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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 years

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 24 of 27: Graduation

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

Choose Me Instead Masterlist

Words: 3.2k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of mental health issues incl. self-harm (only in like 2 sentences tho)

Four weeks until graduation …

Draco Malfoy and you were over. Whatever glimpse of happiness and fleeting bliss had been bestowed upon you – it was gone. It was gone and you were alone again. In your head, you replayed your last time together over and over and over until you felt sick to your stomach. For months did you pretend not to feel anything for him beyond friendship but damn, you loved him. You loved with him with every fiber of your body. Every thought on every day was devoted to him and him only. You looked for him in the hallways, glanced at him during class and each time your eyes met, another piece of your heart broke.

To be quite honest, you weren’t worried about yourself as much as you worried about him. You spoke to Theo from time to time, asking him about Draco. He told you exactly what you had suspected all along: his dreams had gotten worse. He skipped therapy sessions, spent his days scribbling in his black notebook instead. You knew it wasn’t fair to you but you still couldn’t help but blame yourself.

During meals, you watched him with Astoria who was glued to his side. To your surprise, she seemed happier. Even though she grew paler with each day she wore a smile on her face. An honest, happy smile. You heard her laugh and wondered if it had been this beautiful all the time. You watched her talk to Draco with a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. You wanted to hate her but seeing her like this? It certainly made it harder for you to do so. Still, each time you saw them walking to class or sit outside on the grass, your stomach plummeted and on particularly bad days, tears filled your eyes.

Eventually, you grew sick of feeling this way. You had fought hard for your own happiness to return after all the shit you went through and to now have it taken away from you in an instant by him felt humiliating. The whole mess started because you wanted to hurt Ron. So how did you end up hurting instead?

You tried tuning out the pain by burying yourself in work. Studying, quidditch training, stupid parties in the Gryffindor common room – you tried anything and everything to numb down the pain. It worked. For the most part. However, your thoughts always began to stray after a while. As soon as his image popped up in your mind, you pinched yourself as if you were trying to wake up from a bad dream. One time, you did it during a therapy session and Merlin, did you regret that. The lecture about self-harm that followed was definitely not worth it.

The days grew warmer. Sunlight fell through the dusty windows of the Hogwarts classrooms, the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Summer had begun to knock on the door. You weren’t ready to open it yet. Once summer arrived, your life would change once again.

However, before that happened you still had to get through your exams. You dreaded the thought of taking them. These past months … well, to put it gently, your focus hadn’t been on school exactly. Sure, you spent hours upon hours in the library but you weren’t sure how much of the things you read actually stuck with you.

“Ready?”, Ginny asked you the morning of your final exams.

You glanced at her and shook your head. She laughed. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. We’ve taken thousands of exams, we’ll get through it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Y/N doesn’t achieve the grades she needs to become an auror,” Hermione chimed in matter-of-factly. “That’s the worst that can happen.”

“Thanks, Mione,” you said dryly.

She smiled at you apologetically. “It won’t come to this, don’t worry. You got this. We all do.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

***

Two weeks until graduation …

You sat together with Ginny and Hermione at the Black Lake, feet dangling in the water, eyes closed as you enjoyed the sunrays warming your face. Ginny kept on talking about the tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies that would take place just a few days after graduation while you and Hermione only occasionally commented. You reassured her that she would do just fine. After all, there was no doubt in your mind that Ginny Weasley would join the team and have a successful quidditch career ahead of her.

After a while, the conversation shifted. Hermione worried about the amount of reading she had to do before her internship at the Ministry of Magic started, and you snorted. “They don’t expect you to know everything about the job beforehand, y’know?”

“Well, good impressions are important,” she replied.

During the whole afternoon, the topic of your future plans didn’t come up. Your friends sensed your apprehension regarding that particular topic. After the utter debacle that was your exams, you tried to forget that you were supposed to have an idea of what to do with your life in just about two weeks. You still waited on a letter from the Ministry, waited for the news that your plan had worked out. That you could become an auror, a dream you had since you could think. Yet, you screwed up and you weren’t sure if your performance in the final exams was enough to get you a placement. Thankfully, your parents were still too wound up in the whole drama Alissa brought with her. They didn’t even ask how your exams went and you weren’t mad. The importance of exams paled in comparison to the prospect of a life sentence in Azkaban.

A bee buzzed close to your ear and you opened your eyes again.

***

One week before graduation …

“You look horrible, darling.”

You rolled your eyes when Theo appeared by your side. You were on your way to the Great Hall, earlier than usual in an attempt to study a few more minutes in the library before your first class. “Thank you, Theodore. Just what a woman wants to hear before breakfast.”

He snickered. “Apologies.” Then he held his hands out, motioning you to give him some of the books in your arms to help you carry them.

“Accepted,” you said and gave him the whole pile of books instead. He groaned and you chuckled at him. “How are you then?”, you asked.

“Relieved about the fact that school is almost over.” He dodged a first year student who ran past him and one books slid dangerously close to the edge of the pile. You were surprised by how many students were already awake.

“Any plans for what comes after?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Travel.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Travel?”

“Blaise and I are going to travel around Europe for a few months,” he explained. “I need to get out of the country where everyone knows me as ‘that Death Eaters kid’ and Blaise is simply loaded with money and doesn’t want to work.” The two of you laughed at the last statement. “And afterwards …” Theo shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. “When will you leave?”

“After Draco’s wed-” He stopped midsentence. “Ah, shit.”

You bit your tongue. Actually bit it. “It’s official then,” you said softly. “I haven’t seen the announcement yet.”

Theo stopped. You had almost reached the Great Hall. The Slytherin looked at you with sympathy. “It’ll come out today.” He lowered his voice: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You avoided his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theodore stayed quiet until you resumed your walk. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t love her,” he finally said. The statement hurt even more.

“What a fucking mess we made.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t say anything else. When you walked into the Great Hall, he handed you the books back and softly squeezed your arm before mumbling: “I’m really sorry.”

He was right – the Daily Prophet printed the announcement of the wedding on that same day. Yet, when an owl dropped the paper onto your plate, you were oddly calm. You lowered the glass of orange juice carefully and rolled up the newspaper. Their picture was on the front page.

Astoria’s beauty was unlike anything you had ever seen. She wore a simple black dress and was glowing in the picture. She smiled widely as her gaze switched between Draco and the camera. Spooky how different she looked. You wondered if they had used magic to hide the circles underneath her eyes and the sunken-in cheeks. Draco stood beside her, wearing his trademark simple, black suit. His back was straight, his eyes focused on the camera. He didn’t smile.

As if you had felt his stare, you looked up. Draco sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, Greengrass – his fiancée – by his side who excitedly showed the article to Parkinson. You forced yourself to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. He turned away. Just in time to miss the tears you had to blink away.

This isn’t right, you thought, none of this is right.

***

One day before graduation …

Tears streamed down your face as another sob shook your body. You stared at the letter in your hand, reading it over and over again. At this point, you had memorized every word but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

When an owl brought you the letter, you didn’t open it immediately. You didn’t want to do it in front of your friends, already sensing what was written inside of it. So instead you grabbed it and went to the bleachers of the Quidditch field. High up above, where no one would interrupt you.

We regret to inform you …

It wasn’t entirely unsuspected but it didn’t hinder the tears from dwelling up. Before you knew it, they streamed down your face. Cold fear gripped your heart. This is it, you thought, it’s all over now. Your entirely life you wanted to become an auror. You had no plan b, no other option, it had always been this. And now you failed.

“Y/N?” The voice caused you to whirl around. “What happened?” Draco. His eyes widened in shock and concern when he saw your face. With three long strides he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Draco …”, you whimpered and then he was there, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered and held you tighter. Instinctively, you relaxed against his body and let him embrace you. It felt so right. “Shh, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.” He repeated over and over. Sobs shook your body while your tears drenched his uniform. It felt as if hours had passed until you finally began to calm down. With each shaking breath, the scent of his cologne wrapped itself around you.

“What happened?”, Draco asked again when no more sobs escaped you and you quietly buried your face in his shoulders. Without a word, you held up the letter. A few seconds passed and Draco snorted. “Well, their loss,” he said, audibly disgusted.

You whimpered another time. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve done more, I-I …” You wiped over your eyes. “What do I do now, Draco?”

He sighed before he answered: “Anything you want. Y/N, you’re intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful – you can do anything you want.”

“Except for becoming an auror,” you scoffed.

“Maybe. So what?” He shrugged. “Fuck them. It’s their loss.”

You remained silent. Draco had his arms still wrapped around you. In this position, you almost forgot your situation. This felt so … normal. So right, so natural. As if it was meant to be. As if he was the one to hold you in this exact moment. You thought about asking why he was up here on this night but held your tongue. A part of you wanted to believe that it was because of you. Everything started up here on the bleachers, last year in September. Right here, the two of you talked for the first time in years. A conversation, you could recall to this day. Everything began here. Maybe he came back because he hoped to find you here. You wanted to believe that.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” you whispered after a moment. “I don’t have a plan b. I –” Another tear rolled down your cheek. He looked at you, his grey eyes full of love and adoration, and wiped it away.

“You’re hurting, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright though, I promise.”

You smiled sadly. “Everything goes to shit in my life, everything! The fucking war is over and yet I can’t seem to catch a fucking breath.”

“I believe, the war will stay with us for a lot longer than we thought,” Draco whispered. He didn’t let go of you as he watched the castle in the distance. The sun begun to set and drowned the Scottish landscape in its golden light. It was a marvelous sight.

Sudden music caused you to flinch. A group of seventh year students had arrived on the Quidditch field. Loud voices and laughter mixed with the rhythm of a new popular song. They weren’t from your house, you realized.

“I should leave,” Draco said. And when you recognized Astoria’s high-pitched scream as a drunken Blaise picked her up, you knew why he was here to begin with. Not for you. For them.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight. Draco let go of you reluctantly before he got up. He looked at you and you wondered if he was going to say something. But even if he wanted to, he didn’t. He only nodded and then made his way towards the stairs.

“I feel as if I should congratulate you on the engagement but …”, you suddenly spoke up.

Draco stopped and glanced at you. “Don’t.”

You saw how a shadow flickered over his face. Then you remembered something else. “Wait, I have something for you.” You reached inside your back and pulled out a picture. He looked at you in surprise when he gave it to you. It was a picture of you two from the last Christmas, taken during a dinner. Draco had his arm wrapped around you and raised a glass of wine, an amused smirk on his face. You laughed in it, covering your mouth with your hand. It was the only picture of the two of you but you loved it. It showed Draco the way he truly was. The way he made you feel every time you looked at him.

“You carried it with you this whole time?”, he asked softly. He held the picture so carefully as if he was afraid to accidentally damage it.

You gave a half shrug. “Only for the last few days. I hoped to catch you alone at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Will I see you?”

He looked up at the question.

“After graduation, I mean?”, you clarified. “Maybe send me an owl once or twice a year? I need to know you’re okay.”

“So you can rip out my heart again, little Gryffindor?”

You opened and closed your mouth at the statement. Draco chuckled. “I’ll do it. If you promise me to reply.”

“I promise.”

You didn’t know it yet but Draco would keep his promise. However, when you received his first letter, you broke yours.

***

A few weeks after graduation …

The last day of school came and went. Funny how you had expected it to be filled with tears and laughter when, in the end, it was just another insignificant day of the year. To be fair, some tears had been shed. Long hugs with your friends and promises to stay in touch were shared on the train station in King’s Cross before all of you parted ways.

Your parents picked you up. They looked like mere shells of themselves as they kissed you on the cheek. A lump formed in your throat when you saw their sad faces. They had aged immensely in these past few months, the stress had left deep wrinkles and tired eyes behind.

They didn’t speak much on this day. They only hugged you when you told them about the rejection from the Ministry. “I’m so sorry, darling,” your father had mumbled, “you’ll find something else, I’m sure.” A part of you was relieved they didn’t ask any further questions.

The next morning, your mother had asked you if you wanted to see Alissa. You didn’t. You couldn’t. The mere mention of her name made you grit your teeth. Alissa was the reason for all the suffering in your family’s life. For all the heartbreak and tears. All the sisterly feelings had shrunken during the past year. Now you were left with rage and hatred when you heard her name.

“Will you please come to the court hearing in two weeks then?”, your mother had asked when she noticed the expression on your face and you had agreed.

And here you were. Standing in your kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hand while you listened to your parents screaming at each other upstairs. You had just come home from the hearing and now looked outside into the garden. The roses, once your mother’s pride and joy, were neglected, you noticed. Their heads hung, most of them dried up from the summer sun.

“Twenty-five years in Azkaban,” you mumbled to yourself. Alissa’s future. Twenty-five years locked away on an island. You had hoped the sentence would give you satisfaction. It didn’t. Instead it frightened you. Would Alissa survive this? Twenty-five years without seeing her family? Would your mother survive it? Or would she wither like the roses in her garden?

You took a sip of your tea and wondered how your life changed once again, now that the problem of Alissa was finally … resolved. It ended. The anxious waiting, the not knowing … it all ended. By now, she would have already arrived in the prison cell that would be her home for the years to come.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You had watched her in the courtroom while she didn’t look up at your family. During the whole hearing, her eyes were locked on the ground and she remained silent. It was the strangest sight – the broken-down woman in the dirty dress wasn’t your sister. The fiery spirit inside her had left a long time ago together with her beauty and wits. You stared at Alissa, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the sister you once knew and loved. You were unsuccessful. This woman was a stranger and your sister was dead. And you wanted nothing more than to simply move on.

“The nerve this family has,” your father muttered behind you. “Unbelievable.”

You sat the tea cup down on the counter and turned to him. The screaming had stopped, you realized. You had been so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed how your father came downstairs again.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked.

Your father shook his head and handed you an envelope without another word. Your gaze fell onto the dark green emblem printed on the back and suddenly, your throat felt very, very dry. You’d recognize the sign anywhere. With shaking hands you opened the envelope and pulled out a card.

“Can you believe it?”, your father asked. “They actually have the nerve to invite us to his wedding?”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! We’re almost finished with this story, I’m so sad btw.

CHAPTER 25

CMI Masterlist HP Masterlist

The tag list for this story is closed! <3

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy #choose me instead #astrids fics

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rkived · 4 years

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year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!!

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment.

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal.

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs.

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom.

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls.

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though.

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell.

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside.

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper.

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.”

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort.

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him?

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner.

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails.

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji.

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you?

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly.

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say.

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise.

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!”

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours.

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that?

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love.

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are.

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy.

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked!

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding.

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat.

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.”

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session.

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression.

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.”

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this.

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs.

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver.

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?”

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they—What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever.

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in.

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you.

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.”

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains.

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B.

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences.

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you.

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him.

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.”

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?”

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life.

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle.

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him.

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before.

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…”

“So…,” he repeats.

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life.

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.”

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling.

“Honestly, I—“

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing.

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right.

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor.

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully.

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips.

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories.

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made.

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl.

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area.

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you.

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information?

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity.

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further.

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort.

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends.

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion.

Why were you kissing him then?

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling.

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him.

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle.

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship.

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook.

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up.

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time.

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now.

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service.

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too?

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort.

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store.

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity.

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best.

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around.

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle.

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough.

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all.

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting.

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago.

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter.

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason.

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever.

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance.

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened.

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve.

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again.

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other.

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right.

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true.

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it.

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger.

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in.

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness.

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it.

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool.

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state, though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often.

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast?

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him.

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in.

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care.

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make.

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going.

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.”

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent.

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist.

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago.

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully.

“I don’t have a—“

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long.

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile.

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck.

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down.

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then.

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high.

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting.

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen.

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease.

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted.

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age.

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough.

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you.

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #bts smut #f: year 22

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

second chance x damon albarn

i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x

i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho

Pairing: dilf damon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 2.786

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.

“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.

I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.

It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.

Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.

"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.

"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"

"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.

Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"

Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.

Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”

What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.

We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.

A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”

"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.

It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.

"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."

It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.

#want 2 marry dilf damon ngl #he's literally perfect #damon albarn x reader #gorillaz #britpop #90s #nineties #damon albarn #band imagines #fluff #my writing

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

Note

Hi, I really, REALLY love your writing, you're a amazing writer and I just want you to know it (ب_ب)♡

I don't know if you're up to, or if you did it before, but, can I request a female reader poly relationship with Armin and Eren? 👉👈 If you've done this or are uncomfortable doing it, you can ignore this request

You're so sweet! Thank you so much ت💛

And I haven't actually written something like this before so no worries you're the first! It doesn't make me uncomfortable at all, although I appreciate you checking first, thank you🐛

Hmm since this is a poly, I guess it'll classify as a valid Eren x reader fic, welp gotta make him his own catorgy now.

Being in a Poly relationship with Armin and Eren HC

{ Armin x reader x Eren | tw:none | fluff | Modern }

{ "What's Behind the Door" by Hans Zatzka 1859-1945 }

You're the middle spoon most of the time. Armin prefers being the little spoon and burying himself against your chest before falling asleep, while Eren likes feeling you in his arms and just pulling you so close against him. On rare times they switch positions.

As a result, you wake up with the two of them wrapped around you. Good luck getting up with how grumpy Eren is in the morning.

Talking about Eren, he enjoys listening to you and Armin talk in general. It could be about anything from the weather to a book or even complaining about him and he'll just sit between you two and relax. It makes him feel at peace.

You're his safe place when the world gets too much, he could just hug you impossibly close to him before closing his eyes while you and Armin hang out.

In fact he enjoys watching you two do anything together, even mondaine thing like help Armin detangle his hair in the morning. Oh no, he won't help, but he will sit next to you and observe even if it means he too will be late to work.

Eren is one of those people who get out of bed, mess their hair a bit and then have perfect hair somehow. He could just tie it back and it'll look so good despite being effortless.

Armin likes how playful you and Eren can get, how much he teases you and how you answer back. Especially when the two of you are trying to make him pick sides and back one of you up, he acts innocent but in reality he's looking for a bribe.

Armin also enjoys how Eren is mostly down to his adventures and even looks forward to them, it also means convincing you to tag along will be easier and the three of you will have so much fun.

He also feels more confident and bold when both of you are by his side, his usual anxieties and worries getting drowned out by your voices and presence. Plus both of your assurance are a huge boost to his ego, he can actually tease back if pushed hard enough.

Be warned, a smug cocky Armin is a...dangerous one.

I'm not saying you and Eren will get roasted but...

The three of you live in Armin's place actually, since with his grandpa away in the farm, he has the whole apartment to himself.

Eren still visits his mom on the weekends tho, will drag you two along, she bakes you pie and sends you home with cookies.

Eren is just a completely opposite person in front of his mom, you and Armin can get away with almost anything in front of her.

It's actually Armin who plans dates for the three of you , picnics, arcades, beach trips, diners.

They actually enabler each other a lot, being best friends and all. A lot of times Armin would just get Eren to drag you into places or ideas he has and a lot of times Eren will get Armin to convince you that yes spending money on expensive shoes is a good investment.

They keep a tap on each other.

You have no idea the amount of things Eren broke by accident and Armin was quick to replace before you notice. Or the many times Armin almost backed away from showing you things he wrote or got for you wasn't it for Eren encouraging him.

Eren is really protective, for both of you actually. He makes sure no one is bothering you and always steps in whenever you're uncomfortable

Armin is really considerate, he knows both of your preference and a lot of small details. He takes your emotions into consideration and always has a plan B and knows just the right words to say.

The problem is that both of them are extremely jealous people who don't know how to deal with it.

For real, Armin would seem sad and distante while Eren will be passive aggressive. And all of that just because you told Connie you liked his shirt or laughed at something Sasha said.

They act like kicked puppies, and won't ever admit to being jealous they just look at you with puppy eyes till you pay them the same attention too.

Drama queens, both of them. Will whine and sulk if your attention leaves them for a second.

Armin has a special nickname for each one of you, while Eren goes for the typical "babe" and looks at both of you making you try to guess "which one?"

Armin likes holding your hand and kissing you cheek, Eren prefers wrapping an arm around you and kissing your neck.

Both of them are big on physical affaction, expect a lot of greeting and goodbye kisses also being pulled into a hug or to sit near someone at random times.

Armin likes taking pictures of you, together or each by their own. He keeps them in a scrapbook that you help him make, Eren tries to find the best spots for him to photograph.

While Eren plays Videgames, he likes having you and Armin by his side. Even if you're not playing with him he'll just enjoy looking at your direction whenever he preforms really well like a kid looking for praise.

They have really different taste in food, movies and dates. Despite that they rarely argue or fight about It, since they've known each other for so long they learned how to compromise.

Lowkey each of them still tries to pull you to like the things they do so you'll take sides.

Even if you're not around, they will talk about you between them. Just how gorgeous you looked today and how adorable that outfit looked on you.

Actually both of them have you alone as their lockscreen, even whilst having a lot of pictures of the three of them together, they just like it this way.

Both are also big on public affaction so don't expect the pampering to stop just because you're outside.

They're just so comfortable with each other and when you came along they had absolutely no problem in sharing you, actually they even prefered because the other is the only person they'd trust with you.

They also don't mind when one of them takes you on a private date just the two of you alone, just give the other a heads up and maybe bring them a snack or something.

You prefer romantic cozy dates? Armin would love to share his softest blanket with you under the fairylights while sharing a milkshake or your favourite drink and watching a romantic comedy sitcom.

And the next day, Eren would take you to his favourite restaurant before going to the arcades or cinema after. Drive around in the car while listening to music and occasionally stopping at really nice spots to enjoy the view.

Maybe the three of you could go to a waterpark and Eren would attempt the really high dives while Armin just happily floats around in the water.

Or maybe going to the beach and watching them put actual effort and planning into making a good sandcastle, Armin collecting the seashells while Eren gets the sand.

Being in a relationship with them means you'll get the best of both worlds yet never get bored or feel alone. They have really different tastes yet are so similar at the same time, you'll truely feel loved and cared for.

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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Western AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

(i'm gonna make you) feel it

a.k.a. ✨ MAKKI’S ADVENTURE TIME ✨

Hanamaki “Big Tease” Takahiro x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Porn With Plot. Corruption Kink. Reader’s engaged to be married - a bride. Cheating. Highly inappropriate touching and dancing moves (that’s their job tho). Alcohol. Completely unresearched strippers industry. Lowkey exhibitionism. Fucking in a public space (private room). Fingering. Oral sex. SMUT: Doggy style over a sofa. Makki’s a little shit. Overuse of the word “cute” (for real, so many times omg).

Word count: ~7.3k

Note: Saint Dymphna and poor little me would like to introduce you all to the: 🤠 LAWBREAKERS MULTIVERSE 🤠

So, @dymphnasprose basically came at me with: “what about we take cowboys and make them skskskskskssk like magic mike style strippers” and thus was born the wicked duo newest adventure. We had a lot of fun (and a lot of panic) but here it is! Anyone asks why I’m doing two once again it’s also dymph’s fault and my sheer love for Iwaizumi. Also, dymph I love u and I’ve had lots of fun doing this little group project together🥺💕

That being said I’d also like to thanks @mixedhell who once again is a mage of dialogue and helped me several times; Tay, my love @deathcab4daddy, who helped beta part of this and also @xmyshya who was kind enough to beta this too <3

Makki’s songs: Cowboy Casanova (dymph’s courtesy) + Feel it

You can also read: IWAIZUMI | MATTSUN

Hanamaki is focused.

He surveys the screaming crowd inside the packed nightclub, sees the different groups occupying the big booths, the pretty decorations that never fail to distinguish his targets inside the dimly lit room.

Makki likes the meaning behind the different outfits and colors; the details merging into the allegory of remarkability, crafting the idea of uniqueness in their special day where screams of freedom swimming inside intoxicated heads build a tendency into wildness. In building lasting memories of a singlehood that doesn’t really exist anymore, into falling prey of sexy, large men who could take them into a one-time intoxicating memory that they can savor into the end of times.

Marriages can end, Makki thinks, but memories like the ones he makes are forever.

And tonight he has already found the one.

You must be the prettiest little thing he has seen in months, all beautifully clad in a sparkling white party dress, a sexy slit that shows the classical frilly garter adorning your thigh, with a golden black banner that announces for the whole world that you’re taken, soon to be married and enjoying your bachelorette party. It’s almost a challenge, really.

Great. That’s exactly how he likes it.

A brilliant and ridiculous white cowboy hat decorated to leave a tacky gown falling from your head is perched on the table where your small group sits, about eight women dressed in black and a beautiful entourage of bridesmaids if he ever saw one, but it’s you; cute, happy little you who blushed at the very first look at his partially naked torso when all Hanamaki did was pass by your table in his low cut jeans and open flannel shirt, a tilt of his cowboy hat made with half a mind to compliment the ladies until his eyes laid on you.

Your bright eyes had shined with embarrassment at your interest, chest filling with a renewed pull of air at the mere sight of him, a burning in your face that he could notice even in the poorly lit room, flashing lights giving him just the best of peeks -- your plush lips punished by the row of white teeth that closed around the soft muscle and pulled.

That was all he needed, the smallest of sights and still, the biggest of hints.

You were going to be his tonight. He’ll taint that pristine white and you’ll beg for his every move, he knows it just as he knows the women will scream for him as soon as he steps on the stage.

And, in fact, that will be sooner rather than later.

He’ll make sure of it.

The loud music is pulsing through his body, like waves crashing against his skin, his heart seemingly beating alongside the bass in deep, sexy strokes of the R&B music echoing through the club. The youngsters are doing their dance, a coordinated thing between the six newbies of the Club, while Makki and Mattsun wait by the side of the backdoor of the stage, ready to take their places in the next performance.

“Anyone in your sights yet?” Issei asks him as he passes him the bottle of water, which Takahiro puts on top of one of the structures before sending a small grin at the dark-haired man. They’ve been here for four years now, and they have joined the place together, looking to make a good buck while going to College. Stripping is fun, easy, and profitable when you’re young and hot and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are nothing else but.

“The one by the left, the table with the tacky cowboy hat and the golden balloons.”

“A fan of the work, I see.” Matsukawa pulls the curtain to the side just an inch, his eyes quickly surveying the space and centering on the acquired target. Makki knows exactly what he’s seeing, a table filled with a group of beautiful women and you in white shining over them all, the balloons above the wall seeming way more ridiculous once he knows about Makki’s plan of action.

One dick for life. Ha.

“Poor little thing doesn’t know what she’s in for tonight.” Mattsun’s grin is mischievous and all-knowing. Hanamaki has a type, it’s a running joke, but every good joke starts from a glimmer of truth. And in Makki’s case, it may as well be the truth itself.

“And that’s a sexy little group.”

“Yeah, it is. But you already have plans for tonight, don’t you. I’ve heard about it from Oikawa.”

Mattsun doesn’t answer, only a chuckle and a lopsided grin marking his face as he keeps studying the crowd.

The group performance wraps up quickly, being one without public interaction and soon enough Oikawa is making a show, threading between the public with his mic, hyping the crew out with just the right few words.

The lights start going down, softly casting the audience in shadows while the stage is tinged in bright colors before becoming red and by the time people’s eyes are focusing at the center again, Hanamaki and Matsukawa have taken their places.

The music starts to play, soft and calm, pulsing through the bodies of everyone as their eyes focus on the attractive duo in center stage. They’re not supposed to end up naked yet, that’s saved for the end, but as the choreography flows, sharp hip movements, thrusting motions like ocean waves crashing on rocky shores, still get women screaming at the top of their lungs enough for it all to merge with the song as if it’s part of the original bass.

Makki’s wearing a half-opened plaid flannel shirt with nothing under it, and he pops every remaining button open along to the song, the screams getting louder. His jeans are tight enough that every plane of muscle is noticeable, and his belt is black and striking, with a big, bull-shaped buckle. Later he’ll change his outfit to leather chaps and a vest, but right now, he’s more laid back. He looks good, he knows it, but the appreciation in your eyes as you coily drink his from from across the room is like a fucking golden star on his pride.

On top of his head, locked tight, it’s his pinched front cowboy hat. As Makki throws it in the air and catches in the middle of dancing, the screams engulf him from all sides.

But everything else is fading to the back of his mind as his eyes find yours in the dark, the appreciative, enthralled shine in them not lost to Makki. Could never be lost to Makki, who holds onto it as if it’s a life-line; You’re interested.

Ok, that’s good. But it’s also the basics.

Makki twirls and fall on the floor, hips fucking into nothing as the crowd goes insane. He kneels on stage, his shirt flying to the spectators; two women take hold of it, pulling in contrary directions until it rips.

Makki throws you a wink, every woman in that direction claiming it as theirs. You, however, shrug into yourself, eyes looking away as your hands tight their hold around the champagne glass they’re holding. You’re so cute, hands in front of your face as if that would keep you from staring. Makki feels himself glowing, growing excited at the mere sight of your scurrying eyes as they choose the floor instead of his body.

So fucking pure.

Takahiro wants to force you to look up and revel in the guilty desire he’s bound to find there. There’s no need to avoid him if he doesn’t charm you, that’s the beauty of soon-to-be brides. There’s such a deep will inside them to be faithful to the allegory of a husband they do not have yet, lost in a daydream of happiness in finding the one when they haven’t even tasted anything but. Makki eyes the golden balloons floating around the table while he dances -- one dick forever.

Poor little thing. He can’t let that happen, can he?

When Makki hops off the stage and walks over to your table between deafening screamings and pleads for him to take them, instead, his hand closes around your dainty little one, adorned with pretty french nails and just a single golden ring and even the soft, smooth skin of your hand against his rugged palm is a thrill inside his veins.

Your eyes are shining, nervousness sweeping from them as they lock with his. Hanamaki tries to be lowkey, giving you a reassuring smile supposed to be nice, to be trusting -- a complete disconnect of the way his guts stirs in the excitement of your touch.

He lowers his lips to your ears, pretends the way his nose runs over the shell is a mere accident. “Let’s go for a ride, sweetheart.”

Your lips fall open by the side of his face and Makki can feel the way you suck a breath, a little gasp ruining your efforts when he lets his lips brush against your jaw. Another accident, whoops. He’s such a careless boy, isn’t he?

Your teeth punish your bottom lip as your eyes seem to look anywhere but him, trembling hands as you seem half-way into telling him no. Makki can't have that, though. He brings his face to look deep in your eyes, a lopsided smile he can manoeuvre into being just the right amount of kind by now.

"You're not gonna let me go up there alone, will you?" He almost pouts, big hands finding their way on your arms in up and down motions that drag just the right amount of trembles from you for him to know he's winning. "There's no fun without you, sweet girl."

He dips his lips onto the shell of your ear once again, just in time to hide his mischief. "You're the star of the show. I'm just your ride."

That seems to make you giggle and Makki uses that to bring his grin into your view, palms sliding down your arms to clasp your hands and - finally - guide you up with him.

One thing Makki knows is that he likes his brides sweet.

Pliant.

And as you get up and follow him quietly and sheepish, clumsy tripping over yourself when some of your bridesmaids erupt in cheers, he knows he is right once again -- you’re just his type.

Thing is, Makki doesn’t waste time. He makes you twirl in your high heels just to have you falling in his arms, he picks you up without effort, a little gasp breaching your lips as your hands plant against his chest.

Makki just has to grin at the way in which you close your palms and retreat them back to yourself, quick, burning up in a beautiful, delicious expression of shame. Fuck, he wants to make you beg.

When he’s at the stage, he drops you on your feet with enough aggression to get you to slide straight to the floor, unsteady knees opening under you until your ass is planted on the stage.

Makki thinks your open mouthed expression, little breaths breaking through your lips as your anxious eyes stare up at him, have to be the best thing he’s seen in a while. And he’s just starting.

He bends at the waist, his hands to reach your knees and push them open, your bright little white dress sliding up so much he can steal a peek at your fancy underwear.

Such a vixen, aren’t you? All wrapped in lace.

Makki lets himself fall on top of you and you gasp, even as he stays holding himself in a plank, not one bit of skin touching yours. The song is pumping, slow and sexy even if the screams sound louder in the close space. He twists his hips, the rolling motion has them right between your juicy thighs. You’re forced to keep them wide open and the way in which you look mortified just may be what ends him.

Makki drops his knees in the ground, lets the screams wash over him as he drags his hips against your center, soft, then hard. His hands by the side of your head, his toned chest right in front of your face. He knows by the way his skin burns that you’re staring at him -- good, he wants to be the center of all your attention tonight.

Your hands are in front of yourself as if you’re afraid at your own excitement, eager eyes looking for his in a wirlwind of emotions and it makes his fucking skin erupt with goosebumps that the most noticiable one is desire.

Oh, Makki’s going to wreck you. The song turns frantic just as he comes to slide over your body, nose trailing along your collarbone and chest, teeth nipping at your clothes as if he would prefer to be doing it to your skin instead, and he feels the way your shame almost consumes you, body shaking as he finally reaches destination: right above your beautiful open thighs, so close he can almost taste you.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last. And Makki is forced by the choreography to climb back up your body even as he lets his hands linger a bit too close to your clothed center, every woman around screaming as if they can read his mind.

He gets back up and kneels between your open legs, thrusting in time with the music as if he’s actually still thinking about choreography and not in doing this to you later. You’re growing more embarrassed by the moment, your whole body burning and tense, but responsive to his movements and, better yet, his smiles.

His body is used to the motions, to swirling and grinding and thrusting in a wave motion, crashing over your hips time and time again until your lips fall open, and he knows he hit the jackpot.

Makki holds himself in a plank again, his skin turning clammy with the exertion, but he angles his crotch just right and has you singing a groan for him again -- then turning bright with shame in sequence.

Such a precious little thing indeed.

The ground choreo ends way too soon for Makki’s wishes, but he’s soothed by the way in which you let yourself be picked up, hands clinging to his shoulders with such a fierce hold he almost wants to test it out. He throws you up for a moment, relishes in your nails at his back, and his forearms hold you by the underside of your knee, closing on your hips.

And that makes your pretty little clothed cunt roll right against his semi-hard on. There’s a ripping sound, probably your slit getting wider to acomodate your open legs and thus, him.

Lovely.

Makki rolls his hips, right against your center once, and the crowd erupts in screams just as he starts mimicking fucking you standing. A beautiful option he saves in the back of his mind for later.

You let out a yelp, then proceed to try and hide your head against his neck, your pretty mouth gliding against his skin gives him such a high he almost loses the tempo of the song. He tells you to hold on and plants his hands on your bare ass, lifting you until he can have you in front of his face, a bit uncomfortable move but one that has every single woman in the club wet -- it’s in the air by now, and he can smell it. The idea makes his skin prickle, your hands holding his hair for dear life as if you’re afraid to fall, but your clothed cunt is right there, and he can’t pass the opportunity to steal a little touch as he pretends your hold is what pushes his head flush against your pussy.

You let out a beautiful sound almost in time with the song, and he is letting you fall once again on his arms, the smile on his lips the last nail on your pure coffin.

And unfortunately that means time’s up.

Makki lets your legs fall but holds you by your waist, depositing you on your own two feet at the stage and snickering at how your legs falter to hold you up on the high heels. So, as a gentleman, he takes your hand in his, helps you down the few steps on the stage, almost groans at how your hand seems to not want to let him go.

Before he leaves you, he pulls your hand into his lips, absolutely glowing at how breathless you look from the little action after he literally ravished you on stage. It physically pains him that he needs to pick up another bride into his show.

“See you later, pretty one.”

Under you, your legs are faltering, knees trembling like a newborn deer as you’re left alone to fend for yourself in the long path back to your table. Women congratulate you, screaming on your sides at the men who was almost fucking you dumb on stage and his friend, as they continue their show.

Your heart is beating in your ears, leaving you stupid and lost as you’re finally - finally - rescued by your friend, who brings you back to the table with loud congratulations and happy cheers. You feel your body sweating and throbbing, weirdly pulsating for something you can’t name.

Recognizing it would make it real and you cannot believe that after five years in a nice relationship with your only boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband, this is the first time you feel this wet.

You plop down on the closest seat, hands pressing to your chest as you try to both fan yourself and hide behind them. It proves, as expected, a hard task.

Your childhood friend has arrived and you hug her sideways, the short conversation you two exchange somehow lost to your poor heated brain as your eyes keep sliding to center once again at the stage.

The way he dances on stage feels overwhelming, this bride-to-be suffering way less touching and grinding than you, as “Big Tease Makki” stays standing up, his hands groping everywhere in his sculpted body as he dances to the sensual song, including the considerable bulge in his pants.

Something flashes and he turns his head your way so sharply you feel the need to melt further on the sofa, poorly hiding away as everyone around you cheers once again.

His eyes on you were burning a hot trail that slithers over your warm skin even in the dark, the ghost of a feeling of touch, erupting goosebumps along their way as they circle your neck and dip down your side, strutting over your chest to end by your face. Even in the distance, you swear you can feel the way those lips slip into an easy grin, satisfied at the way they have you breathless and weak by thought alone.

The idle chatting of your friends, excited and drunk are dulled by the pounding of your heart inside your chest, and you feel constricted by their presence on your sides at the booth, both ways filled with testimony to your inner turmoils-- can they see your sinful thoughts while they stay that close to you? Can the pounding of your heart and the heat in your face be felt at such a short distance?

The mere idea that they can pry inside your skull and discover the sinful dreams unfolding is too much for you right now, your spine shooting up while you balance yourself in your pretty heels and ask in a meek, nervous voice for the girls to let you pass. Some ask if you need help or if you’re going to the bathroom, and in both options it feels like you’re going to be flanked immediately, so you deny it and say you have to make a quick phone call about something you forgot to confirm and they all nod away, drunkenly squealing for you to be quick.

You’re almost free when one of your bridesmaids, your childhood friend, looks up at you with puzzled eyes.

“Hey, everything's okay?” She’s not drunk, only happily buzzed with sparkling wine, but her eyes are attentive when they lay on your face, worry etched in her brow as she looks for hints hidden in your dolled up face.

“Yeah, just need to take a breather.” You give her what you hope is a reassuring smile even as sweat drips down your back, but the place is dark and loud and she lets you go without much prodding. The place is full and swarming with women, groups of men present but fewer, waiters clad in skimpy clothing as they work the tables full of drinks, shots and champagne. Some are flirtatious, charming smiles along with muscles as they sweep women off their feet and leave their wallets thinner; others are pretty serious, and the mysterious aura has their pull, the ecstasy of conquest working as an aphrodisiac.

You pull past the bodies, feeling a bit light headed as your chest pounds and the booze traverse your body, clumsy steps on too-high-heels you’re not used to, but your bridesmaids had pushed you to wear along with screams to live a little and say hello to the last night before you’re a proper married lady. You’ve never really felt the weight of those words as the last two days, tasting for the first time the sweetness of night as you’ve never before.

If brown, bored eyes make a appearance in your mind as you flee to the corridor leading to the private rooms and women’s bathroom, you’re quick to stop the train of thought before it leads down a muscular torso clad in a tight jeans with a firm ass and a hot, big cock that humped against you in every opportunity while he took you to the stage.

A drop makes it way past your cunt lips to stain your fancy underwear and you groan, ashamed. You’ve never felt this unbecoming need before, the arousal so thick your breasts seem to be heavy against your ribcage, dress feeling too tight on your heated, oversensitive skin.

You’re reaching the curve left that will take you to the bathroom when big hands engulf your frame, palm over your mouth and you’re pulled inside one of the private rooms, too breathless to even make a sound.

“Howdy,” his voice sounds right by your ear, as you’re caged against a burly body and the closed, probably sound-proof door. “Got a fugitive here.”

“Uhh, sir, I--”

“Sir?” He laughs, head thrown back prettily as you drink the arch of his throat. “Oh my god, call me Makki, pretty one.”

The petname makes you flush, tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth around words. “Uh… Makki, I’m sorry but I, ah…” You fumble with your hands, avoiding touching him, eyes downcast as you try to also avoid even looking at him. It’s too much, he seems everywhere.

“You’re engaged? I can see that, love. You have a banner right there.” He sounds so nice, mischief and boyish glee as he stands way too close to you.

“Then you understand…”

“I understand this is your last night of freedom, right? The last chance for you to be bad,” He breathes against your jaw as he noses along your skin to your ear, his cowboy hat gliding softly against the side of your face, “To be wild.”

Your mouth opens and closes but not a single sound comes out, your brain completely lost to the science of mixing letters into words. All you can think about is how your blood seems to be galloping in your veins, the pounding of your heart so oppressingly loud the beat of the song seems to mimic it and not the contrary.

You are lost to everything but the unbelievable feeling of painful arousal, so sharp and deep your bones seem to be melting out of their places and dripping into the outside by your cunt.

“But,” Leaves your lips dumbly and Makki’s fingers silence you, his lips so close you can taste his every exhale, the flap of his hat managing to blind your vision to anything past his face.

“You’re going to be married to the exact same man forever, sweetheart. You can let go one night. One night for you to feel good.” Makki licks at your throat and your lips fall open with a shameless moan as you burn with shame. “Has he ever made you feel this hot, sweetie? Hm? Have you ever even felt like this? It’s your last chance tonight, right? Don’t lose it.”

Makki’s hands massage their way down your sides, grabbing at the flesh of your hips, brushing your ass, and you’re dead silent as you drool away in your panties. Unable to think, unable to speak, embarrassment clogging your throat together with an impossible, unacceptable yes.

“C’mon, sweetie, let me take care of you.” It’s a plea, and he knows your chest will hurt with the same need that is in his tone. “Just this one time, so you can know what it feels like… how great it can be.”

“One time.” He promises you, earnest eyes boring into yours and, dumbly, enchanted, you nod… and agree.

Well, Makki ain’t waiting around for you to change your mind.

His hands loop around your thighs immediately, pressing you against the door until he can press his body between your open legs. The slit of your dress gives in just the little bit needed to allow his hips to make their way against your core, his lips busying themselves with planting kisses along the arch of your neck, teeth nibbling at the lobe of your ear, tongue gliding over the shell.

His breathing is soft, but so close it feels like it engulfs the room, slithering inside your head and scrambling your thoughts. His crotch presses against your center enough to hold you high and open, one of his hands relieved of their place as it climbs your side and closes around your jaw, angling your head back until you’re trapped between his face and his chest.

You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as if you cannot hold them open, and Makki feels his skin prickling, warmth spreading from his limbs to his chest and down his hips to center themselves at his burning length. You’re such a little vixen, all big eyes and open mouthed staring at him while he has hardly done anything.

He can barely wait to see how you’ll burn when he buries his face in your pussy.

Right now, though, Makki reigns in his excitement, fingers caressing your cheeks until your pretty eyes open up again, dazed. There’s just something about getting pretty little things like you to yield, to breathe out as his lips plant themselves carefully, softly, against your cheek, then the line of your jaw, your chin and your nose.

Every little kiss has you getting restless, trembling in his arms while your hands close around his shoulders, painful little welts that he loves to see. Such desperation.

It’s really the best.

His lips press against the corner of your wobbling plush lips and you shudder, but they push it back, and when Makki finally decides to kiss you, you’re opening your mouth in your eagerness, tongue lapping awkwardly at his lips as he chuckles and decides it’s time to stop playing.

When he kisses you then, you gasp, precious little sound leaving you as if you had no idea you could even make it, and then you’re melting against him, pressing against his chest as his mouth works its wonders on yours, tongue circling, searching, sucking. He nips at your lips, steals all the short bits of breath from your lungs until you’re writing against him, pressing sinful hips against his crotch in such a desperate way it’s endearing.

The hand on your thigh dips further under your dress, finds the plush meat of your ass and engulf it in its palm, delighted at how inexistent is the small little thing you’re wearing and how fucking delicious it feels. His fingers dig into your bottom until you break the kiss to gasp at how easily he can slip his long indicator from your ass to your pussy.

It’s his time to lose his air at how fucking wet you are, ruined fancy panties and moist thighs.

“Oh god, look at that. Little bride is so wet for this cowboy.”

You make a face, lips pursing in an awkward turn and coily shifting to look down, appraising looks on his chiseled chest. “Okay this one was bad!” Makki offers with an easy smile, the hand on your neck dipping into your breasts, palms pressing on your chest as he turns his focus on circling the hard nipple through your clothes, closing around the plush meat until your offending honest little lips part once again to him. He can see in the turbilion of your eyes how you’re still swirling against guilt, holding back from him.

“But can you blame me? Look at me.” He makes a mention with his head towards the big bulge straining his tight jeans, which have you unconsciously looking down, his hand sliding over your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, charming, easy-going smile in his lips. “Look at you.”

He rolls his hips once against your sex, feels the blistering heat even through layers of clothes but he’s done this enough to know exactly where to aim, having a moan escaping through the tight cage of your lips before you can hold everything else in by the lock of your teeth.

He can’t have that, though. He thrives on applause after all.

“Now, beautiful, I’ll need you to stop that right there.” His fingers dip under you to slide against the soiled fabric clinging to your folds and you all but tense, melting after as if you cannot conceive how good is his mere touch. “I want to hear you, c’mon.” Your eyes drop on his in hurt, but you free your bottom lip, mouth imediatelly falling open around a groan as Makki presses aimless around the entrance of your sex. Damn, Makki likes this.

“Yes, like that. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” His cock is straining against his boxers already, length rolling in perfect aimed strokes over the apex of your sex as his fingers thread on the outline of your beautiful cunt and when he dips inside a single fingertip, your sex and hands cling to him, all the beautiful curves of your body against his and he just-- He wants to see.

“Ok, dinner time!” Makki chuckles as he brings his hands once again to hold you firmly by your thighs, fingers spread enough to keep rolling against the edges of your cunt.

“Wha-What?” You give a charming yelp at the way he holds you effortlessly while abandoning the door to walk over to the couch. It’s just a cheap upholstered thing in front of the circular stage with the pole hanging from the ceiling, but it’s just the perfect length for what he needs.

He lets you fall, open and disheveled over it, legs spread to show the lace he saw earlier, stained and soiled after just a bit of makeout.

“You’re so cute.” It’s mockingly, really; meant to be a jab at how you’re so hazed and undone by just a few moves of his, but the way in which your doe eyes thread up to him, shiny and unfocussed; your hands closing around your frame as a hand plants in front of your breasts is just… cute. There’s no other word. You’re just a cute little thing and he wants your demise.

Makki groans and pulls you to the edge of the sofa by your legs, easily dropping between your thighs in a wave move, face planting itself on your breasts to suck at sweaty clothes, teeth pulling the fabric down until your nipples peek through and he sucks them inside his mouth, too.

You tremble so easily, even worse when he abandons it to nose his way down your body tightly clad in the white dress, kisses over your belly until he’s nosing at your clothed cunt, open mouth kisses adding to the moistness in your poor underwear.

“Delicious.” Makki says for no reason other than to state his thoughts, tongue rolling over the clothed slit as if its skin, reveling in how your poor legs start to shake, needing the aid from his hands spreading them to finally stop. “Tell me, honey, have your fiancé ever fucked you good? Hm?”

The mention makes you stiff, head pressing to the side of the sofa as if you’re fighting a battle inside your own mind, triggered by the piece of trivia question.

“I bet he hasn’t,” Makki laughs, nosing at your pussy with such pressure his whole face gets smeared in your juices. “Is he your first boyfriend? Tell me more.”

“I--how do you--” You stutter through bitten lips, truth tipping out once he easily spreads you open with his thumbs on each side. “Yes.”

“What a waste, such a wet fucking pussy and not one single effort from your hubby to-” Makki pulls your underwear aside, tongue lolling out to lick a long strip from your entrance to your clit, “lick”, once, it”, twice, “clean.” and thrice.

You let out a cute little noise and he gets impatient, pulling the lace at the side with enough force it rips easily under his hand. Your indignant noise doesn’t even sound right, lost in a moan at the way he closes his lips around your clit and brings his tongue to play with it fast. His hand presses harder on the skin of your thighs, leaving you open as a present, ripe and wide.

If Makki says he eats pussy as a fucking meal, it’s not out of vanity. He doesn’t like to stroke his own ego, it’s just the plain truth. He works his tongue around your cunt, licks at your puffy lips, slither his way over the labia, gathers all the dripping …. and lets it drip over your pussy, just to suck it up and spit on it, after all he never understood the whole don’t spit on the plate you eat. If it’s pussy, he’s sure it’s the fucking other way around.

You’re writhing and moving around, a symphony of gasps and moans fighting their way past your tight lips. Makki doesn’t mind. As he brings his thumbs to stroke up and down the sides of your cunt, he knows you’ll be screaming in no time. It’s just too much. It’s clear you’ve never had anything like this just by the frantic way you’re humping his face, hands grabbing at anything and everything they can, unable to hold on. His only shame is how busy his mouth is, unable to tease his way into the pure debauchery you’re demonstrating.

He pauses a bit to angle himself back, eyes trained at your pussy, dripping fucking wet all over the dress and the sofa. His thumbs spread at the sides of your entrance, pull it open just to see it blink and gap, begging for his cock without a word leaving your lips. Shit. His cock is straining against the tight jeans in such a painful way he has to let one hand go, open his button and fly, let the poor warrior fight its way past the band of his calvin kleins.

Then he’s back at his work, one thumb keeping you open as his hand returns to plunge his indicator inside slowly. Makki’s mouth almost falls open at the bewitching way your walls give in, letting him sink inside the velvety wet inside with ease. You’re clenching around him, groaning above and begging below, so he lets a second one inside at the retreat and advance of his wrist.

“Have your little husband ever made you feel like this, huh? Have he eaten this little pussy so good you make a mess?”

“Jesus Christ!” You moan above and Makki laughs. He loves this. Loves the little religious bout he gets from tight little brides when they actually taste heaven amidst sin. You try to ride his fingers, but he presses the back of your knees higher, and you let out a breathless “God!” at the new angle.

Then he starts the real game, fingers moving around your heat in search of a specific spot he finds with little prodding and then abuses until you’re begging.

“Oh my god! I, fuck--Jesus!”

“Yes, just like that sweetheart. If you beg for me real pretty I’ll give you what you want.” He says as his fingers keep plunging in and out of your heat in an upwards motion, strong but slow, dragging the feeling of his thick digits inside your walls. It’s close, he can feel it in the way you’re swelling around him, restless kicking out legs and praying for God as if it isn’t Makki who’s giving you all this.

“My name, sweetie. Beg for it, c’mon. Say it out very loud, how you want my cock to fuck you nice and hard as you’ve never had before, huh? Just--”

“Fuck!”

“Just tell me more how you had no idea it could be so good and how you need me to show you how fucking good a man can actually fuck.”

“Oh my god,” you all but yelp, but then sighs a, “yes, please.”

“Hmmm? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh fuck, Makki please fuck me!” There’s a breathless, outstandly maniac laugh breaching your lips after that, a flow of quick words falling from your lips as a train of thought, “Jesus I’ve never felt like this, oh my god I think I’ll actually die without--”

“There we go!” Makki laughs, voice loud as he stops everything to get up and once again bends down to pick you up.

“Wha--Wait!” You squeak, body tense and trembling at the loss as Makki only kisses around your tearstained face and makes his way around the upholstered couch. “Makki!” That has to be the needier, whinier tone he has ever heard his name in.

And he loves it.

He lets you slide through his hands, bends you over the back of the couch, your ripped panties sliding to the floor by one of your legs. One of Makki’s hands descends hard on your ass with a loud slap, your lips opening around a beautiful moan. The other does the same, both circling and massing the plump flesh as your ass and pussy blinks seductively at him.

That does it. Makki curses as he pulls his pants and underwear down, his hard, bloody-red cock slapping up against his navel; he closes his hand around it to slap it between the crack of your pretty behind and feels everything in him tingling at how wanton you sound in your moan, angling your back so that your ass can climb higher, head against the seat cushions.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Makki praises you as he tilts his cockhead on your slit, up and down, up and down against your clit, labia and entrance. It’s absolutely delicious how you clench to try and hold his cockhead, but it slips up to bob against your ass. “Ops, let’s try again.”

He does the same thing a second time but then you groan and whine once again, “Makki, please!”

Well, fuck, who’s he to deny you, right?

He pats your ass and supports his weight at the back of his feet, cockhead right against the beautiful hole weeping for him and, carefully, slowly, deliciously starts dipping inside. Your pussy sucks him in as a vice, muscle clenching and releasing; loud, satisfacted moans in your lips. It’s almost choking to him that the loud noise in the room comes from him, too, mouth falling open in a growl.

When his hips are nested against your ass, Makki has the urge to kiss you but squatches it down in favor of holding you strongly and fucking you throughly. Motioning himself in waves as he had on the stage, his cock slides in and out of you with such delicious, timed precision he thinks you’ll come twice on him before he’s done.

Your tight heat is velvety wet around him, squelching sounds sinful in the room as he grinds his hips against your ass, cockhead nestled against the firm pressure of your cervix. There’s babbles tipping from your lips, as if your mind has broken and you have to pronounce your mess of thoughts out loud. It’s cute.

Maybe he'd appreciate it more if his mind wasn't falling him also; his whole body feels constricted, strained, hips rolling in long, deep, strong strokes that make his cock into a pleasure antena, broadcasting to his whole being, blistering heat spreading through his veins and turning sharp at his spine and to start pooling at his balls.

He is about to dip his hand to your clit and end you when your body seizes, legs kicking while dangling from the backrest of the couch and your pussy starts creaming hard like a vice around his cock.

“Fuck!” He groans, tensing his whole body before you bring him over with you, hand slithering to hold the base of his cock, hard. Then he laughs, no breath to spare. “Wow, baby, no heads up? Now you gonna have to give me one more, I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out an indignant groan, but rest boneless under him. Makki retreats his hips from your snug grip and starts pistoning his way inside your heat, unforgiving even as you yelp and whine, oversensitivity probably making you burn. Makki lets one of his hands let go of your hips and fall hard on your ass, in time to feel the way your pussy grips at him, yelp turning into a moan. Makki lets his hands slide down the side and curve his wrist so your fingers can find your clit, rubbing him frantically as he angles his hips just right, every wave of his body aimed against your precious spot.

“Yup,” Makki groans, growing exhausted. “Just like this.”

Your eyes snap open, hands frantically reaching to hold on anything by them as you look back at Makki with shiny, big, dazed eyes in absolute terror at the fact you are, indeed, going to keep cumming on his dick, second orgasm hitting you so hard and fast Makki actually tips over with you, the pressure in his balls releasing in one blissful climax at the incessant contracting of your cunt and the wave of your orgasm gushing out of your pussy in the closest thing to a squirt he could pull out of you amidst a unending orgasm.

Makki stays inside you as he rides his high, grinding his hips even as you cry from the oversensitivity. When he pulls out, he’s careful with the condom and also has half a mind to hold your body, throwing the used thing somewhere to be cleaned after. Almost as if perceiving the breach, his cellphone starts ringing somewhere, loud as fuck in the closed room.

“Damn, fuck,” Makki scrambles to the sound, his legs almost giving out under him and his fingers so numb it takes three tries to actually accept the call. Which he didn’t read who from.

“MAKKI! WHERE ARE YOU, WE’RE STARTING IN FIVE.” Iwaizumi nags at him, stern and loud, piercing through his haze enough to make his brain drop some adrenaline into his bloodstream, suddenly alert and kicking, muscles straining but holding as he pulls his underwear and jeans quick over his ass and searches for his cowboy hat in time to dip and run to the presentation.

“Sorry baby, gotta go.” He saunters to you, plants a kiss on your sweaty head and another at your swollen lips and smiles the same sinful smile that ended up bringing you here, along with a tilt of his cowboy hat. “Duty calls.”

#hanamaki x reader #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #haikyuu smut #thesmutpilecollab

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 3 years

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idk how many people would even want to see this BUT i wanna yell about Leela and Brax so here's a list of all their scenes togethr/scenes pertainng to them that i can recall (pLEASE add on if i missed anything/ you have any additional thoughts!! i could talk about these two all day!)

right off the bat in Weapon of Choice when Leela is on the outskirts of the Citadel and Brax goes to bring her back (which is interesting in and of itself, bc usually i would imagine a chancellery guard would go do that so what made Brax decide to instead??), Leela kinda goes off at him bc she's hurting and instead of trying to actually explain what's going on Brax doesn't even try to argue he just says "we need you" which is great bc Leela has that instinctive desire to be needed and to help people and he's speaking right to that -- also as far as we know, this is Leela and Brax's first actual meeting in canon? it's implied that they know of each other, which makes sense, but it doesn't seem like they've ever directly interacted before: Brax seems almost slightly uncertain, and Leela is combative, but when he's gentle with her she's actually quite receptive

the literal next scene after that, where the OT4 is all in one room for the first time (they still kinda hate each other at this point but still !!!). Narvin explaining Gryben and being a real jerk about it and Leela (understandibly!) questions if Gryben is a prison world, and Brax (who to this point has been mostly quiet as Narvin and Romana brief Leela) jumps in to both clarify Narvin's previous xenophobic statements while also maintaining the inherent questionable/negative connotations

(btw it's actually pretty important to note that Romana self-edits herself a lot when talking to Leela, especially in the earlier seasons; you can actually hear her revising the things she says to put it in terms that she thinks Leela will better understand. and i mean she does it out of genuine consideration for her friend associate but it often comes across as varying levels of patronizing. Narvin also obviously "dumbs things down" when dealing with Leela early on, but like... Brax never does that on any level. the only difference i can tell in how he addresses Leela vs how he talks to anybody else is that he seems much more kind with her than almost anyone else???)

their conversation about the Matrix in The Inquiry: this is REALLY important (and if you've ever talked to me on ao3 i've probably gone off to you about it lol) because it's layered. they're talking about the Matrix but they're also not because in answering Leela's question Brax is making a very thinly veiled allegory (which he outright states a minute later) to Time Lord society/politicians/most importantly HIMSELF -- he's actually strangely open about his morals/beliefs in this scene and i'm living for it tbh -- and i find it very interesting that even though he does directly explain what he means ("how do you know all this?" / "because i am a politician.") he also leaves it for Leela to work out the implications. like it's a very nuanced conversation bc there's double meaning in it and most people on Gallifrey seem to think that Leela is tone-deaf and can't pick up on that stuff (even Romana sometimes oversimplifies things to her) but Brax totally just lets her take from it what she will bc he believes her intelligent enough to understand. he doesn't think her any lesser because she's human.

ALSO on a secondary note to the above: the fact that Leela has a question/needed clarification (sorry, haven't listened to this in a while i forget how it actually happened) and actively sought out Brax to talk to about it?? like she knows Romana better she could have gone to her but i feel like Leela kinda imprinted on Brax and someone she can go to for help if she needs it; maybe it's partly bc she knows he's under marginally less pressure than Romana is but also the truth of the matter is that Brax was the most genuinely helpful person to her in the previous stories and that probably means a lot to her (esp. bc he acts like the essence of everything she hates about Gallifrey but he doesn't treat her the way she would expect from that). btw this topic is gonna come up again in a hot minute

that part where Brax gives her that information that might help her re: the Andred thing, even though he really probably shouldn't have done that -- it kinda makes me think about what he must have been like with Theta tbh???

actually this is mostly my own conjecture but there's some neat stuff in Spirit bc during the *waves hand vaguely* bodyswap dream sequence thing, Romana is very "!!!! Brax can help us !!!" which is tecnically Leela brain talking, so like there's the implications of the stuff i've said above about Leela having this idea of Brax where she knows he's someone she can go to for help

can u tell i'm soft for them

Leela sounding really sad/distracted when she talks about how Brax isn't there YES i'm grasping at straws but a lot of this relationship really is conveyed through the voice acting bc of how little direct focus there is on the characters. there's actually several scenes in Mindbomb where she mentions him and she outright says that she misses him during her discussion with Matthias

that implied scene with them in Mindbomb!! i have a Lot of thoughts about that!!! it's all conjecture and fanfic fodder!!! but the reason i mention this is because it seems pretty meta that out of the whole Gally Gang, it's Leela who first sees Brax when he comes back to Gallifrey and in turn she's the first person (besides Matthias, i guess) that he sees upon his return?? idk i just feel like that's somehow a meaningful detail??? also her reaction of utter shock after spending the entire episode missing him and how worked up she is when she tries to tell Romana, like I desperately need to know what happened in this missing scene MR RICHARDS PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED

Leela insisting on going with Brax when Pandora starts hurting him and their whole conversation there is just. so good. like they're both just so soft and then when Darkel comes in Leela instantly goes into protective mode. like they just have such an open relationship bc Brax doesn't even try to be all pretentious with her, like he doesn't even try to keep up any facades when he's with her he's just very genuine and it really says a lot about both of them -- Leela is so good at seeing people, like getting down to the core of who people are and what makes them them (which is why she's good for Romana, btw, bc Romana has a lot of identity issues) and Brax is so tangled up in who he presents himself as that he barely knows who he actually is anymore but Leela can see that and she makes it so he can truly be himself and he doesn't have to hide. also she's so gentle with him when they talk about Pandora, she's very caring and empathetic and wants to make sure he's okay and i am WEAK

it's been a hot while since i listened to Panacea but I think i remember Brax being really soft with Leela when he first brings the gang to the Axis, like just sounding really glad to see her

ok other than the fact that Brax is lowkey relatable in Reborn (daydreaming fanfic about yourself/people you know? simping for Mary Tamm Romana? yeah mood, my man) there's that scene where they're first appraoching the Citadel on the alt!Gallifrey and it seems like none of them, and Brax specifically, have seen it from the outside in a good long while bc he's very in awe and he tells Leela that he wishes she could see it and he sounds sO hEcKiNg sOFT oh my word-

and once again with Leela thinking of Brax as someone she trusts for help: in Dissassembled when everything is going to crap she straight-up says that she wants to go find Brax bc he'll know what to do/be able to help

at the beginning of Annihilation when Romana is depressed and questioning if Brax truly was her friend and Leela INSTANTLY, NO HESITATION assures her that he was; i lost where i had her exact lines written down but she actually kinda goes off to make sure Romana gets the point

literally forcing myself to talk about this bc it makes my brain stall out but like,,, the Brax Hound in Annihilation,,, Leela being like "goodbye, Braxiatel... again" she sounds so sad and like UGH i always kinda forget how sad it actually is for them to lose Brax in Dissassembled bc like, it was so sudden and they didn't get to say goodbye and Leela is always losing people and i have many many feels about this scene and how all that emotion is made very clear in how they each respond to the Hound (might make a separate post abt this later if anyone is interested ::eyes::)

Enemy Lines is utter bullcrap about these two and I will never stop being salty about how they not only sidelined the very good, very subtle friendship they had in s1-4, but they??? made Leela acutally not trust Brax??? when literally this entire time she's been the one person who probably genuinely trusts him the most?? what the heck, David

I haven't heard TW3 or 4 yet but i'm assuming there's nothing worthwhile in those with regards to this duo (correct me if i'm wrong tho lol, i would love to be mistaken in this assumption)

TL;DR Leela and Brax mututally imprinted on each other and have probably the most open and healthy relationship within the OT4 and it is an absolute CRIME that nobody besides Gary Russell and Justin Richards cared enough to actually build on it in canon

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icarushasfallenfromthestars · 3 years

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hi!! do u mind if i request? maybe a tommy x reader who’s been struggling recently, with like getting out of bed, doing homework and stuff, and one day she doesn’t respond all day (probably just lying in bed all day or sm) and tommy goes to her house to see what’s up and comforts her and tries to help (even tho he’s lowkey bad at it he can always make u laugh that’s fax) and they kinda have like a ‘self care/help day’ with face masks and movies and unending laughter? thank u so much!!

Oooooo my first writing request! By the way it's written, I assume the reader is a female so that's what is gonna be written! Thanks for requesting!

I accidentally made this a little more dramatic than intended...

I Don't Know What To Do (So I'll Make You Smile) (Plat!Tommyinnit x F!Reader)

He didn't quite understand why you became so... Unmotivated lately. You briefly mentioned that you couldn't drag yourself over to your desk, let alone bring yourself to do the homework your teacher assigned.

Normally he didn't care too much and always said (jokingly) about how you should drop out of school and become a minecraft streamer. He got heavily scolded by Philza for suggesting it though. Normally, though.

Lately he's been taking glances at your report cards when you weren't looking and saw you mostly has C's and D's down the board. You were failing.

At the time, he didn't know how to bring it up or whether or not he should, and asked Philza Minecraft for help on what he should do. Phil explained to him that your mental situation was actually looking pretty bad and he suggested that Tommy go check up on you as soon as possible.

So, like any modern day teen, he texted you way more often than before, anything from asking if you wanted to hang out or stream with him, or sending you some stupid tiktok he found.

At first it was working and Tommy couldn't help but feel proud of himself. But then one day you didn't text him back.

His brain just told him you were busy at that time and left it at that, but then it struck 6pm and he still recieved no response.

A little annoyed by being ignored, Tommy threw on a quick sweater and his shoes before heading to the door. After a quick shout to his mother, explaining that he was heading to your house, he stepped out and walked across the pavement.

Within a few steps, he was standing at your door awkwardly. Normally he would've just burst in with a lame yet some how dramatic greeting to your parents before storming to your room (it happened at least four times a week. They got used to it within the first month.) but now... Something held him back.

Were you okay? Were you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he was being a bit too dramatic?

Ah. Since when has that ever stopped him?

With a sudden burst of confidence, he grabbed the doorknob and let himself in. Your parents were at work so he made sure to be extra annoying this time, pay back for ignoring him! "I'm breaking into your home!" He yelled dramatically after reaching out and pressing the doorbell a few times to alert his existence even more.

He took his shoes off and made his way to your room, the pathway ingrained into his mind at this point.

When he reached the door, he gave a brief knock (he had manners. Sometimes.) Before turning the knob. "You better be decent for both of our sanity!" He called before finally opening it.

Your room looked... Empty... at first. In the beginning, he thought you weren't home, that is until the blankets began to shift and there was an annoyed groan.

"Soooo dramatiiiiic..." You huffed, unfurling yourself from your cocoon of blankets to glare at him jokingly, but he looked more surprised.

"You look like you got hit with a bus!"

"Well screw you too..."

Tommy snorted before awkwardly sitting on the edge of your bed. "So.. why haven't you been up today? Or... Well.. Passing your classes?"

You were definitely shocked that Tommy noticed, and part of you wanted to joke to ease the tension, but you figured that would make it harder on him. "Well... See... I've been struggling a lot with my mental state and everything just became really stressful, but even then I couldn't do it... And.. Well still can't.."

"Why... Not?" He looked at you in confusion and you just shrugged slightly, running your hand through your bedhead... Which you could see Tommy trying his absolute hardest not to snicker at.

"I don't really feel motivated... I can't even really get out of bed.."

The blond boy gave you an awkward pat on the arm, making you roll your eyes. "Uhhh.. You.. wanna watch a movie? Or... Oh! Maybe we could go egg Wilbur's house while he's off being a simp for Nikki!"

You scoffed and began to laugh into your hand which caused Tommy to greatly relax. "That's hours away, Tommy... We'd never get there before my parents get back. But we can watch a movie?"

"You're no funnnn!" He whined dramatically with a slight hint of a smile before shaking his head, "Go at least brush your hair while I find a movie, it looks like a porcupine got struck by lightening."

You rolled your eyes and slowly began to shuffle out of bed to make your way to the bathroom while Tommy turned on the TV in your room, having been here enough times that he knew how to use it.

When you came back, mostly cleaned up with a sweater thrown over your pajamas, you saw Tommy putting on one of his favourite comedy movies. There was also some snacks he had probably raided your kitchen or secret candy stash for, but you didn't mind. You flopped back down into your bed, while Tommy hit play.

"I never under stand why women always make such a bit deal over pulling those face mask things off of their face!" Tommy gestured to the scene that was playing in the movie. "Also why do they need so many face products? Doesn't water and dish soap do the trick?"

"You do NOT use dish soap on your face!" You gaped at his response to the movie. "And trust me... Those peel masks hurt." You saw Tommy roll his eyes for a moment before you got an idea. "Wanna try?"

The teen looked at you as if you were high on glue, but then he saw the challenging look in your eyes, and everyone knows that Tommy Big Man Innit NEVER backs down from a challenge. Or maybe he knew it would make you happy? "It can't be that bad!"

You knew he was gonna regret that.

You paused the movie while you scrambled to get your skin care products ready. First you made him wash his face, moisturize, etc etc, which he complained about non stop, but you always told him to quit whining or he was admitting to losing against the woman in the movie. He instantly quit complaining, calling the actress and pansy and hell bent determined to prove himself as an alpha male.

You made him put his hair back with a cheap headband you had, which caused his blond locks to practically flare out in every direction. After laughing about it for a minute, you made him sit down so you could paint the mask on.

"Sit still!"

"But it feels weird!"

"Keep quiet or this brush is going up your nose!"

"You wouldn't DARE."

"Wanna bet on it?"

After about five minutes of even more whining, you finally got the masks painted on you both as Tommy decided to take a picture of himself for Twitter to meme about.

Tommyinnit

Women are weird with their face skin care stuff...

While you both waited for the masks to dry, you had some how convinced Tommy to let you paint his nails but ONLY if he could do yours as well. We all know Tommy isn't about that toxic masculinity.

Once it was dry, you could see Tommy scrunching his face repeatedly, most likely not used to the unusual feeling. "Can I take this off now? I'm determined to prove myself better than those actors!"

You bit your lip to hide your grin as you gave a nod. Because yours was also dry, you showed him how to find an edge and how to pull it off.

"Ow! What the hell!?"

You snickered as you watched Tommy begin to yelp in pain as he began to pull the mask off, only able to do tiny tiny little bits at a time before needing a moment to gather himself, eyes watering.

You, being a boss, were already majority of the way done pulling the face mask off causing Tommy's jaw to d r o p. "You're a literal hell spawn! How are you not bawling your eyes out from the pain?!"

"I've done this quite a lot of times honestly. It's not that bad." You lied through your teeth. Honestly it hurt quite a lot, but you were just enjoying seeing Tommy gawk at you before trying to peel the mask off more, only to yelp and whine.

It took twenty minutes, and eventually, he got the product off and stared at his reddened face in the mirror. He decided to take another picture (with permission) for Twitter with you being a smug little shit while his eyes were still watery and his skin still irritated.

Tommyinnit

I respect women even more now...

(Yourusername)

@/tommyinnit Wimp.

#tommyinit mcyt #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #dream smp #tommyinnit #mcyt #mcyt x reader #platonic x reader

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drawlfoy · 3 years

Text

Wonders of Ohio P.10

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no way

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for a surprise when her british exchange student is a little...odd.

warnings (AYO please pay attention to these this time it’s not just swearing): swearing, underage drinking (no i do not condone this ig), beginning elements of smut but def not too explicit, i think you can consider it dubcon ?? if both people are drunk bc i don’t think you can actually consent if youre drunk (plz rest assured tho they are both 18 hehe)

a/n: “hey where did this come from” yeah so hey yall ive never written such an intense scene before but i’ve spent so much time w these characters that i decided i kind of had to. there’s no like...real sex in this and i don’t imagine that i’d describe it in this much detail if i ever decided to write it but um.. anyways. i hope y’all enjoy. thanks for suffering for this long ! i hope i’ve made it worth it

word count: 4k

music recs:

cloud 9 -- beach bunny

the adults are talking -- the strokes

anything from the strokes tbh

tags ! :) @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

“Thank fucking god for the generator,” said Y/N as she flew around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together in her quest to make New Year’s Eve breakfast. Draco was sitting, unamused and completely silent, at the table. They’d been snowed in for a few days now with her parents nowhere near able to make it to the suburbs. For some reason, the entire city of Cincinnati had decided that the day before Christmas was the best time to schedule maintenance on literally every single one of their plows. “Can you imagine living here without heat? Or power? I’d die.”

Draco hummed in response. A glance over confirmed that he was deep in thought, a scarlet colored letter clutched firmly in his hand (hello, Nathaniel Hawthorne). Jealousy curdled inside of her as her thoughts turned to a dark place--it was Pansy, that Pansy Parkinson.

Knowing her intuition, she was probably his grandmother or something. Why else would she have written so many letters?

After she finished plating all of the pancakes, she allowed herself to sneak a peek at the envelope.

Astoria Greengrass

She frowned. Astoria? She’d never seen that name before.

“What is this?” asked Draco as he picked up his fork to poke at the pancake on his plate.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Have you never had a pancake before?”

“A pancake?” He gave his plate a stern look. “It looks...like a soggy pastry.”

“Fuck you, I made that,” responded Y/N. “Try it with butter and maple syrup. And then tell me it’s a soggy pastry.”

She took out her fork and knife, demonstrating very clearly what she meant as she spread butter over the top of her pancake. She’d learned that Draco was too proud to ask what she meant when she introduced him to American/muggle foods--the last time he tried to deduce something himself, he ended up pouring ketchup over the top of his hamburger bun instead of actually putting it on the patty.

A sense of satisfaction flowed into her as she saw him follow suit, spreading the warmed butter and dipping a cut piece in syrup. He raised it to his lips, taking a delicate bite.

“Americans really have this for breakfast?”

“Yeah…is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He grimaced. “This isn’t breakfast. This is dessert food.”

“God, your life must be so sad back home,” said Y/N. “What does your family make you eat--just straight unbuttered bread under the guise of it being a real breakfast food? Do they let you dip it in your unsweetened, weak tea if you’re good?”

He scoffed. “You have no idea how I live back at home.”

“And, judging from this conversation, I don’t have any desire to know any more.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Y/N smiled when she saw Draco reach for a second pancake.

“Two desserts? Draco, I know it’s New Year’s, but don’t get too off the hinges,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell her was fighting back a smile. “Speaking of which, how do you celebrate New Year’s?”

Draco looked up and met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“How do you celebrate tonight? With your family or your friends, or your...whatever.” The cold reality of the fact that she did not really know if he was dating someone back home set in.

“Oh, I don’t usually. It’s not really a big thing in the magical community,” he mused, unaware of her sudden panic.

“Well,” she said. “I always celebrate New Year’s with my friends. I didn’t tell you this sooner because I didn’t think that you were going to be here, but I’m kind of hosting a party here tonight. With anyone who can walk here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of his tea. “Will it be like the Halloween party at Sylvia’s?”

“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Do you mean, will there be drinking?”

He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

“There definitely can be,” she continued, her smile widening. “Last year we played this dumb drinking game over this card game--if you lost, you took a shot. It was fun. We could do that again.”

She settled down to eat, digging into two of the pancakes. They were really good--she wasn’t Gordon Ramsay by any means, but she did breakfast food pretty well. But at the mention of her friends, a realization hit her. “Oh. Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

“Um, can I tell you something?”

He dipped his head in recognition while Y/N cleared her throat.

“So, um, I forgot about this,” she began, “but while you were gone, I kind of had to scramble to figure out what to tell everyone about why we were avoiding each other before you left. And why you left so suddenly and why I didn’t know.”

He was still watching her in curious silence.

“So, I really didn’t want to slip up or say anything about...you.” Y/N paused to take a sip of her tea, deciding to not try to look at Draco again. “So I decided to tell Sylvia and Lizzy that I told you my feelings for you and you didn’t return them.”

A clang startled her enough to look up. Draco was staring, completely frozen. His fork had fallen into the syrup on his plate, handle and all.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I mean, oh, fuck. Um.” She smiled at him, hoping it was going to distract from her audible stumble. “Obviously, I made it all up. I mean, both sides! But what’s important is that they bought it, and now they’re probably going to give you a little shit for not liking me ‘back’. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Made it all up, huh?” His voice had a surprisingly teasing lilt.

“Yes, that is in fact what I said,” she responded, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt hot.

“Is it really now?”

“Draco!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back. I need a new fork.”

“Just wipe off the handle of the one you have now--Draco, why are you getting up? Stop!”

To her disappointment, none of her friends were able to show. Sylvia and Lizzy made a concerted effort to try and convince their family to let them brave the walk, but once another flurry started up outside, it was hopeless. Her face turned pink whenever she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even needed to tell Draco the thing that made her slip up in the first place.

Y/N, disappointed but not surprised, told Draco that she still wanted to celebrate, even if it was just with him. He’d snorted at this--asking her why she made it seem like such a burden--but once she produced a yellow glass bottle and a deck of cards and told him she bet that she was going to beat his sorry ass, he caved.

She started with a heavy lead, but once Draco learned the rules and strategies of the slightly convoluted Go Fish game, he proved to be a worthy match. They played until around 11:45 when the bottle was about 3/4 full and Y/N was feeling the pleasant warmth of being slightly intoxicated. Once she noticed the time, she threw her cards on the table.

“Let’s watch the ball drop,” Y/N said with no further explanation, even when Draco looked to her for one. She grabbed the bottle and his hand, pulling him up the stairs to her room. The remote control for her TV was a struggle to find--it was all the way tucked back in her nightstand drawer--but thankfully the channel was already set.

“You forgot the cups,” Draco said, staring down at the opened bottle held in his hand.

“You can get them if you want,” she managed.

“You should! You forgot them.”

“Too far,” she whined, flopping to lean back on her pillows while Draco followed suit. His hair smelled like peppermint. Without much more thought, she moved close enough that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t move away--instead, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink directly.

“Your New Year’s traditions are weird as fuck,” he murmured as he watched Savannah Guthrie on the screen. He didn’t have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and it seemed like he knew this.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard it all yet,” said Y/N. “We’ve got a tradition to kiss someone going into the New Year. New Year’s kiss, I guess. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of drama that creates.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You don’t have to be dating to kiss someone, sometimes people just...do it. As friends.” Y/N reached over to the bottle and took a swig herself, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.

“Take it easy,” he tutted, pulling the bottle away from her before taking another drink himself.

“Hey! Says you!”

“Because I can actually hold my liquor well,” he teased, giving her a shove.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You just kept getting worse and worse at whatever that game was,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Give it here,” she said, reaching across his chest to where he was holding the bottle, out and above his head. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much this side of him filled her with glee. “That’s not fair!”

“Not fair, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes as he held it up even further into the air. His voice was startlingly low. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Before she could muster up a response, the TV began playing the audio for the New Year’s Countdown.

10!

Y/N wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer--or if he was just...flirting?

He managed to set the bottle on her nightstand without taking his eyes off of her.

The hand she had used to reach across him with was now pressed into his side of the bed, supporting her as she hovered over him.

Without moving any part of her body, she dared to glance at his parted lips.

Maybe telling him about the kiss tradition was a stupid idea.

His hand, warm and soft, reached up to brush a piece of hair away from her cheekbone.

His fingers lingered on the outline of her jaw.

He was kissing her before the cheers from the TV even had the chance to bounce around the room, both hands cupping her face and pulling her in so desperately that it took her breath away.

Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, and then, eventually his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. They started out innocently enough--closed mouth kisses and only their hands touching each other above the shoulders--but once she tugged on his hair (mostly by accident) something...shifted.

Suddenly he was on top of her, and suddenly her leg was wrapped around him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It occurred to her that this was no longer just a New Year’s kiss. He tasted of lemon and sugar--and was notably better at what he was doing than any of the people she’d kissed before. Or maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgement. Regardless, she liked whatever was going on. His hands had drifted from her face to her neck to her hair to her shoulder, gently tracing the outline of her bra strap. She brushed her hand down his chest, pulling gently at the collar on his shirt. Only when his leg pressed up into her and her breath hitched did she realize the weight of their situation.

The way he pulled away to hover over her signaled that he’d had the same revelation, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Dread crept into her despite the pleasant haze she was in.

He swallowed, hard. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Draco was on the other side of the bed in seconds, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on her floor. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t know if he wanted her to touch him, but she wanted so badly to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Did you not want...it?”

He scoffed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “I had too much to drink. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she fell back on the bed.

That’s all it was. A drunken mistake.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she surveyed her options. Despite the fact that she was drunk off her ass, she knew she couldn’t just tell him to leave without making her feelings clear. She never explicitly told him that she wanted him and it wasn’t like she moaned his name or anything--thank god--but what other option did she have? She didn’t want to cry in front of him, and if he stayed in her room any longer he would without a doubt witness her alcohol induced cry fest.

NBC finally switched to ads, and Y/N granted herself permission to mourn the fact that Flo from Progressive would forever be ruined for her.

It was dark enough for her to quickly reach up and wipe her eyes undetected, granting her enough confidence to sit up and look at him directly. “You don’t get to just...kiss me like that. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together and rested on his nose. “Fuck. Of course I know.”

“But you can tell me you meant it to be just as friends,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t see how hard she was fighting back a new wave of tears.

“As friends,” he repeated, his tone flat.

“As friends,” she said.

“I don’t think either of us are daft enough to believe that.”

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe things are different in America, but I don’t see you doing that sort of thing with Lizzy.”

“We can forget about this. It’s fine. I know you regret it.”

He exhaled, his breath long and shaky. “I didn’t stop because I regretted it.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because…”

“Is it because I’m a muggle?” His silence was everything she needed for an answer. “Okay. I had a feeling.”

“Y/N, it’s not like...I don’t know how to explain it.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“About this!” he said, dramatically gesturing to her. “About everything!”

“I don’t understand.” The tears began pricking in the corners of her eyes again despite her best efforts.

Draco finally looked at her. She was shocked by how genuinely distressed he looked--the last time he looked at her like this, she’d been laying on the ground outside of the antique sore. “I don’t expect you to.”

His tone was low, careful. He was holding back.

“Can you just tell me how you feel about me, then? Just so I know?”

“It’s not that--” He stopped himself, sucking in another breath before he continued. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right of me.” He groaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “I meant it when I said that we could just forget about it. We’re friends, Draco. Just friends. I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s just pretend this never happened, ok?”

He was quiet for a bit before responding. “Did you...want me to kiss you? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“As in, did you want me to stop?”

“Oh.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “You didn’t violate me if you’re asking to gauge how guilty you should be.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“Okay,” she said simply. He was still laying in her bed, and she hated the fact that her bed was going to smell like him until she washed everything.

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer.”

“We’re friends, Draco.” She sent him a weak smile as she repeated her previous sentiment. “I trust you, so you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

She was aware of the fact that her sentence didn’t exactly track, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with the literary quality of her speech.

“That still doesn’t answer my other question.”

“I…” She felt her throat dry up. “I want--I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a while now.”

At this, he finally sat up and looked her in the eyes. She thought she could see the briefest glint of relief pass over his face before he managed to rein it back to a neutral expression.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around, yeah?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she snipped, hoping he caught on to her mocking. She’d missed sparring with him.

“Yes, I kissed you because I wanted to, not for some weird ulterior motive,” he responded, rolling his eyes despite the fact that his cheeks were clearly very pink, even in her dimly lit room. “Though I agree it’s best if we just stayed friends.”

“Yeah.” She felt her face fall, but she managed to catch it before she looked too devastated. “It’s all water under the bridge. Now we know not to drink together again.”

“That too.” He shifted, clearing his throat before making eye contact with her again with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “But the damage is already done, I suppose?”

“I suppose,” she echoed. “You wanted to kiss me? Actually?”

“Should we really talk about this? After what we just said about staying friends?”

“We’re going to feel regret tomorrow morning no matter what we do now, “ said Y/N. “Might as well.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles--the ones where his eyes went all soft and he dipped his head to hide it. “Yes. I really do. Want to kiss you, that is.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” she blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

His smile morphed into more of a smirk as he crept closer, his hand resting on top of her knee. “So can I do it again?”

“Draco…” She sighed.

“The damage is already done,” he repeated as he reached his hand up to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers dragging down her neck. The smug look that formed on his face after she drew a quick breath in confirmed that he knew what he was doing, that fucker. “You said it yourself--we’re just friends.”

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning if I say yes.”

Draco’s hand drifted over her jaw, his thumb pausing to trace over her bottom lip. “You can hate me instead.”

This time, it didn’t surprise her so much when he leaned in. He was notably less desperate, taking time to draw breaths in between kisses and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted her chin and brushed the hair away from her neck, kissing down from her jaw to her collarbone. She shivered, and he drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her until she was sitting on his lap.

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Draco,” she managed to joke. She could feel the smirk that formed on his lips as it passed over her clavicle.

“Shut up.” His teeth grazed over her delicate skin before he sucked, eliciting a gasp from her. She could feel him smile again.

His hands teased the bottom hemline of her sweater, his fingers tangling in the fabric but not moving it. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hands ghost over her skin.

“Are you okay with…”

“Yes!” The answer came out much quicker than she would’ve liked, but the grin on Draco’s face made it completely worth the momentary embarrassment as he helped her out of the thick cable-knit sweater. “Now is your chance to dote on me and tell me how beautiful I am. As a friend, of course.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he said. He looked like he was positively glowing as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep. His hands found her back and hesitated over her bra clasp.

Before he had a chance to do anything, Y/N started fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt, successfully undoing the first two before she noticed that Draco had frozen completely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Maybe...not now, okay?”

“I had a feeling that was too much,” she admitted, reaching for her top before realizing he’d tossed it across her bedroom floor and suddenly feeling very exposed.

“It’s not that…” he said, trailing off. “I just...should probably tell you some things before my shirt comes off. And I don’t think tonight is the best time for that.”

“Oh.” Y/N tried to make herself look like she understood whatever he was on about. “Yeah, of course. Oh! Is it about that tattoo you tried to gaslight me into believing didn’t exist?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t gaslight you!”

“Here you go again,” she huffed. “I rest my case.”

“And I am not getting into that now,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk about it for very good reason.”

She reached up to his shoulders, dragging her fingertips over his collarbones and watching as he gazed up at her. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The corners of his lips turned up at this, and she took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I think we should go to sleep. We have enough material to regret for tomorrow at this point. Any more and I think we’ll be getting greedy, so--”

Draco cut her off with one last kiss, his fingers splayed out across her back, pulling her impossibly close before finally releasing her.

“Agreed.” He let out a sigh before sliding her off him and standing up to grab her runaway sweater. “Do you want to sleep in this? Or do you want me to get you something else from your dresser while I’m up?”

“Um…” She was frozen at the prospect of him watching her change clothes. “Probably something else. Top left drawer--just pick whatever.”

He sifted through her piles of random T-shirts before settling on one with the UChicago logo and tossing it to her.

Y/N pulled it over her head, grateful for the fact that he wasn’t staring at her with only a black lace bra that barely did its job.

“So, uh, I think I should probably go then,” he said.

She fought the urge to ask him to stay. “Yeah, that’d be best.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he closed it and frowned. “So I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to agonizing over this in the morning.”

Once the sounds of his footsteps heading down the hall faded, she finally allowed herself to flop back onto her now Draco-scented sheets.

What the fuck just happened.

final a/n: hellooooooo ! it finally happened! i hope this didn’t seem rushed or unnatural to you guys but like. it’s been over 30k words and i thought you guys deserved something. yes i am going to be leaning into the whole “we’re just friends” trope while definitely not being just friends. yes i am going to drag astoria into this i’m excited i hope yall enjoyed

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

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