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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 years ago

Text

calculated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

"I think Jungkook likes you."

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.

"Who?"

"I think he's taking the afternoon class."

You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."

Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.

Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.

"Oh."

Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.

You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.

"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.

You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.

"Who?"

"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.

You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.

He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."

You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"

Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.

"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."

You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.

"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."

"I think he likes you."

You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"

Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."

"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."

He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."

"... Is he a serial killer or something?"

"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."

"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.

"Two years younger than me."

You choked.

"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."

"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."

You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"

"Kind of."

You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."

Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"

"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."

You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.

"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"

"Y-yeah, thanks."

Forward, huh?

An understatement.

You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.

Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.

Who attended any type of calculus office hours?

Yeah, exactly.

You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.

Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.

You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.

"You look even better close-up, noona."

A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?

Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.

"Calculus I question?" was your response.

His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.

"I have questions."

He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.

"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."

His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.

"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"

Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.

"What do you want?"

He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.

"I'm Jeon Jungkook."

Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"

He tilted his head at you, studying your face.

"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"

Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."

He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.

"I think you're beautiful, noona."

Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.

"I'm too old for you."

There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.

"We both know such a mindset is outdated."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.

"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."

He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.

Oh?

Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.

"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.

"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."

This punk ass bitch.

You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"

That small teasing smile came back.

"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."

Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.

"Door's wide open."

"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.

You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.

You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."

You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."

Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."

You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.

"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.

"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.

Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.

"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."

Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.

"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.

"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."

Resolve? Hello, where are you?

You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"

His dark eyes gleamed.

"I know I am."

Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.

"Let's see."

And then you kissed him.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.

There was movement at the door.

You froze.

Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.

Park fucking Jimin.

That bas–

Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”

You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.

Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”

You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.

He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”

You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.

“A-ah, Jungkook…”

Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.

He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.

“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”

You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.

“Look at me, noona.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.

“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”

You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.

Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.

You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.

“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.

Jungkook raised his hand.

Smack!

This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.

“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”

He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.

“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.

You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.

“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”

He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.

“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”

He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.

“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”

If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.

You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.

You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–

You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.

“Uh–”

He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.

“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.

You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”

You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.

“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”

You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.

Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.

“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”

You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.

“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”

You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”

A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.

“Turn around.”

Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.

“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”

Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.

“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”

He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.

“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”

You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.

You better rush outta there, noona.

You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.

“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”

You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.

“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.

“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.

Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”

You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.

“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”

Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“But I don’t even have your number.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.

He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.

You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic

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griffintail · 4 years ago

Note

I had this idea, I dunno if it’s dumb or not, but I figured if anyone knew it would be you! Y’know, cause you seem like you know way more than me about all these mcyt guys and gals? Anyways, I saw that a lot of people headcanon that Shlatt was Tubbo’s dad, and seeing all those dad!Shlatt AUs gave me an idea:

What if after Shlatt’s dead, after things have settled, after Tubbo becomes president and spends most of his time cleaning up the messes and mistakes Shlatt left behind- he discovers he wasn’t Shlatt’s only child. He finds handwritten letters in Shlatt’s files from a distant village, all of them fairly recent, asking him for child support money, or asking him to take “his mistake” with him. But the last letter Tubbo finds is a typed one informing Shlatt that the woman who sent all the previous letters has died, and that he has 1 month to come collect his child, or they’ll become a ward of the state; it’s been roughly 2 and a half weeks since that letter arrived. How would Tubbo react to all of this, and more importantly, would he take on the responsibility of becoming his new sibling’s guardian?

I don’t know how I became the person to come to for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

The Girl with the Horns

Pairings: Brother! Tubbo x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, Implied Buillying, Swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo looked up the old White House building, taking a deep breath before going in. Inside, he immediately scrunched up his nose at the familiar smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“Damn it, dad.” He muttered under his breath before starting to clean up the building.

He said he’d clean the building out himself as his father was the one who trashed it and now was that day. A lot of his presidency was cleaning up Schlatt’s mistakes before he even ran the rest of his new country. He sighed as he put another empty bottle in a trash bag. Schlatt had really lost it running things.

Slowly but surely, Tubbo was able to get the White House to a much cleaner state. He was now in the main office and was searching the drawers for his father's inevitable “secret” booze stashes when he found some handwritten letters tucked in the very back of the drawer. Frowning, Tubbo took them out and saw them all addressed to Schlatt.

Sitting down, Tubbo read the letter on top and his eyes went wide, back going straight as he reread the words before him.

I want money for this child you helped bring into this world!

A child?

The rest of the letter was talking about asking for child support and Tubbo was floored. Quickly, he read the next letter and it was much of the same, demanding Schlatt to take responsibility.

“Holy shit…” Tubbo muttered. “I got…I got a sibling?”

He made his way through the rest of the letters, his heart clenching when the woman writing the letters called his poor sibling a mistake or made stabs at Schlatt.

Then the last letter was a lot more formal. It was stamped with an official seal and dated. Schlatt had opened it as told by the broken seal but had obviously also put the letter back without a care after reading. Tubbo’s breath hitched as he read the letter though.

Dear Mr. Jschlatt:

We are sorry to inform you Miss Trentha has passed in an accident.

Behind, she has left a five-year-old (Y/N), of which in our records has your name on her birth papers. We will give you a month’s time to make a decision; after, we will have no choice but to send (Y/N) to become a ward of the state.

Tubbo quickly looked at the date of when the letter was sent.

“Two and a half weeks!” Tubbo exclaimed as he jumped up. “Shit! What should I do?”

He looked around the office he had spent time cleaning trying to process everything at once, words failing him. In a few short moments, he had found out he wasn’t an only child, that Schlatt hadn’t even looked back at this girl or her horrible mother, and that the sibling he just found out about was going to become a ward of the state! Schlatt had at least been kind enough to Tubbo to let Philza raise him but this child going into the adoption system…

“I-I got to run L’Manberg. There’s so much to do.” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair as he panicked.

But then Tommy’s words echoed in his head.

You can’t become the next Schlatt.

Schlatt was obviously going to let this child fend for themselves, Tubbo couldn’t be his father. He had to at least meet them. With a new will, he gathered around his friends, and with reassurances that they had L’Manberg covered, Tubbo set off on a horse to the village. It was a good three-day journey, so he’d only have roughly a week left to make his decision of what he was going to do.

Coming to the village, Tubbo took a deep breath as he stared at it. What was she going to be like? She probably didn’t have the best raising based on the letters that the mother sent. Tying up the horse outside the main hall, Tubbo went in, going through the various processes to prove that he was indeed Jschlatt’s child and proving that his father was dead.

After, they took Tubbo to a home where a bunch of children were outside playing but there was one that stood out among them and it wasn’t because she was sitting alone. It was because she had tiny horns on top of her head that were just starting to come in. Tubbo put a hand on his horns that were just starting to curl without thinking.

“That’s (Y/N).” The man that led him here nodded to the little girl.

“She’s five, right?” Tubbo asked.

“Yes. She’s not very talkative, but you can introduce yourself to her.”

Tubbo had few guesses why she didn’t want to talk. He went over, a few of the other kids were pointing at him. (Y/N) was using a stick to push images in the dirt, looking up when a shadow got in the way of the sun. Tubbo smiled when he saw her surprise when she looked up at him, he sitting next to her, wearing his casual wear rather than his suit.

“Hi. I’m Tubbo.” He introduced himself to her.

(Y/N) was silent as she stared obviously at his horns. “You have horns…”

“Yeah, I do. I’m a ram just like you.”

“Really?” She met his eyes now.

“Mhm. I, uh, I actually knew your dad because he was my dad.”

She shifted as she looked back at the ground. “Daddy was a bad man.”

Tubbo winced, putting a hand on his neck. “Why do you say that?”

“Mommy use to say that.”

“Ah. Well…dad wasn’t the greatest, I agree. It wasn’t nice for him to leave you alone.”

The little girl was silent and Tubbo tried to think of a subject change.

“Do you like drawing?”

She nodded. “Mommy wouldn’t let me use paper but I like drawing in the dirt.”

“Oh…do you…have any friends?”

She put a hand on one of her little horns and he immediately understood.

“I get it.” He smiled gently, putting a hand on his horn. “I didn’t have a lot of friends until I met my best friend Tommy. I’m sure you will find some friends.”

His heart melted as she gave him her first small smile. “I hope so.”

He sat with her just talking away, the time passing so fast without either of them knowing as they talked. He felt like he learned so much but so little about her; yet, he loved every moment sitting with her. She had to go back with the other children of the orphanage but within a few hours, Tubbo made up his mind. He couldn’t leave this little girl with everyone else; he’d take her back to L’Manberg.

So, in the morning, Tubbo put on his suit to be professional and he did the paperwork before waiting for them to bring (Y/N). (Y/N) came in timidly and Tubbo smiled gently as he crouched in front of her.

“Hey, so, I don’t want to leave without you, would you like to come with me? I can introduce you to a few of my good friends.”

“…They’re all nice like you, right?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, a few of them are pretty nice.”

She looked around but nodded. “Ok.”

He grinned as he stood up. “Then I’m going to take you back to my home.”

They got the few things that she owned and Tubbo put them on the horse. After, Tubbo changed into more appropriate riding clothes before getting on with (Y/N).

“Alright, here we go.” He muttered before getting the horse to go.

Off they went to L’Manberg, Tubbo making sure they had shelter each night. It was a bit stressful for Tubbo on these few days. He had gotten used to not eating every day but he had to remember now to make sure (Y/N) ate. He also had to remember this was boring as hell for her so he tried his best to make little games as they galloped along. There was a point he went off on a bee tangent for half an hour after spotting one and pouted to himself when he saw (Y/N) had fallen asleep against him but he kept an arm wrapped around her so she didn’t fall off.

As he got back to L’Manberg, he huffed as he saw Tommy and Fundy arguing as Quackity was laughing, Ranboo standing to the side awkwardly. Yeah, that’s how he expected his cabinet to act with him gone. He tied up his horse, grabbing (Y/N)’s things before taking her hand as he walked over to them. As the pair went over, (Y/N) hide behind him shyly.

“Guys!” Tubbo called.

“Tubbo! Tell this furry bitch—” Tommy started.

“Oh, fuck off Tommy!” Fundy shouted back.

They started having another go.

“GUYS!” Tubbo shouted, making (Y/N) jump with the rest of the group. “I have someone for you to meet, so can you shut it?”

Tommy spotted the little girl peeking out from behind Tubbo, noticing the horns first.

“Holy shit, she has horns like yours.” Tommy went around Tubbo.

“Yeah, this is (Y/N), she’s my little sister.”

“A sister?!” Tommy looked at Tubbo surprised.

Tubbo nodded. “I adopted her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story but I’m back and I’m got to bring her to my house,” Tubbo told them before walking off, feeling the little girl squeeze his hand tighter, probably getting overwhelmed.

They got to Tubbo’s house and he looked around.

“Er…You can have my room. I’ll need to make you a room.” He smiled at her.

“Ok…thank you.”

He patted her head between her horns. “I couldn’t leave you behind sis. Let’s get you settled in and I can make us some steak. Sound good?”

She nodded.

Tubbo knew it would be stressful learning to take care of another human while he had to run a nation but he had his friends to help him. He hoped he could do all this right.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

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jenohi · 4 years ago

Text

stranger

PAIRING ▸ Watanabe Haruto x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ pining, high school au, lacrosse au, I’m not really sure what genre this is lol

WARNINGS ▸ traumatic events?

SUMMARY ▸ When Haruto moves halfway around the world the last person he expects to see is you. His former nemesis...or so he thinks.

PLAYLIST ▸ Still Don’t Know My Name by Labyrinth

WORD COUNT ▸ 9626

UNIVERSE ▸ YG High; Treasure Lacrosse Team

A/N ▸ I’ve decided from here on out all my stories will probably fall within the same universe. I only really have like 4 universes in mind so I’ll label them just so you know. Also, I’m looking to add some art to my stories to bring them more to life but I am useless at graphics/edits, so! If you’re really into making graphics/edits and you enjoy my work please please PLEASE reach out to me!!! I would love to work with an amazing artist! <3 <3 Plz enjoy.

A/N 2 ▸ This story is like a lot of crossover with Jeongwoo’s story but I hope I was able to bring justice to Haruto’s character and bring his story to life. :P ok now enjoy for real realz.

You were the prettiest girl Haruto had ever known in his life. But to him, you were also his rival. You always managed to score just a few points higher than him on each exam, each quiz, each assignment. To him it always felt like the teachers liked you more, so he made sure your classmates liked him more. The thing that made him really mad was that you were so unbothered. You were ambivalent to him and you didn’t even know his name. If you really were strangers and never sat in the same class he could understand. But you had been in the same classes for years. Each time you spoke to him, you politely asked for his name. As if you were strangers.

When his parents told him that his family was going to move to another city, far enough that he would have to transfer schools, he had mixed feelings. This was his last chance to confront you. To understand why you’d never bothered to remember his name, but each time he approached you he found you furiously scribbling in a notebook. Although he resented you for not knowing his name, he could never get himself to disturb you when you looked so stressed scribbling whatever it was in your notebook.

What Haruto didn’t know is that you did notice him. You noticed the handsome, tall, skinny boy that was always in the corner of your line of sight. But you had no idea what to say to him. So you never approached him. He was a stranger.

Haruto wished he could forget you. He was a bit uncomfortable transferring to a new school at first but thankfully, three other boys had transferred with him. Asahi, Mashiho, and Yoshi had become literal brothers to him. The school also had a transfer students program and he made a new friend, Hanbyul. She was a chatterbox and sometimes she could literally chat his ear off, but she was also sweet and helpful. But she wasn’t you.

But that didn’t matter because Hanbyul had another guy on her mind all the time anyway. “You know we’ve just been friends for such a long time and lately, I’ve started to...I don’t know. I feel different. Nervous. Is it normal to feel nervous around your best friend?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” Haruto responded.

“No, I suppose it isn’t. But he probably doesn’t feel the same way. I doubt he’s ever even thought about me in that way.”

Haruto felt someone nudge him, he turned to see that it was Asahi. Haruto leaned over to hear what he was going to say. “Is she talking about Jaehyuk’s brother?”

Haruto nodded.

“Jaehyuk talks about his little brother and this chick all the time. She’s so off the mark. The little brother definitely has feelings for her if Jaehyuk is anywhere near the mark.” So both parties had feelings for one another but both parties were too chicken to say anything to each other. And for no good reason.

In a way that reminded Haruto of himself and it pissed him off. He knew that spending so much time with his new friend would raise suspicions but he didn’t care. He knew that spending so much time with her pissed Jeongwoo off. It didn’t take a genius to recognize it when they went to the Big Bang Concert together.

Haruto thought he was going crazy when he spotted you a few spaces over at the concert. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times to make sure it was really you. Haruto stormed over to you once he decided that it was in fact you. He had spent months thinking about what to say to you if he ever saw you again, he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Haruto didn’t even think to tell his new friends where he had gone.

You saw a tall, handsome figure approaching your direction. You took a second to check him out, but then turned back to the performers and continued to enjoy yourself. Your parents were reluctant to let you go out to this concert on your own but it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that you wanted so badly. You smiled sadly at what might happen when you woke up tomorrow.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of Big Bang.” You heard a voice from behind speak into your ear. You jumped in surprise and turned around to see that it was the handsome stranger you saw sauntering your way earlier.

“Hi, what’s your name?” You asked with a polite smile on your face. This is probably exactly what your parents were worried about, creepy men that would try to approach you. You started to think about the best way to remove yourself from the situation safely. The now unamused expression on his face alarmed you.

“When are you gonna cut the shit. You know who I am.”

You looked at him puzzled. “I do? How? From where?”

Haruto felt something in his chest crack. “I used to go to school with you. You’re Y/N right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” You furiously racked your mind trying to remember what you had read but your memory came up blank. You couldn’t help but cringe and turn away. This is why you tried your best to keep to yourself and away from people. You looked up to see Haruto staring down at you with a curious expression. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you. You said you used to go to school with me? You don’t go to school with me anymore? Can I get your name again? I’m really sorry. I’ll try and remember.”

“My name is Haruto. I don’t go to school with you anymore. I transferred to a new school a few months ago.”

“Oh, I see.”

Haruto wasn’t sure how to feel when he realized you actually had zero recollection of him. For some reason seeing you up close and seeing you really trying to remember him made him feel a bit sympathetic. He couldn’t understand why. It still totally irked him that you didn’t know his name. But something told him to sit down with you and get to know you.

“Well, do you like your new school?” You asked, looking up at Haruto. Your heart was beating hard and fast. You prayed that your face wasn’t flushing.

“Why don’t we just enjoy the rest of the concert for now and we can grab a late night meal after the concert?” Haruto proposed. His own palms were sweaty and his heart was beating fast.

You thought about it for a second, then nodded and smiled. Haruto felt like the world had a glittery filter for a second. He’d always acknowledged that you were attractive, but up close smiling at him, you were drop dead gorgeous.

“Awesome.”

After the concert, the two of you walked side by side as you left the crowded venue. You noticed Haruto took a second to text someone on his phone. He caught you snooping and laughed as you turned away. “It’s fine. I was just letting the friends I came with know that I was gonna head out with you.”

“Oh, if you need to get back with them it’s fine.” You said, maybe hanging out with Haruto was a bad idea after all.

“Not a chance, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I’m honestly curious to know how you are and how things are back home.”

Your face flushed at his words. You couldn’t remember the last time you had spent time with a guy like this. Was this a date?

“Alright. Then what are you in the mood for?” You asked, pulling up a list of restaurants that were still open at this hour.

“What’s available now? What are you in the mood for right now?” Haruto looked over your shoulder at the menu as he asked.

“Um, what about McDonald’s? I’m not that picky and there’s not that much open right now.” you said.

Haruto stared at you with wide eyes, were you always this cool? So the two of you made your way to the closest McDonald’s and debated which was better, Coke or Sprite. To Haruto, Coca-Cola was non-negotiable.

“How is your new school?” You asked Haruto, munching on a few of your fries. “Do you like it?”

“What are you doing here?” Haruto interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not in Japan. This is far from home. Why are you in America?”

“Oh, I’m uh- I’m visiting family. I’ve actually transferred to a school around here for the time-being as well.” You jumped in surprise when Haruto shrieked.

“You’re here now? Like for good? Like you go to school here? Where?”

You giggled at the questions he rained down on you. The way he asked you with his cheeks full and eyes wide was rather endearing. “Yes I’m here now. I’m actually, uh, home schooled for the time being.”

“Oh, interesting. Why are you homeschooled? I remember you were always really good at school.” Haruto said before he shoved another chicken nugget into his mouth. The irritating thought that you were always better than him at school, just by a little popped up in his mind but he pushed it away. That didn’t matter anymore. He had your attention now.

You felt your face flush. Even with your condition it was true that you maintained your good grades. So Haruto must have actually known you back in Japan. You eyed him again, when he caught you staring at him you turned away. Haruto smirked.

“Enough about me. Tell me about your friends. You said you came with friends from your new school right?”

“Well I’d say one of them is actually who I’d consider a friend. The other one is a mutual friend. A childhood friend that has feelings for her.”

“Her?” it slipped out of your mouth. Haruto’s smirk reappeared and his eyebrow jumped up when he looked at you. You looked away, what was this funny feeling in your chest? It was weird.

“Our school had this transfer student program and she just happened to be assigned to me. She’s really cool, I’m not into her like that and she’s not really into me like that. She likes her friend.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

“Oh. That feels like something important. Like a secret.”

“Well, I told her a secret as well.”

You stared at him. He didn’t indulge in the secret. Haruto was wholly focused on sipping the last of his Coca-Cola before putting it down on the table and letting out a sigh.

“Well so what’s going on with them now?” You asked.

“Hopefully, they both pull their heads out of their asses tonight. I gave them time alone so the best case scenario is that they just talk it out. The dude, Jeongwoo, I actually met him for the first time tonight and he’s a cool dude. It would be nice to have more dude friends around here.”

“You don’t have any guy friends?”

“I do. There are 3 other transfer students from Japan and they’re all dudes and I’m friends with them. Actually, Americans like to play this sport. Lacrosse? My friend told me to try out for the team and I think I might. Mashi, Asahi, and Yoshi agreed to try-out as well so it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, you had no idea what lacrosse was and you didn’t think you would be that interested to learn either. “I should get home.”

“Right of course.” Haruto said, getting up. “Where are you headed? Let me call you an Uber.”

“No, it’s okay. I can actually walk back home from here.”

“Oh really? Well, at least let me walk you back.”

You hesitated for a second. Would it be smart to show this guy where you lived? But then you shook it off, he seemed pretty harmless throughout the night and you trusted that he knew you from school in Japan. So you agreed.

“Do you have to be home-schooled?” Haruto asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” you answered.

“Would you be interested in attending school in person again?” Haruto could feel the devil on his shoulder kicking him. What was he doing? He had already gone to school with you before and the fact that you always did just a smidge better than him drove him nuts.

“Um, I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

“You should consider transferring to my school?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Haruto stepped back a bit and raised his hands. “It was just a suggestion. Honestly, I struggled a bit when I first came here. I can’t imagine how lonely it must be to be here and just be home-schooled so I figured it might be nice to have some sense of community.”

“Um, I’ll think about it.” You weren’t going to think about it. You looked up and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the familiar apartment complex. “This is me. You don’t have to walk in with me. I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait.” Haruto said. You turned around to look at him, a thin smile on your face. “I, uh, I had fun.”

“Yeah, this was nice.” You said truthfully.

“We should do it again sometime.” Haruto said. You stared at him, he looked perfectly composed to you. But his heart was practically beating so hard he thought it might fall out of his chest.

“Honestly, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Haruto felt a heat and anger flare up in his chest. But he did his best to tamp it down and get it under control. This was literally the first time you had acknowledged his presence. He put a smile on his face. “Well, then maybe we’ll just run into each other again sometime.”

“Maybe, it’s all up to fate now. Good night Haruto.”

“Good night Y/N.”

The second you made it back into your room you pulled out your diary. You scribbled the notes you had logged into your phone throughout the day as quickly as possible. Briefly reliving each moment as you wrote them down. By the time you had gotten to the end of the list and began to recount the concert you could feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and your hands writing more and more frantically until suddenly, you crashed.

The next morning you woke up and read your notes. You squinted at the last thing you had written. Your handwriting became illegible near the end. ‘Haruto?’

The next morning Haruto woke up and smiled at the memory of you. Asahi and Mashiho eyed their roommate as he pranced around the living room and kitchen smiling and singing. But nothing could bring Haruto down. Well until he saw his friend looking depressed as hell.

“Dude what’s up?” Haruto asked. “Did you and Jeongwoo figure your shit out?”

“Uh, about that. Well, no.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“Well what about you? Did you run into her?”

“Nuh uh, this isn’t about me. You literally had the perfect opportunity to make something of it. To make a moment! Did you guys have a moment?”

“Yes, I think we did. But I got scared. I don’t want to lose Jeongwoo as a friend, but at the same time I don’t think he has any feelings for me like that. I just, I think I need space. Maybe if I just distance myself from him a bit then I can get over my feelings and…”

“No offense, but that’s the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Well I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. This is my decision and my decision is that I don’t want to see Jeongwoo for awhile. Ok? I’m not ready for the conversation. So you better get used to seeing me more often!”

Haruto sighed as he watched his friend storm out of the room. He turned around and exchanged looks with Asahi. “Did I say something wrong?”

Asahi shrugged. “Honestly, I think you’re valid. I think her logic in avoiding Jeongwoo is pretty dumb. The dude’s in my gym class. Honestly, he’s chill. I don’t think he’d react badly to her if she confesses regardless of how he feels.”

“I should probably find her and apologize anyway.” Haruto said, exiting the room. Eventually he found his friend and they sat together in the cafeteria.

“Sorry about what I said earlier. I’ll admit it was kind of harsh. But honestly I can’t say I understand your logic at all.”

“It’s fine Haruto. You seemed extra happy when you walked in this morning. Who was the friend that you saw at the concert?”

“It was her. Y/N.”

“No way! Isn’t she in Japan?”

“That’s what I thought too. I was so shocked to see her.”

“What did you say to her? What did you guys talk about? Did she recognize you?”

“That’s the thing. The best part of it all was that I actually had her attention. You remember I told you about how she never acknowledged anybody right? She was always reading her notebook in the hallway. In the past when I spoke to her she never even knew my name! She had to ask me every single time. But this time, there’s no way she wouldn’t remember me!”

“Your relationship is weird. But I guess that’s sweet. What does she write about in her notebook?”

“I don’t know. Why does it matter? She knows my name now!”

“That’s another thing. You went to school together for years and she never remembered your name? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Haruto said. Now he was grouchy. All the questions that had been brought up to him were valid, but these weren’t things he wanted to think about.

A few weeks before the lacrosse tryouts in the spring Haruto went to the hospital to get a physical done.

Once he was done he stumbled into a small cafe right next to the hospital. When he saw who was manning the cash register he rubbed his eyes and looked away and looked back a few times to make sure he wasn’t being deluded. When he was confident that he wasn’t going crazy he stood up and walked over to the register.

You saw a tall, handsome, and skinny guy walk up to the cash register. You cleared your throat and stood up straight. “Hello, what can I get you?”

“Y/N! It’s fate. We ran into each other again!”

“Again?” You put a smile on your face and thought of a response. “Hey, it’s so good to see you! How have you been? What’ll you have?”

“Do you...remember my name?”

You felt your heart picking up speed and your palms beginning to sweat. But you kept your composure. “Of course, let me take your order and we can chat for a second.”

Haruto beamed. “Okay, then I’ll just have an Iced Americano.”

“Okay, that’ll be $3.30. The ice machine is in the back so I’ll be right out in a second. You rushed to the back of the cafe and pulled out your diary and flipped through the pages, reading the entries as quickly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a torn piece of paper that had slipped out of your bag. You picked it up, it matched the paper in your diary. You flipped it over to see that it had a name written on it. Haruto.

Was that this guy’s name? Who was he to you? Darn it, why hadn’t you written more?

You quickly filled the cup with ice and walked out filling the cup with cold brew. You grabbed the marker and scribbled Haruto on it. You walked back over to the cash register. This guy’s eyes were practically glittering in anticipation. Was it normal for someone to get this excited over a coffee?

“I’ve got one iced americano for Haruto?” you said.

If his eyes were glittering before, they were practically flashing light strobe lights at a nightclub now. A matching beaming grin on his face. “Yes! Y/N it’s fate. We ran into each other again!”

“Right. Yeah, of course. What are the odds.”

“Do you have a minute?”

“Um, I’m working right now. I’d rather not get in trouble. Maybe another time?”

Haruto swiveled around, eying the cafe. “It looks pretty empty to me. I don’t think you’d get in trouble if you came out for a second just to keep me company.”

“Still…”

“Is your manager even here right now?”

“No.”

“Then come on. Just come out for a second.”

You looked around the cafe, cursing at how vacant it was. You tugged at your sleeves for a second before answering. “Fine.”

You followed Haruto out from behind the counter. He walked over to a table and pulled a seat out from underneath the table. He smiled as he waited for you to sit down. You walked over to the table and turned around. Haruto slid the chair underneath you as you moved to sit down. Once you were seated Haruto ran around to the other side of the table and sat down.

“How are you? How have you been?” Haruto asked.

You stared at the boy sitting in front of you. He was so handsome. “I’m doing well. How about you?”

“I’m good. I was in the area because I needed to go to the hospital.”

Your ears perked up. “Why were you at the hospital?”

“Why do you wanna know? Are you worried about me?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Haruto. Haruto cleared his throat and looked away for a second. “I’m just playing with you. I went to get a physical.”

You nodded, tracing the patterns on the tablecloth.

“I needed one for lacrosse tryouts.”

“Lacrosse? What is that?” you asked. Haruto thought the way your nose scrunched in confusion was adorable.

“I told you about it last time! Remember? It’s this sport that Americans like to play. I had never heard of it in Japan either.”

You didn’t remember. “Right.”

Haruto couldn’t understand the dynamics of the conversation. He watched as you avoided eye contact with him and intensely focused on tracing the pattern of the table cloth. Then you would stare out the window of the cafe, it almost appeared as if your eyes were glazed over. “What are you always writing about in your notebook?”

Your head spun over to look at him so fast, you thought you might have gotten whiplash. “What?”

“Your notebook. I remember in school back in Japan I always saw you either writing things down in a notebook or reading the same notebook. What’s in it?”

“Um, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why? It can’t be that bad. I promise I won’t laugh no matter how embarrassing it might be.” Haruto said. Leaning forward over the table so that he was in your face.

“Forget it.” You said, leaning back and looking away. You glanced over at your bag that was perched far back behind the counter and breathed a sigh of relief. “Look. I gotta go. I’m supposed to be working right now. I think you should go now as well.”

You stood up from the table so quickly that the chair you were sitting on toppled over. You didn’t bother to turn around and pick it up. You walked back towards the counter without looking back.

Haruto watched you as you walked away. He narrowed his eyes when he saw you grab your bag and walk to the back of the cafe. There was only one thing on his mind as he walked out of the cafe. Your notebook. What was in the notebook?

You frantically flipped to today’s page in your notebook. In all caps with your boldest, darkest black marker you wrote at the top of your notebook. ‘Beware of Haruto. Tall, Handsome. Asked about notebook.’

Then you shut the notebook and exited the back room, breathing a sigh of relief when you noticed that the cafe was vacant once again. You walked over to the cafe table where you had previously sat and picked up the chair that had fallen over when you had left the conversation.

The next day at school Haruto was deep in thought. What could possibly be so important about a notebook? When Hanbyul shoved him, Haruto shrieked as he fell out of his chair. “Dude, what the hell is your problem?”

“What are you thinking about? You look like you’re thinking so hard that your brain might break.”

“Do you have an important notebook? Is that like something girls do?”

“You mean like a diary?”

Haruto snapped his fingers and looked up. “Yes! Exactly like one of those. Do you have one of those?”

“I did when I was younger. I don’t keep one anymore though. Why do you ask?”

“My friend. The one from home, Y/N? I think she has one. I asked her about it yesterday and she got all dodgy and weird.”

“Ah, well. Back when I did keep a diary it held all my dirtiest secrets. I don’t think I would want to share it with anybody or for anybody to know about it. Not even now, and as an elementary schooler I really don’t think I had any secrets worth keeping.”

“It was so weird. She got so defensive over it. I didn’t realize bringing it up would be such a touchy subject.”

Hanbyul shrugged. “Different things matter to different people. Are you ready for tryouts? They’re coming up soon aren’t they?”

Haruto nodded. “Asahi, Mashiho, Yoshi, and I have started going to that gym that you recommended. Lacrosse is actually pretty fun. Mashiho is the best though. Are you coming to tryouts?”

“Of course I am. I’m practically making you go so it’s only fair that I be there to see how you do. I reserve the right to totally make fun of you if you embarrass yourself though.”

Haruto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

Soon enough it was the first day of lacrosse tryouts. Haruto had frequented the cafe that you worked at in hopes of getting the chance to speak to you again. Unfortunately, what he didn’t know was that you had quit the job and diligently stayed home and studied.

Haruto was agitated at the thought of not being able to speak to you again. When he tried to sit down and rationalize it himself he couldn’t make sense of it. A year ago he despised you for not knowing his name. You know his name now, right? What more did he want from you?

“Haruto? Haruto! Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Haruto turned to look at Hanbyul. “Honestly no, sorry. What’s up?”

“I feel bad for how I treated Jeongwoo. You were right, avoiding him was not the right thing to do. But why hasn’t he said anything to me?”

“Look I can’t tell you what’s going on between the two of you any better than you can. My assumption is that he’s a bit hurt and confused at the moment by how you’re acting and he doesn’t want to make things any worse than they are.”

“Can’t you say something to him?”

“Me?” Haruto looked up from his stick that he was re-taping. “What do you want me to say to him?”

“I don’t know. Just...just get him to react.”

Haruto scoffed. “If you want me to do that I can but again I feel like it’s not going to produce the results that you want. Like I think if I say anything things are gonna go really sour so I think you should think long and hard about this.”

“Haruto!”

“Look, I gotta go. Tryouts are starting.” Haruto said, turning away and walking onto the field. He didn’t miss the hard stare coming his way from Jeongwoo. Haruto ignored them and focused on his gameplay. Lacrosse had actually become really cathartic for him and he found that he really wanted to make the team.

Haruto noticed that the coaches seemed to be reacting favorably to how he was playing. He also realized that Jeongwoo was also really good but he played really aggressively, like he had something to lose. At the end of practice Haruto figured his hunches must have been correct because the coaches called him over to speak with him.

“I’m sure you know Varsity tryouts were this morning, all of your friends from Japan did great as did you and so we’re thinking about pulling you up to varsity. So tomorrow I want you to come early and try out with the varsity team, alright?”

Haruto beamed and nodded.

“Good work son.” The coach slapped Haruto on the shoulder. He did his best not to fall over. Thankfully the coach didn’t notice.

Haruto walked off the field and headed towards the school parking lot. Just as he pulled his phone out to call someone for a ride home his phone pinged, he tapped on the notification to see that it was a message from Mashiho.

Mashiho: Haruto have JV tryouts ended?

Haruto: Yes, I just finished

Mashiho: Cool. Have you found a ride home yet?

Haruto: No, do you know anyone who can come get me?

Mashiho: Ya, a lot of the guys on varsity can drive. Junkyu is over now but he offered to come pick you up.

Haruto: Junkyu?

Mashiho: He’s trying out for the varsity team. He’s cool. Kinda goofy but cool. I’ll come by with him.

Haruto: Alright, thanks dude.

Mashiho: Np.

Haruto checked the time on his phone before putting it back into his pocket. 6 P.M. Would you be at the cafe? The last few times he had gone by he hadn’t seen you. He put the thought away when a car appeared in front of him. The window rolled down and Mashiho cheered when he saw Haruto. “Get in the car! You smell!”

“Shut up and unlock the door Mashi.” The car door clicked open and Haruto hopped into the backseat. There was a large dude sitting in the driver’s seat who kept fidgeting with a bunch of random controls.

The guy turned around with a giant grin on his face. “Hello! I’m Junkyu. You must be Haruto! Nice to meet you!”

Haruto bowed. “Hello. Yes, I am Haruto. Nice to meet you as well.”

“Ruto! How were tryouts?”

“They were really good. Coach pulled me over at the end of tryouts and told me to come early tomorrow morning and try out with the varsity team.”

“Damn! You must be so good!” Junkyu said from the driver’s seat. Haruto tried not to be concerned by the way Junkyu was driving. His head kept swiveling from left to right. “Did you guys play sports back in Japan? All of you were insane at tryouts today!”

“We all played football. I think Mashi and Yoshi played basketball as well.”

“Football? Do you mean football football or soccer football?”

“Eh?”

“Do you kick a ball or do you carry a ball?”

“You kick it. Duh. Why would you carry a ball? That’s just dumb.”

“Americans call a totally different sport football. Don’t worry about it too much. But it’s awesome that you guys are so good.”

“Well to be fair, we were told about that Lacrosse Club and we had a few training sessions every week leading up to try outs.” Mashiho said.

“Ahh! How’d you hear about that? A few of us have been playing on their club teams for a while.”

“My friend told me about it. She’s the person responsible for me in the foreign exchange students program. Hanbyul?”

“Oh! I know who you’re talking about. Her brother was a legend at this school. He was a top recruit since his sophomore year here. But right before the most important game of his senior year he tested positive on a drug test and he couldn’t play. It totally turned him, his team, and the school around. He got dropped by the college that was recruiting him. But I heard he struck a deal with a pro-team and I guess he’s been training with them. The dude was in a league of his own.”

“Damn. That’s insane.”

“Yeah, our school takes lacrosse pretty seriously. The best players at our school get recruited to some of the best schools so it’s a great opportunity.”

Haruto knew there were probably more important things to be thinking about in this conversation but he couldn’t help but wonder if he could get you to come to one of his games.

The second day of tryouts Haruto was absolutely on fire. His shorts were shart, his passes were quick, and his steps were light. The varsity team was definitely of a different caliber but Haruto found the challenge fun. It was nice to be able to play with the rest of the Japanese boys as well.

At the end of varsity tryouts the coach pulled him over, “you were great out there today. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling alright coach.”

“Up for a few more hours?”

Haruto paused, but then nodded. He wasn’t in a place to argue with his coaches. “Sure.”

“Great. Then I want you to continue through JV tryouts. Grab some water and then head back out onto the field.”

“Alright coach.”

Haruto jogged out to the edge of the field. He was surprised to see Hanbyul sitting at the edge of the bleachers. “What’s up?”

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I came to watch your second day of tryouts.”

“Are you sure you’re here to watch me?”

“Shut up. Why are you all sweaty already?”

“Coach had me try out with the varsity team today.”

Hanbyul’s eyes widened. “Dang, you must be awesome. The last two boys that made it onto the varsity team as sophomores were my brother and his best friend Bobby.”

Haruto shrugged. “The game is fun. It would be awesome to play on varsity.”

The coach blew his whistle, signalling all the players to come back out onto the field. Haruto turned around and gathered around. Every so often throughout the day Haruto ran back to the bleachers where Hanbyul sat. His bag was stowed away there as was his secret stash of Coca-Cola. It probably wasn’t smart to be drinking Coke in the middle of tryouts but every so often he needed a pick-me-up.

“You need to quash that habit.”

“Yeah yeah.”

At the end of the day the coach told Haruto to wait for him inside his office. So Haruto did just that.

“So what’d you think about tryouts today?” Coach asked.

“It was intense.”

“Yeah, what did you think of the way the varsity team played?”

“They were quicker, sharper, and more nimble.”

“Good observation. Do you think you were good enough to play on their level?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then answer me another question. If you had to pick another player from the JV tryouts today to pull up to Varsity who would you pick?”

Haruto thought about it for a second. The answer was obvious. The only other person who seemed to put up a fight with him was “Jeongwoo.”

“Good guess.” The coach laughed. “I don’t know what they feed you kids in Japan. But all four of you are good.”

There was a knock on the door. Haruto turned around to see Jeongwoo. He smirked when he saw the sour expression on Jeongwoo’s face. But it was gone once he had walked into the room and stood adjacent to Haruto.

“The two of you have demonstrated amazing capabilities and I am considering pulling one of you up to the varsity team. Take this opportunity seriously. Tomorrow is the last day of tryouts.”

The last place Haruto expected to run into you was at the hospital. The last thing you were expecting at the hospital was for a dude to come up behind you and scare you. It was horrible, you can’t remember the last time you screamed so loudly, let alone at a public place.

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

“Uh, I’m-” you hesitated, trying to craft an answer that was vague enough that you wouldn’t have to tell the whole truth but not vague enough that he wouldn’t continue to ask questions. But thankfully Haruto seemed to take it upon himself to fill the silence.

“Look, I just wanted to say I��m sorry that I totally misjudged you when I first met you? In fact, I thought I hated you.”

Alarm bells went off in your head. Was it normal for a person to come to you and tell you they hated you? “Uh, thanks?”

But Haruto continued. “But I wanted to say I totally read you wrong. You’re actually really cool. And I wanted to say thank you. For remembering my name.”

That was the first time someone had ever said that to you. You stared at him blankly unsure of how to respond.

“Haruto! Haruto! Haruto! Please report to waiting room 105, the doctor is ready for you now.” The voice over the loudspeaker belted.

“Well, that’s me.” Haruto said with a soft smile on his face. He got up and waved goodbye to you before heading to the back of the office.

Once he was safely out of sight you pulled out your notebook. Your face paled once you flipped through it a few times. You thought about what to do. What did this guy want? You wrote out all these questions in your notebook. Then you came to a conclusion of what to do and wrote that down in your notebook as well.

You ripped out a piece of paper from your notebook and scribbled your number on it. Then got up to the receptionist desk. “Hi, I don’t know if you’re allowed to do this. But when that guy Haruto comes out. Would you mind giving him this?”

You handed the sheet of paper over to her, the receptionist gave you a look and then a wink before accepting the sheet of paper. You figured that meant she accepted, so you waved goodbye and left the hospital.

“Excuse me sir!” The receptionist lady called out to Haruto as he was about to head out of the doctor’s office. What felt and looked like a nasty possible sprain on the lacrosse field just turned out to be a measly bruise.

Haruto approached the reception desk. “There was a young lady earlier. She asked me to give this to you before you leave.”

Haruto looked at the slip of paper. His eyes widened into the size of large gumballs when he realized what was on it. He felt like his heart would explode. But then his mind pumped the brakes, he wasn’t ungrateful, but why did you give him your number?

On the way back home you second guessed your decision at least 30 times. Why did you give him your number? The only reason you could think of was that you didn’t want to not know the guy. Contrary to what your mind and your diary told you. Your heart didn’t want to give him up. Maybe it was selfish and confusing, who knew? But who cared?

Haruto’s excitement was cut short when he finished punching your number into his contacts. Before he could even send a message to you, his phone rang. Hanbyul.

“Hey Hanbyul, what’s up?”

Haruto became alarmed when he heard a sniff and a muffled sob. “Haruto, I miss him.”

Haruto sighed. “He’ll come around soon.”

“Is there nothing you can do to make him come around sooner?”

“Hanbyul. If all goes well he’s going to be my teammate. Plus, what could I possibly say to change things?”

“I don’t know. He probably thinks there’s something going on between us.”

Haruto paused. “Is that why you’re friends with me?”

“No, no I swear it’s not. You’re an amazing person and you’ve been an amazing friend.”

“Hanbyul.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like what you’re asking me to do. But you are my friend. If you’re really sure this is the way you want to go about it.”

“I’m- I’m not sure. I just need things to change.”

On the third day of tryouts Haruto was in a funk. And it showed. The events of yesterday night haunted him, he was happy to see you but he was sorry for Hanbyul. Haruto didn’t really like to fight with anybody, but he found her requests unreasonable and the questions she asked about you probing and uncomfortable.

It seemed as if Jeongwoo was the same way. Haruto gave into the niggling voice inside his head and said probably he shouldn’t have said. “You’re gonna lose your girl to me and now you’re gonna lose your spot on the team to me?”

It pushed Jeongwoo off the edge and the two of them went at it. Haruto played ferociously and aggressively. As did Jeongwoo. The game ended when Jeongwoo illegally body checked Haruto.

“Dude what the hell is your problem?”

“No, what’s your problem? Your comment back there? Absolutely uncalled for.”

Valid. But Haruto wasn’t going to admit that. “Please. Pull your head out of your ass. You’re hurting your friend. Talk to her.”

Haruto stood by as he and Jeongwoo got scolded for their behavior. Eventually, tryouts ended with neither one ending up on the varsity team. Haruto knew he probably should have been more bothered but he wasn’t. He had other things on his mind.

When Haruto exited the office he saw Hanbyul waiting outside. She turned to look away from Jeongwoo back to Haruto. Tired and hopeful that their saga would end, Haruto smiled and jutted his chin out towards Jeongwoo. Hanbyul smiled and ran after Jeongwoo.

Since the fateful day you have Haruto your number. Whenever he had a free moment he would ask to see you. After each time you saw him, you thoroughly wrote down everything that had happened in the day. You didn’t want to forget.

A few Mondays ago, you went to get ice cream together. “What’s your favorite food, Haruto?”

“Me? Anything unhealthy.”

You whacked him on the arm for that.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a stupid teenage boy. And because I’m jealous of your metabolism.”

A couple Thursdays ago, Haruto asked you if you wanted to go watch a movie with him. The Uber and the weather didn’t quite work out. “Sorry we missed the movie by 45 minutes. But on the bright side, it’s not raining anymore!”

You laughed. “I guess you’re right. What should we do instead now that we’re here?”

Haruto looked around. He pointed at the grassy meadow. “We should just lay down on the grass and look at the stars.”

“The grass is wet.”

“Look, they're selling plastic tarps over at that convenience store. Let’s just buy one.”

“Okay.”

Haruto paid for a plastic tarp and spread it down out on the grassy meadow. The two of you laid on the ground parallel to one another. Until Haruto turned to you “can I hold you?”

You felt your face flush and you looked away. You hesitated for a few moments but eventually Haruto smiled when he heard a soft “yeah.”

So he moved his arm as you lifted your head to rest on top of it. You curled into him as his arm wrapped around your upper body. Haruto’s stomach exploded in butterflies. Your face was on fire. But the two of you were happy, blissful.

Last Friday night Haruto asked you to come to one of his lacrosse games. “Y/N, this is my friend Hanbyul. Hanbyul, this is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Hanbyul stared at you eyes wide. Like she knew something. She looked like she wanted to say something but she held it in. You wondered what it was, but decided not to think too much about it.

Hanbyul was sweet. She kept you company throughout the game. But she was an aggressive cheer-er. Most of her attention was spent yelling at the field. Her energy was contagious and by the end of the game you were standing on the bleachers cheering “Go Haruto!”

Now it was Saturday and the two of you had finally gone to see the movie that you had meant to see a couple Thursdays ago. You clasped onto the arm that Haruto had held out for you as you exited the movie theater. “That movie was so good! It was so crazy!”

Haruto laughed. “Yeah it was okay.”

“Just okay? You didn’t like it?”

“No, I liked it. It wasn’t bad. But I feel like there were better movies from this cinematic universe you know?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Which one was your favorite?” Haruto asked.

“Huh?” You looked up at Haruto to see him looking down at you. You turned away. “Um. Would you wanna come back to my place?”

“Huh?” Haruto wasn’t normally caught off guard but this time he was.

“I mean. Not like that. I just, I don’t know I’m not ready for the night to end and I figured since my place is close by we could just go back and chat.”

Haruto smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Let’s go.”

Soon after the two of you arrived at your place, Haruto got situated on the couch and after making sure he was properly settled in. You had gotten up to go fetch your drinks. Haruto spotted your notebook sitting on the edge of the coffee table. He glanced over to see that your attention was fully occupied on making your drinks. Haruto turned back to stare at the notebook. No. The notebook was staring at him. Haruto knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t peek.

But he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw you he either saw the notebook with you or he saw you writing the notebook and every time he even remotely looked in its direction you guarded it with your life. This could be his only chance.

And so, Haruto grabbed the notebook. He flipped through it and saw that it was very meticulously dated. Upon closer inspection he noticed that each entry was timed as well and every timed entry had extensive details about what you saw, what you talked about. Then he flipped backwards and found one page not like the others.

This page wasn’t dated. Instead, it was titled. Haruto. Haruto’s eyes widened. Every line of his designated page was filled. There were things about him on there that even he hadn’t realized he had said. Why had you written all these things down? All these details didn’t seem that important to him. They were like things that were probably easily remembered. Or things you could ask him about, he’d answer if you ever asked him about.

Just as he was about to continue flipping through the pages of the notebook. “What do you think you’re doing?”

An index card fluttered out of the notebook right at Haruto’s feet. Haruto bent down to pick it up. But in a panic you kicked his shin and as he howled and grabbed onto his leg you snatched the card. “What the hell Y/N?”

“No. I should be asking you that. I’ve made it abundantly clear that this notebook is not to be touched. It’s incredibly private to me.”

“What is it? Why is it so important? I asked Hanbyul what it might be and she just said it was probably a diary. What is so special about yours?”

“What is so special about mine?” you were so angry you felt like your head was about to pop. While your head didn’t pop. Your mouth certainly did. “What is so special about mine? This notebook? This notebook. Is my memory. I don’t have a memory.”

You tossed the card at Haruto. He picked it up and read the words on the card as you spoke.

“At age 13 you were involved in a very traumatic car accident. The accident left you in a coma for two weeks. After you recovered from your coma you were diagnosed with anterograde amnesia. From that day on, you no longer have the ability to make memories. The memories you make within a day will only last until you fall asleep wherein your memories of the previous day will be wiped. Use your notebooks to keep track of your days. Use these notebooks to help you remember.”

You could hear your voice waver as you finished reciting the contents on the index card.

“Y/N, I-” Haruto said. The world seemed grayer and grimmer. Everything made so much sense now. Why every time he spoke to you in school you had to ask for his name. Why sometimes you looked confused or blank when he mentioned something or attempted to crack a joke.

“So now you know.” You whispered. You could feel your body start to heave, your breathing became heavy. The gravity of what you had just exposed started to weigh down on you. “You need to leave. You need to leave and never come back.”

“Y/N. I wish you would have told me.”

“Why?” You snarled. “Why would I tell you that? Each day I wake up I can’t even remember who you are. Why would I have told you anything? Just so you could go around pitying me? Telling everyone else about me? Absolutely not.”

Haruto started to feel tears well up in his own eyes. He felt trapped in his own body as he watched your body fail yours. When he saw you collapse something snapped in his head and he got up and picked you up. One arm held you under your shoulder blades and the other below your knees.

“Get. Out.” you said in between wheezes.

“No. Y/N. I’m sorry. I don’t want to. Let me help you.”

“Get. Out.” you said, barely conscious.

“Y/N. You’re scaring me. What do I do? How do I help you? Let me help you and I’ll leave you alone.”

Your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what exactly was going on. Maybe it would be smart to have Haruto call your doctor before he left. “Emergency Numbers. Notebook.”

Haruto placed you down on your bed just as you had passed out. Haruto immediately ran back to the living room and grabbed your notebook that had fallen onto the ground. He flipped through it frantically. What page were the emergency numbers on? He saw them scribbled on the inside of the back cover. He grabbed his phone and dialed the first number listed at the top.

“Hello? Is this Y/N’s doctor? She’s just passed out and I don’t know what to do. I’m in her apartment right now. Someone please come help me.” Haruto hadn’t even realized that tears had been streaming down his face until he saw wet splotches appear on the notebook. He wiped them quickly and sniffed. “This is scaring me.”

“Yes, this is Y/N’s doctor. I’m on my way over. Who is this?”

“Haruto. I’m a friend of hers.”

“Haruto. You did good, son. Just wait. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Doctor. Is she gonna be okay?”

“Honestly I can’t tell you right now. I have to check up on her. Right now I’m in front of her door so you can let me in.” The call ended and Haruto opened the door.

“Is she in her room?” The stout man asked.

Haruto nodded and followed him back into your room. He tried to help the doctor but eventually the doctor turned to him and said “son, just relax. Give me some space. She should be fine. She had a panic attack, something must have worked her up. But she’ll wake up. But, it might be better if you aren’t here by the time she wakes up.

“I understand, doctor.”

The doctor took a good look at him. Then nodded grimly before turning his attention back to you. Before Haruto could leave though he saw a stack of index cards, a roll of washi tape, and a pen sitting on your desk. He was still holding your notebook from earlier. He grabbed the materials and headed back out to the living room.

Before he left he scribbled out a note. Then pulled something out of his wallet and taped it to the back of the index card. He then taped the index card to the inside of the front cover before shutting the notebook and leaving it in the middle of your coffee table. He held in a sob as he got up. How had things gone so sour so quickly?

Haruto walked back over to your room and peeked in. Your doctor was still busy doting on you. So he turned around and exited your apartment. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Junkyu. “Hey, can you pick me up?”

“Yeah of course. Send me the address.” Junkyu said, trying not to be too alarmed by the tone of Haruto’s voice.

Eventually, you woke up. After reading the note that your doctor had taped to your hand explaining the situation you took a deep sigh. What a shit show. You needed to find the notebook your doctor had mentioned in his note.

It was sitting in the very middle of your coffee table. You flipped through the last few pages to read your entries. Your eyes started to water and you felt yourself get emotional. You could sense that you had grown close to someone. You read about yourself and how you felt about Haruto, but who was Haruto? For the most part you had made peace with your situation but for the first time in a long time, you began to feel frustrated. Angry. Cheated of a normal life that other 16 year old girls got to live.

Just as you were about to shut the notebook you noticed there were two index cards taped to the inside cover. The first one explained your situation. It was more or less what your doctor had just explained to you. But the second one was new. You lifted it up to your face and began to read it aloud.

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you are the love of my life. My name is Haruto Watanabe and I am 16 years old. I met you for the first time in our freshman year of high school back then when we lived in Japan. We were only 14 years old. I used to be jealous of you, how you beat me in school every time even if just by a little bit. I also resented you because I thought you never bothered to remember my name.

By some stroke of fate, we both ended up in America. Whether by fate or not we saw each other a few more times and met up with each other and I really began to fall for you. You are the kindest, most beautiful, and genuine person I have ever met in my life.

I want you to know that even with your condition. My opinion and my feelings towards you have not changed. I want to be honest with you and tell you what I did and I hope in time you can read this and not feel angry.

Y/N, I did something bad. I invaded your privacy. You see, every time I saw you you fiercely guarded this notebook. Everytime I asked about it or possibly glimpsed at it you would react so strongly so eventually the curiosity of needing to know what was in the notebook killed me. And one day when your attention was occupied elsewhere, I read it.

It seemed like a regular diary to me but you caught me in the act and got upset with me. You explained to me your condition and I want you to know I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry I behaved so insensitively. If I were a more selfless man I would have left your life for good. But I am not. I’ve attached my school I.D. to the back of this card. On it has my name, my picture, and my phone number.

If you ever find it in yourself to forgive me. Please give me a call. I will always love you.

Love,

Haruto Watanabe

You flipped the back of the card over. Sure enough there was a school I.D. taped to the back. You pulled the card off and stared at it. The boy in the picture was handsome. He was tall. His height was 6’2”. You scoffed, at least you had good taste.

You saw his phone number at the bottom. You pondered over whether or not to call him, what would you even say to him? Where would he even fit in your life?

These were the questions that ran through your mind as you pulled your phone out and dialed his number. You stared at the numbers as you recited them aloud again. Your thumb hovering above the green button.

358 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

731 notes · View notes

sparklysung · 4 years ago

Text

✨ADRENALINE RUSH – n.j.m.✨

pairing – na jaemin x female!reader

genre – smut, slight angst | non-idol!au, school!au

warnings – good boy!virgin!jaemin, bad girl!experienced!reader, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), breeding kink, slight exhibitionism (library), creampie, marking, overstimulation

word count – 3.416 words

note – i got too much into it lol. it turned out so long, i’m sorry for that. i do hope you like it, i’ve been working on it for a few days now and it’s been rough. i’m hoping there aren’t too many errors, and if there are i apologize in advance, i know they are annoying. either way enjoy!

summary – as the local bad girl, your reputation was rather infamous. jaemin knew this and so he tried his best to stay away from you. but after getting paired up for a genetics project, he didn’t stand a chance against your desire to ruin his innocence.

taglist – @junguwuuu , @prvncejxon, @carelessshootanonymous

part i ; part ii

you were mindlessly playing with your pen, doodling on the margins of your notebook, ignoring completely what your genetics professor was explaining on the board in the front of the classroom.

that’s how class usually was for you; not paying attention to anything, just messing around with your highlighters, drawing more doodles to add to your collection or observing your classmates –not in a creepy way, though–. your professor wasn’t that clueless for you to nap until the end of the class, so you took advantage of whatever could keep you awake.

when your hand started to cramp due to the constant movement, you started looking around the room with a bored expression, letting your thoughts go to anything and everything that seemed the tiniest bit interesting. that was until he caught your eye.

na jaemin. perfect na jaemin. excellent grades, the teacher’s pet, always so polite to everyone. the type of guy every parent would want their daughter to date and the perfect role model.

and you were the opposite. you never really cared about school; getting high scores was useless from your point of view, so you never took it seriously. you were used to sneaking out of your house to attend parties and going home drunk with a different guy each weekend –cause life is short and why not–. your lifestyle earned you a ‘bad girl’ reputation, as well as the protagonism of multiple not-so-nice rumours.

you two were so different from one another, belonged to completely different worlds.

that’s why you were so intrigued by him.

it’s not like this was the first time you notice him, you can’t just not notice him. he was gorgeous, to say the least; perfect face, flawless skin, sparkly round eyes adorned with long eyelashes, pink plush lips, fluffy hair with soft dark locks that fell beautifully on his forehead, framing the soft expression on his face. oh yeah, how could you forget that long neck of his, with a prominent adam’s apple that made your mouth water with the thought of marking it with purplish bites. you’ve wanted to ruin him since the first day you laid eyes on him, make him break under your touch and need you as much as he needs oxygen to breathe.

“so, before the class comes to an end, i’m going to assign you in pairs for the project i was talking to you about a few minutes ago.” groans of annoyance were heard from all around the room, finally making you pay attention.

as the professor began mentioning the pairs, your attention drifted once again towards jaemin. he looked genuinely interested in what was being said; eyebrows furrowed in concentration while waiting for his name to be called.

“kim sohee and lee donghyuck,” your eyes wandered down toward his broad shoulders, strong arms and slender fingers. your teeth nibbled with your bottom lip, nails sinking against the palm of your hand as you felt your panties grow damp by the sole idea of him fingering you.

“na jaemin and y/l y/n,” your head snapped first in the direction of your professor, and then to his, who looked rather nervous sitting down a few desks in front of you, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. indeed, jaemin was nervous, so nervous that he felt like he was about to pass out. he could feel the looks full of pity his friends were throwing at him and it was making him feel even worse. he wasn’t too pleased either with the shot of excitement and anticipation he felt spreading across his body. you looked down at your hands, hair slightly covering your face as you tried to hide your devilish smirk.

you didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the pairs, being already too immersed in thoughts about every possible scenario that could take place while you two worked together on the project.

~.~.~.~

as soon as class ended, you threw your bag over your shoulder, making your way towards jaemin’s table and earning a couple of looks of disapproval from his friends. not letting that affect you, you approached him with a sweet smile plastered on your face. “hey,” his face shot up to look at you, hands still working on getting all his belongings inside his bag. straightening his back, he tried to look unaffected by your presence. he nodded his head shortly as a greeting and decided to get this over with as fast as he could.

“let’s work on the project at the library, right after class,” jaemin said, trying to sound confident, but you could see right through him; he was nervous. he figured that a place full of people was less risky rather than either of your houses, where you’d be alone and the possibility of something happening was a lot higher. you shrugged your shoulders, not really minding the location, “see you later, pretty boy.” you winked at him before making your way out of the room, leaving a flustered jaemin behind.

you were bad news, your name only coming up in conversations about breaking the rules, hookups during parties with lots of alcohol involved and other rumours. he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, all about you screamed ‘danger, beware’. and his friends had warned him, always making sure to constantly remind him not to get closer than needed or he would be doomed. but he couldn’t stop the fast beating of his heart nor the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

jaemin was certain this wasn’t going to end well, at least not for him.

and he was right.

~.~.~.~

a few hours later, jaemin and you were sat side by side on a slightly secluded table. he decided against sitting close to the entrance, as the internet connexion wasn’t so good and you were required to do internet research. he felt on edge every time your thigh brushed lightly against his, though he wasn’t sure if you knew what you were doing or if you were completely oblivious to the small touches.

but you sure weren’t oblivious of the way his body reacted with each of them, fingers gripping tightly the edges of the book he had opened in front of him. you on the other hand pretended to not notice, intently reading the thesis you had found in google scholars about multifactorial and complex diseases.

at some point, you figured it was time to make your move and shoot your shot. it seemed like he liked your proximity and lingering touches, as he had never –in all the time you’ve spent in the library– made an attempt to pull away or make you stop. also, by the look of the prominent tent forming inside his school pants, he appeared to actually be really fond of it. smiling to yourself, you continued as if nothing happened.

jaemin was internally panicking, he was aware that eventually you were going to notice his little –not so little– problem. he wanted to either bury himself underground or lock himself inside his room and wait until he passed away from inanition, starvation or dehydration, whatever happened first. he tried thinking about disgusting things to make it go away, like strawberries or the time when he was dared to lick his friend donghyuck’s sweaty foot, but nothing seemed to work.

you could make out the outline of his hard dick from the inside of his pants, biting your lips to contain the smirk making its way to your face. your hand snaked up his thigh until it was close to where he most needed you, making him shudder and squirm nervously under your touch. “w-what are you doing?”, he managed to ask, swallowing the lump in his throat. this was the first time a hand that wasn’t his own was touching him. because, of course, he wasn’t that innocent. he had needs like every guy his age, hormones all over the place and making him painfully aware of the pretty girl sitting so close to him. your scent intoxicating and addictive, almost making him lean closer.

you didn’t even care to respond, too fascinated by the feeling of his clothed member against your hand, hot and heavy. “s-stop, this isn’t right, w-we can’t do this here.” the panic present on his voice made a chuckle fall from your lips, making jaemin shrink in his seat.

“someone’s gonna hear us, w-we’ll get caught.” he didn’t know what else to tell you to make you stop, how could he convince you to stop when he didn’t want you to? you ignored his words and kept going, the idea of getting caught causing wetness to gather inside your panties. “then you’ll have to keep quiet,” the moan that slipped from his lips made you rub your thighs together to ease some of the tension.

you freed his member from the confines of his pants and briefs, pulling them down just enough for you to have easy access to it, but not so much to make it too obvious. he was big; thick enough to stretch you out nicely. you hummed in approval, spitting in the palm of your hand, going to grab ahold of his cock and slowly start to pump him. jaemin threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed shut and mouth agape in a silent moan. “does it feel good baby?” he hummed quietly, not trusting his voice. he leaned his body closer to yours, chest against your side while his head rested on your shoulder. “so needy”, you mumbled mockingly, to which his hips bucked slightly.

jaemin felt in cloud 9 having your soft hand wrapped tightly around his sensitive dick. he knew all of this was wrong, but it felt so good. he opened his eyes enough to be able to see you work on his shaft. your thumb flicked against his slit as it spread the leaking precum from the tip to the base. he was trying his best to avoid letting out any sound, afraid of drawing unwanted attention.

you could feel he was getting close by the stuttering of his hips, desperately thrusting back against your fist. and, as much as you wanted to see his face while cumming, you weren’t going to let him just yet. you needed him and you needed him now, your slick arousal starting to run down your inner thighs. you’ve had enough.

your hand stopped its ministrations, making him whine softly at the loss of friction. moving to straddle his thighs, you threw your leg over his until you were comfortably sitting on his lap, skirt riding up from your new position. your thin arms snaked around his neck, one going to tangle in his hair and the other to caress his jaw. his hands positioned themselves instantly in your hips, holding onto you for dear life. his eyes nervously wandered over your shoulder, making sure nobody was paying attention to what you both were doing.

you pulled his chin to get him to look at you, eyes hooded and filled with lust. you looked so hot, face flushed a pretty tone of red, eyes sparkling with mischief. he knew he would be jacking off to the thought of you for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of his life.

his thoughts were interrupted, heavy lids almost closing once again and mind going blank, as he felt you roll your hips against his hard cock, which was standing tall in between your bodies. biting your lip, you leaned in to kiss his, feeling for the first time his plump, soft pink lips against yours. a moan escaped your mouth at the sweet taste of his tongue, fighting against your desperately as if he would never be able to savour you again.

rising from his lap slightly, you used one of your hands to position the tip of his cock against your entrance and the other to push your panties aside. a soft groan left jaemin’s lips as he felt the wetness of your core. as you were about to lower yourself on him, he stopped you, fingers digging against your sides. “i-i have never done anything like this with anyone.” if you were being honest, you found his nervous stutter quite endearing. “then let me ruin you.” that was all it took for him to give in to you.

you pumped him a few more times, making sure to completely coat his shaft with both of your arousals. as you lowered yourself on him, you pulled him in for a heated kiss, swallowing his sounds of pleasure. when you had finally engulfed the entirety of his cock, you began moving your hips in circular motions, waiting for the both of you to get used to the feeling. the friction made him pull you closer, face buried in the crook of your neck while small whimpers left his lips, going straight to your core. your walls clenched around him tightly, drawing a loud groan from his chest, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

you kept kissing him, swallowing his groans and moans. he felt so good filling you up with his hard cock, he fit perfectly inside of you, as if he was made just for you; like a puzzle piece. “you feel so good, baby, stretching me out, so so good,” you praised him sweetly, hand running through his soft locks.

jaemin seemed to be unable to get enough of you. he didn’t want this to end, he wanted to stay with you –preferably inside of you–, be able to feel you so close and know he is the one who is making you feel so good.

“wait, fuck,” he gasped trying to catch his breath, “wait, i’m g-gonna cum if you keep going.” it hadn’t been long, but he was already worked up since you started touching him earlier. “is that so? remember we’re not using a condom, baby. if you cum inside me i could get pregnant.” you hummed, trying to get a reaction to your words out of him. and you got it as a higher pitched moan fell from his lips, feeling his grip on your waist tighten.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, huh?” you quirked an eyebrow, smirking to yourself when you felt him twitch inside of you. “yes”, he whimpered, vision blurred, the pleasure overpowering the fear of being caught. he found himself enjoying the thrill more than he should, almost embarrassed with how easily you could make him lose all his self-control. he knew you were playing with his mind, pushing him just enough to make him risk everything; his reputation, his image. exactly how you managed to get him to lose his innocence.

“what a filthy little boy, who would have guessed perfect student na jaemin was so much of a slut”, you whispered in his ear while raking your nails down his chest. jaemin could only buck his hips to meet yours, desperate to feel more, thighs burning from the effort. he was getting restless, unable to keep quiet as moans rolled off of his tongue with every roll of your hips. your mouth attached itself to his neck, biting harshly to leave pretty red marks that were soon to become purple. the sound of pages turning and typing on the library’s computers reminding you of where you were.

“please, i’m so close,” he didn’t even know what he was pleading for anymore, the only thing he knew was that he needed you, all of you, in every way possible; in every way you were willing to let him have you. “wanna cum inside my tight little pussy, baby? wanna fill me up with your hot cum and put your baby inside of me?” with glassy eyes and hot tears threatening to fall down his crimson cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure which was almost making him dizzy, he let out a string of ‘yes, yes, yes’. his hands clutched your hips to bring you closer, digging his nails on the flesh and leaving crescent moon shaped marks. a moan slipped from your lips, only increasing his desperation.

you picked up your pace, your naked thighs slapping lightly against his clothed ones. the both of you could hear the wet mewls your cunt made every time you lowered yourself on him until he was balls deep inside of you. his hips raised to meet yours, hitting your most sensitive spot with the tip of his cock, as he tried to match your fast rhythm.

jaemin didn’t know what to do with himself. he knew he had to be quiet or else someone was going to realize what was going on, but he physically couldn’t hold the sounds in. in fact, he could almost taste the faint taste of copper from biting too harshly on the flesh of his lips. on the other hand, you didn’t seem to have as much trouble to keep your cool, as only a couple of sighs of pleasure left your lips from time to time. little did jaemin know you were struggling to keep your mouth shut. every thrust of his hips causing him to hit deeper, the fucked out look in his face motivating you to go faster.

though you weren’t as close to cumming as he was, you knew this was his first time and it seemed like he was about to combust. it wouldn’t be so nice of you to make him wait longer, would it? “cum for me baby boy,” and that’s all it took for jaemin to reach his high, hips stuttering and hands trembling. feeling his seed paint your velvet walls, your hand went down your body to find your clit, starting to rub circles against your sensitive bud. a wave of pleasure shot through your body and made your hips jerk roughly against him. the sob jaemin let out went straight to your core making your climax approach faster than you would have thought.

taking advantage of the slippery mess he had made of the both of you, you slid up and down on him faster and with more strength. jaemin, seeing as you weren’t going to stop anytime soon, started growing impatient. “t-to much, p–ah, please, it’s too much”, but you didn’t stop, gripping his strong arms and grinding harder against him. “no, no, please, it hurts” he cried out desperately, begging you to stop bouncing on his oversensitive cock. you shook your head and pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. you smacked your mouths together, diving in for another sloppy kiss that had jaemin weak on the knees and a moaning mess.

when you tore away from him, jaemin brought his fist to his face and bit it hard, trying equally as hard to control himself. his second orgasm of the day was coming closer and oh was it going to be strong. when it finally happened, his eyes rolled to the back, head dropping back. that was the last straw as you felt yourself coming, walls tightening and clenching around him to milk him dry, the movements of your hand becoming sloppy. he felt light-headed, slightly blacking out for a few seconds until he managed to recover his consciousness.

using his shoulders to help yourself off of him, you let him slip out of you. jaemin winced from the oversensitivity, hands quickly tucking himself inside his pants. as you fixed your ruined panties and messy hair, properly tidying up your clothes, you once again threw your bag over your shoulder. he eyed you with a disoriented look in his face, confused as to what you were doing.

he saw you turn around on your heels before walking out of the library, only your panties preventing his cum from running down your thighs. you left him there, without a single word, not even spared him a glance. you walked away from him as if you didn’t just fuck the life out of him, as if he hadn’t just gifted you his virginity, or more like as if you hadn’t just stolen it. as if all the kisses you shared and loving pet names you used on him meant nothing.

and the worst part of it all was the pang of hurt jaemin felt in his heart when realization fell down on him like a bucket of cold water.

to you, that moment meant nothing. because to you, he didn’t mean anything.

–lia:)

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nothoughtsonlynat · 4 years ago

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Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives.

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up.

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.”

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.”

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man.

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fic #natasha one shot #black widow #black widow x reader

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candychronicles · 4 years ago

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carve // k. bakugou

A/N: hello and welcome to my take on the all about bakugou bnharem collab! this is a potential intense read so please heed all warnings!

this is a continuation of quarantine that i wrote last year for a harem collab. it’s not required to read in order to read this story but feel free to read if you’re interested!

i am so sorry that i solely write for collabs now lol

CHARACTER PAIRING: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3,050

WARNINGS: heavy knife play (mentions of blood, wounds, weapons), super intense emotions, oral (f!receiving), good ol fashioned penetration, implications of a lighter skin tone if you squint

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend suggested to try a new kink over quarantine yet life was beginning to resume some semblance of normalcy with no excitement in sight. what was going on?

want to enjoy more bakugou? i mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t?

head on over the the masterlist!

you did not, in fact, try anything risker. bakugou balked at the thought of hurting you once he got over the high he was in, lusting over the fact that you were able to put him in his place so easily, though he would never admit that. he wouldn’t admit a lot of things, in fact, like how he was afraid he was going to slip and cut too deep, how he thought you secretly didn’t trust him, how he wasn’t and never would be good enough. all these thoughts kept running through his head as time went on, as quarantine sunk deeper and deeper into chaos, as he got called back into action much sooner than expected and never really got a chance to spend time with you like he really wanted to.

over a year had passed since the last first and last time he had ever brought the knife up. you had asked him plenty, showing him different blades, trying to get him wound up, but he always pushed the thought away, fucked you into submission, or if you were being particularly relentless, let you fuck him. it kept you at bay for awhile but you both knew that things wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

it was on a normal tuesday evening that you sat him down for a serious chat. he had been gone for awhile, quarantines lifting up left and right, people getting vaccines and life returning to as normal as it could be after what everyone had went through. he was distant, stressed, unsure of life and frustrated with how he was feeling and you could tell. he didn’t, however, know that you were that observant and he was sure that you were going to kick him to the curb. honestly, how could he blame you with the way he was treating you, acting like you were some fragile doll that needed to be kept at arm's length wrapped in bubble wrap your whole life? fearing he would break some sort of trust between you two or worse, snap you in half. it wasn’t until he felt your gentle hand on his own that he realized he’d been consumed in his own thoughts.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” you finally asked, not one to beat around the bush.

“nothing’s wrong babe, just tired, you know i’ve been working a lot,” he brushed off, going to stand up.

you didn’t give him the chance though, yanking his hand so that he was pulled forward, slamming into the table.

“don’t. lie. to. me,” you commanded, anger evident on your face, brows furrowed and eyes challenging straight ahead.

he sat down with a sigh, not sure of where to begin or even if he had the strength to say anything to you, but before he could, he heard your voice, unusually meek, ask “was it something i did?”

his hand tightened around your own before he realized he was squeezing harshly, quickly letting go and rubbing his fingers as if he had burned you, which he might as well have with the way you recoiled at his actions.

“Katsuki, please, if there’s something i did, at least tell me. i’m going crazy watching you run away from me without me even knowing what’s going on.”

fists clenching under the table, he huffed, attempting to collect his thoughts once more. he knew now that there was no running from this, no more hiding his feelings or wallowing in his own despair and pity.

“i’m afraid of hurting you. during sex, especially. with the knife kink, ya know?”

you cocked your head at his, eyes squinting as you tried to analyze what he had just said.

“i’m not made of porcelain. i think that, as adults, you and i can have a conversation about boundaries, safety, how to keep in communication and what to properly do during aftercare. it’s really not any different from the conversations we’ve had before in any part of our life, really.”

“but what if i go too far?”

“then i’ll just embarrass you by going to the hospital and telling them that my boyfriend’s monster cock split me in half. m’sure they’ve heard worse,” you teased, reaching out to poke at his forehead that was set in a permanent wrinkle, face scowling at how nonchalantly you were talking about this.

“i’m serious, what if i fuck up and cut too deep or nick an artery or accidentally slip and stab you or you sneeze and stab yourself or-”

“hey, ‘Suki,” relax. it’s why we’ll educate ourselves and take it slow. you’re not putting a knife to my neck after all. we’ll learn and talk together so that we’re both feeling safe and if you still don’t want to do it after then that’s fine! we have a great sex life as is. i don’t need every one of my kinks fulfilled to be happy and satisfied with you.”

despite the insecurities and confusion that settled in his brain like a thick fog, he nodded his head, agreeing to learning and trying this new experience with you. secretly, he was ecstatic, his cock twitching as he thought about carving his name into your body, but the logical part of his brain still wasn’t convinced.

you two spent the night educating yourself, figuring out what blade you wanted to purchase, how to keep it clean, how to safely take care of wounds, both minor and major, safety do’s and dont’s and going over boundaries and safe words. it was hours later that you both collapsed into bed, thoroughly tired yet satisfied after the conversation and education that had just taken place.

three days later, a nondescript package arrived at your door, simply labeled with the postage and address. you quickly grabbed it and rushed inside, careful to close the door quietly. Bakugou had the day off and spent most of the morning doing paperwork, only now choosing to workout in order to get rid of the boredom that was already seeping into his brain.

you tore the package open as quietly as possible and shimmied the box tucked inside the package out, careful not to damage anything, popping it open and smiling at the sight inside. a shiny blade stared back at you, hilt a forest green, deep and inviting. you pulled the object out, running your finger along the cool metal, admiring the way it glinted in the harsh kitchen light.

quickly, you scrambled into the bedroom, eager to see what Bakugou would think but when you peeked your head inside the room, it was dark. you frowned before realizing he had already sat down at his desk, tolling away at the mounds of papers he had to go through. sighing, you gently placed the blade down on the dresser, forgetting about it as the day went on.

it was only when you were in the shower later that evening, ready for bed, that you remembered you didn’t put it away. you hurried to finish, barely throwing a towel on yourself before whipping the door open only to see he had already spotted the object.

Bakugou was twirling it in his hands, testing the weight, prodding at the tip with his fingers, letting out a sharp hiss when the blade nicked his finger.

without thinking, you stepped forward, taking his hand into your own before slowly lifting it up to your lips, sucking on the wound, the taste of iron and his own sweet flavor hitting the roof of your mouth. you watched him with hooded lids as your towel dropped haphazardly to the floor, body still dripping from the shower.

“princess, you’re playing a dangerous game tonight.”

you only hummed around his finger, stepping closer to him, pressing your wet body to his, shivering at the warmth he radiated. he pulled his hand away from your mouth, choosing instead to cup your chin and bring it closer to him.

“are you sure you want to do this? do you remember everything we learned?”

“i’m sure, Katsuki, i promise. we have our safety words if things get out of hand, yeah? but i’m sure it won’t,” you reassured, blinking up at him with such sincerity it nearly took his breath away.

with the knife tucked firmly in one hand, Bakugou led you to the bed, laying you down gently, propping your head up and settling into your thighs, kissing, biting, sucking.

he took one deep breath, hands trembling, before the coolness of the blade just barely grazed your skin. you took a sharp inhale of breath but before he could ask what was wrong, he heard you beg for him to do it again.

his tongue came out to press flat against your clit and you jolted, his one hand coming down to hold you still and the other using the knife to trace lazy shapes along your thighs, up your pelvis and around your stomach.

you struggled to maintain your breath, the sharp scratch of the knife as it tickled your skin contrasted with the soft and soothing tongue of Bakugou as he leisurely lapped at your sensitive nub. you begged and pleaded for more friction, white knuckling the sheets as you tried to keep your composure but all he did was sadistically smile and hum, the vibrations driving you crazy.

he kept up that pace for a while, the blade leaving behind bright pink swirls on your skin, tickling and pinching you at the same time. it was all so exhilarating, knowing that something bad could happen and yet being at the complete mercy of your boyfriend.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was stalling for time. he wanted so badly to claim you as his own and yet he was still convinced this wasn’t what you wanted. he thought you were faking it or doing it for his own pleasure and yet in this moment, all he wanted to do was please you, make you feel good, make you know that nobody would ever lay a hand on you besides him, that you were and would be his forever. he felt so strongly about you and about you being his that he didn’t even notice he was applying more pressure to the blade until you let out a gasp.

immediately he sat up, blade dropping clumsily to the bed as he examined your hips, realizing he had nicked the thin skin on your pelvic bone. he stared blankly at the red welt, a pinprick of blood seeping out of the cut. numbly, he looked up at you, ashamed he had hurt you. before he had a chance to open his mouth and apologize, however, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his own, teeth gnashing. he was sure he tasted blood but the way you were kissing him, he didn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to.

“Katsuki, i need more, please. i need you, all of you, need your name carved into my body, need to know that i’m the only one for you.”

he paused, hands coming to gently push you away, looking into your eyes to see what kind of game you were playing but all he saw was that same sincerity and desire as always.

“i just hurt you know. what if i go too far?”

you grabbed his face fervently, squishing his cheeks with your hands.

“I trust you with my life. I always have and I always will. I am yours as you are mine. I want, no I need, this from you. Please.”

his heart practically squeezed in his chest, an unusual lump forming in his throat as he stared at you, at the way the tears pooled at your lashes, how you looked at him like he was the sun, how your warm breath caressed his face and your soft hands held him so tenderly. it was in that moment that he finally realized how much you loved him, trusted him, needed him as much as he needed you.

no words were spoken as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, laying you back down gently on the mattress, knife picked up firmly in his hand as he splayed his other across your stomach, stretching and pulling at the skin to make it taut. he didn’t even think before he put the blade to your skin and began carving the first line in the K.

the first cut stung, a slow, agonizing pain as he sliced straight up and down, pinpricks of blood following in the wake of his actions. he looked up at you, making sure you were okay, but you were already placing your hand on the blade, urging him to continue.

the next few lines continued to sting but with it came an utmost sense of security and pride. he was carving you, embellishing his name into your body, carving you, marking you, molding you to become a piece of his own flesh. you were his canvas, his artwork, the beauty that was brighter than the stars. he was the sun, hot, fiery, full of temper and you were his moon, patient, calm, full of emotion. together, you two worked in tandem, balancing each other out, keeping each other in line, never able to fully connect but never being able to stay away from one another. but today, on this glorious evening, the sun and the moon meet, an eclipse in the night, destined to become one, and as the blade finished slicing you, the final stroke, the “I” to end it all, your souls merged.

Bakugou stared back at his own name, his first name, carved along your skin, rivulets of red pooling along your skin, eager to be released from their confines. his hand came to gently wipe away your skin, wincing as you hissed.

“let me get you cleaned up.”

he tried to get up, he really did, but when you reached for him, your voice wanton, begging him to fuck you, pleading, saying that you needed him now more than ever, he sunk back down onto the bed, his shirt flinging over his head, clothes kicked off to the side. gingerly, he climbed on top of you, not even getting a chance to adjust or make sure you were okay before you were trapping him in your legs, pulling your bodies practically flush, his cock sitting heavily against your aching cunt.

“baby, please, i want you too, so fucking bad, but i need you to tell me you’re okay first, need you to talk to me before we go any further,” he begged, eyes searching your own frantically to make sure you didn’t get lost in the emotions.

“m’okay ‘Suki, promise. just need y’so bad, please.”

he breathed deeply through his nose, cock twitching painfully, before he situated himself properly between your legs, gently thrusting into you, nearly gasping out as you sucked him in, soaking wet and eager for his touch.

“fuck baby, you’re so wet. been waiting for me to fuck you senseless, hm?”

you only whined out in response, hands curling around his neck to pull him closer to you, sealing him in a kiss and wriggling your hips.

he obliged without question, too consumed in the feeling of you, your scent, the stickiness of the blood, your hands in his hair, everything about you was driving him crazy. you were everything to him and he could feel in the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you cried as he kissed you, how you whispered over and over again how much you loved him, how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, how you needed him at your happiest and darkest moments in life, how you two would meet in every life and love each other no matter what, he felt it all. so much so that his own tears began falling, soaked in your soft skin, slipping between each kiss, sealing your fate with one another.

his thrust were slow and deliberate, taking his time, savoring every breath that he stole from you, every gasp and moan and cry and prayer as you worshipped him over and over again. your body was on fire, adrenaline making your toes curl and fingers tingle, head dizzy from lack of air but you couldn’t stop, meeting his thrust with your own, legs locked tightly around his torso, hands pulling him impossibly closer, loving the way his body set you on fire. you were drowning in the flames and yet only wanted to sink deeper into heat, consumed by the tranquility it gave you. you were at peace, body alight with pleasure as your chest met his, back curling off the bed as he rocked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.

it only took a few moments of your cunt clenching around his cock before he came, thrusts becoming sloppy as he rode you both through your high. breaths were caught, bodies untangling from one another as you came to your senses. after a few minutes, Bakugou gently began stroking your cheek, bringing you back to reality, going through his checklist as he made sure you were okay after what had happened.

after he had gotten you some water and began tending to your wounds, you looked at him, hand coming to gently grip his, stroking the calloused palms of your lover.

“thank you, Katsuki.”

he looked at you like you had two heads before scoffing, claiming that he only did what you two wanted to do before finishing cleaning you up, going to the bathroom to take his own shower and wash the blood off of himself. you laid there, donned in one of his shirts, taking in your emotions, when the door opened up, Bakugou stepping out dressed in sweatpants, flashing you a rare soft smile as he took in the name carved on your stomach.

“y’know, that’s just the beginning,” he started, coming over to lay down next to you, gently pulling you into his side, kissing the top of your head and watching the way you looked at him, expectant and full of love.

“you’re not going to just have my name carved on you, princess. soon, i’ll give you my last name too.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #tw: knife

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, fingering, littlest bit of dirty talk, praise!kink, soft soft soft FLUFF hours, a bit of a filler chapter before the last chapter!! 😭 I can’t believe it’s almost ‘over’... This chapter has the least amount of smut yall will ever see with fratboy!wonwoo so don’t get used to it ☠️ LMAO 🤣🤣 also... it’s been a garbage week(boring work drama) for me so I’ll answer inbox msgs and stuff on sunday, I need to get away from the internet(and people) for a day dkfjhskh 😭💕 Ya’ll thank you for so much love and support with Caffeine and Until I Met You! It means so much to me and I appreciate every like, reblog and comment I get on it 🥺💕 No I will never be ending my fratboy!wonwoo au so don’t worry about that hehe 💕 For now, enjoy this soft ch 4 and I will see yall on Sunday! I love you, have a great weekend! 💕

[mood for this chapter: more than enough - alina baraz]

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x

“So…”

Wonwoo sighs - re-shelving another Edgar Allen Poe book. “So, what?”

Mingyu tilts his sunglasses down, eyebrows raised at the older male that continues to do his job instead of give him the time of day. “What’s going on with you, hyung? You’ve been… weird.”

“Okay, define weird.”

The younger male pouts as he takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them as he leans up against the bookshelf that Wonwoo is currently still shelving.

It only takes one utterance of your name for Wonwoo to stop in his tracks - fingertips on the spine of another book as he turns to Mingyu. “What about her? Did she say something to you?”

“No, but do you like her? I mean, ‘like’ like her.”

“Is it not… obvious? That I do? Did we not all collectively have that conversation about me giving her a set of keys to our house?”

Mingyu grimaces slightly as he mentally goes through all the times he’d even seen the two of you together and he’s only able to conjure up a few select memories - none of which were anything necessarily romantic. “Well… I wouldn’t say ‘obvious’, I guess. The two of you aren’t exactly the ‘kiss and hold hands in public’ kind of... people. More like the, ‘sneak off to fuck in a public restroom’ kind... Which, uh, isn’t really... romantic.”

This time, Wonwoo crosses his arms and leans up against the opposite bookshelf as he sighs.

It’d been a few days since he’d seen you and you’d been swamped in so much class work that you didn’t even have the time to come by the library or the frat house. And even while Wonwoo stood in between the bookshelves having a conversation with Mingyu, you were finishing an art project with Minghao that was due by the end of the day.

“I know. I told her it’d be kind of a slow crawl for me.” He plucks another book from the cart, staring at the glossy text as he simmers in his thoughts. “Mingyu, am I awkward?”

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

Mingyu steps forward, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder as he smiles.

“You like her and you’re trying even if you’re not used to it. You gotta start somewhere, hyung. Even if you’re a fish out of water. But that’s okay, you can ask me for help if you want!”

“When are you gonna put a ring on Wonwoo-hyung?”

You snort at Minghao’s question - reaching for a clean paintbrush as he stands across from you in the large, empty studio. “First of all, can you not say it like that? I’m not gonna marry him, okay.”

The male rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you; his own hands and clothes covered in a colorful array of paints. “So you’re saying you never imagined hyung in a suit, hair slicked back and his buff arms carrying you off into your honeymoon?”

“W--wh--n--no! No, I haven’t!” You avoid his piercing stare as you focus on your end of the large canvas instead.

No, but I dreamt about it once.

“‘Hao, would you hurry! We’re supposed to be collaborating on this and it looks… like it’s 5 different art styles.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. And anyway, I like what you’re doing to hyung. Breaking him out of his shell, y’know? He’s just shy, that’s all. Needs a little work in the bold department.”

You bite down the urge to laugh because to you, Wonwoo was everything but shy when it came to the bedroom. Although, Minghao was right with everything else. “Yeah, I know. We went for breakfast together after I, um, stayed over a few nights ago and he kinda just sat there zoned out, picking at his waffles. He’s really cute when he wakes up in the morning though. Pouty and whiny.”

Grinning at Minghao, he pretends to gag in response before taking a seat next to you.

“Disgusting. Tell me more.”

Wonwoo makes an effort to check in with you throughout the day before he heads back to his room - asking you if you’d had your meals and if you’d finished your project on time.

You’d answered sporadically as you and Minghao raced to finish.

‘I’ll eat late probably… rly gotta finish or else my ass is failing lol’

‘Just don’t forget, okay? It’s not good for you to skip.’

Wonwoo lays down in his bed; yawning as he sets his phone onto the nightstand next to himself.

His eyelids feel heavy and he’s quick to give in to the tiredness that takes over him once he gets comfortable.

When Wonwoo finally decides to shift during his nap, he finds it difficult and extra warm.

“Mmh…”

His bleary eyes adjust to the, now, slightly darkened room as he makes out your figure tucked underneath his arm. He calls your name softly - waking you up from the nap that you’d apparently joined him in.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…” You snuggle in deeper, voice still laced with sleep. “You didn’t even budge when I came in…”

He chuckles softly as he readjusts to spoon you from behind instead; his strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep your body flush against his own.

“I’m surprised you came by, sweetheart. I would’ve just stayed awake had I known you were coming over.” His voice is groggy and laced with sleep as you sigh softly in return as you blink away the sleepiness.

“How was your day at the library? Miss me yet?” Wonwoo smiles into your shoulder before he tilts his head up to kiss the shell of your ear.

“Always, sweetheart. Although, Mingyu decided to keep me busy today.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

He plays with the hem of your shirt, “Well… Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe what that was. Nosy was more like it.”

This time you can’t help but snort in response. “You too? I think some people were being ‘lil moles today.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Did you end up just coming back here with Minghao from the studio?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, to be honest but… S’been a rough day.” Placing your hand over his arm, you squeeze slightly as you pull his arm around you tighter. “Our professor came by while we were working in the studio and said our project wasn’t up to par with what Minghao and I usually submit for projects. She didn’t fail us on the spot but she said we need to redo it for less credit or take the failing grade.”

Wonwoo nuzzles your neck; peppering small kisses on your clothed shoulder. “I take it the two of you are going to redo it?”

“Mm… We spent so long coming up with a concept and now we’re both stressed about coming up with something new. I walked over here with ‘Hao and he locked himself up in his room as soon as we got here. Figured I’d come hang out with you and found you napping… With your glasses on, no less.”

The two of you share a laugh; Wonwoo’s embrace making you feel more at ease.

“Can I help you de-stress a little, sweetheart?”

You stare at the opposite wall, nodding gently as Wonwoo’s hand leaves the hem of your shirt in favour of the waistband of your shorts.

“Just want you to feel good,” he whispers. “You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard, baby.”

He teases you softly; fingertips ghosting across your skin as you shiver. “Ah, Wonwoo…”

“You worked extra hard today too, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you for what you accomplished today.”

Your body heats up at his praise and you can’t deny that his deep, soft voice sends thrums of arousal pouring over your body just as he dips his hand into your lounge shorts. He touches you over your panties - fingertips ghosting against your mound as you moan his name shakily in return.

“I know your new idea is going to be great, baby. I believe in you.”

Soft whines threaten to spill as Wonwoo strokes you over your panties - slowly working you up as you find yourself trying to grind against his hand. “Y-yeah… ‘m p-pretty sure ‘Hao’s already working on it…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as Wonwoo continues to stroke you gently; making no efforts to rush or add pressure to his feather-light touches.

A disappointed noise falls from your lips when he starts to pull his hand out of your shorts but it quickly turns into a content sigh when he starts teasing your chest instead.

“Mm, so soft…” Muttering against your shoulder, his eyes stare off into the dark room as he massages your body. “And all mine~”

You hum in response, “We should go on a date sometime…”

“You want to? We can go this weekend. After you’ve redone some of your project. I’ll take you somewhere nice for a job well done.”

You giggle softly; images of a wedding day’s Wonwoo dancing in your mind after the conversation you’d had with Minghao earlier. “I’d like that. We should do something for the whole day.”

“Whatever you’d like, baby.”

Wonwoo’s hand flits down your body again - snaking into your shorts and, this time, into your panties as you whine. “Do you wanna cum or go back to sleep, hmm?”

You ponder it for a second as the drowsiness equates the urge to cum on his fingers.

“Both? I wanna cum and then sleep a little more... If that’s okay?”

Wonwoo hums in agreement as his fingertips drag through your folds - collecting the wetness on them before he teases your soaked hole. “Only a little teasing gets you this wet, hmm? So cute.”

“Ah, f-feels good when you go slow t-too...”

He stores that away in his head for later; chuckling against your shoulder as he slowly starts to dip his middle finger into your cunt.

You feel warm and content when he starts a slow pace - thumb on your clit rubbing soft, slow circles while he pumps his finger into you.

“O-oh, Wonwoo...”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always such a good girl.”

“Ah, Wonwoo...”

“You can cum whenever you want. You deserve it.”

He adds his index finger - thrusting both fingers into you as you mewl and arch away from his warm chest. Your toes curl and your thighs clamp and trap his hand between your legs as you start to grind down onto his nimble fingers.

“...W--Wonwoo...”

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, let me hear your pretty voice when your cumming for me.”

You turn your head - cries muffled into his pillow because despite his slower than usual pace, you find yourself already on the brink of cumming with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit.

“Mmh... Ah... Feels s-so warm... and g-good...” You mutter, eyes blinking drowsily. “Gonna c-cum...”

He doesn’t say anything in return as he focuses on you and your pleasure; fingers scissoring and curling right into your g-spot as you clamp down onto them in a vice grip.

Wonwoo knows when you’re about to cum when he feels your hand coming down on his forearm, holding onto him for dear life when your orgasm still hits you just as hard.

“Ngh, Wo---Wonwoo!”

Your walls flutter around his fingers and make it harder for him to thrust them in and out with how tight you get.

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby~”

His deep voice makes you whine - nails digging into his arm and body trembling as the pleasure steadily washes over you.

“Ah, bet your face is so pretty right now too~”

“Mmh, s-stop...” Your cheeks burn in slight embarrassment from his constant praise but you can’t deny the way it goes straight to your core and only prolongs your orgasm.

“Don’t be so shy, baby. It’s only you and me here.”

Wonwoo leans away slightly to kiss the crown of your head - still working you through your orgasm as you sigh contentedly in his arms.

Various thoughts run through his head in the moment, but the one that sits at the forefront of his mind is definitely how to make sure he kept treating you right.

Starting with your date that he would spend time meticulously planning.

‘Ah, I should ask Mingyu for some advice.’

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #wonwoo fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #uimy_meltwonu

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piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container.

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen.

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her.

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process.

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

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endlessymphony · 4 years ago

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Hi congrats on 50 Followers !!!!

🧸 : James Potter x reader where he spends a lot of time with the marauders and kinda ignores the reader and forgets their anniversary. So they get into a big argument and James says something mean about her being a muggle born.

Happy ending please 😁

Thank you 🙏

thank you so much lovely anon!

apologies.

pairing - james potter x reader

summary - james forgot your two year anniversary and left you waiting all day, just to come to your dorm and end up starting an argument

warnings - arguments, a bit of prejudice against muggles/muggle-borns, cussing

a/n - im really glad you guys like my james potter fics lol

you awoke, a rush of adrenaline and giddiness taking over as you practically shot yourself out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets you shoved onto the floor. you rushed over to the calendar hanging on the back of your door, bare feet pitter pattering on the hardwood floor, and yes! today was the day! the hearts circled in pen around the date only confirming your excitement.

your two year anniversary with the one and only james potter. your heart pounding a million miles a minute- feeling it ought to beat right out your chest. below the heart was written ‘surprise date’ in his handwriting, as he insisted that he could handle planning this date on his own. he was wrong, although you weren’t aware of that quite yet.

you spun yourself in a circle, making small noises of glee as you tossed yourself back onto your bed, thinking of what james might be up to. “oh merlin, i need to get ready.” you gasped, sitting back up and rushing over to your wardrobe.

it took an hour to find an outfit that you deemed ‘perfect’, settling on a top that you knew james loved. you spent another thirty minutes on hair and makeup, overjoyed to be spending the day with your beloved.

the waiting game began.

at first it was difficult to wait for him, adrenaline still rushing through your veins- body running off of pure excitement.

an hour passed, then two... then five, and soon it was much darker outside, the sun starting to set.

‘maybe he’s held up grabbing flowers, or making dinner reservations’ you thought, trying to push away the anxiety that was slowly creeping in to replace the high that you were feeling before. ‘oh! maybe we’re doing a night under the stars, how gorgeous would that be’

so, you continued to wait

but he never showed.

james finally came stumbling in to your dorm room at half-passed twelve, chuckling at the sight in front of him. you were wrapped up in a blanket, laying in your bed so that your back faced the door, hiding your hurt expression from him.

“hey, love.” he crooned as he walked over and sat down beside you on the bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “the boys and i had a great day today, you won’t believe what we got up to!”

you slowly sat up, turning to look at him. tear stains on full display, mascara making them all-the-more obvious. james let out a small gasp, hand moving to cup your face. “oh no, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he gently smoothed his thumb over your cheek.

you pulled yourself away from his touch, throwing the blanket off like you had done this morning, but a different feeling had taken over by this point. anger. disappointment. hurt.

you dragged him by the arm and pointed to the date on your calendar, tapping the paper with your pointer finger a few times so he would get the gist. “what are you trying to tell me, y/n?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, trying to play the dumb card.

“you missed our anniversary, james. it’s been two years.” you felt defeated, like every ounce of life had been drained out of your body, and you were now an empty shell. “i waited for you” you began, “all day.”

“it’s not that big of a deal, let’s just do something this weekend instead.” he offered, a smile making its way to his face.

god- you wanted to punch that stupid fucking smile off his face.

“not that big of a deal, james? you left me hanging. ALL DAY i waited.” you were starting to get angry, your voice starting to waver as it raised in decibels. “you knew how much this meant to me! or so i thought you did, but lately, it’s like everyone else is MUCH more important than i am.” your hands balled into fists, brows furrowing slightly as you started to let him have it.

“and don’t you fucking dare say this isn’t a big deal, james potter.” you spat, voice like venom as your said his name. “you really let me down, you really fucking blew it this time, i am really fucking upset about this.”

“i should’ve known that muggles overreact over everything.” he muttered to himself, brows practically knitted together as he ran a hand through his hair. his eyes widened as soon as he said that, opening his mouth to apologize to you.

“you know what james, just fucking leave, just get out.” your lip started to quiver, eyes threatening to spill hot tears down your face all over again, you wanted to hold your composure in front of him. your heart felt as if it had completely shattered in your chest. “really? you really want me to leave?” it was his turn to feel defeated, face started to relax from its scrunched up state.

“yeah, i do. now get the fuck out.”

james looked as if he had his tail between his legs, shoulders slumping down as his whole body started to deflate in defeat. embarrassment. shame. “okay.” his voice was small, this version of him was completely different from the ‘regular’ james that you knew and loved. he walked out, turning to look at you, but you just slammed the door in his face.

you cast a quick silencing charm before you began to scream-sob. tears feeling as if they’re burning your skin- falling to your knees as you let the waves of heartbreak, pain, and anger completely take you over. you cried until you couldn’t anymore, head pounding and eyes starting to get puffy and red. you screamed until you couldn’t any longer, voice hoarse and throat feeling as if it were on fire.

you sobbed still, silently, nothing coming out as you had nothing left to give. “thanks james, thanks for making me feel so loved... so appreciated.” your voice was broken, cracking with every word. you laid on the floor, wishing that it would swallow you up, so you could disappear and never have to feel a thing.

you ended up falling asleep, the whole day taking it’s toll on you. you had nothing more to give, no more fight left in you.

james knocked on your door lightly, afraid that you were about to tear his head off the moment that he stepped inside your dorm. “y/n?” he asked, tone merely above a whisper as he slowly opened the door and stepped in. james closed the door gently, eyes finally falling on your figure laying on the floor.

he felt a pang of pain shoot through his heart. “i caused this.” he mumbled, taking a few slow steps towards you and sitting down. he felt tears welling in his eyes, a few managing to slide down his face as he looked at you. james felt nothing but remorse and disappointment for how things went earlier. he had completely forgotten about the anniversary- what a dick move.

your eyes flickered open, vision slightly out of focus as you try to figure out who’s figure is in front of you. low and behold it was james, crying, mumbling about how he knows he fucked up- and it’s eating him up inside, and about how much he loves you.

you began to sit up, blinking a few times to wave the sleep from your eyes. “james?” you asked, voice still torn up. his head shot up, trying to wipe away the tears with his hands. “hey.”

“what are you doing here?” you asked, “sh. don’t talk, you’ll blow your voice out.” james replied. “i wanted to come back and apologize to you. i feel awful about earlier, and i know how much i hurt you with my actions, especially with my comment about muggles.” he gently cupped your face again, “i didn’t mean it, i promise. i really didn’t mean it.” he sniffled, trying to keep the tears away, but despite his efforts- they returned. “i really love you. god, i’m a shitty fucking boyfriend, aren’t i?” james chuckled, trying to ignore the tears now steaming down his face.

“james.” you started, “no, y/n, i need to make it up to you for how terrible today was. i need to show you that you’re loved, and make you feel important and special, and like the only person in the world.” he started to trip over his words, talking fast out of nervousness, he didn’t want you to kick him out again.

“can we talk about it more later?” you finally managed to ask, “yeah. yeah, sure. definitely. you can sleep in tomorrow and i’ll go and get you some breakfast, does that sound alright?” he was rambling again, trying to ‘fix’ everything. you nodded, a small smile beginning to grace your lips.

“now let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he stood up and offered a hand to you. “we have time for apologies tomorrow.” you took his hand hesitatingly, slowly standing up, legs a bit wobbly.

james walked you to your bathroom, grabbing you by the waist and sitting you up on the counter. he began to lightly hum to himself as he pulled out a bottle of makeup remover and some cotton rounds, pouring some of the liquid onto the round and gently starting to clean the makeup off your face. he washed your face and brushed your hair for you after, as well.

he helped you change into your pyjamas, and placed you into bed, picking up the blankets off the floor and placing them back on the bed- tucking you in. he leaned in and kissed your head before stripping down to just his t-shirt and boxers, placing his glasses on the nightstand, and climbing into bed beside you.

he spent the rest of the night whispering compliments to you, telling you how much he loves you and wants to be with you forever, and there was no shortage of apologies said. james held you to his chest, playing with your hair until the both of you eventually drifted off to sleep.

#endlessymphony’s 50 follower picnic!#james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter #the marauders #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #hp drabbles #harry potter universe #harry potter #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #harry potter angst #james potter angst #angst fanfic

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gojology · 4 years ago

Text

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general. Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades. You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch. Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards. Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel. The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back. But the custom notification was sweet as well. You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them. You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances. You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one. Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.” Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone. In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.” Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.” You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible. “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)” You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen. “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.” Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep. ‧₊˚✩彡. You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel. Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle. “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him. He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars. “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.” You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.” Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡. Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face. “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes. “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!” “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.” Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer. “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!” “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind. “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present. “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for. The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life. A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated: “WELCOME BACK QT” “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW” Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit. Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone. “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!” Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo. Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed. Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡. You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room. Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents. The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched. The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest. The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together. Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two. “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight. “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see. “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?” You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again. “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined. “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?” “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?” He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room. “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint. Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala. “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.” Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table. Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.” “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in. The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool. “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again. “Where do you guys know eachother?” “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?” “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?” “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?” “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?” “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?” Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up. “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper. An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji. “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?” Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards. “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.” “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together. Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.” Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again. Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.

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cupofteaguk · 4 years ago

Text

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.”

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