles in. “There’s no way it has to be this detailed.” 

You glare at him. “Hey, why would I take the time to write out all these different subheaders otherwise? Last time I checked, I was the one who passed and you were the one who failed.” 

“You don’t think I know that?” Hoseok snaps. “Why else do you think I’m here?” 

You slam the textbooks and parchment you’ve brought over onto the table. “Are you seriously trying to pick a fight with me over this shit right now?” You run both your hands through your hair. “Look, you don’t like studying and memorizing and applying yourself—I don’t get it, but who the fuck am I to spare brain cells in trying to make sense about you. But this is the reality of the situation. You get out what you put in. If you would prefer Park Jimin to tutor you and whisper the answers to you when the professors aren’t looking, then be my guest.” 

“No! No, okay, fine, I’ll stop,” Hoseok interjects tensely. “I guess you just make me a reactionary person.” 

You make a side-eye at that comment, but don’t say anything to further drive the wedge already in place between the two of you. “How good are you with retaining information?” 

“Depends how mean you are to me,” Hoseok mutters. 

You ignore his jab to open up your copy of Advanced Potion Making. “Alright, well, I guess we can start with going over bezoars…” 

.

You can not fathom why you decide to tutor Jung Hoseok. Thinking clearly about it, there isn’t a gain or a loss to come out of helping someone who has done nothing but make your many years at Hogwarts challenging and terrifying at the same time. You know that he doesn’t purposely single you out, and more often than not it’s just the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time—Hoseok doesn’t have the bad blood in him to target one person (unlike his friends), but his carelessness doesn’t excuse years of frustration and annoyance. 

Given those feelings, you almost said no. In the beginning, you had been fully prepared to reject his ass over and over again until he gave up. It wasn’t difficult at first, with his arrogance shining through and doing well to push all the right buttons that drove you to a rejection in the first place. 

But that day in the greenhouse had changed some things. Hoseok had been the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, showed the most humility, and actually seemed human. And you’ve always had a soft spot for vulnerability—makes you feel guilty if someone poured their heart out only to get rejected once more. So you accepted. 

Besides, even though you aren’t sure how to tutor, you painted yourself as a good student and assumed that teaching someone concepts that have already been reviewed before would be simple. 

But you were very, very, very wrong. 

“For the last time, Jung Hoseok,” You seeth, fingers pressing deep into your temples as you rub. “A fluxweed is part of the mustard family, grows purple flowers, and is known for its healing properties. Knotgrass doesn’t sprout flowers—it’s used for polyjuice potions and is brewed to make knotgrass mead. How do you keep fucking this up?” 

“They both have a grass differential in their name!” Hoseok whines, throwing himself back into his seat. “Weed and grass is very confusing! How does a grass ingredient not sprout a flower but a weed ingredient does? That’s too weird!” 

“It’s not weird, it’s just the way things are!” You snap back. 

“The fact that you say that only makes it more weird!” 

You have to zero in and read an excerpt on fluxweed to calm the nasty flare of anger that lights up in your stomach. Not only is tutoring Hoseok not simple, but it turns out he has difficulty memorizing very basic ideas of things he has zero interest in. How on earth did he pass his O.W.L. for this fucking subject in the first place? 

The pair of you were in your third week of tutoring, still reviewing concepts from the beginning term. With the next upcoming potions exam rapidly approaching, the seeds of doubt start to grow in your mind, an unsure feeling that the pair of you could catch up to the rest of the material. Your growing frustration over Hoseok’s inability to retain the information is also starting to get in the way of proper tutoring sessions. 

Basically, you’re at your ropes end. The hour-per-three-days you have spent tutoring Hoseok could have been spent studying for your own assignments and own weaknesses. Or perhaps seeing a therapist on how to stop letting people like Hoseok take advantage of you. 

“You’re being so impossible right now!” You shriek, ignoring the wandering eyes of other students who glance over at your outburst. “How are you not retaining this information? It’s almost like the only time you’re studying for this class is during our tutoring sessions…” You glance over at him, seeing the vaguely guilty expression in his eyes, and you feel your heart race pick up—the feeling of fight or flight coming over. “Please do not tell me that’s what you’ve been doing for the past three weeks.” 

“Hey…” Hoseok protests. “That’s just how I studied with Jimin. Maybe if we met everyday I’d retain the information better.” 

You turn to face him completely this time, eyes wide and body shaking with only thinly veiled irritation. “Do you think…” You start, voice already rising. “Do you think I have the time or the patience to go that far when I’m already sticking my neck out for you? Why can’t you just work around what I’m giving you—?” You begin to feel it, the anger settling in your throat and the heat of your face bringing tears to your eyes, the absolute frustration of the situation and the fact that you have only yourself to blame for the outcome. 

But, someone new swoops in to interrupt your raging. 

“Hey, there you are Jung Hoseok.” You manage a quick glance in the direction of the voice before turning away to collect your thoughts. It’s Kim Namjoon—one of Hoseok’s good friends and lead writer for the Hogwarts Daily. The thought of being seen and reported on by Namjoon brings you enough nerves that you choose not to make eye contact. You merely look away to blink away your anger and swallow your frustrations. 

It’s hard though, especially when Hoseok and Namjoon start to have a conversation as if you aren’t even here. 

“What’s up?” Hoseok asks, after the two of them engage in their handshake. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, same as usual.” Namjoon stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to ask if you were free. Jungkook wants to go down to the Three Broomsticks.” You’re in the middle of flipping through your copy of Advanced Potion-Making when Namjoon adds on one more line: “It doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything important anyways.” 

Then, Hoseok laughs. 

That final sound makes you feel like something has snapped inside of you, with that white hot anger coursing through you once more with no force inside you willing to stop it. Without a warning, you slam the textbook shut. The sound of it crashes through the library. 

For the first time since Namjoon’s arrival, Hoseok looks over at you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, okay, now you want to ask me what’s wrong,” You snap, standing up so fast that the bottom of your chair scraps against the floor. You start to collect your parchments and textbook into your hands. “This was a mistake. I should never have agreed to this.” 

Hoseok frowns, standing up as well. “Wait, hold on—are you mad at me?” 

You slam your bag onto your seat. “WOW, okay, for someone who was all signed up to take five fucking N.E.W.Ts, you do know how to lack critical thinking skills in all shapes and forms! Of course I’m mad at you! You lack respect, initiative, and any self-sufficient skills that could make you a fraction of a good student! It’s like you seriously expect me to solve all your problems and tell you exactly how to handle your situation and be honored that you chose me to do this, when in reality I just felt bad and I thought you reaching out to me would mean a change in your attitude. But clearly, I was wrong. You—you’re impossible to deal with! I can’t believe that I wanted to help you in the first place!” You spit out. your chest heaves up and down, the tears pricking in your eyes. The wetness makes your vision glossy, so you miss Hoseok’s expression drop. “I’m sure you can figure out your own way of passing the class.” 

With a final huff, you turn on your heel, ignoring the gaze of other students who watch you leave. You even brush past Madam Pince who looks seconds away from a scolding. The action leaves Hoseok alone in the library to mull over what has just happened. 

But would he even process what you’ve just said and actually take it seriously? Debatable. But you don’t even care. Your main focus is just to get out of the library as quickly as possible and find somewhere to scream.

You just heard towards the first place that comes to mind—the Hufflepuff common room. You brush past the painting, storming past the group of students conversing near the fireplace and up into the girls dormitory. After going through a maze of different hallways and doorframes leading into different bedrooms, you stop at your own—the door leading to your own bedroom. Inside, Sana is sitting atop her bed, flipping through the pages of a History of Magic textbook. She looks up from the book as soon as she sees you. “Hey, how was the tutoring session?” 

You don’t respond immediately. You brush past her, beeline straight for your own bed and throw yourself atop the covers. Landing face-first onto your pillow, you yell right into the cushion.

Sana jumps at the sound, immediately sliding off her bed to make her way towards you. “What’s wrong?” She asks, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

You pout to yourself for a moment, before you huff and proceed to flail your body atop your bed. Your arms and legs wiggle around, hitting the mattress before you stop and perform a 180 so that your back is resting on the mattress. The tears have disappeared from your eyes, but the angry weight still sits in your chest. “Hoseok is an ass, and I effectively quit from being his tutor today.” 

Sana tilts her head. “But I thought you guys were getting along okay.” 

You snort. “Understatement of the fucking year.” You push yourself up into a sitting position. “That bitch was only using our tutoring sessions to study for potions. The fact that he can’t even fit in supplemental lessons just to make sure he remembers what we’ve gone over. And when I brought it up he was so disrespectful about it! As if I don’t have other things to think about, and like he just expects me to worry about him on a daily basis!” You give Sana a look, before sighing and throwing yourself back onto your bed. “Whatever, it’s done. I can just go back to focusing on my own studying. Hoseok can drown for all I care.” 

Sana smiles as she reaches over to brush the hair that has fallen across your face. “How about we go down to Hogsmeade. I’ll buy you some candy, that should help you get over that jerk.” 

You lift your head to focus on your friend, the corner of your lips quirking up at her offer. 

“Okay, but I’ll just let you know that I won’t hold back,” You say, sliding off the bed and digging through your trunk to get your coat. 

“Since when do you ever?” Sana retorts, as the pair of you break off into giggles, making your way down the stairs into the common room and out into the castle halls. 

.

The crush of footsteps against the grass underneath gives away the arrival of new company. You’re laying in the courtyard outside of the castle, blanket under you and your own copy of Advanced Potion-Making at the edge of your fingertips. All it takes is one glance up to know who has decided to visit you. 

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Didn’t I say you should figure out your own way to pass potions?” 

Above you, Jung Hoseok shifts nearly on his stance, switching from one foot to another before he settles on standing straight. He’s doing something you haven’t seen him do in the many years you’ve been in his company: he’s staying quiet. 

His silence leaves you with little choice but to follow along. You push yourself up into a sitting position and lean back enough for your arms to aid in the upcoming of your posture. “How was the Three Broomsticks?” You ask. “You seemed excited to go off with your friend.” 

Hoseok winces at that. 

You catch it. “Yeah, I heard you laugh when Namjoon said it looked like you weren’t doing anything. How do you think something like that makes me feel? Invisible? Like shit, perhaps? Well then, you would be right.” 

Hoseok sighs. His eyes flicker down to an open spot on your picnic blanket. “C-Can I… Can I sit?” 

You only continue to glare at him. “No.” 

He ignores you, electing to just sit down anyways. 

You sigh. “First you can’t even respect my wishes, then you just go off and do whatever you want to anyways.” 

Hoseok glares right back at you. “Because I know you won’t listen to me otherwise. Just hear me out, alright?” 

You engage in a staring match with him, before scoffing and returning the attention back to your book. “Don’t you have another date at the Three Broomsticks to attend to?” 

Hoseok blinks once, twice, before looking down to fix his attention on the edge between the picnic blanket and the grass. “I didn’t go,” He admits quietly, under his breath. 

You tilt your head back, eyes rolling back momentarily before you train your gaze back onto him. “I can’t hear you—why even show up if you can’t even have an honest discussion with me—?” 

“I said, I didn’t go,” Hoseok cuts in, louder this time with a tinge of frustration in his tone. “Just because I laugh with someone doesn’t mean I agree with them. That’s why you were so mad, am I right?” 

Instead of denying or confirming his answer, you keep your mouth shut. 

That seems to be enough for Hoseok, who sighs as he runs a hand through his hair—the frustration over whatever miscommunication he thinks occurred between the two of you clearly affecting him. “Anyways,” He continues. If he’s baffled by your silence, he chooses not to comment on that. A good choice, honestly. “I didn’t go, so can we just continue our tutoring sessions?” 

You keep your gaze on him for a moment, before you look back down at your book. You pucker your lips together. “Nope,” You answer, emphasizing the ‘p’ sound. 

Hoseok recoils, taken aback by your response. “What? Why not?” 

You shut your book, a silence acceptance that you weren’t going to get any reading done at this rate. “If you think I’m just mad about you laughing at some stupid comment your friend made, then you’re a lot dumber than I thought and you would drive the auror department right into the ground. I don’t need that energy around me right now, so good day to you.” You open your textbook right back up and look down. However, it feels as if you’re staring straight through the page, not really absorbing the material and rather just waiting for Hoseok to make his next move. 

He does react with a scoff, looking away for a moment before training his gaze back on you. He’s quiet, and you think that he really is going to walk away, but he goes for his bag. Rummaging around, he produces a stack of ripped parchment papers. He stares down at his collection, before he hands the stack to you. “Here.” 

Your eyes flicker from the papers to his face. To your surprise, Hoseok actually looks embarrassed by what he’s showing you. His meekness gives the encouragement you need to reach out and take the stack. “What is this?” You ask, looking down anyways to find your answer. 

Your heart beats a little quicker at the sight—but it’s not an acceleration due to frustration or irritation. It’s something softer and quieter—touching. 

In your hands is a stack of flashcards ripped from a roll of parchment: potion ingredients on one side and all the requirements you had mentioned previously scribbled on the other side. 

Hoseok watches you carefully. “I, uh,” He starts. “I turned down going to the Three Broomsticks yesterday to work on these. Uh… I’m sorry. For being a dick. I shouldn’t have laughed at what Namjoon said. What I should have been doing was studying on my own though, especially since I know that I have my own shortcomings as a student. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you going out of your way to help me. I should have been a better student, so… yeah. I understand if you don’t want to tutor me anymore. But I didn’t want us to end on terrible terms.” He reaches his arm back out to you, silently asking for the return of his flashcards.

It’s a request you don’t follow through on immediately. You stare between Hoseok and the cards he has just handed you and feel a soft flutter in your stomach—a notion of fondness? Or perhaps is it pride? Either way, it feels like you are seeing Jung Hoseok in a somewhat different light. His meekness and shy nature is coming out in more ways than you had ever expected it too and you are taken aback, and yet it heightens the curiosity you have for him. What other layers does Hoseok have? And are you willing to take the risk and find out? 

Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your unmoving stance. He jerks his hand up and down a few times to get your attention. “Hello? You good in there?” 

You snap out your trance, staring at Hoseok for a moment before looking back down at the flashcards. You skim through a few of them, thumbing through the parchment and flipping over a handful just to see what he’s written. He’s… surprisingly thorough. 

You close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. You better not regret this. 

You extend your arm to return the stack of parchment back to Hoseok. “If you want, we can go over the details to make sure you can be as thorough as possible.” 

Hoseok takes his flashcards back, looking up to meet your gaze at the statement. He seems to be analyzing your expressions, waiting for you to tell him to piss off all over again. But when you don’t say anything, he speaks up. “What are you saying…?” 

“Look,” You cut in softly, looking down and refusing to make eye contact this time around. “You have already put in all this effort to apologize to me and I can see that you’re working hard. At this point, it seems like a waste if you aren’t able to pass your exam.” 

Hoseok looks stunned at your answer. 

You look away again. “Besides,” You continue. “I don’t want you to come bitching me if you happen to fail your exam and tell me that I held your fate in my hands—I don’t want you to make me feel guilty about this. That’s all.” 

Hoseok processes what you’re saying quickly, because he nods and flashes you a grin. But you can see the weight of tension and stress melt off his shoulders, because he holds himself up a little higher as nods a few more times. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, let you get back to your own studying.” He straightens up, but keeps his gaze on you. “At the library after lunch tomorrow, right?” 

You kiss your teeth, pointing an index finger at him. “Sounds good, Jung Hoseok.” 

Rather than look back down at your notes, you find your gaze trailing after Hoseok’s retreating form. You watch the way he walks over to Jimin—the way the pair of them talk briefly before Hoseok is gesturing to you with the wave of his arm. Jimin looks at you, makes brief eye contact with you, before you’re turning away to gaze back down at your textbook. 

You cannot pretend you don’t feel the weight of Jimin’s stare as you wait for the two of them to disappear from your line of sight.

.

Hoseok is waiting by the entrance of the library by the time you show up, and the nervous shift in his weight tells you all you need to know about his apprehension. 

“Hi,” You greet, approaching him as Hoseok looks up to regard you almost cautiously. “Are you ready for today?” At his nod, you lean back in your body weight. “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, okay Jung?” 

He just nods again. 

“I just have one little quiz to give you before we can get started,” You continue. “If you can’t answer this, then you really are hopeless. But if you can answer it, I’ll tutor you and we can forget all this other shit happened. Tell what bezoars are and their purpose.” You ignore the face Hoseok gives you when you bring up the potential hopelessness of the situation. 

Bezoars—a reference to the very first question you asked him when you started this whole tutoring session. 

The vague allusion makes Hoseok laugh. Just a little though, because the smile disappears when he notices that you aren’t fucking around with that question. So he settles down and opens his mouth to answer the question. “Bezoars is an antidote for most poisons with the exception of basilisk venom, and it’s taken from the stomach of a goat. It’s formed from the collection of hair or plant fibre that settles in the gut of the animal. Most effective when you swallow it whole.” He wavers slightly. “That’s pretty much the basics.” 

You nod. “Impressive.” 

He shrugs half-heartedly. “I uh, pretty much stayed up all night working on those flashcards, which is where I learned all about bezoars.” 

You nod again. “Alright, that answer satisfies me.” You gesture towards the entrance of the library. “We are free to continue on with the lessons.” 

As you walk into the library, Hoseok is right behind you. “Are you saying you would have just walked away if I didn’t know the answer?” 

You snort. “Of course. It’s been a month since we started the tutoring session—if you didn’t know what bezoars were I would have run for the hills. Hence, me calling you hopeless.” 

“But naturally you aren’t going to do that,” He says, sliding into the seat at the table booth you’ve selected for the pair of you. “Because I’m awesome.” 

You glare at him, letting his self-praise settle for the matter of four seconds. “Okay,” You say, standing up and collecting your books in your arms once more. “It was really nice knowing you, Jung Hoseok, but I’m about to go run for the hills now—!” 

“Wait, wait, okay, I’m kidding, nevermind—!” 

.

Things get better after the conversation in the courtyard. Two weeks and two tutoring sessions later, Jung Hoseok is already in the library at your usual sitting spot by the time you arrive. You’re still in the haze of your lunch coma, but you become more alert at the sight of him hunched over his textbook. 

You pull your seat back, causing Hoseok to jump in surprise at your arrival. There is, however, a bag in your seat, one that Hoseok quickly tugs back onto his own lap. “S-Sorry,” He manages, flashing you a small smile. “I was just saving the seat for you.” 

You press your lips together to hide the momentary gap in your expression. “Thanks,” You return, sliding into the now vacant chair and placing your bag on the desk. “What are you working on today?” 

“I’m reading about garrotting gas,” Hoseok answers almost proudly, straightening up enough to flash you his textbook and the parchment he has set aside to take notes. After flashing a quick peek, you are clearly able to see the long line of bullet points he has made. 

“Wow,” You say, impressed by how far he’s gone. “You’ve covered a lot. When did you even get to the library?” 

Hoseok smiles sheepishly. He touches the back of his neck, a habit you’ve noticed recently that takes form in the presence of nerves. “About thirty minutes ago actually. I know garrotting gas is pretty advanced stuff so I wanted to get a head start. Plus… since Professor Slughorn taught it about a month ago I know I’m still behind.” 

“Nah, you’re catching up rather quickly, actually,” You interject with a smile of your own. “The fact that we’ve been able to cover all the first exam’s topics within the week is awesome. Your flashcards have really helped out.” You turn your attention to your own bag, missing the soft look Hoseok sends your way. It vanishes as soon as you look at him again. “Plus garrotting gas will be on the N.E.W.T. Nice to see that you’re planning ahead.” 

Hoseok actually rolls his eyes at that. Playful, but unbelieving. “I need to pass this potions exam first before I can think about the N.E.W.T.s. “ 

You laugh, reaching across the way to rest your hand on his shoulder. “At this point, if you don’t pass that potions exam, I will literally throw you off the Astronomy tower.” 

The next tutoring session comes on a Sunday, per Hoseok’s request. 

“I just want you to test me on the two potions we went over right after the first exam,” He explains. He’s selected a different spot in the library today: a table in the main area with enough space for the pair of you to sit opposite of each other. Something about you sitting directly across from him feeling more official, or something like that. You don’t understand it, but Hoseok seems eager to try. 

So you nod, folding your fingers atop one another as you give Hoseok a look. “Alright. So garrotting gas and the garnish pink blended poison, correct? Just to make sure you didn’t skip ahead.” 

Hoseok feigns a gasp, pressing his hand to his chest. “I would never.” 

You snort at that, closing your eyes and shaking your head. Clearly, it’s a rejection of an attitude Hoseok once held for the potions curriculum. The fact that you are able to joke about it and earn an equally sarcastic reply back shifts something in your heart—he’s now smiles with teeth. 

The pair of you go at it for a little bit—“garrotting gases are colorless that causes choking or even suffocation because the gas catches people by the neck if someone were to walk through it, and garnish pink blended poison are pink in color that have ten different components for ingredients. According to Golpalott’s Third Law, the effects of the poison could be countered with the adequate antidote or a bezoar.” 

You nod, corner of your lips turning up. “Good job. And you brought Golpalott in as well, which is always a plus. I would say that you pass the review then.” 

Hoseok grins and makes a little noise of satisfaction, a quiet little burst of excitement that makes your stare linger for an extra moment. Having never heard a sound like that from him, it makes you wonder what more he’s hiding from you. It’s also such a happy sound that you cannot help but smile back at his own happiness. 

Hoseok drums his fingers on the table, the smile still plastered to his face. “Hey, uh, want to cut this session early and enjoy some sunlight for once? Jungkook is in the middle of Quidditch practice and sometimes I like to go watch what he’s up to. Want to join me?” 

You blink at his offer, surprised that he would ask you something so forward. Not that Hoseok is a stranger by any means, shapes, or forms, yet you would never consider the pair of you friends or even people that hung out outside the barriers of your normal interactions. Which is why you are shocked by his offer. “You want me to join you?” You ask instead. 

Hoseok flushes at your question. He may have softened around the edges but it’s hard to let go of old expectations and it shows. “I-I mean,” He starts. “Obviously you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. I just figured that you’d still be here studying when you could go get out and get some sun. Not that you couldn’t have gotten sunlight on your own, I just thought—!” 

“Hey, Jung Hoseok,” You interrupt, unable to hide the smile of pure amusement that takes over at the sight of him being so flustered. You’ve never seen him stammer through anything before. “What are you so nervous for? I’ll go to the Quidditch practice with you.” 

He blinks. “Really?” At your expression, he springs right into action. “Oh yeah, of course. His practice just started so let’s get going!” 

The pair of you start packing up you belongings, albeit not much was taken out to begin with given that Hoseok had only asked to meet up for a single purpose, so it doesn’t take long until you’re exiting the library and making your way through the hallways that will lead to the entrance of the castle. You and Hoseok talk briefly about Jungkook and some old memories, but most conversations fade out into a comfortable silence. 

You don’t mind the lack of talking. Hoseok’s presence has never made you uncomfortable per say. Irritated, annoyed, or frustrated would definitely be a better word to describe the nature of the dynamic you’ve always shared with Hoseok. Yet lately with all of your previous interactions, it seems to have softened the frustration into something else. What that something is, you aren’t entirely sure yet but you aren’t opposed to finding out. 

“You’re right, the sunlight is pretty soothing,” You speak up as the pair of you continue through the grassy fields and the flags and hoops of the Quidditch field grow larger with every step. 

Hoseok hums. “Was I right in that you were just going to continue studying on your own as soon as I left?” 

You cough. “W-Well, you weren’t wrong.” At his laugh, you immediately whirl to glare at the boy. “What’s wrong with studying huh!” 

“Nothing, nothing!” He protests, waving his hands back and forth. “Actually, I guess it’s good you’re a nerd who likes to study so much. Otherwise we wouldn’t have become friends.” 

“I think the word you’re looking for is an anchor,” You grumble, ignoring the fact that he’s just called you a friend—and further ignoring the fact that you aren’t completely grossed out by that label. 

Hoseok scoffs. “You dare use that word of insult against me? After everything we’ve been through!” 

“It’s not an insult,” You protest wildly despite the fact that it is, indeed, an insult. “It’s… well…” 

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Go on,” He beckons. “I’m listening.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. “Oh! Hey, look, it’s the Quidditch field!” You exclaim loudly, gesturing to the now extremely tall structure of stands and hoops above. “Shall we head up?” You ask, pointing upwards to indicate the higher elevation the pair of you will have to take in the hopes of seeing the Quidditch practice in its full glory. 

Hoseok points at you. “This conversation isn’t over.” He does, however, drop it long enough to lead the both of you into the tent and up the wooden stairs. It’s a long trek up to the top of the stands where the seats are located, but you make it eventually. Several other students are scattered across the area, some are grouped together with friends and others are watching the practice with bright eyes and wide smiles. 

Hoseok seems to notice you staring curiously at the solo watchers because he leans over to whisper something in your ear. 

“Those are some of Jungkook’s fangirls,” Hoseok explains, subtly gesturing to a few. “I recognize that one. And that one. And the one over there too.” 

You snort. “Seems like you’re also one of Jungkook’s fangirls if you can point some of them out so easily.” 

Hoseok chokes, taken aback by your analysis. He recovers quickly however. “Hell yeah I’m one of Jungkook’s fangirls. And I actually get to sit with him at lunch.” He winks. 

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Cocky as ever, I see.” 

The pair of you continue walking until you reach a more secluded area of the stands, less occupied by other students, so you and Hoseok can continue to converse amongst each other. 

“Not cocky enough, apparently,” Hoseok notes quietly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and looking out to watch the Quidditch practice. Up ahead, Jungkook performs some sort of twirl—a movement you aren’t super familiar with given that you aren’t the biggest observer of Quidditch technicalities. But it seems impressive, if the little shrieks and screams coming from the fangirls’ Hoseok pointed out to you are anything to go by. “You agreed to still tutor me even after calling me out on my bullshit.” 

You laugh. “Well, I would argue that me calling you out made you less of a cocky person.” You turn to him, nudging his arm with your own. “I never got to bring this up, but you’re actually a good student and you’re actually really good at studying. I didn’t know you were holding back on me, Jung.” 

Hoseok hums. “Not even.” He goes quiet for a moment, lacing his fingers together at his lap. “Well, I’m sure you know my family.” 

You snort. “As if. I probably expose that fact to people at least three times a day—!” 

Hoseok’s eyes glint. “Wait, you’re the reason I get auror-hopefuls coming up to me at random intervals of the day?” 

“Uh…” You trail off. “You know what, never mind about that. Keep going, you know, you and your family and stuff. Sounds like you were going in an interesting direction.” 

His glare softens the more he looks at you. “Well, coming from such an impressive family, honestly I never saw myself as someone who needed to apply himself. Things were always just sort of… handed to me, I guess? I grew up with Jungkook—I took him to his first Quidditch match actually. And then we just took more people into our group. Anyways, since things were handed to me, it just feels like I never have to try so hard because rewards were always the expectation.” 

You nod slowly. “That’s why you poured hiccough sweet over my breakfast food when I refused to tutor you.” 

He nods back, surprisingly acknowledging his past prank on you. “Yeah but since you’ve been cool about helping me out, it feels different. No one in my family has ever praised me or told me that I did a good job on something. So having you around fills me with pride. It’s getting to my head honestly, so you might need to stop otherwise I’ll revert back to my old ways.” 

Realizing that he’s slowly transcending back into his arrogant mode, you scoff and roll your eyes as you look away from him. “How about you just use your common sense and stop yourself before that happens.” 

Hoseok blinks. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.” 

You make a face at him. “I’m always being serious.” With that, you turn your attention back to the practice session in front of you, missing the way Hoseok stares at you before smiling to himself and fixing his own attention back on the flying broomsticks ahead. 

.

One week before the next potions exam, you tell Hoseok to meet you along the edge of the Forbidden Forest where you are waiting with a textbook and a task in your mind. Hoseok shows up moments after you’ve gotten settled. The boy is all bundled up in a scarf and a long coat—all prepared to fight the winter weather that is threatening to overtake the school. 

You smile at his arrival. “Hello, Jung Hoseok.” 

Despite the layers that Hoseok is sporting, he still finds himself shivering slightly from the cold that seems to pass through him like nothing. “Aren’t you cold? What the fuck are we doing out here?” 

You shrug half-heartedly, a smirk dancing across your lips. “Oh I’m fine. See, I like to come prepared.” And prepared you are, with your thick fluffy scarf, fur-lined coat, and beanie that covers your ears. “This is a metaphor for our lives.” 

“No it’s not.” Hoseok deadpans across from you. 

You ignore him. “But alas!” You continue, opening your arms out wide for him. “The potions exam is one week away. Are you ready?” 

Hoseok presses his lips together, giving you a shrug. “I don’t know, probably, I guess—!” 

“Wrong answer!” You interject. “You should be ready. Do you realize how much time we’ve both put aside for this moment? Have more confidence!” 

“Is that why we’re out here?” He grumbles. 

You sigh after a moment, lowering your arms and leveling Hoseok with a glance. “No, that confidence should have been second nature to you by now. We’re here because I want to give you one final test.” 

“Oh.” Hoseok seems to straighten up at the mention of a final measurement to see how much he’s learned thus far. “Okay…” He ponders this for a moment before settling back down—probably just to acknowledge to himself that this was actually happening. “What kind of test?” 

You untuck your copy of Advanced Potions Making from under your arm and wave the book at him. “A finding test. This is really important, not just for Professor Slughorn’s exams but for the N.E.W.T.s as well. I like to kill two birds with one stone. I want you to find the ingredients for a potion of my choice. The one I’ve picked should make it easy for you to access the ingredients around this area—that is, if you know where to look.” 

“Okay… okay….” Hoseok replies, shifting the gears of focus in his mind, mentally preparing for the challenge. “What potion am I working for?” 

You smile at his question. “Elixir to Induce Euphoria, if you please.” 

Hoseok ponders that potion deeply for a second before he looks over at you. “When can I start?” 

Your grin widens. “Now.” 

So Hoseok runs off to gather the materials, to search high and low if necessary to find what he is looking for. You imagine that the ingredients necessary must be engraved in his mind, since this particular elixir is something the pair of you have just recently gone over in your tutoring sessions. Based on the reading you were both doing on the elixir, you know that all the ingredients could be found within the forest—albeit, the difficulties could be found from not knowing the specific flower to pick or which trees produce which kind of leaves. In the wintertime, with everything as bare as it is, it adds a level of challenge in identification. 

Yet, you are still confident in Hoseok’s abilities. The book knowledge he’s gained from the readings and the random quizzes you’ve had together definitely leave you with the sense that a practical test is fully possible considering how much progress he’s made. 

Hoseok comes back within twenty minutes, fingers clasped around the various goods and materials he has collected from the forest. 

You hold out your hands to inspect the ingredients, but Hoseok doesn’t hand them over right away. He holds them back, bringing the materials closer to his body. “Hold on,” He says. “I should tell you how to use the ingredients right? I’m sure that would be part of a test.” 

You think about this. “Fair point,” You agree, but you still hold your hand out. “Here, you can just give things to me in the right order.” 

Hoseok nods, looking down to sort through the various ingredients before he’s lifting up the first. “First, you add shrivelfig.” He holds up a purple fruit, roughly the size of his palm. “Originally from Abyssinia, but it’s an aggressive root allowing it to grow anywhere. I’m guessing that’s why Hagrid and Professor Sprout made a magically controlled garden for them near his hut.” He puts the fruit down into one of your open palms. “Next, add some porcupine quills—from porcupine, naturally.” He puts the few spines he has collected carefully into your hand. “Then you…” He searches his mind, finally snapping his fingers when he finds his answer. “Right, you stir four times in an anti-clockwise motion.” 

You watch him carefully, the corner of your lips turning up as you feel that rush of excitement and pride starting to take over you. He’s getting it all right so far. 

Seeing your smile, he continues. “The possible side effects of the elixir of induced euphoria include excessive singing and nose-tweaking so to combat that you should add a spring of peppermint right here…” He places the spring of peppermint in your open palm. “Add sopophorous beans… and finally some wormwood.” He, to your surprise, produces a tiny flask. 

Your eyes widen at the sight. “I-Is that where you put the wormwood?” 

The wormwood part of the ingredient is actually derived from the wormwood plant, meaning that there was a certain level of extraction required to gather this particular material. Knowledge that Hoseok had to put an extra level of thought into acquiring the wormwood makes your smile only grow wider. You don’t even have half the mind to ask where he got the flask. 

Hoseok gives you a tentative look. “D-Did I get it?” 

“You did!” You exclaim, throwing the ingredients up into the air and out of your hands. You start bouncing in place, unable to contain your excitement. “Y-You exceeded my expectations, and the fact that you wanted to tell me the process and you had a storage container for the wormwood plant? That just blows my mind right now!” The fact that Hoseok has gone from someone who once refused to pick up his own textbook to someone who voluntarily wanted to relay information from you, to someone who has become so prideful and confident about the straight facts he’s ripped for you—it gets to you. 

So much so that without warning, you find yourself cupping his cheeks and kissing him right at the corner of his mouth. 

The reality hits you as the icy cold realization washes through your veins. You back up immediately, holding your hands out as your heart takes to pounding as loud as it can in your chest. What the fuck did you just do? It was a spur of the moment reaction, sure, but again, what the fuck? 

Hoseok looks just as shocked as you, looking across with equally wide eyes at what has just transpired. 

Quickly, the humiliation floods through you. “O-Oh my god Hoseok I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” You brush off, taking a few necessary steps backwards and trying to wave off the previous action with your hand—as if something like that is even possible. 

Hoseok snaps out his trance quickly, leveling you with an unreadable gaze. “Hey, no, it’s okay—!” 

“No, no, it’s not okay,” You interject, feeling yourself start to spiral slightly as you run a hand through your hair. “That was such an unwanted advancement on you. I just… I don’t know what happened.” 

Hoseok becomes a little bolder at that, stepping towards you. “Y/N, I said it’s fine, I—!” 

“You don’t need to say anything,” You cut in again, giving him a tight smile. “I’m already embarrassed enough as it is—no need to chew me out for doing something stupid.” Without looking to see his next reaction, you kneel down to gather the ingredients (and the flask of wormwood) into your hands. You don’t make eye contact with Hoseok as you practically shove the materials into his chest. “Y-You did really well, I’m confident you’ll pass the upcoming test for sure.” You continue to stare at the ground. “I’ll, uh, see you around then.” 

Without waiting for him to say anything—for him to reject you—you run off, knowing that this time, you yelling into a pillow or crying will be for something entirely different from frustration. 

. 

Hoseok doesn’t see you until the potions exam, and even then you are a blur of robes and colors as you shuffle past him and into your seat right in front of him. Before he even has half the mind to reach over and talk to you, Professor Slughorn passes out the exams and the class is reduced to complete silence. 

You hand your test in before Hoseok even reaches the last page. 

But when Hoseok turns in his exam, he is confident—which is an emotion that doesn’t usually accompany him in these types of situations. The fact that he knows all of this confidence came from you only widens the gap of loneliness he feels when he knows he won’t be able to celebrate the completion of the exam with you. 

Professor Slughorn eyes Hoseok carefully as he takes the exam from him. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow to see your grade, Mr. Jung, so you can act accordingly.” 

Hoseok nods, ignoring the way his heartbeat is pounding through his ears. “Of course, professor.” 

That night, he sits in the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by friends but feeling alone. Not even Park Jimin, who lifts up a glass of his butterbeer in congratulatory graces, can shift Hoseok into Party Mode. So much so that Hoseok excuses himself from the restaurant to linger outside and dig his feet into the snow. 

He’s wandered off for so long that he isn’t surprised by Jungkook exiting the restaurant to check up on him. The latter boy shivers slightly, hands digging themselves into his coat pocket as he runs up to his friend. “Hey, everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head, big doe eyes watching his friend curiously. 

Hoseok regards Jungkook momentarily before he’s looking back out at nothing. “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.” 

Jungkook hums. “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve dedicated so much time to studying for that potions exam, after all. I really imagined that you would be through the roof. Maybe you’d celebrate with that girl who’s been tutoring you. I saw you guys show up to my Quidditch practice game that one time, it seemed like you were pretty close.” 

Hoseok huffs. “Well, I thought we were. I don’t know.” 

Jungkook tilts his head. “You want to talk about it?” 

So Hoseok talks. Only for a little, as to not bore Jungkook with useless details like the color of your eyes or the prettiness of your smile. He sticks to a storyline, discussing the nature of your relationship—starting from the arguments, going through his apology, and ending on your kiss. “She started apologizing like crazy,” He continues. “And going off on how uncalled for it was for her to do that. I was surprised, sure, but I wasn’t opposed to kissing her! Or her kissing me for that matter. But I tried to tell her and I guess she thought I was gonna reject her? Anyways that’s when she left and I saw her for a bit during our potions exam, but she seems hell bent on ignoring me.” He looks over at Jungkook, gauging for a reaction or even just a piece of advice. 

Jungkook remains silent, lips pressed together. 

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Nevermind. I forgot you’re a womanizer and don’t need to worry about this kind of stuff.” 

Jungkook pouts. “When you put it like that…” 

Hoseok ignores him, choosing instead to straighten up into a standing position. “Anyways, let’s go back inside.” 

.

The following day, as Hoseok is heading towards the dungeons to get his exam score from Professor Slughorn, he spots you sitting at one of the open window sills with Sana. Blame his sixth sense for being able to detect your position, but his feet move before his brain can. One second, he’s standing at the edge of the hallway, and the next second he’s standing in front of you and Sana. 

Sana parts her lips in greeting, the smile ever-present across her lips. “Hey Hoseok—!” 

“I need to talk to you,” He interrupts, reaching for you until he’s grabbing your wrist. Without warning, he hauls you up and drags you up onto your feet. Ignoring your flabbergasted expression, he pulls you down the hallway into a secluded corner. Most of the general area lacks people and footsteps, but he prefers the privacy. 

He doesn’t even realize you’re trying to yank out of his grasp until he drags you forward to stand in front of him. Noticing your struggle, he lets go of you immediately. He manages a quiet apologize, one that you don’t notice because you are already opening your mouth to argue. “Are you crazy?” You shout. “Do you just always go around interrupting people’s conversations and being rude to my friends? Did you take some crazy pills this morning?” 

“Yah!” Hoseok cuts in. “I wouldn’t have had to do that if the person I’m trying to talk to wasn’t actually a child who thinks avoiding me can retroactively erase a month’s worth of interactions!” 

“I’m not trying to erase anything!” You argue back. Hoseok gives you a look, and you retreat slightly. Only slightly. “Intentionally, anyways,” You mutter. “But okay fine! What does it matter to you anyways? I’m embarrassed alright! I did something uncalled for and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole but I couldn’t do that so just being away from you seemed like the next best thing.” 

Hoseok maintains his glare on you. “Why would you be embarrassed?” 

You look like you want to snap his neck. “Because!” You start, voice initially loud and projecting clearly through the halls. You lower your voice into a hiss. “Because I kissed you,” You grit out between your teeth. “And just exposed the fact that I kind of like you now—!” 

“Okay but,” Hoseok interrupts. “I really like you too. And I didn’t mind that you kissed me.” 

You stop short, craning away from him. “Wait, what?” 

Hoseok gives you a small smile, but he diverts his gaze as to not embarrass himself fully. “I think you’re cool. And you would have heard me say that yesterday if you hadn’t run away like a dumbass!” 

Your face feels hot suddenly. “Hey, you were just staring at me! How else was I supposed to react!” 

“You had kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it! Sorry for trying to process things like a normal person!” He snaps back. 

You pout. “You should have run after me then. I felt like shit all day yesterday!” 

Hoseok makes a face back at you. “I’m not a mind-reader, how was I supposed to know that?” 

You sigh at that, bringing your fingers up to press against the bridge of your nose. “Okay, okay. At this rate, this argument will go back and forth for years.” 

“Sure,” Hoseok relents, backing away for a moment. “But I’m not a mind-reader.” 

You clench your hands at your side. “Fine, fine, I got it. I shouldn’t have run away, but—!” You raise a hand up to point a finger at him. “You should have been more transparent about your feelings!” With a huff, you lower your arm back down and cross them over your chest. “Anyways, uh…” You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow as you try really hard to keep the smirk from taking over your lips. “You like me too, huh?” 

Hoseok purses his lips out, also trying to hide his smile. “Maybe.” 

You start laughing, twirling your hair around your finger. “What was that, Jung Hoseok?” 

He glares. “Actually, what I need to tell you isn’t that important.” 

“No, no, c’mon,” You say, reaching out to latch around his arm. “Tell me.” 

Whether it’s the pout in your voice or the glint in your eyes daring him to refuse you, he relents. “I’m going down to the dungeons right now—Professor Slughorn offered to grade my test early so I could, uh, prepare any next steps. I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me.” 

Your gaze softens. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Let me just let Sana know what’s up.” 

You make a quick detour back to Sana, still sitting at the windowsill, but she nods when you update her on the situation. Together, you and Hoseok make your way down the hallways and towards the dungeon. Hoseok doesn’t even realize how nervous he is until he reaches the steps leading downwards and his heart is thrumming to its own beat. 

You notice, because of course you do. “Hey,” You call softly, reaching over to take his hand. You squeeze it in your own. “You’ve prepared so hard for this. If you don’t get an Outstanding, I will go up to Professor Slughorn myself and tell him to stick his grading up his ass.” 

Knowing that you’re just trying to reassure him, he gives out an airy laugh of appreciation. “Thanks.” He squeezes your hand back before letting go. “I’m going in now,” He says, taking the stairs down towards his destiny. 

Professor Slughorn is in the dungeons when Hoseok pushes open the room—the older man is at his desk at the front of the classroom, papers folding from one pile to another on its own. With every sheet of paper that settles in front of Professor Slughorn, there’s a few movements of his quill, before the paper moves on to its next pile. Overall, a very efficient system. 

Professor Slughorn looks up at the sound of the door. “Ah, Mr. Jung. I was wondering when you were going to come in.” For a greeting, the statement is much too passive and neutral for Hoseok’s liking. Any indication of Hoseok passing or failing the test doesn’t shine through at all. “Well come in, come in. I have your exam ready.” 

Gulping, Hoseok steps deeper into the classroom, the heels from his shoes clacking against the stone floor. As soon as he approaches the desk, Professor Slughorn draws his wand and a single wave is required to have an envelope move from one corner of the table into Hoseok’s awaiting hands. 

“Best if you review your score outside, if you please,” The professor interjects, doing absolutely nothing to raise Hoseok’s confidence. The man hardly even spares him a glance as Hoseok turns around and exits the classroom—strangely filling like a dog with a tail tucked between his legs. 

You’re waiting near the stairs when Hoseok exits, and you’re all ears and attentive stares as Hoseok reaches the top. “So? What happened?” At Hoseok’s solemn expression, your gaze hardens. “Alright, I’m talking to the professor.” 

He stops you by tugging harshly at the sleeve of your robes. “I haven’t opened it yet.” 

You stop in your trail, eying the envelope. “Well then, take a glance!” 

With one final sigh, Hoseok looks down and tears open the parchment. He pulls out the script from inside—the paper with his exam grade. The red letters dance across the paper, the words PASS written next to Potions Examination. His eyes trail further down to see the ranking of his grade, to see if his hard work has paid off… 

On the bottom, written in Professor Slughorn’s fancy cursive: 

Classification: Outstanding

Hoseok jolts, his whole body moving backwards momentarily as if the words from the paper have slipped out to slap him across the face. He reads the single word once more, twice more, before he’s looking up at you with the widest grin. “Outstanding,” He relays. 

And you’re moving towards him at once, jumping up and down until you’re wrapping your arms around his neck. Hoseok doesn’t even care for the suddenness of the gesture, instead wrapping his arms around your midsection and lifting you up into the air. “Jung Hoseok!” You’re gasping out, pulling away from him to place your hands on his shoulders. “You did it!” 

“Hhhhholy shit,” Hoseok replies back, placing you back onto the ground but moving his hands to your waist instead. He sees you in front of him, bright eyed and full smiles with all teeth. “Thank you so much, I wouldn’t have done this without you.” One of his hands moves up to cup your cheek. “I could kiss you right now!” 

Your grin widens. “Should have done that yesterday too, Jung.” 

The smile slips off Hoseok’s face. “You’re really gonna bring that up against you son of a bitch—!” 

You lean forward and kiss him. It’s just a peck, a press of your lips against his own, but your lips are so soft that he cannot help but lean forward himself as you pull away as quickly as you had come in. That grin is back on your lips. “I did say too,” You say with a twinkle in your eyes. 

Hoseok almost rolls his eyes, before the door to the dungeons opens and you both hear a voice sound from the bottom. 

“I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, Mr. Jung,” Professor Slughorn calls, waving towards the pair of you—that smile finally pasted across his face. “Hopefully with a much better attitude from now on.” 

You and Hoseok step away from each other, but Hoseok doesn’t let you go too far as he draps an arm around your shoulder. “Oh don’t worry professor,” He replies, looking down at you for a moment. “My girlfriend will make sure of that.” 

[a-lesbian-tm]

A Wound Time Could Not Heal (p.1): Rumination

Hello! I’m back! A warning I have not played Resident Evil, this entire story is AU. I have also posted this on my ao3 (Line__Segment) if you see it there. Enjoy!

Lady Dimitrescu x Reader

Mother Miranda x (Daughter)Reader

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Romania had always been dreary in the winter, that had been one of the few constants throughout all of the ages Miranda had lived through. When she was a child she barely noticed the cold season come and go, preferring to spend time with her mother in the depths of their estate where the shadows whispered promises of power in her ear. 

Her mother was an eccentric character till her very last breath. She liked to wear long black dresses and keep her hair close to her head. Over the years had taken to wearing a pair of deep brown leather gloves that fit tight to her fingers and flared as they passed her elbows. She had developed a deep fascination with science as a child, exploring its realms in detail. Going so far to marry a man of science.

But it was a marriage of convenience, at least for Miranda’s mother. He was easy to lure into her clutches, she was a beautiful woman after all, and he had little money so he scrambled to take the chance to marry such a wealthy woman. Their marriage lasted a whole five years. Once she found out she was pregnant with Miranda, well, her husband was not around for much longer. 

With an heir in place Miranda’s mother began to fully immerse herself into her work studying local environments and organisms. When the moon was high she would slip deep into the woods that surrounded her estate and would come back with plants that seemed to ooze and reek of an 8th sin. 

Once Miranda had grown into a young woman she would accompany her mother on these trips. Sometimes her mother seemed to slip in and out of the deep darkness that engulfed the forest, sometimes she too would slip into that dark. They would go nearly every night and the weather never was what stopped them, no, the weather would not be a focal of Miranda’s life until she was much older. 

When Miranda’s mother died, Miranda was hardly 25. She inherited the entire estate, its businesses and all of her mother’s work. There was sadness in those immediate days after her mother passed but in time Miranda looked onward to the future with a child-like giddiness for the research she was to do. 

It was hard work, lonely without her mother, but no less rewarding the miracles, as she liked to see them, astounded her. The secret to immortality had been growing on her property the entire time. Oh to see her mother’s face.

Time went by as it had before, winter came and went, the summer came, the harvest came, it all just came and went. But Miranda’s 34th birthday offered a new type of promise. She had grown close to one of the ground’s keepers. A handsome man, tall with his beard trimmed neatly around his face. His eyes were a lovely brown that matched his hair. It was a passionate affair, with little exchange between the two than heavy breathing and kisses.

At first Miranda had thought the sickness was a side effect from taking the Caduo, but neither she nor her land assistant (killed shortly after she was infected by her own hand) had recorded any such side effect. She tried every possible concoction to cure her ailment but nothing worked. So when her birthday came around that year and her period was nearly three weeks late, it left her with one last reasonable diagnosis, she was pregnant. 

It was only joy when she came to the conclusion, till she went to find her lover. It was his one day off, Sunday, he was a devout Catholic after all. He had gone home the night before to his little dwelling not far from Miranda’s estate, she had walked in a state of utter bliss. Bursting down the door her face fell, and hardened. There he was with his wife and children. 

Her pregnancy went smoothly, and she noted everything, Miranda was after the first pregnant infected test subject. Sometimes in the night she would return to the woods in the places she and her mother would travel, and feel her mother’s spirit. Miranda figured the babe must be a girl, she figured she had no problem with the idea of spoiling her either.

A girl indeed. She was born on a clear night, the moon high and brilliant. Crying and red as a tomato Miranda swore she never saw anything more wonderful. When her body had healed enough for her to walk and move without help she descended into the dungeons. Miranda found that the ground’s keeper was ugly when he cried. As a result he died quickly, and his wife was given work through the estate as compensation. 

Miranda’s little girl loved the sun, loved running with her voice ringing through the air. When winter came Miranda made sure to fill the castle with fake flowers and greenery to keep her daughter surrounded by the natural world's beauty. As she grew that love of nature continued, so Miranda built her daughter her own greenhouse, with plenty of places to take tea and grow exotic flowers. 

That was early 1400’s though, Miranda had not had the heart to even look further than the moss covered roof of the greenhouse since… since. 

Miranda heaved a low sigh and dialed the number she knew by heart, her call was answered in two rings.

“Divine Mother how may I serve you?”

“Alcina, how are you and the girls?”

“We have all been well, the man you sent over to fix the heating solved our problem perfectly”

“Wonderful, wonderful. I have a task for you…”

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

champagne problems (part 1)

here's my first part of my modern no magic "champagne problems" singer-songwriter quarantine thomastair AU! happy birthday to @foxglove-airmid even though I don't think it's your birthday where you live anymore (and I still haven't posted zia's birthday fic, it'll happen I swear)!

no content warnings for this part (besides maybe quarantine), but future parts will include discussions of mental illness, substance abuse, and a suicide attempt

obviously, the song alastair "wrote" in the fic is not mine, it's by taylor swift! and a few of the lyrics have been changed!

Masterlist | AO3

Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief as he lugged his suitcase up onto the fifth floor landing.

“‘Ere we are,” Piers announced as he unlocked the door.

Thomas was utterly exhausted, such was the result of taking a redeye flight across the Atlantic during a global pandemic, but any idea of rest that he’d had was interrupted when he heard the sound of piano flood the apartment.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Piers nodded, “One of my flatmates, the walls are paper thin. He can’t record at the studio right now, but he’s trying to finish his EP, so it’s been a bit noisier around here. He’ll take a break soon, hopefully.”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s no problem. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay here. I’ll be looking for my own place as soon as the quarantine is up.”

“Of course. You’ve got the couch as long as you need it. Couldn’t just hang you out to dry, could I? Although, you did pick a god awful time to move to the city, if I do say so myself.”

Thomas sat down on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. It was more comfortable than the flight or the airport, at least. “I know… I considered postponing the move, but the visa was so difficult to get, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They say this will all blow over in a couple of weeks, but borders are closing and I heard talk of them suspending all pending visa applications. I didn't know how long it would be if I waited, if the job was even still here for me at all.” Although at first entrance, the music had seemed to be a nuisance, it now comforted him. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it quite reminded him of the days Alastair’s playing had filled their flat…

“Where did you say you were working again? At a record company?”

“Yeah. I’m just doing pretty basic stuff for now, but if I ever do want to record my own music, I’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Hm,” Piers said, gesturing to the room the music was coming from. “Perhaps you’ll get on with him well, then. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas nodded and Piers went to start the teapot. Piers continued, “Though I suppose he's more of the tortured artist type. Very reserved, quite prickly. I didn't even meet him until a couple weeks after I moved in here because he was off in some psychiatric hospital.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one for gossip. “My other roommate’s nice, though, I think you’ll like him. He-”

“How did you end up in New York, again? I don’t think I ever asked.”

Piers dove into the subject change quite readily, explaining his uni - or college - years in New York City and his decision to stay afterwards. Thomas had tuned most of it out, truthfully. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but he was rather exhausted, and Piers was wearing thin on his patience.

As the kettle started to whine, Thomas heard the musician begin to sing, and he froze. It sounded so much like Alastair. But it couldn't be, could it? With over 8 million people living in the city, he would not end up in Alastair's apartment by accident. His Alastair was certainly reserved and prickly, but it wasn't possible. It must be like all those times he thought he saw him on a street he'd never walked or heard his laugh in a café he'd never been to. Just his mind, tricking him. Even if he knew that voice so well, despite not hearing it in so long.

“It’s quite good, isn’t it? His first single just dropped.” Piers asked, bringing over his cup of tea. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been staring intently at the door.

Thomas took the cup. “Hm? Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”

“You should look it up. It’s called “champagne problems” by Simurgh. That’s spelled- Well, it should come up.”

The name Simurgh sounded familiar, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on where he knew it from. At Piers’ insistence, he pulled out his phone and brought up the song. As he skimmed through the first few lines, a cold feeling settled in his stomach.

“You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse”

“Simurgh,” Thomas realized.

“Yeah, I think it’s Arabic or something.”

It took Thomas a moment to process that Piers was responding to him. “It’s Persian.” He was certain that Alastair would have some very stern words to say if he heard Piers confusing the two, actually. Thomas had admittedly let his Farsi skills deteriorate quite a bit since the breakup, but he was fairly certain the name came from the Shahnameh. There was no doubt in Thomas’ mind now: he was staying in Alastair’s apartment, and Alastair’s first single was about one of the most painful days in Thomas’ life. “I, er, I used to study it.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Piers launched into a tangent that Thomas tuned out as he read through the rest of the page.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems”

“Thomas? Are you alright?”

He realized then that his hand was trembling so badly that his tea nearly spilled. He used his other hand to steady it. “Oh, uh, yes, I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps you should rest. I can ask Alastair to quiet down for a while-”

“No!” he exclaimed rather too forcefully. “No, that’s not necessary. I’d just rather not talk, if that’s alright.”

Piers nodded.

Thomas kept reading.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems”

Of all the songs, why did he release the one about him? Why was it about a memory still so painful in Thomas’ heart, all of these years later? He remembered it so well, standing there, alone, shattered into a million pieces.

“You told your family for a reason You couldn't keep it in Your sister splashed out on the bottle Now no one's celebrating”

He was fairly certain that Barbara had been more excited than even he was, confident that Alastair would accept, and so very proud of her baby brother, all grown up. She’d been furious when it fell apart, but it was her who stood with him during the aftermath, who boarded him onto a train to Edinburgh to visit Eugenia when he couldn’t stand to be in the same city as him any longer, who went through his phone, blocking all of Alastair’s accounts so that he could obsess over him no longer, who comforted him as he wept and held him as he picked the pieces of himself back up again.

And all the more sour was the memory in light of her death.

“Dom Pérignon, you brought it No crowd of friends applauded Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems”

He looked up at Piers, who had fortunately become enthralled with something on his phone and was no longer paying Thomas any mind. He lifted the teacup gingerly to his lips, but he felt far too sick to take a drink.

“You had a speech, you're speechless Love slipped beyond your reaches And I couldn't give a reason Champagne problems”

A reason, that’s all Thomas had wanted. Just any explanation. He understood if they were moving too fast, or perhaps he’d misread something, but he just didn’t understand it.

Why? Why can’t you tell me why? I deserve an explanation, Alastair. Please, anything.

I… I’m sorry, Thomas.

Stop it! Stop apologizing! We can just go home and pretend this never happened, please, forget about all of it, it was a stupid idea-

Thomas, stop. I shouldn’t’ve… This was a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.

That was the moment Thomas felt his heart stop beating.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door November flush and your flannel cure "This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through”

Despite the nearly two decades Thomas had spent in London before Alastair, it was never the same without him. He saw him everywhere he went, despite knowing he was thousands of miles away. After graduating uni that May, he accepted a spot at a graduate program in Spain and didn’t look back.

“One for the money, two for the show I never was ready so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you "You’re the only one I want by my side, What a shame you’re fucked in the head," you said”

Those were the words that haunted Thomas’ nightmares, even now.

It’s you! It’s only you for me! It was always going to be you! But I can see now that I was never going to be enough for you, you and your secrets and walls and your lies. It’s a shame… it’s a shame you’re so fucked in the head, Alastair. You’ll never truly love anyone, will you? You’re not physically capable of it.

Alastair hadn’t responded. Thomas had wanted a rise out of him, any reaction at all, despite knowing how lethal and volatile Alastair could become when provoked. But there was nothing. Not a flicker of anything in his steeled expression. He’d simply looked down, apologized again for any pain that he’d caused, and left.

That was the last time they’d spoken.

Thomas and his sister left for Edinburgh that night, and when he’d returned to London, Alastair was gone.

“Well, you'll find the real thing instead Who'll patch up your tapestry that I shred And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems”

Thomas couldn’t imagine giving his heart to anyone again, not now and certainly not then. He’d dated in Madrid, but it had always stayed casual. He’d made sure of it. He could see now that he and Alastair had gotten together quickly, moved in together quickly, done all of it very quickly. After all, he’d fallen hard and fast. He gave all of himself to Alastair, and he’d nearly lost all of himself in the process.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket New picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems

“You won't remember all my Champagne problems”

Now, he wondered what the rest of the story was. He’d convinced himself that Alastair had never loved him, that he was heartless and cruel, though he’d known that wasn’t true. Could Alastair have written this song if he’d never truly loved him? Perhaps he was a sociopath.

Thomas felt like he should run. Like he should pick up his bag and dart out of the apartment before Alastair could notice him, find some hotel somewhere with undoubtedly extraordinary high rates and just pretend like this never happened. He could get back on a plane and go back home to his parents and delete his phone browser history and pretend like this was all just a bad dream. But he could not move.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed before Alastair’s door opened. He looked up with a start.

“Thomas,” Alastair breathed. He stood wide eyed, flushed.

“Do you two already know each other then?” Piers asked.

There was a moment of silence before Thomas cleared his throat. “We used to,” he said, looking down.

“I, er, I forgot that your friend was coming today,” Alastair told Piers. “It’s quite a long journey from London, you should have told me, I would have been quieter.”

Thomas considered correcting him for a moment, but decided not to. “Don’t worry about it. I heard you had your first big release. Congratulations.”

Alastair gave an awkward nod. “Thank you. Right, well, I’ll just…” He rushed over to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll try to be a bit quieter.”

“Don’t- It’s fine, really. In fact, I’m sure there’s some hotel in the area I can stay at for now, actually-”

“Well, don’t leave on my account,” Alastair interrupted. “We agreed to let you stay here, and the city’s a bloody mess right now. I’ll stay out of your hair, Thomas.”

Thomas only nodded as Alastair disappeared back behind his bedroom door.

Thanks for reading! Taglist (ask to be +/-): @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @itsjusta-j-really

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hot Chocolate (Birthday/Christmas Special)

Summary: Levi is bound to spend this birthday on his own, seeing that you're halfway across the globe as an exchange uni student. What he doesn't know though is that you have planned a huge surprise for him. NSFW 18+

Notes: sorry for any mistake you guyss please enjoy this

Pairing: Levi/ Reader 

Tags: f l uff, nsfw

Warnings: nsfw, the sexies

Disclaimer: I do not own the gif, I simply found it on Pinterest.

White heavy cream fell fluidly out of the carton it was stored, squeezed by Levi's calloused hand and into the small metallic pot that he rested his other hand onto. The mixture, an aromatic, dark brown hot chocolate, lightened in color upon a few stirs of his tool. Slowly with his hand he disposed of the empty carton in the recycling bin, making sure to wipe any stray droplet of white on the counter.

He blinked as his mind went blank, forgetting the next step of the recipe but only momentarily. His thoughts once again traveled to what troubled him, but he continued with his stirring in fear of burning the beverage he was set on making. With his teeth sinking dangerously at the tip of his tongue what he needed clicked in his head. Corn flour. A quorter of a cup.

He didn't bother tasting the mixture as he lowered the fire of the stove to the minimum, he simply marched to the corner built in cupboard, hands searching furiously for the porcelain vase that held this oh so precious corn flour that would act as the stabilizing factor to his hot chocolate beverage.

Seconds later he brought the fire to an halt absurdly, never ceasing with his stirring careful as to not have the mixture stick to the pot. He didn't like his chocolate adorned with burnt flakes or the taste they brought to his mouth neither did he like cleaning the burnt pot before having to pop it in the washing machine. As his hands reached for the cups he had set beside the stove beforehand to his alchemy, he helped the thick mixture in with a spoon.

The cups were immediately transfered inside the over; an attempt to keep them from any predatory fly that could have entered the apartment before Levi had a chance to realise and in addition keeping them sheltered as they reached a drinkable temperature. Levi threw the pot into the sink next, sighing to himself as he grabbed his thick latex gloves and out them on his hands. With a twist of his hand at the handle the watered started running on his gloves hands pot making him grab his steel wool.

His hand came to his forehead, wiping some sweat as he sighed again, hanging his head low as he gritted his teeth in frustration. His eyes squinted in anger, his hands dug into the inox of his sink and his heart sink dangerously low as he felt the room run cold due to the sun quickly setting behind the horizon.

Why had he made that chocolate, it beat him. The two of you hadn't spoken in at least two days and he liked -or rather chose- to blame it on your busy studying schedule, rather than the fight the two of you had over that call two nights ago. He had been to angry to admit he was acting like a brat to you, he had been too proud to simply say that he wanted your attention, instead he had resolved his anger into grumpiness, causing your overworked mind to snap.

You were gone as an exchange student in Japan for too long and both your busy schedules and the enormous time difference had dug their ways into Levi's life very negatively. Before you he had never lonely when he was alone, but now, now that he had gotten a taste of what it was to be with you, now that you had been ripped away from him from so long, he definitely felt lonely. And angry. And it killed him that he was almost on time for your arranged video chat, when you didn't even show any sign of being in existence still.

It made his boil though, by now, it must have been the 26th in Japan and you had spent your day ignoring him, not even bothering to open his message. Had he been so cruel to you while admitting he wanted you here with him? Was it that you didn't have enough decency to let him you know you were alright? That was what he simply wanted to know, in the end.

Sighing again he ripped the gloves off his hands and grabbed his phone. His fingertip touching the button provided him immediate access to his homescreen and he quickly entered Instagram dragging the homepage down a couple of times to let it load any new activity. Internally he knew, he would have been glad if he was to see a story or a post by you, any sign that you were alright would do for him.

Of course, as if on cue to shake him of his miserable thoughts his phone rang, buzzing in his palm. His eyes fell on the small window the revealed the caller id to him. It was Erwin, naturally, as he always used to shower him with phone calls on his birthday even up until the moment he was at his front door. Levi didn't missed out on those signs of affection, it's was quite the opposite really. He cherished them deeply. Seeing how much of an impact he had on his friends' lives moved him whether he showed it or not.

And so, while holding back his saddened sigh he picked up the phone, greeting his friend through greeted teeth.

"Hey Levi, uhm, I kind of need you at the moment, am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Levi spoke, biting painfully on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold himself back from sprinting out on his frustration. Of course Erwin could try and hide behind his finger, Levi knew that much. The blond was aware he wasn't interrupting anything, but he was still kind enough to ask; he always was sappily kind when it came to such sensitive subjects.

"Great look, I'm on route twenty two, fifth exit, I'm out of gas can you please come to my rescue and bring me some?" Erwin paused for a moment and then proceeded to mumble through an overly amused breath "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you tonight."

"Did you take your father's run down car again?" Levi questioned.

"No... yes. I'm sorry Levi I felt like I wanted to drive his car tonight. I shouldn't have to drag you here too, I'm sorry."

"No it's fine," Levi bit back, hissing at Erwin's unhealthy habit of wanting to drive his father's antique due to its sentimental worth. But then again, he reminded himself he wasn't in a place to judge. "Give me 15 and I'll be there."

Fidgeting his fingers on the counter without throwing a second look he came in contact with his car keys. The familiar jiggling sound gritted through the air proudly as Levi pierced his finger inside the key loop, finally pressing the keys steady to his palm. With another grunt, he hang up the phone, bringing the device to the palm of his hand once again.

His mind begged him to open his texts with you again -his initial goal ever since the moment he opened his phone- just to stare at the screen or at his unopened text, his insides begged to boil with concern at the process but he figured had all night to do so, prolonging his misery could definitely wait now that Erwin was in need. And thus he simply marched to the hanger behind his front door, eager much to quickly get a hold of his warmest jacket before having to step out in the cold apartment corridor and consequentially outside in the cold December weather.

___

You forced Hange to suppress her giggles as you slipped the metallic key inside the lock to your shared apartment with Levi. With an exaggerated jump though Hange let out another scream fill the air, ignoring yet another playful rasped gaze you consequentially threw her. Laughter bubbled from the both of you as you kept on locking eyes, amused by the upcoming execution of your plan.

The plan was simple really. You had Erwin call Levi for any emergency he could come up with and only when he left the house you and Hange would sneak in, light up the aromatic candles you spent weeks picking. You would make some hot buttered rum and light the fireplace to warm up the house. Then, Hange would leave right when Erwin would call you to announce that Levi was on his way back and you'd wait for him with the biggest smile on your face.

"Okay now let's see how much time we have." You said and rubbed your hands together to warm them up. Leaning with one hand over the wall you moved the heel of your left foot on top of your right one, pressing down enough so you could wiggle your foot out of the shoe. Doing the same for your other foot, you removed your jacket and hung it behind the door.

"Erwin said it will take Levi about twenty minutes to get to him, they shall spend about ten to fifteen minutes fueling his car, but he promised he'd try his best to delay Levi if we need to. And then add another ten minutes for him to get back." Hange spoke, fixing her glasses onto her nose.

"You think I have enough time to take a bath?"

Making sure to slip her shoes off after you, Hange nodded in your direction and proceeded to set her heavy backpack on the couch. One by one she took the candles and a lighter out, eventually smirking to herself as she tried to come up with a plan on how to neatly set them around the living room.

"Hange!" Can you put those in the bedroom?" You spoke, ripping your shirt off of you before your finger came to graze the side of your mouth as your mind sunk in your thoughts.

"Ha!" Hange huffed "as if you're even going to make it to the bedroom!"

Your cheeks burned as she spoke, eyes widening slightly at how your mind told you she was completely right. Of course you and Levi wouldn't make it to the bedroom at least until later tonight. It had been months since you had last seen him and it was his birthday, you wouldn't even be able to rip yourself off of his arms. Thus you simply threw a mellow smile at Hange as you sprint to the kitchen checking to see if you had all the ingredients you'd need to make your choice of drink.

Coincidentally, you opened the oven and your eyes immediately fell on what was inside. Your expression softened as two grey toned cups shone in your orbs, the smell they emitted deliciously filling your nostrils. You smiled to your self as you thought about how your lover didn't miss out on making your traditional Christmas drink.

It was unbelievable how kind hearted Levi was, in contrary to what people thought of him, you thought. Most of the times -and simply because he didn't allow otherwise- the only thing people who weren't close to him saw was a cold demeanor, a sharp tongue and a foul mouth. It all would be too ironic if they knew how Levi was behind closed doors. Taking notice of small everyday details, sticking to his beloved routine, cherishing moments with his loved ones, remembering everything most people would ignore about others and showing his love in the sweetest yet most Levi way were only a few of his virtues.

Of course he wouldn't miss on making your favorite strawberry scented thick hot chocolate, even if you had spent the last few days not speaking to him, even if as of now he remained ignorant as to why. You assumed he believe it was about that ridiculous fight and you could admit you purposefully riled him just enough for him not to expect to see you. You were sure, seeing he had shown a previous liking in surprises like this, that his jaw would hit the floor when he'd see you.

Guilt rushed through you at the thought of you making him feel miserable even in the slightest, but Hange couldn't just have you standing there, sulking in your anxiety over how things had led up to this moment. If you wanted to make it in time for when Levi came home you'd have to rush. Hange insisted on shooing you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, urging you to act fast, before Levi came. Sensing she was right, you settled for running to retrieve a new pair of underwear and a clean towel before jumping in the shower.

Stretching your arms to close the curtain behind you as you stepped on the white marble tiles you twisted the faucet handle to the right, letting a deep sigh escape from the depths of your chest as the hot water started running.

___

The sound of keys jiggling together filled what should have been an empty apartment, making Levi's arrival known only to you who stood inside the kitchen. He stepped inside a few seconds later, ripping his shoes off of his feet before slipping into his fuzzy slippers.

His hands immediately reached for the wipes and rubbing alcohol he kept on a stand right next to the door, silently grabbing a wipe and coating it in the strong smelling disinfectant before bringing it to his phone and keys. He spent a good minute cleaning the items meticulously only stopping when he felt satisfied to set them on the stand. He took a step to turn around with his goal to walk to the kitchen and heat up his got chocolate. Judging by the time he could still try to reach out to you before the day ended.

With a quick glance around the room, though he found himself freezing in his spot.

"Great, now I'm so shit mad I'm seeing fucking things." Levi announced -seemingly only to his own self- the moment he laid his gray orbs upon you.

"No Levi, you're not seeing things baby."

Standing up for your seat on the kitchen table you shot him an adorning look; your eyes squinted and your cheeks puffed up, coated in a sheer scarlett color. You silently watched as his eyes grew impossibly wide, flickering between you and each lit candle that showered the room in plenty of romantic golden light.

His legs were slightly trembling, his knees going weak at the sudden need to intake all of what was unraveling before him, but with his heart hammering in his whole body he only managed to part his lips before even beginning to thing if what to utter.

"Merry Christmas and happy birthday my Vee." You smiled again, mouthing the tooth rotting sweet nickname as you walked to him with open arms and a longing look on your face.

He wasted no time, even if his head was starting to buzz in confusion and uncertainty, he bucked in his stand before sprinting towards you. His hands quickly wrapped under your bum, lifting you up on him while prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. With painfully squinted eyes his nose nuzzled up between your neck and your chest, inhaling your magnetising aura sharply as he span you around. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, embracing his head in a loving manner as you couldn't supress your bubbling giggles.

His strong grip on you wasn't ceasing, not even for a moment as he began mouthing his questions; he didn't even care that his voice was muffled by your own form.

"How- I mean when?" He spoke and only hugged you tigher onto him.

"Well, you thought I'd ever miss this day?" You placed a kiss on the top of his hairline. "I was supposed to be here days ago but my flight got delayed, so Erwin and and Hange came up with this surprise plan."

Levi's hands loosened their grip on you slowly was you tried to slide down his body carefully; this breathtaking moment could only ever last for so long, Levi figured as he set you down. Kissing you was the next task he assigned to himself, but it could only happen after he got a good look at your face.

God, he had missed you so much.

So many months had passed since the last time he had been graced with seeing you this close to him and in the moment what he was witnessing almost felt too unreal. Your tender eyes looked into his with adoration and warmth, your chest dwelled with tainted breaths as your hands slowly came to cup his sharp face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't responding at all, I really had to leave to go to the airport after that silly fight we had, I couldn't just tell you I was coming." You said and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Although I was really temped to."

Levi wrapped his arms around you again and hugged you to his chest- this time he missed on levitating you if the ground, even more fiercely than he had done before. He simply huffed in amusement in the crook of your neck, mouthing a sole 'thank you' against you.

The next kiss you shared was maniac and passionate in nature. His lips didn't just graze over yours, the engulfed them. He sucked onto your tender flesh as if his life depended on it and you couldn't get enough. You found yourself grabbing his shirt, then running your hands through the short spiky hair of his undercut.

His slick hands cupped your own face as he pulled back only to catch his breath for a moment.

"I've missed you much I can't even be patient to talk with you."

"Me too" you announced, a hazed look masking your face.

You took a few leading steps to the couch, careful not to disturb the candles in the corners of the coffee table that before it, much afraid of setting everything on fire in your despairate state to have him. Your mouth launched feverishly onto his as you threw him onto the gray sofa.

Levi didn't fight it, not even for a moment. His tongue shoved inside your mouth, rolling around yours, slurping and cherishing each corner of your mouth as he took small intakes of breath through his nose from time to time. His tender hands loosened their grip on the sides of your face, the action eliciting a small whine from your occupied mouth but to was quickly gulped down by the movement of his lips that came to suck on your tongue.

You felt his fingertips travel down your clothed body, skillfully sinking underneath your shirt before restlessly traveling back up taking the cloth away with them. You only broke away from each other for a singular moment, breaths hitching and tinting the air around you, so much that you could almost ignore the way your heart sped it's throbbing in your ears. His hips bucked longingly int you from underneath, the friction already driving you crazy.

As his hands shoved longingly inside your pants you let another moan slip from the depths of your throat, though it was guickly muffled by your lover's mouth attaching on yours , making you melt into him. You felt his fingers graze ever so slightly over your still clothed crotch, painfully flicking their way through your flesh.

Roughly, he pulled back, detaching his want body away from yours while fixing his gray eyes into you. He didn't bother speaking as he tagged at the sides of his shirt, ripping the article of clothing away from him in such quick movements, as if it was the only thing getting in his way from getting close to you.

With hanger widening his eyes he stared at you again, prompting you to put your hands into him, to feel him all the while he run his hands into your form. He failed in exploring your body as he had wished though, with a shagged breath he only managed to bring you close, in a proximity that didn't even allow a kiss to be exchanged. You simply nuzzled into the crook of his bare neck, rubbing the tip of your nose in calm circles against him as you breathed hot huffs of air onto his skin.

His back was still so muscular and ripped despite his skin being so overly smooth under your tender touch, the more small trails you rubbed over him the more he sighed in greed and over exaggerated longing. Licking his lips with a constipated look on his face, he placed a tender kiss on your collarbone before traveling back up, just to teasingly rub his bottom lip over yours.

Breaking the kiss you grabbed his hand, bringing his palm close you your face. You teasingly picked his pointer finger, making sure to scratch the inside of his hand with your nails as you brought the digit to your mouth. His mouth, running ahead of his own desire to stay quiet, blurted lewd moans at your soft suckling and with all blood boiling in his body he was unable to even think about chocking down on his sounds.

He was on his back before he even knew it. It seemed like squirming was the way to go now, right underneath you as you placed kisses all over his chest and torso. With slow hands you reached for his pants, fidgeting with his zipper and buttons before wiggling your arms inside the dark denim.

Quickly, any remaining article of clothing was discharged thrown anywhere on the floor; you could worry about that later but right now you couldn't seem to be able to pay attention on anything else than each other. You had missed him, he had missed you, there was only so much that the two of you could process momentarily.

It was the high of the moment mixed with your scent that pulled him even even more as you craddled him to your chest while never ceasing the bobbing of your hips. The kisses that he sucked in you, sped up the beating of your heart against his as soft skin mingled with your own. Even that was painful to him, the extend to which he had missed you didn't leave any space for him to pull just an inch away from you, as if he wouldn't ever be able to get enough.

"My Levi, I've missed you so much." You spoke with hitched breaths, lips grazing his earlobe ever so slightly.

Levi allowed him self to eventually grunt in response letting harsh huffs of air through his nostrils while trying to guide your hips to an alt.

"Keep talking like that and I'm not going to last." He spoke, his fingering digging into your thighs to put an halt to your movements.

It didn't work -he should have known it wouldn't work- because you only slid down on him longingly and fast, sending his mind in the familiar pre orgasmic haze he so wished to momentarily be freed from.

"Who said," you paused only for another tainted moan to slip outside your lips "I want you to last?" You placed a kiss on the skin behind his ear, careful not to suck and create any loud noise that close to his eardrum.

Levi only threw his head back, his hips starting to work onto a hard, quick rhythm against you. He trembled under your words and every deep thrust, every feel of your insides on his throbbing length was only contributing to the build up in his abdomen.

He hair, sweaty as it was, stuck on his forehead as it dripped, but you paid no mind in his salty taste as you kissed your way all over his forehead and cheeks, nose and jawline, trailing your tongue on any sharp edge of him.

Your legs were shaking now and much to your best wishes you struggled with your thrusting onto him. You only managed to gyrate your hips, earning another moan of him as you ceased your movements, sweat dripping off of your own forehead as if mimicking his antics.

His hands nearly slipped from your thighs as wet as they were but he managed to get the message you were trying to convey; with jaded breaths he started thrusting maniacally from underneath you, damaging through you as pleasure dueled in both your bodies.

Yearning splashed all over his face and his grunts only got louder. Your foreheads collided as you cupped his face, noses nuzzling up, eyes staring deep into eachother.

Gentle. His ultimate indulge into you was gentle and earth shattering at the same time. His veins popped in white hot pleasure and his chest boiled with numerous erotic moans as his abdomen screamed throughout him, leaving him with barely enough time to mechanically reach just to pull out. His head hung low onto your collarbone while his head throbbed, unable to come down from his high just yet. He couldn't even move his eyes to see you, although he knew by listening to your panted breaths that you were in the same position as him.

Pushing him back to lay down on the couch, you kissed all over his face for the thousandth time tonight.

"I'd never ever miss this important day, you know." You smiled, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose.

"It's not that special, brat" he spoke shyly as he cooed into your face rubbing his upper lip to your cheek. You recognised the action; it was a habit of his to coo in such way, any overly soft thing grazing his top lip indulged him in endless calmness and you hummed to yourself in amusement to the feeling.

"I missed you."

"I know. You said that." He huffed, his lips puckering to hide the playful demeanor behind his next words. "But I don't think I heard it right, mind repeating it?" His fingers trapped your nose between them and swayed your head from side to side before moving to your naked back to press you closer to him him once again.

"You're such a tease. I love you Levi."

"I love you too," He blurred with eyes that burned into yours and proceeded to place a sweet kiss onto your sweat drenched hair "so much, you brat."

Taglist go off: @ackermans-freedom-inc @hawkssnugget @berrijam @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @callmepromise

[loupettes]

Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?

T W E N T Y   O N E

SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..

TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc

Read on AO3: twenty one

***

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

***

It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.

And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.

Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.

The problem was, it was her birthday party.

Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.

But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.

That was until Jackie called.

“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.

Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.

“You sure you want me there?”

She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”

And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.

Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”

“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”

‘Oh, absolutely not.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”

He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”

“That’s good to know.”

   After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.

“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.

But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.

As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness — he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.

It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.

He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.

“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.

Tell her!

“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.

Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”

“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”

“Don’t worry, I took notes.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.

“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”

“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”

“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”

“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”

“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”

“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”

   He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.

He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.

And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.

“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.

“Pepsi alright?” she said.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—

“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”

“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.

“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”

He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”

“So what is your thing, then?”

Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”

She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.

“Not something I would have expected you to say.”

When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.

“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”

It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”

As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.

“No. Just me.”

Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”

If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.

“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”

As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.

“Malibu and Coke, please.”

Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”

Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”

“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”

“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”

Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”

Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.

“Having a nice night?”

Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”

He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”

She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”

She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.

“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.

“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”

He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”

“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”

She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”

She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.

“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”

So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.

“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.

“Cousin.”

“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”

“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”

“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”

“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”

“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”

He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”

Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”

As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.

“Blimey, right then.”

Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.

There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.

“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”

The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.

He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”

“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”

“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”

Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”

“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”

“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.

“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”

“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”

“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”

“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”

She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.

“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”

“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.

“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,

“Incorrect!”

“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.

“That is correct!”

The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”

“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.

“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.

“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.

“Not a chance.”

“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”

“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.

“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”

“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.

The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”

Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”

“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”

“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”

“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.

“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.

“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.

“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.

“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”

“Oh my god no!”

“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.

“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”

“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.

“That is correct!”

Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”

“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”

She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”

“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.

“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”

“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.

“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.

“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”

Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”

“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.

“More detail needed!” Grace called.

“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.

“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.

“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.

“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”

“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”

Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”

“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.

Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.

He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.

“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”

She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.

He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.

The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.

He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.

He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.

It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.

He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.

He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.

He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”

He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”

Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.

“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”

Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.

Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.

“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”

“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”

“I think you like them, really.”

“I like you, there’s a difference.”

She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”

“You understood that correctly, yes.”

Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”

He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.

“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”

He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.

“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”

She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”

“Whoever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”

He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”

“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”

“That they were.”

And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,

“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.

“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.

She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”

“Then what changed?”

She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,

“I met a Time Lord.”

And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.

“Rose—”

“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”

“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”

“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.

“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”

“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”

His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.

Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.

So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.

He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.

And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.

His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.

“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.

She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.

He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.

“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”

He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.

But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.

“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.

She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.

Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.

“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”

She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.

“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”

“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”

“Your bag’s inside.”

“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”

He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”

“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”

“It’s only you they know.”

“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”

“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.

He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.

“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.

Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.

God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.

Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.

He was falling in love with it.

“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”

“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”

“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”

He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.

“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”

He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.

“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”

“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”

He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”

“Not even for a good shag?”

He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.

“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”

“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”

She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.

“But it’s not all I want.”

“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”

And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.

“But what?” he probed.

She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”

Ah yes, he grimaced. That.

The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.

Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.

“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”

She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.

“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh. 

“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”

“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”

The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”

He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”

Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.

“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can take an educated guess.”

“And you really want this too?”

He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”

She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“

“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.

“Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”

“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.

So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.

“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”

He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.

“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.

“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“

“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.

“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”

“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”

“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”

“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”

“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.

“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“I’m there.”

“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”

“Even that.”

“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”

“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”

Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”

“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.

“It’s what domestics have done to you.”

“No, no, it’s definitely you.”

The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—

“Rose!”

They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”

“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.

He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.

“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”

Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”

She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.

“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”

The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.

“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”

The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.

“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”

“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.

“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”

“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”

And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.

He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 10

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3.3k+ [part 10] 

a/n: Hello hello wonderful people! I am sorry for the long wait! Thank you for wonderful messages for my birthday, I really appreciate it. ♥ I am back with a new chapter for the series after a week. It has been a long wait but I think you might like this chapter because in the last one and in this one we can see Jungkook’s character slowly developing. 

taglist: @njrwifey​ @danietoww04​  @kaithezaftig​​  [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

You were sitting in the carriage silently, looking out of the window. At that moment, it did not matter that Jungkook was in a mad mood and was watching you. “When did he ask for your hand in marriage?” You did not look at him even though you knew he was pointing that question at you. “After I met you. We knew each other even before.” You answered. Jungkook frowned and was quiet for a while. Once he spoke up, it was evident in his tone of voice, that he was irritated. “Would you have married him, if you were still a virgin?” You turned your head to him looking into his eyes knowing that you should not lie to him. “I have no inheritance. His parents would disagree with the marriage because of it. I would not be able to do so.”

“You are not mentioning love.” Jungkook started slowly. You looked down at your hands that were holding each other. “Love has no place in marriage.” You admitted bitterly. “Marriages are for profits and benefits. The lovers are looking for happiness and love in the green grass. They throw away the caution so they could have each other at that moment. I do not understand them.” Jungkook was watching you. “Now I see… you were never in love before and you were never tempted to feel like that. You are too innocent when it comes to love. You are untouched in that area.” He scoffed. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied quickly. “I am not a virgin. What you are saying does not make sense.” Jungkook laughed at your cluelessness. “It almost sounds like you are asking me to teach you what it is. But that would mean I might make you feel happy but you have to pay for what you and your companion did to me.” You glared at him. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.” You looked away while Jungkook was still watching you. “And you are making no sense. I have nothing to do with what they did. Do I have to repeat it for you?”

“Oh please, save it.” He sighed and looked out of the carriage that was slowly going towards the shop of the dressmaker. “I don’t need your lies anyway.” He mumbled but loud enough for you to hear it. “LIES?” You turned your whole body to him, almost ready to jump on him. “Who are you to say that?” Jungkook suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer. “Calm down, Y/N. You are having an attitude and I don’t like that.” He warned you. You gulped dryly when he bore his dark eyes into yours. It made you forget the reason you were mad and you looked down. I need to learn how to control myself. “I am sorry.” You whispered. You hated yourself for actually apologizing and that you were such a coward. Any other woman would scream at him, scratch him or in the worst-case scenario, slap him but you could not imagine yourself hurting him, not because you pitied him but because you were worried about what he might do to you.

Jungkook let go of you with a smirk after seeing you apologize and admit the defeat. “You should think before speaking, little one. Otherwise, you will get tired of saying sorry so often.”  You pulled away from him, trying to sit further, in the opposite corner of him. Once you were in a safe distance, you murmured. “It is hard to bite my tongue when you are insulting me.” You sighed and continued. “You are hurting my pride and destroying my self-esteem.” Jungkook cocked his head to the side. “I never said I would not do that. I am not going to let you have any of that.” He looked away from you, watching the world moving from the window. “I told you what you could expect. Did you think I was lying to you?” You shook your head and suddenly a lone tear fell on your hand, followed by the others. You wiped them hastily and Jungkook did not even turn around to see you. He just cursed underneath his nose and pulled out the handkerchief, giving it to you. “There you go,” said Jungkook. “You will need it. And if you intend on crying so often, I recommend you to get your own. It is irritating me that I don’t have mine when I need it.”

“Okay, Jungkook.” You whispered softly, too afraid to remind him that you do not own anything, not even a handkerchief. During the rest of the route, Jungkook was staring out of the window without speaking a word. The carriage was filled with chilling silence and it made you feel even tenser than usually. When you finally arrived, Mrs Dubois was waiting in front of her shop with a huge smile on her lips. Captain Jeon looked like a rich man to her, the type of man who would spend a fortune on his mistresses. Well, that was her first impression of him when he went there for the first time to buy you the dresses you never got to wear before you ran away. To Mrs Dubois, Jungkook looked like a man who knows how to treat his women and since she was still quite young, she knew how to appreciate him. When Jungkook helped you down of the carriage, you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself once your feet touched the ground. He took the cloak off your shoulders and Mrs Dubois looked at the red dress you were wearing. She smiled satisfied, knowing that her work was just made for you and no other woman would as good in this dress.

Mrs Dubois was really curious about the woman when Jungkook was buying such a small dress. She never got to meet you until now. She assumed Jungkook found some kind of mistress and now brought her – you, to her shop. She looked you up and down until her eyes landed on your golden ring. “Madam Dubois, let me introduce you to my wife,” She looked at Jungkook confused but before she could say anything, she stopped herself knowing that it was not the best choice. She heard many of her female clients talk about captain Jeon and how they wished to be in his bed and she honestly wanted that too, never thinking about the possibility of him being married. “Mrs Jeon, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have seen numerous women who wanted to get your husband in their bed, but I gotta say, none of them was as beautiful as you.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at the unnecessary remarks but continued. “My wife needs a few dresses, madam.” The woman suddenly realised the mistake she made and stepped back looking at Jungkook quickly. “Oui, sir, let’s go inside.“ She was aware that men don’t like to share much about their love life even more in front of their wives but she completely forgot this fact even while looking at the ring on your finger.

The three of you walked inside and you made your way towards the colourful materials that would be later used for making dresses. Jungkook made his way towards the sofa, while she was still staring at you thinking about how petite you were but still elegant and charming. In her eyes, any man would love to get close to you, to touch you, to feel you. No wonder, captain Jeon Jungkook married you. To her, you looked like a match made in heaven. Knowing her place, she sighed and gave up on the thoughts of ever getting close to Jungkook again. She walked towards him, bowing to him while whispering in french since she came from France 3 years ago and opened her shop in this little town. “She is a pure perfection, right sir?” Jungkook was the whole time watching you touching the materials, feeling them wondering how much they would cost you. He did not look back at Mrs Dubois even when she whispered. “Oui, madam. She is heavenly.” Jungkook nodded and spoke in the french back at her.

You turned to both of them, not understanding any of their conversations because languages were not your strongest subject. You weren’t expecting less from Jungkook but him speaking in French surprised you. You sighed and suddenly you realised they acted too close to your liking. To you, it looked like she was just another woman from his list of whores he slept with. You turned and walked to them furiously, mad at Jungkook that he brought you to this shop. When you got too close, the boldness suddenly disappeared and you made a quick turn to the right to look at the easel that was holding the papers with a few sketches of the dress designs. You took it from the easel and started studying it, wanting to distract yourself from the woman and Jungkook behind you. You were looking at the model of the modern dress that had a revealing neckline. Only an easy woman would wear that kind of dress. I don’t like it.

When you finally looked up from the sketch, you found out that there was some strange boy staring at you, who just came into the main room from the small room that was hiding being the curtain. His eyes were hungrily looking you up and down, staying longer on the lowcut neckline of your dress and your bust. Even though you knew you were wearing the dress, under his sight it felt like they were seethrough. He licked his lower lip and started walking towards you. Your eyes widened seeing him and when he started approaching you, you froze in fear. The boy took it as your way of showing him affection, welcoming him. He smiled but it was not his lucky day. Jungkook looked at you noticing the movement in the room and when he saw the young man approaching you, it was the last straw that made Jungkook lose it. At first the kidnappers, then your old love and now this young boy. You are his and not any public spectacle everyone could look at. Jungkook hated whenever other men looked at you.

Jungkook was overtaken by the uncontrollable anger and in a second he was on the opposite side of the room. Once you noticed Jungkook was coming closer, you squealed a little, moving to the side, letting him pass by. Jungkook grabbed the young man’s collar, lifted him from the floor and started shaking him. “You bastard, you dirt from the filthiest ground, I will teach you how to distance yourself from MY wife. Just wait till I am finished with you” Jungkook emphasised the word my through his teeth. The poor man was confused and scared because mad Jungkook was scary even for you but angry Jungkook was something you would never want to meet yourself. You stood there still frozen looking at the situation unfolding in front of you but Mrs Dubois jumped towards Jungkook to grab his hands.

“Sir! Monsieur!” She screamed begging Jungkook to stop. “Monsieur Jeon, I beg you. He is just a child. He did not want to offend you. Please, let him go. I am begging you!” Jungkook took a deep breath and slowly let go of the other male. He still had his jaw clenched. Once he let go of the younger male, Mrs Dubois grabbed the boy angrily and pulled him back behind the curtain cursing at him. You could not see what was happening but a loud slap echoed in the shop and you were sure you heard sobs coming from the boy. You nor Jungkook moved until she came back. “I am sorry, monsieur Jeon,” She bowed and then turned to you. “Madam Jeon, he is my nephew. A stupid child but …” she shrugged and smiled apologetically. “but a pure Frenchman.” She tried to say that was the reason for his action but Jungkook was not having it. He cocked his head to the side staring at the woman who tried to bullshit her way out. Once she noticed Jungkook was not amused by her explanation, she moved closer to you, pulling your hand and making you sit on the sofa, showing you all kinds of sketches of dresses she had.

“Let’s start with materials. I recommend using this one,“ she pointed at the material. “for an everyday type of dresses and then this one,” she pointed at a different kind of material, that was so much softer than the first one underneath your curious fingers. “for special occasions. It is just perfect for your type of skin. It is soft,” The smile you had on your lips while touching it slowly disappeared and you looked away. “It does not matter, madam.” You whispered. “Whatever you pick is fine.” She looked at you confused but then once she met her eyes with Jungkook for approval, she got reminded of how carefully he was choosing material for the undergarment. It had to be the softest sheer silk and it had to be up to his liking. She smiled realising how jealous he is when it comes to you, and she was very well aware of how difficult it is going to be for him when he will have to chase away all of the men that are going to come near you. Your face was showing innocence but also your body was too tempting to resist. She knew Jungkook is going to have a tough time.

“Captain Jeon, could you please take madam to the dressing room so we try on some dresses? I have a few sketches made according to the latest trends.” She turned and disappeared into the back side of the shop. She pulled out the chair asking Jungkook to sit down and then she turned to you. “Madam, if you let me, I will unbutton this and once you take it off, I will measure you.” You did as you were told and the dressmaker started measuring every inch of your body. She told you to spread your arms, to hold your breath and to lift up the soft sating undergarment you were wearing. “Well and now madam, suck in your belly.” Said Mrs Dubois once she put the meter around your hips. You looked at Jungkook who was grinning the whole time and when he noticed your death stares he shrugged satisfied. “I cannot do that.” The woman who was sitting in front of you on her legs was wondering why it was such a problem to do this kind of simple task but then it hit her. She looked up with a smile on her lips. “Madam is expecting a little baby, right?” she asked.

You looked away blushing. “Yes,” The woman turned to look at Jungkook. “That is great! So Monsieur Jeon is a proud dad, right?” Jungkook’s grin grew wider. “Of course, Mrs Dubois.“ She smiled and looked back at you thinking. There is no chance the child is not his. His behaviour and how he admitted that instantly… Well, looks like they are going to be a big family one day. She caressed your belly and stood up. “Well, monsieur, that made me happy. You did not blush nor stuttered when you admitted you were going to be a father. That is good. Very good. No man should be ashamed of what he did.” She looked at you then back at him. “And your wife is going to be the most beautiful, enchanting and charming mother, right monsieur?” Jungkook looked at you and she noticed that his eyes lit up. “Exactly, madam. The most beautiful one.“ He admitted honestly.

Oh, look at him! Though Mrs Dubois with a sigh. He cannot wait to have her in the bed again. The little madam is never going to be without the child in the womb for long. He is not going to get tired of her. Oh, how I wish I could be the one. The woman was thinking about the married couple’s future and how jealous she was of you actually getting him first. “Madam has the body of the goddess. Full bust, narrow middle. She is just made for loving.” You looked down shyly. You felt like a slave that was being sold to some man to offer him pleasure. Mrs Dubois was not talking about the body of just some woman, but yours. She had no right to abase you. You shut your eyes and huffed at her remarks and once you opened your eyes, looking into the mirror, you saw that Jungkook was watching you through it. It almost felt like the time stopped and you could not, nor did you want to move or turn from him. Not even when his eyes moved lower and you were well-aware of his eyes on your clothed breast, you did not move. You knew the material of your undergarment was sheer but you still did not do anything but watch his handsome face.

“I am going to grab the sketches. If your wife wishes to dress up again, I will button her up once I come back,” Said Mrs Dubois and disappeared from the room. You finally moved to grab your dress, breaking eye contact with Jungkook’s face in the mirror. You pulled them up waiting for Mrs Dubois so she could help her, but you looked up once you felt a quick tug on your skirt. Jungkook pulled you closer to him, making you stand in between his thighs. You looked over your shoulder with a slightly opened mouth a wide-opened eyes. Your heart was beating fast, even Jungkook noticed it and laughed a little. “Why are you so scared, my little bunny? I just wanted to help you button them up.“ He turned you around to make you face him and unintentionally your hands went up to cover up your bust. “You don’t need to hide, little one. No one else is going to look at you in here. Only me and my eyes.” You did not breathe because you were scared that if you took a breath your bust would touch his face. He was just too close. “Please,” you whispered. “Madam is going to come back soon,” Jungkook scoffed at your remark. “If you will listen and do so, she will come back to see a loving husband helping his beautiful wife. Or do you want her to see-“ You turned around not letting him continue what he was about to say. Jungkook laughed and while he was buttoning up your dress, Mrs Dubois came back with the sketches. “I brought everything I have. As you will see, you have many to choose from.” The dressmaker cleaned up the small table and put all of her works down. Jungkook sit down and you kneeled down in front of him curiously. Mrs Dubois took that as a cue to push the table closer to you, making you stuck between Jungkook’s thighs and the table.

You started looking through the sketches, falling in love with every one of them but you knew he would not spend such a fortune on you. You stared longingly at one particular dress but then sighed and looked away. “Don’t you have sketches of more simple dresses, more… cheaper?“ You asked the dressmaker. She looked at you surprised and Jungkook straightened up in his chair, placing his hand on your shoulder leaning over to you. “My love, I have enough money to buy you any of these dresses.” He said looking at the sketches. Mrs Dubois exhaled with satisfaction. Jungkook bit his lower lip for a second and then returned to his cold expression. He loved wearing stylish clothes and he is not going to let you – his wife think about money when it comes to buying the new dresses. “I think you are too afraid to spend my money,” his hand slid from your shoulder to your chin. He turned your head to look at him and then softly caressed your cheek. “I will help you pick some if you want.”

Chapter 11

a/n: Well??? What do you think? Did you notice something in this chapter? ANY THEORIES? ♥ I am really curious! I hope you enjoyed it!

[freyjaofthenorth]

there are no words

they do not exist

to fully describe my love for Hibiki is impossible, but this is just a glimpse

there is literally no other

it took until 2017 for me to fully realise it, but since day one that i have known idolm@ster, She was there

She was the reason i got into im@s. the one i am now online would not exist without Her

She is, at least to me, the perfect character. she can not be improved

i can see bits of myself in her. the pride in the face of internal colonialism. the love for animals, and the “djuröga”. the fang. being a bit of a crybaby. the knowledge of the outside world maybe not always being the strongest subject (compared Her thinking salad oil being made from squeezing salad with my “benjamin franklin (swedish pronounciation)? like the franklinara from Bussjön?” for example). the experience of being an outsider in a strange place

when i got into im@s, in 2014, it was a time of change for me. i had recently moved away from my home village, to study in the big city Umeå. only weeks into the move, it felt wrong. the lights of the city compared to the pitch black of home, the sounds in the night compared to the wind in the trees of home, the occasional dog seen from the window compared to the 100+ sheep and other farm animals of home... it was a tough time. and at that tough time, when i needed it, She was there. and She remained. unlike so many things, places, people, ideas in my life, She always, always remained

there have been many ups and downs, backs and forths, both in life and in my relation to im@s. but there was always one constant, and that was Her

at my happiest moments, She was there. at my darkest moments, She cheered me up. She was the constant i needed

as well as seeing parts of myself in Her, i also saw aspects to strive for. the confidence (She is perfect, after all). the cheerfulness. the energy. the knitting

words can not overstate how much Ganaha Hibiki means to me

and also, let’s not forget that She is absolutely unbeatably radiently adorable

Her voice sound more wonderful than the wind through the trees. Her hair dark as the most beautiful night. Her fang shining like the most precious pearl. Her eyes holds the crystal-clear sea. Her smile radiates more warmth than the warmest fire. the tan of Her skin reflecting the rays of the Okinawan sun. a sun that also shines through Her personality

Her cheerfulness brightens even the darkest day. Her energy lightens the heavies burden. Her love warms the coldest heart. Her confidence is the most infectious. Her knitwear warms her family literally and all of us, those who love Her, in spirit. Her tears easily spill, showing her deep feelings, filling us all with the deepest sense of protectiveness. Her friendliness conquers all. Her helpfulness towards other, Her generosity, Her sense of responsibility, inspire all to be better people. people like Her

there have never been one quite like Her

there can only be Her

one Ganaha Hibiki

so once again, i say this: Happy Birthday, Hibiki. i wish i could do more, but i promise to keep working hard to be the best producer (mum) that i can be for you this coming year too. these seven years i have known you, you have been the bright spot, the light that keeps me going even when things have been the hardest. you are my sunshine. and i will stand by you for hopefully many years to come.

Thank you for existing

I love you

[smoulderingocean]

Osblaine Week Day 2: Headcanons

My list is long (though far from exhaustive haha- I could really go on forever), so it's under the cut. May we be blessed with more details in the future so we don't have to keep headcanoning them.

Holly is left-handed, just like her Uncle Josh. Nick is deeply moved by this small connection they share, feeling as if Josh lives on in her.

Nick and Holly's birthdays are both in February and are just a few days apart, with Nick's birthday coming just three days after hers. To him she is the greatest possible gift that he could ever receive. And the closeness of their birthdays has a deeper meaning too- his Mum and Josh had August birthdays that were just a few days apart.

Nick's family couldn't always afford it because money was tight and it was hard to get time off of work, but every couple of years they tried to visit Mackinac Island for a week in August to celebrate those August birthdays. Those handful of summer visits are among Nick's most cherished memories because it was the only time that his family was truly happy.

Growing up Nick was really close to his Mum. She was a very gentle, kind, and sweet person, and raised Nick to be the same. She was the head and heart of their household. When she died the Blaine family fell apart. Nick's father and Josh both struggled to function, falling deep into a pit of depression and spiralling further after they were laid off. Seeing no other alternative, Nick, himself deeply depressed, stepped up and tried to fill her place. He never felt like he was enough, because no one could ever replace his Mum.

Because he took on the head of the household role at a very young age, Nick's natural caretaking personality grew stronger, something that follows him for the rest of his life and is part of why he is such a good partner and father.

June sleeps cold while Nick sleeps hot. One night, very early on into their relationship, Nick wakes and looks over at June. He can tell from her face that she is cold and not entirely able to relax enough to sleep more deeply and get enough rest. So Nick gets out of bed and gathers his spare blanket from his trunk, tucking it carefully around her. After a few minutes, he sees June relax and fall more deeply asleep. When she awakens a couple hours later, very well-rested, she is deeply moved by the simple gesture. A gesture that hadn't been given to her in years. From then on Nick has the extra blanket out for her wrap up in. It's unspoken, but to both of them that blanket belongs to her.

Nick is a night owl while June is a morning person. This dichotomy works really well within their relationship as it allows for balance. In the mornings June wakes up early and goes for her run, then gets the kids up and going while Nick makes breakfast. Then at night Nick puts the kids to bed and stays up later than June to read, listen to music, watch tv, or just sit on the balcony and relax.

June enjoys the mornings because they're a new start, while Nick has a harder time with them because getting everyone up and going and out to where they need to be means they'll be apart for most of the day. Meanwhile Nick enjoys nights more because it's a winding down- the family is together and able to spend some quality moments with each other. At night Nick is most able to take care of everyone; there are no burdens or expectations, just love. The nights are peaceful and calming for him. For June, the nights are challenging because she finds it difficult to wind down- she enjoys being busy and being on the go, and the nighttime family rituals are the opposite. Together, Nick and June manage to balance each other out- June's drive and energy get Nick going in the mornings while Nick's tenderness and unwavering support help June wind down and relax at night.

Together, they sleep really well because they feel safe and so their subconsciouses are able to let go and relax. Without the other they struggle to get enough rest.

Nick is the cuddler of the two and really craves those moments in their relationship. The quiet warmth and comfort means so much to him and it's what he really looks forward to each night because he feels safe and loved.

One of June's favourite things to do is to watch Nick read. She finds it -the glasses and the lips pursed in concentration and the emotions on his face- incredibly sexy and she often finds herself unable to resist temptation and ends up distracting him, which Nick enjoys immensely. Nick also knows that she finds the whole thing erotic and so he puts himself into situations where he knows June will notice just what he's doing.

When they were living at the Waterford house, Nick never had to say that June was welcome to read his books, the acknowledgement that she was free to choose went unspoken between them because Nick knew that she didn't need his permission and June knew that she didn't have to ask; it was a natural thing because his apartment is was close to a home that she had in Gilead (he's her home) and so those books were as much hers as they were his.

In the Boston Globe they finally got to spend a lot of real downtime together. There they found many books, dvds, and cds that had been long-banned, left forgotten in the hastily abandoned office tower. In their free hours together they got to be a normal couple. In those hours they found that they both had an unapologetic love for Harry Potter and they enjoyed getting into enthusiastic debates about the subject. (Also, they both agreed that Nick is a Hufflepuff and June is a Gryffindor.) June loves Friends, while Nick teases her that it was before his time and that he preferred Glee, which June hated because she thought the singing was terrible. Both share a love for boy bands, with Nick's music tastes being more varied than June's and he introduces her to many good songs. Both are avid readers, but June is especially and Nick reads each and every book she hands to him.

Together they learn all sorts of things that accompany a normal, happy relationship; June can't cook worth a damn while Nick is skilled at batch meals like soups, stews, and chili. Nick loves coffee and tea equally (he's especially fond of a good Hong Kong-style milk tea, the kind his mother use to make) while June is exclusively a coffee person. Nick's favourite chore to do is laundry and June is amazed to find out that he'd often take the laundry off of Rita's hands whenever he could as she despised it. Meanwhile June's preferred chore is doing the dishes, because she doesn't contribute by and so she likes to do her bit by washing up.

In the Boston Globe, Nick finds a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and reads it in its entirety, an action that makes June cry from emotion.

While in the Boston Globe, Nick does everything he can to fulfil June's pregnancy cravings, including trading his valuable illicit liquor for her beloved Twinkies. He loved being able to do that for her because it made her smile and Nick lived for those smiles.

Both Nick and June share a commonality of being bookworms as children, a trait that they pass down onto Holly. Their favourite weekend family activity is a trip to the library.

June was in the 'in' crowd in school while Nick was more of a loner and was very quiet. June ran track and was on the swim team, and was good enough to get a partial scholarship to a good school where she majored in English. Nick never played any sports (though like all good Detroit boys, was a big hockey fan and knows how to skate, and Nick's parents, especially his father, were such big fans that they gave their sons hockey-related middle names- Joshua Gordon [after Gordie Howe] and Nicholas Stanley [after the Stanley Cup]) but he excelled at English and social studies. He couldn't afford to go to university, something that broke his father's heart as he wanted to give Nick the chance to go that he never got. (Josh meanwhile, was very artistic and was particularly good at photography- one of Nick's prized possessions is a print of one of Josh's photos. Like Nick, he couldn't afford to go to school.)

After getting into Canada together after getting Hannah out of Gilead, June and Nick and their family move from Toronto to Kelowna, finding great comfort in the mountains and also appreciating that it helps Hannah recover from what she's lived through as the mountains are comforting and familiar to her.

My biggest crack headcanon is that Nick and June have the same blood type (O+) and it was Nick's blood that was donated to help June after her haemorrhage. Nick volunteered and this action was seen as so good and so 'godly' that it was a small element in pushing Nick further up the ladder. He knew this, but selflessly gave her his blood anyway, because it was the only way he could help.

[no-droids]

The Sun on Both Sides

Summary: Cassian Andor is your very close companion.  He says best friend, you say pain in your ass—neither one of you are entirely wrong.  But then one night you smoke some unfamiliar spice with him, and everything you once thought you knew goes sideways.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cassian Andor/fem!Reader

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), recreational drug use, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female receiving), penetrative sex, me just making so much shit up honestly

A/N: All phrases in Festan are taken from other Star Wars conlangs.  I don’t even know if that’s the name of the language people from Fest speak tbh.  Probably not.  None of this is real.  Anyways this is Cassian as a young rebel pilot long before the events of Rogue One.  This oneshot will likely be deemed obsolete by Cassian’s new Disney+ show but whoooooooops~

—knock knock knock knock knock—

You know that knock.  It’s too quick, too rapid and annoying to be anyone else.

“I’m sleeping,” you huff with your mouth full, sitting on top of your mattress in a hoodie and sweatpants, legs crossed.

“I have gifts,” Cassian’s muffled voice asserts from the other side of the door.

“I don’t care,” you return, swallowing and shoveling more slop together with your tiny little biodegradable spork.  “S’the middle of the night.”

—knock knock knock knock knock—

“Stop it.”

“Knock knock,” he beckons vocally, as if you didn’t hear it the first ten times.  “Come, open the door.  Please—I will get into trouble.”

It’s exhausting being Cassian’s friend.  Truly exhausting.  It doesn’t matter what Maker-forsaken time it is, as soon as he comes back to base from patrols, he’s at your door.  You don’t know why he chose you as his sole victim to personally inflict this torture upon, but regardless of reason, he’s called you his close friend ever since you first offered to help the lanky, dark-haired six year old with his Basic and his best friend ever since your junior year of flight training.  Apparently with the promotion came the lingering, severe misfortune of his present company, almost always.

“Can I put in for a transfer?”  He also technically outranks you.

“Open the door and we will talk,” Cassian bargains.  Bantha shit, you and him both know it.  He’ll rip the papers in half before you can even finish filling them out.

You let out a dramatic groan just loud enough for him to hear, dragging yourself off the bed and padding over to the door.  “If I accept your gift, will you leave?”

“Maybe.”  No.

“If I accept your gift and trade it for the rest of this, uh,” you look at the MRE packet in your hands, “rice and shredded tauntaun meat in glockaw sauce, will you leave?”

“Maybe.”  No.

“Good call, not as great as it sounds.  What if I—”

He says your name impatiently, accented and sharp.  You roll your eyes as his knuckles rap on the door once more.  “Quickly, quickly—before someone sees.”

“It’s the residential quarters and it’s two in the fucking morning, Cass, nobody’s going t—”

He cuts you off once more.  “Open the door and I will submit for your transfer work, yes?”

You throw your spork prong-down into the beige pouch in your hands and pop your hip, narrowing your eyebrows at the thick slab of metal separating the two of you skeptically.  “No, you won’t.”

“No, I will not,” the voice behind it concedes immediately.  “But for you, I will pretend.”

As soon as you the door slides open and disappears up into the ceiling with a quiet shhhft sound, his dark silhouette quickly slips past you and sneaks into your room, immediately bouncing his bony little butt down on top of your sizable but thin box-spring mattress without a word.  You press the button to close the door behind him with a long, drawn out sigh, turning around and resting your back against the wall panel.

Cassian meets your tired, expectant gaze head-on and wide awake, perched on your bed and huddled around something hidden in his thick jacket.  “First.  You cannot tell anyone.  Understand?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.  “Are we children, Cass?”

“Secondly.”  He blinks up at you.  Maker, his eyes are so… wide.  Dark and warm and bright, framed with thick, long lashes.  “If you do not want it, just say.  Okay?”

Your expression suddenly narrows.  This is new.  It’s… still bantha shit, but it’s… new.  New bantha shit.

“Because the word ‘no’ holds so much meaning for you,” you tilt your head to gesture at the door to your right, “clearly.”

“Come.  Sit here,” he ignores you, patting the space next to him as if that isn’t your own fucking bed he’s inviting you to join him on.  “We will look together.”

“I will literally murder you,” you tell him genuinely, though you push off the wall to move toward him all the same.  “If that’s not a cute little mini-lothcat in your arms you got me for my birthday, Andor, I will literally murder you.”

“Today is your birthday?”  He glances up at you in surprise just as you’re lowering yourself down onto the mattress next to him.

“Two weeks ago, but you were off-base.”  You dig around inside the pouch for your handy little spork, not looking at him.  “Quit avoiding the subject, my death threat still stands.  Where’s my cat, asshole?  Who do I have to tolerate in my bed this late at night to push that kind of paperwor—oof—”

The second you catch the hard little end piece of it between your fingers is the second he reaches around you and pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug.  You fumble with the packet of food as you’re abruptly jerked forward, trying not to let it get squished it between you.

Stars, he smells good.  His parka smells just like him, the fur lining its hood so warm and fluffy and soft as it tickles your nose.  It’s still slightly damp from the wet sleet outside, but it smells so good.  The smallest undercurrent of clove and spice hidden beneath the sharp, clean scent of fresh snow.

“Happy Year-Over, caraya,” Cassian says next to your ear, quiet and fond.  “I know it is late, but I have your gift now.”

“‘Caraya’ better be Festan for ‘here’s your cute little lothcat, birthday girl’,” you warn him, moving to rest your chin on top of his padded shoulder and trying not to sound as breathless or affected by his sweet talking as you feel.  He’s never called you that before.  Caraya.  What does it mean?

It’s… it’s bantha shit, you remind yourself, trying not to close your eyes or lean into his half-embrace.  It’s all bantha shit.

“No,” Cassian acknowledges with a small head tilt, pulling his shoulder back but still keeping his long arm wrapped tight around you.  “No.  Not a… a cat, but…”  He slowly opens his other hand between the two of you, finally showing you.

You blink down at the thing in his palm, cradled carefully in thick gloves from the sub-zero temperatures outside.  It’s.  No, he’s right, it’s not a cat.  It’s a… a stick.  Reddish-pink, ground up plant matter wrapped in a semi-transparent binding.  Rolled up in a nice, even cylinder, a filter secured around one of its ends.

Spice.  Hand-rolled.  Expensive.  Probably swiped off a supply raid, whether by Cassian himself or another rebel fighter he bought it off of.  Ludicrous he got his hands on it, much less brought it on base.  Here, to your fucking quarters.

“I was wrong,” you eventually say, taking the joint from his open palm and holding it up to examine its strange color in the dim light.  “You don’t think we’re children.  You think we’re teenagers.”

“I think we are adults,” he corrects, swiping the MRE from your other hand, “with a reason to celebrate.”  He releases you and takes his arm back, sitting on your bed and digging two fingers around in your half-finished packet for your spork.

“You’re a bold pilot, Cass,” you tell him, studying the spice.  You’ve never seen any strain even similar to this before.  “It was one thing to do this during flight training, but now?  What happens if we have a piss test tomorrow?  Or, well—today, actually?”

“Different kind from before.”  He doesn’t sound bothered by the thought, though his mouth is currently full of tauntaun and rice in glockaw sauce.  “Only five hours high, not detectable after.  Piss tests are expensive, the rebellion has no money.”

“X-wings are expensive, too,” you counter, turning to look at him.  “You crash one of ‘em ‘cause you smoked this shit and your ass will be dead before you can even survive.”

“You hurt me.”  He uses the utensil to dig around the bottom corners of the packet for more slop, not looking hurt in the least.  “Also—you were right.  This one is… horrible.”

“Not to mention I have a oh-nine-hundred call.”  You both watch each other with matching looks of distaste as he continues to eat your food, clearly neither one of you enjoying it.  “You’re giving me barely two hours to come down before I got orange jumpsuits crawling all over me.”

“You did not hear?”  Cassian swallows.  “Reassigned Dreis during debriefing.  I will be leading red squadron tomorrow.  Or, today.”

You blink at him.  “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he shakes his head exactly once, throwing the spork into the empty packet and flattening it.  “No, I would not do that to you.”

“Course not,” you agree diplomatically.  “You’d just barge into my room at two in the morning, eat my food, offer me drugs, and then tell me I’ll be taking orders from you tomorrow.”

”Today,” he corrects.  “But I could not get our call changed, and for that I am sorry.”  He lifts an eyebrow at you, quirking the side of his mouth up and pushing the empty MRE pouch into your hands to throw away.  “But only for that.  Happy birthday?”

“We’re going to lose this war,” you tell him honestly, sliding off your mattress with a sigh to trash it.  “We’re all going to die horribly, and painfully.  The Rebellion is fucking doomed.  You and I will be but a mere footnote in the Empire’s endless reign of terror, you realize.  A footnote.  Our names at the very, very bottom of the page, in tiny little six point font, and it’ll link to a one sentence obituary for the both of us.  Died horribly and in pain.  Did you bring a lighter?”

“Here,” Cassian shifts to one buttcheek and pulls an arc lighter from his back pocket, offering it to you when you come back.  “Okay?  You will start it then?  Birthday girl.”

“You said five hours for one person, right?  So that’s two and a half each if we split it,” you reason with a shrug, putting the filter to your lips and talking through the side of your mouth.  “Two o’clock right now, nine-hundred call.  At least four hours to come down, and thirty minutes to shower if we’re both lucky.”

“We will be fine.”  He waves your careful calculations away with his hand as you flick the lighter.  “Because we are lucky feetnotes, yes?”

***

You’re not fine.

It’s fucking boiling in here.  Maker, you’re on fucking Hoth; why the fuck are you boiling?  It’s never even been warm in your quarters before, much less this hot.  You feel like you’re sweating buckets through your hoodie, your hair sticking to your neck in thin little curls.

And… and Cassian.

He’s sitting so unbelievably straight on the bed across from you, parka and gloves long abandoned on the floor.  His dark eyes flick over to you occasionally, though it looks like he’s trying really hard not to move a single muscle other than that.  His hands are clamped tightly between his thighs and he just… holds there.  A compact, rigid statue perched upright on the mattress, looking far too still and tense to fit the comfort of his surroundings.

“Are you okay?”  You ask him, blinking at how hoarse your voice comes out sounding.  Holy fuck, your mouth feels like a desert.  

Cassian stares at you, and for some reason, his large, expressive eyes seem even wider now.  They’re glassy and a bit red, but also so big and lovely and framed with long, dark lashes.

“This is not.”  His accent sounds thicker, words coming out deeper in his throat.  It settles down inside you just right and you feel a spark of heat at the base of your spine.  He blinks twice.  “This is not how it usually feels.”

“Should we stop?”  You look down at the half-finished joint in your hand, tilting your head thoughtfully as you consider the drug pulsing through your veins.  “It’s… it’s different, but I think it feels good.”

“Yes—I…”  He closes his eyes.  “Th-that is the problem, I think.”

He shifts a bit on the mattress and bites down on his bottom lip, and you must look so fucking dumb as you stare at him with your jaw slack, watching his lithe body stretch and handle the spice.  He’s fucking gorgeous.  Stars, you always thought he was gorgeous, but this is something else.  He flutters his eyes open to look at you through his lashes, and—

—oh.  Oh.  You see now.  You see what he meant.  Warmth pools deep down in your tummy as he looks at you with impossibly dark eyes, slowly drags his glassy gaze down your body.  Fuck, you’re getting turned on.  You go red and blink softly at him while he stares at you, trying to control your breathing.

“You need to—” your voice jumps, trying to remember the right cadence.  How do you speak to him normally?  “You can… take—take my pillow, if you want.  Lay down.  You’re too tall, your eyes are too big.  Look like a… like a Kaminoan.  Heal any—heal any clones recently?”

Bad joke.  Maker, he’s so beautiful.  Rich, dark features taking you in, blinking slowly at you and clearly not hearing a single word you said.

You shift your weight and throw him the cushion you’re partially sitting on without waiting for an answer.  You both need to calm the fuck down.  Hopefully the pillow will help.  Even if it’s squished and warm from your butt.  “It’s warm ‘cause I was sitting on it, m’sorry.  Fuck, it’s warm in here.  Do you think it’s warm in here?”

It’s like he still doesn’t hear you.  Cassian just takes your flattened pillow in his lap and looks at it for way too long, slowly rubs the fabric on the corner between his fingers and examines it, like if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to see through it.

“Cass,” you eventually call his name in reminder.  “Lay down, put that under your head—”

“Do you feel turned on?”  He asks quite suddenly, whipping his head to the side to look at you.  You almost drop the spice.

“No,” you say immediately, acting on impulse alone and trying to rearrange your face into something… something negative.  Something just generally negative, because you can’t even think of a negative emotion specific enough with the way your heart is pounding at the thought of something like this actually happening right now.  Holy fuck, you’re sweating.  What the fuck is in this shit?  “No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” he nods, turning back to look at your pillow.  “Me too.  Not.”  He shakes his head.  “Neither.  Either?”

“Lay down,” you tell him once more, desperately needing something else to do now, something to distract yourself from the way your lower muscles are starting to cramp up with heat and arousal.  “I’ll get us some water.  We need water.”

You’re off the bed and setting the smoldering spice on the small metal counter without another word, grabbing two empty cups and beginning to fill them up in the tiny little sink with your back to him. 

Stars, he was right.  It’s not supposed to feel like this.  It feels… it feels like everything is burning inside you, but such a good burn.  Like your mind is being seduced by your own body right now instead of the other way around, and the paradoxical sensation is manifesting itself in an unprecedentedly strong urge to jump your best friend’s bones.  The urge has always been there, granted, but it’s never been this shameless before.  Never arced and pulsed so brilliantly in your veins before, never been steadily fed by such a tempting outside source.  Not the drugs—but him.  The tangible fuck-me vibes Cassian is radiating towards you right now, staring at your back with those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his, silent and unmoving behind you as he watches you from your bed.  He’s never done anything to encourage your desire for him like this before.  He’s never wanted anything more than just platonic companionship and playful banter in the midst of war zones from you, and yet you can feel the heat burning from him too, feel it start to intensify your own high.

It’s bantha shit, you have to realize.  This whole Maker-forsaken situation—it’s forced; none of it’s real.  Cassian is your best friend, and he’s only looking at you like this because spice is chemically altering his hormones right now.  You can feel it doing the same to you, just steadily stirring deep in your floor muscles and amplifying your baser desires, but you need to snap yourself the fuck out of it and be the levelheaded one here.  Despite the arousal burning hot in your tummy, at least you know your thoughts are still fundamentally sound—in contrast, you have no fucking clue what’s going on in that hard head of his right now.  At least one of you needs to buck up, handle your drugs, and be the adult before things get out of hand.  If it falls to you, then so be it.

You focus on your breathing and do as much as you can to mentally will the tingling sensation down deep.  Taking a second to put a comfortable expression on, you finally turn around and start walking back to him.

When you raise your head and make eye contact with Cassian again though, the look in his eyes almost immediately threatens to undo everything you just decided.  Fuck, he looks like he just had an internal pep talk of his own, but in the entirely wrong direction you went.  He’s a bit more relaxed now, same as you, but his gaze is now searing hot on your body, tangible enough to stop you dead in your tracks in front of him.  It burns through you, and you literally feel the sweat drip down your back as a shiver rolls down your spine.

No.  Hold strong.  Maker, irresponsibility has always been appealing but never so fucking seductive as this is, has it?  Taking such a gorgeous fucking form.  You take a few more steps forward, quickly trying to gather composure.

“Should we stop?”  You ask him once more and stars, you were aiming for calmer and gentler and with more lung support—not this breathless scrape of a sound that feels like sandpaper in your throat.  He hasn’t said a fucking word and your resolve is already wavering.  You try not to make eye contact as you carefully hand him one of the cups.  “We’re only twenty minutes in, barely halfway through it.  We can stop and coast, it’s not a big deal.”

Cassian takes the water from your outstretched hand, letting the tips of his fingers brush lightly across yours in the process.  Your heart skips in your chest.  “Do you want to stop?”

You absolutely should fucking stop.  Just standing here and handing him water without ripping your clothes off is a challenge; you’ve still got half a joint left and you’re not even sure you’ve reached the come-up yet.  What if this is just the beginning?  What if this is just laying the foundation?  What happens when you actually peak on this shit?

“It’s not a big deal,” you repeat instead, keeping your answer as ambiguous as possible and taking a sip of the blessedly cold liquid.  At least the water is responding correctly to the frigid environment on this horrible fucking planet.  You feel ready to burn up.  “Just wanna make sure you’re cool.”

Cassian flicks his eyes over to the joint still cherried and smoking on the metal counter behind you.  “We can keep going.”

Your breathing picks up slightly.  Does he know what he’s really asking right now?  He has to have figured out what that spice does by now, right?  But no, he’s so steadfast in the way he looks at you, blinking up at you confidently.  Fuck, you should stop.  You should stop.

You should… compromise?

“If we keep going, no more of this,” you tell him, gesturing to the way he still hasn’t moved or drank any of the water in his cup.  “You need to.  Chill out, alright.  Act normal.”

Fuck, you’re normally so blunt and outspoken with him, so why is it that everything happening here is so fucking unsaid?  Everything is transpiring right below the surface, a conversation taking place within another conversation.  You’re telling him to cut the heart eyes, lay back on the bed and spend some rare quality time with his best friend.  Regardless of the weird side effects, this spice is still giving you an incredibly strong body high.  If he could just stop looking at you like that so you can stop rhythmically clenching and pulsing between your legs, you’d probably be incredibly relaxed right now.

“I will lay down,” he finally agrees, breaking eye contact with you and grabbing the pillow from his lap so he can throw it down next to him.  “Go, get the rest of it.”

“Drink.”  You stay rooted to your spot.

He gulps down the entire cup of water right in front of you, and something about how sassy and exaggerated it is makes you unwind just a bit and head back for the spice.

This is better, you think.  Butting heads with your strong personalities is better than whatever mind games you two were playing before, more familiar and grounding.  Cassian sets down his empty cup on the floor as you pick up the joint, and then you sit on the edge of the mattress across from him when you come back.

“So how were patrols?”  You ask him, taking another hit of it and studying the strange color it burns as you hold the smoke in your lungs, almost a light pink.

“Not bad,” he says, scooting back to lay lengthwise across the back of the bed.  His long legs stick off the end but he looks way more comfortable now, settling back into the pillow and watching you with a calmer, more easy-going look in his eyes.

“Where’d you get sent this time?”  You have to lean forward quite a bit to hand him the spice.

“The Lothal Sector,” Cassian responds casually, taking it from you.

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, already unamused before he’s even started to mess with you.  “I will shoot down red leader tomorrow, Cass, don’t you dare fucking test m—”

“A local was trying to sell kittens to the pilots,” he goes on, completely ignoring you and relaxing back down into the mattress with the joint between his fingers.  “They were very cute.  But then I tell him no, because I did not know of anyone who could care for one.”

“That’s not fucking funny.” Cassian smiles slowly at you as you glare back at him very, very sternly.  “This is a no lothcat joking zone, I’m sensitive about this.”

He keeps smiling even as he takes his hit, gentle and fond and lovely on his face, but his eyes eventually go softer and a bit melancholy on the exhale.  

“I am sorry I missed your birthday, caraya,” he says to you truthfully, something sincere and tender in the way he looks at you.  “But I will get you something better than a cat.”

“What does that mean?”  You lean forward and grab the spice from him when he holds it out for you.

“No idea,” he admits during the careful exchange.  “Maybe something with less claws and teeth, I think.”

“No,” you shake your head, settling back on your butt once more.  “Caraya.  What does that mean?”

Cassian quickly opens his mouth to reply, but then pauses and takes a second.  As if he’s debating on what exactly he wants to tell you.  You inhale from the spice held between your fingers and wait patiently for him.  Probably something to do with birthdays, right?  Since he only started calling you that after you told him he missed yours.

You end up waiting for his answer so long, you actually feel like you should take another hit.  But when Cassian does eventually speak, it’s incredibly calculated and slow, like he’s actively trying to find the correct words to translate its exact meaning into Basic.

“Fest is part of a binary star system,” he finally tells you, breaking the silence.  “It is… it is what my people call the times when… when one of the stars sets while the other is rising on the opposite horizon.”

You pause with the joint halfway to your mouth, staring dumbly at him.

“It is rare.  I have seen it only twice.  Each time, for less than a minute.  It is very rare for them to match up perfectly, but when they do.”  His eyes go a bit softer, losing himself in his memories instead of concentrating so much on the words.  “The sky shines with every color.  Reds, yellows, and pinks to the west; blues, indigos, and violets to the east.  It is… it is also… something we call the ones close to us,” he continues, blinking his gaze slowly back to you.  “Caraya na cotâ vi zas iz’búsdari.  To care and be cared for is to feel the sun on both sides.”

You… you just keep staring at him.  Blank, unmoving, not really even breathing.  Your chest suddenly feels incredibly tight.  He looks back at you and stars, he looks so fucking gorgeous; long lashes dusting over his cheekbones at this angle, one hand resting lazily over his abdomen as he relaxes on your bed.

“It sounds…”  You sound winded.  “Lovely.”

“Yes,” Cassian returns softly, tilting his head on your pillow and blinking at you.  “It is.”

You don’t know why the fuck you thought this would be okay, honestly.  This whole thing was such a horrendous fucking idea right from the start.  You’re surprised you haven’t set the both of you on fire by dropping the lit spice between your fingers.  You were a fucking idiot to think you could resist him.  You were overconfident, underestimating him the way you did.  It’s like… like he’s approaching this in surges, almost.  Lulling you into a false sense of security for a bit, and then carefully pushes forward, toeing the line between best friend and person he wants to fuck and seeing how much you’ll let him get away with.

You’re… you’re a weak, spineless little thing.

“Is it—is it your turn?” You eventually ask him, looking down at the joint in your hands.  It’s barely above a whisper and it’s vaguely squeaky and it’s probably one of the dumbest fucking things you’ve ever asked in your life.  Of course it’s his turn, who the fuck else’s turn would it be?  

Cassian would normally rip into you for being such an idiot, but he doesn’t.  He just blinks softly at you, pupils dilated and glassy as they take you in.

“Would you like to…”  He sounds equally breathless now, swallowing thickly before he speaks again.  “You can… come closer, if you want.  Here.  With me.”  He pats his belly.  “No more reaching.”

What is… what is happening right now?  Is Cassian Andor actually, like—for real making a move on you?  His best friend?  The one he’s never looked twice at?

“You want me to…?”  Your cunt clenches.  Stars, you’re so wet already.  You can feel it, dampening your underwear as his eyes flutter slightly at the rasp in your voice.

“Come,” he pats his stomach once more.  “Lay down with me.”

You slowly begin to shuffle over to him on shaky knees, trying to move normally as he watches you.  He stretches out across the back of the bed, giving you a perfect spot along his open torso to relax into.  Your heart pounds as you carefully hand the spice to him before settling yourself on your back with your head on his tummy, making a little perpendicular t-shape with him on the mattress, vision slightly blurry but pulsing at the same time.

Maker, he smells so fucking good.  He smells like fresh snow and something warm at the same time, so lean and long above you.  You’re almost panting now, burning up in your thick layers as you try to get comfortable.

“Maker, it’s so fucking hot in here,” you whisper, using your sleeve to wipe the sweat gathering at your temples.  “Fuck.”

“Take off your shirt,” Cassian suggests quietly, and your mouth instantly goes bone dry, your chest forgetting to rise again after it collapses with a quick whoosh of breath.  “You have something on underneath, yes?”  He adds quickly before you can completely ignite in flames.  “Take off the top one.”

You… you have a thin undershirt on, but nothing underneath that.  It’s nearing three in the morning, of course you don’t have a bra on right now.  And the undershirt is white, and you’re sweating buckets, which means—

“It… it might show some…”  You have no clue how to phrase this, but Cassian quickly responds.

“It is just me,” he reassures, carefully reaching his arm around your head to hold the joint up to your lips for you.  You inhale the drug deeply, watching the pink light illuminate the tips of his fingers.  “We are best friends, and this is your room.  You should relax.”

Maker, this is… this is dangerous.  He’s dangerous.  He’s smart, choosing to go at it from this angle.  He’s not toeing the line anymore, he’s just… blurring it until it doesn’t exist anymore.  Or better yet, just walking over it and pretending it doesn’t exist at all.  Pretending nothing at all is happening between you right now.  Trying to see whether you’ll be more willing to give in if he comes at you from the side like this, not necessarily catching you off guard but refusing to outright confront you about it either.

Apparently precedent rules.  You’re a weak, spineless little thing, especially when presented with such a compelling out.  He’s… he’s totally right.  You are best friends, this is your room, and you should relax.  Nothing sexual about it at all, right?  Furthermore, relaxing trumps overheating any fucking day of the week, so… so that’s why you tell yourself it’s okay to sit up and immediately reach behind your head, grabbing the hoodie and beginning to pull the thick fabric off.  

Only, it’s damp and clings to your thin undershirt, dragging both of them up the length of your back as it goes.  You stop when the lower hem pulls up just below your breasts, trying to reach back behind your head even further and separate the two materials but struggling with the angle.

“Cass,” you eventually prompt, trying not to flush.  Not like he’d be able to tell, though; you’ve been unbearably warm and fidgety this entire time, your embarrassment conceals itself without your assistance.  “You wanna help me?  Or you just wanna keep watching?”

“Do not ask me such stupid questions,” he tells you plainly, unmoving.  “What did I say?  We are best friends.  Of course I am not going to help you.  You are…” he trails off when you lift your shoulders upright just a bit to see if the angle will work better that way.  It does, but the fabric drags further up your ribcage from the shift, “…You are nice to watch.”

Your heart pounds, and you’re even clumsier knowing he’s staring at your exposed tummy right now.  Maker, this should not be as difficult as it is.  You swing your arms back around behind you, arching outwards and trying to separate them from the bottom this time, but gravity doesn’t appear to work in your favor.  

Maybe you can do like, some sort of weird, half-and-half thing to get them apart?  Maybe?  Where you hold the undershirt from the bottom with one hand and pull the hoodie from the top with the other?

Yes, okay—that could possibly work.  Cassian inhales more spice as he lazes behind you, getting a front row seat to watch this subsequent genius unfold.

You get into your monkey-like position, beginning to pry the two materials apart from behind like you planned.  But then—oh, your undershirt still sticks to your hoodie at the front, pulling up a few inches with it and flashing the lower curve of your breasts to the room before you immediately halt and switch tactics, reaching back down and trying to pull them apart from the front withou—

A large, warm palm comes up to settle on your bare spine, right in the middle of your shoulder blades.

You freeze.  But Cassian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything more than that.  He just holds his hand there, steady and solid against your upper back.

Neither one of you move.  It’s like… it’s like you’re both trying so hard to get a read on each other that your reactions are equally stunted.  Is he doing this to bring you to a still so he can help you?  Is he simply as blazed as you are right now and not thinking about things before he does them?  Is he—

But then Cassian starts slowly dragging his hand down your spine, carefully riding the gentle curve of it downwards as your breathing subtly picks up.  Your arms are halfway caught in the fabric, not able to stop him unless you untangle them and reach behind you.  So you just hold there statuesquely as his palm inches down the sweat-slick muscles of your lower back, thumb just barely brushing the hemline of your sweatpants.  

Fuck, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin.  Heat pools deep in your tummy, spidering outwards and sending pulsing shocks down your legs when he keeps his hand there for just a second.

Until… until he traces all the way back up and carefully hooks a finger around your undershirt.  

Your heart pounds as Cassian gradually pulls it over the top of your head with your hoodie, guiding you to bring both of them around your arms.  He pushes against your shoulder wordlessly, urging you to lie back down with your head on his stomach once more, the fabric stretched tight over your upper-body and the entire length of your spine now fully exposed as it touches the mattress.

“C-Cassian,” you breathe, fluttering your eyes up at the ceiling.

“Yes, caraya?”  He murmurs, and you completely forget what you’re going to say when he continues to pull the hoodie and undershirt down over your arms, exposing your naked breasts to the open air.

Your cunt pulses between your legs and you hear him throw the thick bulk of fabric carelessly on the floor.  “I—I-I don’t—”

“You will stay like this?”  Cassian tells you softly, brushing your damp hair back from your shoulder so that your bare chest is completely unobstructed as it faces the ceiling.  Your nipples are hard, a thin sheen of sweat covering your entire body, and you can feel his gaze drag down your naked skin, even if he doesn’t actually touch you.  No, he just takes another slow drag from the spice in his hand and tilts his head back to rest on your pillow, relaxing into the mattress with a gentle shuffle of his shoulder blades.  “If you are too warm, you will stay like this, okay?  Be comfortable.”

Is it possible to die from arousal?  Your clit is fucking pounding; everything from the waist down is unbearably tight and cramped.  Stars, you feel like you’ll cum if you even move wrong right now.  He told you to be comfortable, but you’re not—you’re boiling from the sensation, topless on your bed, trying not to close your eyes or squeeze your legs together.  It’s too fucking casual and unacknowledged, how he’s going about this.  You feel like you’re going to explode.

Cassian gently taps your bare shoulder to get your attention and shifts his head slightly to look down at you.  You bite your bottom lip and flutter your gaze sideways to meet his after a second, hoping you don’t look as flushed and tight with burning arousal as you feel.  Deep brown eyes look back at you, hazy and dilated.  He takes a second to slowly drag his gaze down the length of your half-naked body once more, now that he knows you’re watching him.  Your breath comes audibly now, quicker and shallower than it should be after laying flat on a bed for this long.

“Here,” Cassian prompts, holding the smoldering joint out for you to take.  His voice sounds raspier now, but still so… casual.  Like he’s out here talking about the weather with a mildly sore throat, not because your tits are out while you stare at each other and neither one of you is saying a damn thing about it.  It’s like he’s determined to hold onto the splitting tension, drag it out between you as long as he can.  “Want more?”

You know what he’s really asking, and it cramps your lower muscles up even harder.  He’s asking if you want more of this spice that’s currently getting you naked in front of him.  More of this madness, twisting up your insides with need and jumbling your thoughts.  More of him treating you like this, like there’s not a damn thing out of place in the universe right now, like you’re still just best friends so that’s why it’s okay you’re both doing this together.

Stars, do you want more?  Do you want him to keep winding you up like this?  More of this torture, this agonizing foreplay, wondering when he’ll finally give in and touch you?  Pretending like this is still completely platonic, like what’s happening here isn’t wildly unprecedented, insanely inappropriate, and so fucking hot?

You can feel your eyebrows pull up in the middle as you look at him, almost pleading with him to… something.  To stop, maybe?  Stop altogether, or just stop… fuck, stop ignoring the way your cunt feels clamped around itself tighter than a vice between your legs?  Stop neglecting your burning desire for him, even when it’s right in front of his face.  Stop refusing to acknowledge the way you’re just letting him look at you right now, how you haven’t once stopped playing along with this fever dream just in case you aren’t imagining it?  Fuck, but Cassian just looks back at you, his expression completely blank except for the smallest little glimmer in his eyes.  A silent, heated glint as he just barely quirks an eyebrow at you.

So you make the decision all at once.  You carefully reach over for the spice with your far hand, feeling your breasts shift towards him slightly with the slow movement.  Cassian doesn’t even feel like he’s breathing as you gently take it from him.  He just stares down at your naked chest and swallows thickly, eyelids dipping slightly as he moves to meet you halfway.

You let your nipple brush up against his knuckles just slightly with the exchange.

When you face back towards the ceiling again and readjust your shoulders flat on the bed, he lets out a slow, shaky breath under your head as it rests on his tummy.  The tension rockets up to eleven, weighing heavy and unspoken and ready to snap.  

But then like that, the moment passes—it’s just another invisible spark igniting between the two of you, just another thing buried beneath the silence and yet ringing so unbelievably loud because of it.  You’re both emitting and absorbing the same buzzing energy, amplifying it back to one another in a slow, endless feedback loop of rising pressure.

The spice comes up to your lips, and Cassian’s fingertips carefully trail along your other arm as it rests by your side.

“This is better, no?”  He asks you quietly, the rough tips of his fingers just barely gliding across your skin in small, mindless patterns.  They dance down your skin like feathers, tracing a small arch over the ridge of your elbow so lightly you almost feel like you might be imagining it.  Your eyes flutter when he gradually skims down the length of your forearm and brushes his thumb in a smooth circle around the bone in your wrist.  “Or you are still too warm?”

You bite your bottom lip when one of his fingers carefully stretches all the way up to your hip, running along the hem of your sweatpants.  

“Yeah, m’still a little—” you gasp, trying not to stutter when Cassian starts to draw up the length of your waistline, pausing right when his fingers reach your drawstrings.  “Little w-warm,” you finish hoarsely, painfully aware of how fucking wet you are, how your nipples are peaked and glistening with sweat as they move with your soft, shallow breathing.

He slowly dips one finger below the elastic wrapping across your hips, dragging it back and forth under the damp waistband.

“This fabric is heavy,” Cassian remarks, just the slightest husk in his voice.  “You… you will take this off, too?”

“I-I don’t—”  You’re about to say have anything on underneath except you immediately go quiet, because he’s suddenly slithering his entire hand down into your sweatpants and brushing his knuckles along the gentle slope of you.

He pauses once more when his longest finger reaches the very top of your slit.

But then he just holds it there for a second, tracing small arches back and forth along gentle give of it, the slight dip that separates your soft curls from your soaking heat.  You tighten up and wait in breathless anticipation for it, before the tip of Cassian’s finger finally comes to a rest over the soft split of flesh.

And then he’s suddenly pushing in, and down—

—fuckfuckfuckfuck—don’tcumdon’tcum—don’t—

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss as he slowly slides his finger through the hot, slick cleft of your pussy.

“You are warm down here, too,” Cassian murmurs quietly.  Your eyes roll back when he drags the entire length of it up against your clit, letting you feel each individual ridge and joint and crevice across the swollen bit of flesh.  “Is it the spice?”  He asks, sinking his finger back down into you once more.  “Or are you always this wet between your legs?”

Neither.  Both, maybe?  Mostly it’s just him.  Cassian, whispering softly to you through the hazy darkness, lazily dipping his fingers into your cunt and letting it drench and engulf his skin in its heat.

“Tell me,” he prompts when you don’t say a word.  His finger pulls up and begins tracing slow, gentle circles around your clit.

“No,” you breathe haggardly, arching your hips up just slightly as he touches you.  “N-No, this is…”

“This is different,” Cassian confirms when you don’t finish your sentence.  He keeps circling your clit, and it’s like he’s just casually, carelessly stirring a pot that’s about to boil over and set everything on fucking fire.  You pulse threateningly under the tip of his finger, swollen and tight and just trying your best to control your breathing.  “So it is the spice.  Why you are this hot, this… this soaking.”

“It’s…”  Don’t you say it.  Don’t you fucking say it.  Don’t you turn this into something it isn’t.  “Yeah.  It’s—it’s the sp-spice.”

His finger follows the hard curve of you down to where you give, where you’re leaking wetness and heat from the source, before he’s suddenly shifting his wrist and pushing the entire thing into you down to his knuckle.

Now you do arch your hips, spreading your legs and helping him go deeper even as Cassian hums, stretching his finger and feeling you clench hot and tight around him.  He says something softly, something in a language you don’t understand.

And then he’s pulling out and rubbing circles around your clit again, the tip of his finger steady and firm as he steadily drags the pleasure out of you.

“We need to finish it soon,” he eventually reminds you, and it takes a remarkable delay for you to realize he’s talking about the lingering quarter of the joint still clenched tightly between your fingers.  “Take your hit.  We have a nine-hundred call, remember.”

Fuck, you bring the spice up to your lips with a shaky hand, trying to remember whether you should inhale or exhale first.  Cassian’s finger just keeps circling your clit, winding you up tighter and tighter.  His motions are so repetitive and predictable, but they’re somehow still lighting you on fire from the inside, slowing you down spectacularly as you try to take a steady breath in through the filter.

“Stars, you are so wet,” he remarks after a moment.  “Are you going to cum soon?  You feel like you are so close already.”

You are close.  Everything is swollen and slippery and tight, and hearing him say it out loud like that makes the pleasure rocket up even tighter inside you.  You don’t even feel him reach around with his other hand and take the spice from you.  You just lose yourself in the mindless sensation of Cassian’s finger on your clit, rolling your eyes back and reaching your hands down to fisting the sheets at your sides as he touches you.

“Does this feel good, caraya?”  He whispers quietly to you, inhaling deeply from the spice.  “You are usually so… mouthy with me.  Is this helping?  Do I need to rub your clit like this more often?”

“Fuck—Cassian, I’m gonna cum,” you tell the ceiling raggedly, chest beginning to arch up and hips bearing down.

“Do it,” he murmurs, reaching his thumb through your slick lips to pinch and roll the pulsing bud between his fingers.  “Right here.  All you can.”

And then wild, painful bliss stabs through you, launching you headfirst into a blinding orgasm.  A desperate sound tears from your throat as you cum hard all over your best friend’s hand, agonizing pleasure shredding mindless rapture through your veins.  It rings white noise through your ears and rips you apart from the inside out, arcing lightning down your spine more bright and explosive than ever before.  Fuck, it’s unprecedentedly powerful.  You’re drenched but your clit is hard and pulsing and swollen, and he’s able to keep it between his fingers the entire time your hips writhe desperately on the mattress.

Cassian inhales from the spice once more and massages your clit through the torturous, blazing hot aftershocks.  He drags the pleasure out of you until you’re a trembling mess, exhausted from the spasms wreaking havoc on your body.

But then… but then you’re still so hot.  It’s like your limbs have no energy left but your cunt is still pulsing and wanting more from him.  You feel your wetness coating his hand, your inner thighs, probably soaking through your sweatpants, but fuck, you want him to keep touching you like this—you want him to keep doing this.

It’s the spice, something tells you in the very back of your mind.  It almost made you black out with a wild orgasm and now it’s quickly preparing your overheated body for another one.  Your feet come up to brace against the mattress and your eyes close, jaw going slack as you grind feverishly against Cassian’s hand.

“Again?”  He whispers to you, fingers continuing to pinch and roll your clit and then—and then another debilitating wave of euphoria is suddenly slamming through you, pulling your chest up and flooding his hand with another series of wet, powerful contractions.  Cassian rasps something in his native tongue and rides you through the second one just as steady as the first, your pussy spasming uncontrollably as he slowly wrings the pleasure from you.

Fuck, it feels so good.  You’re worked up and trembling and trying not to whimper for him, desperately wanting him to keep his hand right here forever, buried right between your legs like this.  But you also—you also want Cassian to feel it too, feel the way the unrestrained hedonism practically burns you alive when you cum.

So you carefully turn over on your side and shuffle forwards a bit, resting your head on his lower stomach, right in front of the mouthwatering bulge in his trousers.  His fingers can’t fully reach your cunt from this angle, but Cassian is resilient.  He just drags his hand over your hip and slithers his fingers into your pussy from behind while you start unbuckling his pants with shaky fingers.

He’s unbelievably hard and throbbing and leaking when you pull his cock out of his underwear, the pulsing urgency of his erection not lining up with the way he’s still relaxing on your mattress, still hasn’t moved under you.  So you just hold his length up to your lips and open them, slowly sliding your tongue around the tip of him three times before taking his curved head into the hot cavern of your mouth.

Cassian takes a deep, shaky breath as you suck softly on the head of his cock, fluttering your tongue along a bead of precum he leaks from the slit.  He drags his fingers through your drenched pussy lips from behind as you carefully move your head down his tummy, opening your jaw wider and letting him fill your mouth deeper.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and you hum softly and lift your back palate slightly, sliding your tongue drift down his shaft and taking him a bit deeper still.  He shudders under you and pushes the tip of his finger up against your clit.

And then you shudder because Cassian completely bypasses your hood at this angle, bumping into the swollen bit of flesh without any resistance or protection and just… holding it there.  Barely moving an inch while you begin to slowly bob up and down just slightly around his cock, just keeping his fingertip right up against your clit and sparking heat down through your legs.

You move your hand down to cup his balls and start to roll your hips against his fingers.  Cassian’s breathing stutters as you lazily suck his cock, rubbing a tight little circle on your clit in silent encouragement.

“We should—” his voice is hoarse now, now that you’ve got his dick in your mouth and you’re gently swirling your tongue around it, almost as unhurried and casual about the act as he was bringing you to your first orgasm.  “We should do this.  More.”

You slowly pull off him, kissing the tip of his cock and mouthing at the way he’s steadily releasing thick drops of precum for you.  Cassian’s finger rolls firmly against your clit in response.

“You just want your dick sucked every time you come back to base,” you counter breathlessly, brushing your lips against him while talking with his cockhead resting on the edge of your tongue.

His hand shifts, and then he’s suddenly pushing two thick fingers deep inside you.  You moan around his tip and prop one leg up on the mattress so he can fill you easier, going back to sucking and swiping your tongue over his frenulum.

“I would not mind it,” he admits with a shaky exhale.  “You are.  Very g-good.  Fuck.  And wa—” he gasps, feeling you clench tight around his fingers, “—warm.  Fuck, every… everywhere.”

Fuck, it feels so good like this.  Laying here, topless and being penetrated two different ways by Cassian, feeling him throb in your mouth while you rest your head on his tummy, feeling him stretch your cunt walls with his fingers while you hold your legs open for him.

You pull off him to drag your slick tongue over your palm, coating your fingers in saliva.  Cassian groans when you wrap your hand around the thick base of him, and then he lifts his hips slightly as you start to slowly jerk him off into you mouth.

“Fuck—caraya, if you keep doing that, I will—” he whispers after a moment, curling his fingers inside you in warning.  You just tighten your grip and add just the slightest twist to your wrist and “Wait—wait—” Cassian grunts, starting to pull his fingers out of you—

You pull off him just enough to murmur the words against his throbbing head.  “You’ll want more than one, okay.  Trust me.  Cum like this, okay?  Cum just like this, right in my mouth.”

You wrap your lips around his cock once more and keep jerking him off slow and tight into the heat of your mouth, and Cassian’s abdominal muscles go incredibly tense under your head.  And then you squeeeeze your lower muscles around his fingers, and all the tension suddenly snaps.

His cock goes rock hard on your tongue and starts pulsing steadily as he groans out your name like it hurts, fingers stuffed deep in your cunt.  You swallow around him and moan, clenching rhymically around his fingers and letting him slowly empty himself into your mouth.  Fuck, he takes forever with it, shuddering and gasping and pumping cum down your throat, his orgasm clearly as powerful as yours was.  The spice drags it out, makes you both lose yourself in the raw heaven of release for far longer than normal.

The spice also prevents him from softening when Cassian finally stops spurting hot cum in your mouth.  You suspected as much—which is why you keep sucking his cock even as he stops throbbing, you keep him in your hot mouth even when he’s laying trembling and exhausted under you.  And he still stays rock solid on your tongue, swollen and needing more.

Cassian’s voice sounds shredded when he finally speaks.  “I—I am going to crash my x-wing tomorrow,” he tells you hoarsely, fingers finally slipping out of your channel with a vulgar, slick sound.  “You were right.”

You pull off him and kiss the tip of his cock one final time, making sure you’ve cleaned up the mess completely.  “Today.”

“Fuck.  Today,” he acknowledges tightly, adjusting his hips when you lift your head off his stomach.  “Fuck.  In a few hours.  You will make me crash, just thinking about this.”

“Why is it,” you turn around and blink at him, “that after literal decades of my friendship, you only acknowledge my perpetual rightness after I make you cum for the first time?”

Cassian just smiles softly at you, and his fingers are drenched as they rest lazily against your thigh.  “Caraya.  Two suns.  Twice the illumination, no?”

You bite your lip and try not to smile back at him, wanting to blush and roll your eyes in equal parts.  Stars, why is he so… so lovely?  Speaking to you so sweetly, looking back up at you from your pillow like you’re every single color in his sky.  Your heart seizes in your chest, staring at him with the same kind of fondness and admiration his beautiful eyes are shining with.  Fuck, you want… you want to…

“Can we… can we have sex now?”  You whisper.  Not really shy, but… but it almost sounds shy in its quiet, breathless hope.  

“You do not want me to taste you?”  Cassian immediately asks, reaching out with one hand to offer you what’s left of the spice while the other stays firmly wedged between your legs.  “I want to.  I have…”

You bite down on your bottom lip and take the nearly finished joint from him, feeling his fingers curl against your pussy lips at the same time and knowing you’re going to regret letting him finish his sentence.  He swallows thickly.

“I have thought about it,” Cassian eventually tells you, carefully admitting the words like he never expected he’d ever say them aloud and is completely unprepared.  “Sometimes.  Sometimes when… when I am about to sleep.  I think of… of you.  What you taste like.  Right here.”  He barely slips the tip of his finger back between your folds, fluttering his eyelashes at the way you’re still dripping in his hand.  “I bet you are so sweet.  Will you let me find out?”

Except.  Except you’re suddenly blanking.

He’s… he’s thought about you before?  Like this?  Fuck, he isn’t just… just saying that, right?  Just telling you what you want to hear?  Because fuck, it’s almost too good to be true; like everything out of his mouth since you first put his cock in yours has somehow sounded even better than the last.  You feel like you’re dreaming, and it.  It makes you almost frantic with need, overcome with the desire to solidify your connection with him before it can be ripped away like it always is.

You don’t respond to him.  You just quickly wiggle out of your sweatpants and get on top of him, swinging one of your legs around Cassian’s hips.  The spice is held in one hand while the other reaches down and aligns his cock right up against your opening.

Cassian grabs your thighs tightly and takes a long, shuddery breath under you.  Fuck, he really is a dream, isn’t he?  Long and lithe and beautiful, still throbbing and pulsing and ready for you after you already swallowed his first load.  You straighten your back and slowly sit down on his cock, letting the thick, hard length of it break you open slowly.

His hands trace up to your hips and then slide along the gentle curves of your sides, measuring the size of your ribcage before eventually grasping both of your tits in his palms.  You breathe through the pleasure and the stretch, letting Cassian pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers as you gradually slide down him and come to a rest flush against his pelvis.

Fuck he feels spectacular.  You can feel him pulsing inside of you, fitting and stretching the contours of your slick cunt perfectly.  You shiver and clench around him, finishing off the last hit of spice as you roll your hips slightly to adjust to the tight fit of his cock.

You twist your shoulders to carefully toss the smoldering roach into the sink when it’s done, really taking your time with aiming it to make sure you don’t miss.  The second it lands in the metal basin is the second Cassian grinds his hips up into yours while giving both of your nipples a gentle tug, and a jolt of pleasure rocks its way down your spine.

“Im-impatient,” you whisper, trying to scold him but it comes out sounding all wrong, far more needy and breathy than you wanted.

“I wanted my tongue in your pussy,” he whispers back in reminder, squeezing your tits as you start to circle and grind against him, letting you both enjoy the sensation of each other without any solid aim at the moment.  “You could not wait.”

“Later,” you gasp, tipping your head back and just—fuck, just enjoying his cock.  Enjoying how it feels, pressing up deliciously tight against something inside you that just absolutely loves the pressure.  You scoot yourself back just a bit, just so he is really shoved up hard against that spot as you grind and roll your body.  It ignites sparks deep in your floor muscles, makes you clamp tighter around him as you slowly ride your best friend’s cock.

And stars, Cassian just watches you.  He drags his hands over your naked body as it swells and rocks back over his hips like waves in the ocean.  He’s still completely clothed, and while something inside you wants you to get him as naked as your are, rub your exposed skin against his and make sure he never forgets how you feel against him, most of you is just fucking burning at the eroticism of being so bare and tall above him while he looks at you.

“Later,” he eventually repeats after you, definitively confirming what you said.  Cassian’s voice is somehow soft and rough at the same time, quiet but tight and hoarse in his throat.  “I will taste you later.”

You jerk a nod in agreement, starting to gain just a little bit of a rhythm on top of him.  Your eyes flutter closed as you lean your weight back slightly and begin to pull up when your hips twist in towards him, and then sinking back down on his cock when your hips circle back around again.

“Fuck,” you hear Cassian grit as you keep doing that, relaxing your lower muscles as he’s thrusted into you and then clamping down on his length as it’s slowly dragged out.  “Fuck, you are—a-amazing, caraya.  You are.  You are—fuck—”

A sinful heat starts simmering deep inside you as Cassian cuts himself off with a gasp and squeezes his eyes shut, starts rocking his pelvis up in time with your slow, sensual rotations.  Both of his hands clamp down hard over your hips as they continue to undulate in slow circles around his cock.

“Maker,” you whisper, trying to focus on your rhythm instead of the terrifying, building sensation inside of you.  Fuck, you can literally feel the threat of your orgasm start to carefully wind itself around the base of your spine, simmering and sparking with dark pleasure as it gradually spreads its electric claws outwards.  It’s huge.  You can already feel it gathering together inside you, culminating into something monstrous and fierce.

Cassian says your name, and you suddenly blink your eyes open at the unexpected urgency and tightness in his voice.  Your vision takes a second to focus on his gorgeous face, and when you immediately see the same exact storm of swirling desperation in his eyes, your jaw goes slack as you speed up, trying to chase him as Cassian all but hurtles towards the blinding explosion nearing its detonation.

“Fuck, I—” he gasps, and then he’s suddenly going rigid under you and cumming deep in your slick heat with a desperate sound, shuddering and gasping for you as his thumbs dig into your thighs.  Fuck, you grind harder, trying to find and focus on your favorite angle now as Cassian whimpers through the bliss and writhes under you, throbbing and pumping in steady, helpless jolts.

You whimper, too—fuck, you’re almost there, you’re gasping and trying to surrender to the swelling sensation, but it’s so intense and overwhelming and you’re close to tears because you’re fighting it just as much as you’re seeking it out, and—

And then the breath is suddenly knocked out of you when Cassian reaches up to grab you and flip the both of you over, your back coming down hard against the mattress.  He kneels between your legs, hooks both of your calves over his shoulders, props his arms next to your head, and then he starts thrusting.

You sob brokenly, slapping an open palm against his chest.  Fuck, his cock is still so hard and it shreds up achingly deep against that blinding spot so perfectly, you can’t focus on anything anymore.  The dark, evasive build immediately twists up sharp and impending as Cassian fucks you steady and deep, and you start to muffle your cries and gasps into the back of your hand.

But then, oh—words are coming, too.  Oh Maker, you can feel the urge to say them rise up along with the ferocious stirrings of your orgasm, clawing its way out of your throat before you can do anything to stop it.

“Fuck—” you tear your hand away to sob brokenly, not being able to stop yourself as the tsunami begins to peak, “oh, fuck—I love you.  Oh, fuck, I—I love you, Cassian—I love you, I—IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—”

His cock splinters up against sheer euphoria inside you as you cum with a desperate wail of his name, pussy clamping down hard as it erupts into searing hot ecstasy around him.

—and then suddenly Cassian is lurching against you and bringing his lips down to yours, licking into your mouth and cumming deep inside you once more.  Maker, you nearly scream at the sensation, your tight cunt milking the throbbing length of him with endlessly wet, hot contractions as he grinds you both through the aching bliss.  He kisses you like he’s wanted to do it for years, bites your bottom lip as you whimper and spasm wildly around him.

Fuck, you can hear the mess you’re both making.  It’s obscene, filling the room with the slick sound of your desperate coupling.  Cassian eventually pulls his mouth away to look down at where he’s rocking into your drenched cunt, the evidence of his own pleasure slicking up hard lines of his erection.

Your eyes roll back when he doesn’t stop thrusting.

***

You lose track of everything.

Time, direction, responsibility—nothing matters, because Cassian goes on like that.  For hours, taking you apart every single way you can imagine.  You fuck the effects of the spice out of your body until nothing exists but him—Cassian’s cock stretching you, his tongue gliding along your skin, his whispered words of broken praise murmured against your neck.

Strangely, your body feels absolutely amazing when you finally manage to gain the slightest bit of awareness of your obligations again.  You feel like you’re floating above everything, almost dreamlike in how unbelievably satisfied you feel.  

You slowly blink up at the ceiling, and then suddenly remember the nine-hundred call you have to make.  You’re both naked, sprawled out on top of your mattress, and Cassian—

“Cass—” you rasp, pulling on the thick waves of hair tangled between your fingers and feeling his hot tongue slip out of your pussy.  It’s still slightly dark in your room, but that could just be the horrendous weather blocking the sun.  “What—what time is it?  Did we miss—?”

“Almost eight,” Cassian rumbles low against your thigh.  “We still have some time before we need to get up.”

You lurch into startled awareness, getting go of him to prop yourself you on your elbows.  “But that’s—no, we have to shower, and—”

“A ten minute walk to the hangar from here, yes?”  Cassian reasons, pressing a lazy kiss to your thigh and not sounding bothered in the slightest.  “Twenty minutes to shower together, ten minutes to get dressed.  We have at least ten more minutes before we need to think about getting up.”

You shudder and blink down at him, naked and relaxed as he mouths over your skin.  Maker, how can everything change and yet still be so familiar at the same time?

“I think I might crash my x-wing today,” you finally breathe out, dropping your shoulders back down to the mattress once again.

“No,” he returns, turning his head to kiss your other thigh.  “You will not.  Because I checked my holopad earlier, and they sent the coordinates for red squadron’s patrols.”

You narrow your eyebrows at the ceiling.  What does that have to do with anyth—?

And then you suddenly go shock-still under him, trying not to let the blind, overwhelming hope surge up inside you.

“Bring extra credits, caraya,” Cassian murmurs, lowering his head back down between your legs.  “We are going to Lothal.”

[honeytae]

You’re the best present I could ever ask for.

hi um this was requested so long ago :( but i wanted to wait until jimin’s birthday upload to finally write this adorable idea. happy belated birthday to our sweet angel jimin, we love you so much!!

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @jjlovr2015 genre: fluff

word count: 2.5k

Jimin had been buzzing with nerves all day. 

He had gone to bed last night with the knowledge of what would happen today, his eyes remaining wide open as he was too anxious to sleep. He had settled for softly tracing your features as you slept cluelessly next to him, smiling at the quiet snores that escaped your parted mouth every couple of inhales.

As the day went on, the nerves continued to build inside of him. You did not miss the bags under his eyes as you gave him breakfast in bed, his hands noticeably shaky as he opened his present from you, his nervous giggles filling your kitchen as he hugged you from behind while cooking lunch. He caught you giving him many skeptical side glances throughout the afternoon, yet never attempted to explain his behavior. 

It may not have been obvious to the average person, but it was certainly obvious to you by how off he was acting that something was going on. No matter how many times you asked him what was wrong, he dismissed it, quickly changing the subject and momentarily distracting you from your suspicions. 

You had been together long enough to know each other’s nervous habits, and currently Jimin was exhibiting all of his, despite his lack of acknowledgement. He was grateful that you were letting it slide, but he knew you wouldn’t continue for long. And he was proven right when you confronted him at dinner.

“You’re acting weird today. Am I witnessing a quarter life crisis?” 

Those were the words that had snapped him out of his momentary trance, your concerned gaze contradicting your joking tone. 

You’d gone to one of his favorite restaurants for dinner, hoping that it would perk him up from his anxious behavior. However, he was still noticeably zoned out, the repetitive clicking of his shoes tapping on the ground filling the room.

You considered that maybe he was coming down with something, as Jimin typically got very quiet and withdrawn when he wasn’t feeling well. But with a subtle hand to his forehead on your way into the restaurant, brushing it off as you simply helping him adjust his bangs, you discovered no burning temperature like you’d expected. 

Now you were just confused, and definitely starting to worry. 

“I’m fine, baby.” He said, offering no explanation as you continued studying him with your eyebrows raised. He stared back at you with equally raised brows, prompting a staring contest between you as he widened his eyes. 

You internally cursed as your eyes began to dry out, knowing that you were in trouble as a mischievous smirk took over his face, pressing his lips together and blowing air past them to get your eyes to flutter shut.

“Ugh, cheater.” You huffed, your boyfriend laughing as he pumped his fist up in victory.

It happened to be that moment that your food was brought over, Jimin thankful for the interruption as it gave him more time to think of a proper response. He thanked the waitress as she set the dish down in front of him, immediately stabbing his fork into his food and holding his arm out across the table for you to take it.

“Why do you always give me the first bite?” You asked with a slight chuckle, smiling in amusement as he pushed the fork closer to your mouth.

“I trust your opinion.” He shrugged, smiling when you finally closed your mouth on the fork with a roll of your eyes. You hummed in approval, nodding to emphasize your point.

“I really am fine, though, dove.” He mentioned as he stuck his fork into the dish on his plate again, heart clenching with guilt when he looked up from his food and caught another worried glance from you. 

“Alright,” You sighed, “I just feel like there’s something on your mind, Chim.” You pushed further, making him nod as he gulped his forkful of food down. He would not keep you totally in the dark anymore.

“Well, there is one thing. Can we go somewhere after this? I want to show you something.” He offered as an explanation, smiling when you nodded to the plan. 

Perfect.

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Although he still had some of his anxious habits, squeezing your hand every once and a while as you both exited the restaurant and chewing on his bottom lip as he drove the two of you to the special spot, he was still acting more normal now than he had all day as he smiled easily over at you in the passenger side, grabbing ahold of your hand and squeezing it with his own.

He chuckled as you turned on the radio, singing with you as the breeze from the open windows blew your hair back from your face. The streets were practically deserted at this time of night, the highways usually crowded with cars now completely empty.

Jimin took a deep breath as he turned on the car’s indicator and pulled off on the exit, traveling only a few miles before turning into a parking lot in the middle of the woods.

He turned off the ignition, smiling at your obvious confusion at the area he’d taken you to. He couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss you, lips connecting in a chaste kiss before he pulled away, watching as you melted under his affectionate gaze.

“You’ll love it, baby. I promise. Okay?” He encompassed both of your hands in his, raising his dark brows in question before smiling again at your nod of agreement.

“Okay.” You agreed, letting go off his hands as he turned from you to open his door, stepping out of the car and quickly rounding the front of it to open yours as well.

You easily placed your hand in his as you unbuckled your seatbelt, allowing him to lead you out of the car and to an uphill dirt path through an open forest. You were both silent as you walked, fallen leaves crunching beneath your shoes as Jimin’s thumb soothed over the back of your hand. 

“Holy shit.”

It was you that paused in your footsteps first, gasping at the view in front of you as Jimin smiled at your reaction. 

It seemed that he had brought you to a mountain peak which provided you with the most beautiful view of the city you’d ever seen, the streets illuminated and carving pathways through the otherwise dark night far down below you.

You felt a squeeze to your hand, causing your eyes to shift back to the man beside you as his own orbs shone back at you in the dark.

“Good?” He asked, making you laugh and nod as you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“It’s amazing, Chim. How’d you find this place, anyway?” You asked in astonishment, letting go of his hand as you leaned over to get a better look.

“My family used to stop here on our way out of Seoul. I always loved it.” He shrugged, pressing his lips to your temple as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

“I thought of it the other day and I couldn’t believe I’ve never brought you up here before.” He explained further, making you hum as your eyes flitted over the lit up apartments and office buildings below you.

He let his head drop to your shoulder, eyes cast to the familiar view ahead of him as he tried to gain the courage to do it. He was making it way harder than it had to be. All he had to do was get down on one knee and be honest.

“I have something for you, dove.” He spoke up quietly, lifting his head to look at you, heart pounding as you turned to him with a puzzled expression.

“You have something for me? Have you forgotten how birthdays work?” 

Jimin only chuckled at your words, withdrawing his arm from you and placing his sweaty palms on his denim clad thighs. Your eyes followed him as he lowered himself, bending his knee and placing it on the ground below him.

You cocked your head in confusion but allowed him to take your hand in his, watching as his other dug around his pocket.

“What are you - oh.” You stalled in realization once he pulled the small black box out, eyes widening as your brain caught up to what was going on. 

You now knew why he’d been so nervous all day, and why his foot was fidgeting all throughout dinner. You knew why his palm was clammy as he gripped your hand, and you knew why his fingers were shaking as they popped the lid of the box open, revealing the ring he’d picked out for you a couple of weeks ago.

“Oh my god, yes!” You sank to the ground with him, snaking your arms around his torso and pulling him into a tight hug, Jimin laughing as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“You didn’t let me make my speech.” He joked, pulling back from you and admiring the happy sparkle in your eyes as they lightly glistened with tears. 

“You don’t have to make a speech, I love you.” You smiled, the action causing a tear to slip down your cheek. Jimin’s thumb quickly caught it, swiping it off your skin and onto the pad of his finger.

“I love you, too. And I really want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He smiled, leaning into you when your hand came up to his hair, your lips joining in a sweet kiss as he tipped his head to the side.

You lost yourself in the way he captured your bottom lip between his, nipping it lightly with his teeth for you to open your mouth. Your tongues met in a gentle embrace, breaths passing to each other's mouths as he pulled you onto his lap. 

You bent your knees to rest on the ground as you straddled his waist, placing your hands on the back of his neck and swiping his soft cheeks with your thumbs. The action elicited a smile from the man, basking in your touch before he snapped out of it, realizing what he’d forgotten when he felt your bare fingers on his skin. 

“Wait, wait. Let me do this right.” He mumbled against your lips, reaching his arm out behind you to grab the box from where it’d fallen from his hand a few minutes ago, popping it open and holding the ring between his thumb and pointer finger. He raised his hand to hold it between your chests, your eyes remaining on him as your heart pounded in your chest. 

“I’ve rewritten so many of these and what I’ve found out is that it’s really difficult to express how much you mean to me. You taught me an entirely new definition of love, one that I didn’t even know was possible.” Jimin paused as his emotions began to bubble up to the surface, smiling with watery eyes at your own tear stained cheeks, reaching out to swipe at your wet skin with his thumb.

“I can do this, I promise.” He laughed as tears gathered on his waterline, shifting his gaze to the sky for a moment as he tried to gather himself. You laughed with him, eyes burning with tears of your own as you realized that this was really fucking happening. 

Jimin inhaled the cool night air, exhaling shakily as he prepared to start again.

“I love how you sing whenever you do the dishes. I love how you fall asleep on me whenever we watch a movie, no matter what time it is. I love the way you giggle whenever you’re nervous. I love every single thing about you, even how you burn the pancakes, even though you get mad at yourself for it.” 

You smiled at that, knowing it was true. You couldn’t recall a single time you attempted to make pancakes where they hadn’t turned out blackened with char. But you especially couldn’t recall a time where Jimin wasn’t stifling a smile at your frustration at the burnt food, the poor man trying his hardest not to laugh as he helped you scrub the burnt griddle clean. 

“Ever since we first met, I just knew there was something different about you. The way I felt whenever you were near me, or just the mere mention of your name. That feeling was only introduced to me when you walked into my life.”

He audibly sniffled, both of you chuckling at your emotions as you wiped each other’s tears away. Jimin’s lips sprinkled kisses over your cheeks, your own lips beginning to hurt with the way they were stretched by your smile.

“Do you remember our first fight?” He asked, you nodding in response as you pushed his hair back from his forehead. He closed his eyes under your touch, opening them back up slowly to look back at you with hooded eyelids.

“I’ve never been so upset about fighting with someone before. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much. We’re so fucking stubborn.” He laughed through his tears, shaking his head and giving up on trying to clear his cheeks from the salty tears constantly streaming down them.

“I was a mess, too.” You nodded at that, remembering how the two of you had holed up in your apartments until the other members of the maknae line were practically banging down your door with a pouting Jimin in their hold.

“But I’m yours. I’ll always come back to you because that’s where I belong. You’re my home, you’re my person, my best friend. You’re the love of my life and I need you in it forever. Dove, will you marry me?”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll marry you.” You laughed through your tears, Jimin crying just as much as his fingers shakily slid the ring down your finger. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, Jimin wrapping his own around your waist as he laid back and pulled you down onto the grass with him. Your heart fluttered as he beamed up at you, his precious smile making his eyes close as tears leaked out the sides of them. 

“I love you so much.” You mumbled against his lips, Jimin repeating the words back to you as he hugged you tighter to him.

You laid there on top of his chest as his lips continued working against yours, your smiles hard to contain through the action causing your teeth to lightly clash against each other. You pulled away with a giggle, Jimin equally as giddy as he laid beneath you on the cool grass.

“Did you have a good birthday?” You asked, leaning your forehead down on his and pressing a quick peck to the tip of his nose.

“I had the best birthday. You’re the best present I could ever ask for.” He smiled, tipping his chin up to kiss your lips again as you pouted at his words.

Holding each other close with the distant sounds of cars honking below you, you buried your face into the warm skin of his neck, Jimin sighing in content as he buried his own face into your hair.