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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well.

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.”

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

---

When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back?

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore.

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is.

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car.

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t.

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

“I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading.

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you.

They make you think of him, though.

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day.

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made. You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance.

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly.

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door.

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yall i am rlly proud of this but yes im sorry it took so long to come out #i had so much fun writing it and im so happy w it #please leave feedback!!! id appreciate it so much

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wizardimagines · 4 years

Note

i really want a very VERY angst draco x reader where like.. basically draco get SO jealous that the reader has been helping ron study and they get into a huge argument with the prompts 2, 6, 15, 21, and 7. if this is a lot i’m very sorry but something along those lines is what i crave lmao. i hope you’re doing good and thank you if you even read this!

pairing: draco malfoy x reader word count: 2,1k summary: you and ron becomes closer as you help him study, draco doesn’t take this new relationship well. a/n: oh my… now this is some angst . writing this made me so sad, however, there will be a part 2 ! it’ll probably be out tomorrow. thank u so much for this amazing request, it was so much fun to write even though it completely broke my heart </3 READ PART 2 HERE warnings: TW !!! mentions cheating, slight physical abuse prompts: 2. i saw you with him 6. don’t lie to me 7. you really made me believe you were mine 15. you’re lying and you know i know 21. i gave you every piece of me

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

You always twirled your hair around your index finger as you spoke to Ron. You also laughed a lot more around Ron, you always wore the biggest smile whenever he was around. Draco noticed all of it, and he absolutely despised it. There was nothing he hated more than the Golden Trio and seeing you get along so well with Ron made Draco want to literally snap the red-haired boys head off. It had all started when you agreed to help Ron study in one of the classes you two shared. It wasn’t such a big deal, to begin with. Sure, Draco did truly hate it but he knew you were just being friendly.

Then it went from you two studying to becoming actual friends. You would give each other a small smile when you passed one another in the halls, even stopping to exchange a few words every now and then; even when Draco was there with you. Draco had expressed his hatred for your friendship multiple times, but nothing really changed. You two were still friends.

Today was no different. You and Ron were leaving potions together, walking down the halls. ‘’So Y/N,’’ Ron said as you walked out the classroom. ‘’Are you coming to Hogsmeade tonight?’’ A hopeful look plastered on his face as he asked. ‘’Let me guess,’’ You said, furrowing your eyebrows as if you were thinking really hard. ‘’You, Harry, and Hermione are going to The Three Broomsticks?’’ You asked, causing the corners of Ron’s mouth to curl into a small smile. ‘’I’m afraid you’re right,’’ He chuckled. ‘’And we would love it if you came along.’’

Ron looked at you with hopeful eyes. It was, a matter of fact, Friday and it had been a while since you went out and actually did something fun. You looked at the boy for a moment, pressing your lips together as you looked down at your shoes. ‘’I’ll ask Draco,’’ The words left your mouth quietly like you didn’t want him to hear. Ron's facial expression dropped in disappointment, already knowing the answer. ‘’I understand.’’ He let out, mumbling his words.

Draco was really overprotective. Sometimes a little bit too overprotective. You did enjoy it a lot, it was really nice knowing he cared so much about you and you knew he only had good intentions. You couldn't blame him for caring so much, you were the only thing he had left at his point. It had been a rough year for Draco. His father's expectations were getting to the platinum blond boy and were affecting him badly. You knew that you becoming friends with the Golden Trio didn’t exactly help, but you knew you had to think about yourself and what you wanted too, not just what your boyfriend thought was the best option. ‘’I'll try my best to make it,’’ You continued, giving the boy next to you half a smile. ‘’It would be truly amazing if you did,’’ Ron said, his lips curving into a smile once again. ‘’What, are you asking me on a date, Ron Weasley?’’ You exclaimed, acting surprised. ‘’If I wanted your lovely boyfriend to break my nose then yes,’’ Ron laughed. ‘’But unfortunately, I’m not really into that kind of stuff.’’ You grimaced as you hit him in the arm lightly. ‘’You truly do get your humor from your brothers Weasley,’’ You laughed. ‘’Well, I’m a Weasley at the end of the day, aren’t I?’’ He smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

Draco frowned as he watched the interaction from afar. You had agreed on meeting him outside the Slytherin common room after your last class so you two could see each other before dinner. He had been waiting for what felt like ages before he spotted you walking down the halls with the one and only, Ron Weasley. He scrunched up his face as he watched the taller boy pull you into a hug, feeling the jealousy well up inside of him as you wrapped your arms around the red-haired boy. He clenched his fists as he felt like someone had just stabbed him in the heart, he felt like he could bleed out right there and then. Draco saw the big smile on your face, making tears shimmer in his eyes. He instantly wiped his eyes aggressively, refusing to let anyone see he was hurt.

As you waved Ron goodbye, you turned around. You already knew Draco would be standing by the common room entrance waiting for you, but to your surprise, the platinum blond boy was nowhere to be seen. At this point, there were only a few people left in the halls. ‘’Draco?’’ You called out, looking around but he was still nowhere to be seen even though you could’ve sworn he was there a second ago. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you continued to look around for a moment. Maybe he just gets out of class a little bit later, you thought to yourself before turning around to leave; deciding to let him go find you later.

However, the blond boy never came looking for you. You didn’t see him for hours, feeling a little bad that you didn’t go looking for him instead. But eventually, you just shrugged it off, knowing he was probably just busy doing something else and that you would see him during dinner. You two always sat next to each other, and today was no different. The great hall was already filled with hungry students as you walked in, the loud chatter filling your ears as you started walking towards the Slytherin table. It didn’t take you long to spot the silver hair in the crowd. A small smile formed on your lips as you picked up your pace. His back was facing you, Blaise sitting in front of him. The spot next to him was empty, just like always; reserved for you.

‘’Hello there,’’ You whispered into his ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You could feel his whole body go stiff as you touched him, making you confused. Usually, you could feel his whole body relax whenever you touched him, but something was different today. He quickly shoved your arms away from him, making you furrow your eyebrows once again. He turned his head to look at you, a frown forming on his face. ‘’Sorry, this seat is taken today.’’ Draco snapped before turning around to face his friend once again. Your whole body went stiff as the words left his mouth, staring at the boy in front of you. ‘’What?’’ You let out, the confusion lingering in your voice. Draco let out a loud sigh as he turned around once again, glaring at you. ‘’What?’’ He mimicked you. ‘’You heard me. This seat is taken,’’ He repeated himself.

You just stood there, mouth slightly open as you tried your best to find the right words to say. You had no idea why he was acting so cold, but you were about to find out. ‘’Go sit somewhere else Y/N.’’ He finished, staring at you for a moment. His pupils were dilated, his face expressionless. ‘’Maybe Ron has a spot next to him?’’ He sneered at you, turning around once again. You just stood there for a moment. You had no idea why he was acting like this, however, you weren’t having it. ‘’Maybe he does.’’ You snapped back, turning your heel around as you started walking away from the table. You could feel Draco's eyes burning into your back, but you just kept on walking. If that’s how he wanted it, then that’s the way he’d get it.

Of course, Ron had a spot where no one was sitting next to him. You could tell he was happy to see you, but at the same time, he looked quite confused. ‘’How come you’re not sitting at the Slytherin table?’’ He asked as he took another bite of his food. ‘’Did you and Draco have a fight?’’ Hermione asked, making you look over at the brown-haired girl. You just smiled and shook your head. ‘’I just felt like sitting with you guys today.’’ You lied. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them the truth. ‘’And Malfoy allowed that?’’ Hermione asked once again, raising one of her eyebrows as she looked over at you. ‘’Actually, he was the one who suggested it.’’ You responded, this time telling the truth. ‘’Maybe Malfoy isn’t so bad at the end of the day,’’ Ron mumbled, his mouth stuffed with food. ‘’We both know that’s a lie,’’ Harry muttered, making you chuckle.

Draco watched every movement you made carefully. Sure, he was the one who told you to go sit over there but he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. A part of him actually thought you would refuse and sit next to him despite what he had said, his heart breaking when you had turned around and left. Eventually, Draco had enough, standing up abruptly as he left the table; stomping towards the exit. You quickly noticed the tall boy leaving the room, your eyes following him. ‘’Excuse me,’’ You mumbled as you stood up; not taking your eyes of Draco. You quickly left the table in a hurry, not even saying bye to your friends who were left confused.

‘’Draco!’’ You called out, trying your best to catch up with the blond boy who was walking down the hallways with quick steps. You eventually caught up, grabbing his wrist. ‘’You really made me believe you were mine,’’ Draco snapped, stopping dead in his tracks as he snatched his hand away from you. The only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing and the wind blowing outside the thin windows. ‘’What?’’ You let out as he turned around to face you. ‘’I saw you with him,’’ He declared, looking you dead in the eye. ‘’Who?’’ You asked, still just as confused. He snickered as he shook his head. ‘’I see the way you act whenever he’s around Y/N, it wouldn’t surprise you if you were actually fucking him when you tell me you’re just studying.’’

His words felt like a knife being stabbed in your chest. He was talking about Ron. Your eyes widened, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. ‘’Excuse me?’’ You whispered, glaring at the taller boy in front of you. ‘’How dare you act like you’re the victim here?’’ He asked, this time raising his voice. You could tell he was getting angry. ‘’I gave you every piece of me while you act like you’re the victim?’’ He spat at you, his pupils flared. You could see him clenching his fists, anger building up inside of him. ‘’Why are you so jealous? We’re just studying,’’ You stuttered, slowly feeling the fear build up inside of you. You absolutely hated it when Draco was angry, especially when he was mad at you.

‘’Don’t lie to me.’’ He glared at you, grabbing your wrist. ‘’You’re lying and you know I know,’’ He continued, taking a steadier grip of your wrist. You looked down at your arm, a red grip forming where he was holding you. You couldn’t even recognize the boy who was standing in front of you. ‘’Draco, you’re hurting me,’’ You mumbled, trying to hold back tears. Draco had never laid a single finger on you this way, and it was really scaring you even though he would never hurt you. ‘’So you’re the who’s hurting?’’ He shouted, making you jump. You looked up at him, a disgusted expression plastered on his face. ‘’Fucking whore,’’ He muttered under his breath, letting go of your wrist. ‘’Should’ve broken up with you a long time ago.’’

And just like that, he was gone. You stood there for a second, looking down at your wrist. His strong grip had left an imprint on your arm. You let out a whimper before the first tear hit your cheek. You had no idea what had just happened, but it terrified you. You knew Draco would never intentionally hurt you, yet you couldn’t stop staring at the mark he had left on your wrist. You let out a sob as you fell to the floor, tears making your vision go blurry. You could hear him walking down the hallway, away from you. You had no idea what you had done, but you knew you had hurt him, really, really badly.

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melodyofmbaku · 3 years

Text

In Between the Lines Chapter 2 (Erik Stevens x OC)

Teaser [1]

Prompt: “C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst... I can’t help it.

That was her problem.

Elloise couldn't see. So she liked to touch.

It was how she was able to experience the world. It was also the bane of Erik’s existence.

She was always fiddling & touching and it drove him right up the wall.

Didn't she know that some people would misinterpret her actions?

That’s exactly why he hung around her so much, she was entirely too trusting. And he didn't want someone with ill intentions to take advantage of her.

That’s what it was.

Not because he wanted her hands to be on him and him only.

Or because he wanted to see exactly what that mouth could do.

It was because she had a bleeding heart for every seemingly suffering individual and it would be her downfall.

That’s what it was.

As such he made it his mission to weave his way into her days because Elloise was one of the few people he actually liked around here.

He remembers the first time he met the woman who had ownership of his heart.

It was 2 years ago when hehad just arrived at the palace. The place that was supposed to be his home. After he decided to work alongside T’Challa to better improve relations between Wakanda and the rest of the world it was decided.

He could learn more about his father, his birth place, and detach from his old hobby.

Killing people.

So when the young man approached him with a smile on his face and gesturing towards his gear he put a stop to it quick.

He still had some of his pieces on him and he didn’t want that getting messed with.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled an “nah I’m good boss” under his breath before walking around him.

The man began to follow him, looking intently at him with a confused look on his face.

“Do you need some help with your bags?” He gestured to his belongings once more.

“I’m good man.” He responded back again lowly. What was this dude’s problem?

Then he heard it. Her.

"Would you quit mumbling under your breath? If you have something to say, speak up, if not, you'd be better off shutting up".

He looked to the side and took in the woman who emerged from one of the many entrances that lead to the front hall.

She looked lithe and soft. She had dark skin and plump lips, wild coily hair, and a dress that accentuated her waist dangerously. Her cleavage was artfully on display and he was definitely taking a look.

This was the exact kind of woman he enjoyed whining, dining and bending over at the end of the night.

He would also probably do something wicked to that mouth…

He cocked his head and the corner of his lip lifted up in amusement.

“What you say ma?”

He watched as she walked towards him with intent and an odd aura of grace.

Interesting.

She stopped much too close to him.

"Erik... when you entered these grounds — the palace — my house — because that's what this is... my house — you consented to abiding to the rules of this household”.

"Some of which include forgoing your "I used to kill people for a living" vibe so that the differently abled individuals in the residence can comfortably get their jobs done".

What was she going on about? Differently abled?

She gestured to the young man who came to take his bags.

"James is hard of hearing. It helps that you speak clearly, and preferably facing him, so he can better assist you".

Erik turned to take him in. Then he saw it.

James smiled politely and gestured to the tiny hearing aid that was discreetly placed behind his ear.

Erik swallowed. He felt like a dick. He palmed the back of his neck.

"Nah uh... I'll carry my own weight." he responded after clearing his throat.

James nodded and looked back at the woman as if waiting for a command.

She turned to him "Thanks James, it seems like Mr. Stevens has it covered. You can go now."

The young man nodded and went on his was and Erik could’ve sworn he heard a snicker from him as he retreated. He glared at his retreating back.

"Can I touch you"? she asked tilting her head.

"What"? he asked confused.

She gestured toward his face. “Can I touch you? Your face specifically”. She repeated.

Erik squinted still trying to understand what exactly her problem was.

"Why the fu —". She never let him finish.

"We'll be spending a lot of time together now that you’re officially part of the royal family”.

“What’s that gotta do with you touching me?”.

"To save you further embarrassment, and a repeat scenario… in case you missed it Mr. Stevens... I'm blind". She pointed to her eyes to convey her point.

There was a moment of silence before Erik realized.

He wasn't sure how he missed it. He was getting comfortable and terribly out of practice.

She had done a very good job of presenting as normal as possible.

He ducked lower to her level to meet her eyes. True enough her deep brown eyes were unfocused and there seemed to be a gray film over them but they were brown nonetheless.

She repeated her question.

"Can I touch your face, so I know what you look like?” she gestured to him leaning forward invasively close.

“What if I say no”? He responded back defiantly. She wouldn’t catch him slipping twice.

“Then you say no”. she shrugged leaning back.

“I wouldn’t touch you without your consent, another one of our house rules that I hope you’ll remember”. She replied in a patronizing fashion.

He took offence.

“I’m a killer, not a rapist.” he spat out.

“That’s good to hear”. she commented before walking up the stairs encouraging him to follow.

“I’ll show you to your room, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Erik.”

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

He idled about and nursed a drink in his hands and tried to look the least bit engaged at this donor dinner. He hated these dinners.

He’d have to watch Elloise on his cousins arm the entire night. Not to forget the attendees who were there for selfish political gain alone.

He watched closely as she made the rounds with T’challa around the room. She had chosen a deep green dress with a dangerous V that held his attention throughout the night.

T’challa paraded her around the room like the gift she was and he knew this was the part of him she fell in love with.

That’s why he was surprised to find her alone and still dressed to the nines in the palace kitchen in the middle of the night.

He had changed into his comfortable sweats and made his way over to decide on which concoction of alcohol would knock him out for the night.

She had a plate of lamb and potatoes untouched in front of her.

She didn’t startle when he spoke. She probably knew he was here based on his cologne or possibly just heard him when he came in.

“Midnight snack?” He paused and sat in the seat across from her.

“I got the chef to make me something then sent him away.” She spoke clearly. He heard the hardness in her voice.

She was upset.

He saw that the lamb sat on the play uncut and her hands lay in her lap.

“Let me get some of that.”He reached over for the plate and she stopped him.

“Erik. I like lamb.” She held onto the plate refusing to let up.

He sighed.

“Here, I got it.” He stretched his hands for the cutlery.

“I can do it myself.” She protested eyebrows furrowing.

“I know that.”

She still held onto the fork with hostility. She was upset.

“I like doing this so relax okay? You know it’s not like that.” he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and awaited her answer.

With that she reluctantly released the cutlery to him and folded her hands in her lap carefully.

She heard the fork and knife scrape against the plate as Erik cut it into pieces. She couldn't help but inhale a little bit deeper.

She liked the way he smelled. Erik always smelled like warmth..

She didn't know what to do with her hands. They were always doing something. Touching, feeling, studying, working.

She tried so hard to not be caught lacking, to be looked at as unable.

She would always have an excuse, because of her condition, but she pushed herself to insane lengths to never have to use it.

With Erik she was able to relax without being scrutinized, when it was just the two of them it was different.

This was... nice. She liked it.

"Potatoes too?" he asked wondering if he should slice up the baby potatoes that accompanied the lamb on her plate.

She shook her head — negative, she liked them whole.

"Thank you". she replied back softly.

"Don't mention it". He responded before carefully handing the fork back to her.

Her fingers lingered on his hand a moment before she pulled them away seemingly unaware.

Erik lived for moments like these.

He watched attentively as she speared the tender meat and placed it in her mouth and began to chew.

“Where’s T? Why isn’t he here with you right now?” He was sure he’d be tearing it up tonight. She looked that damn good.

She paused and looked down. “He… got called away for an emergency.”

They both knew what that meant. Erik wanted blood.

“You can’t let him get away with disrespecting you like this El. Tell somebody. The elders. Anybody.” He urged with subdued rage.

“Would they blame him? Or would his actions be chalked up to something else?” She shifted in her seat.

“Maybe how in more than one way I’m not enough.” She placed another piece of meat into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Despite the hot anger that flowed through his veins, he knew it was the truth.

He hated that it was the truth.

He despised his cousin for taking that vulnerable woman and turning her into this.

He was going to end him.

They weren’t that close anyways.

He could see it now.

He’d start from his left hip bone and do a clean cut — probably with something classic. Like a black pearl switchblade. Then he’d —

“You can’t say anything Erik.” she commanded. It was if she heard him plotting.

He scoffed.

“It’s not your right.” She said.

Her mouth was sharp as ever.

He hated that mouth.

He dreamed of that mouth.

He was the forgotten cousin. An honorary royal. Offered a position for blood ties and even then, it was decorative.

An outcast.

Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

She placed another potato between her lips.

He rose from his seat and stood behind her.

He began to remove the large decorated pins from her pressed hair. His fingers reached the nape of her neck and she finally released the tension that her body held.

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.” He spoke lowly above her, focused on the task at hand.

She leaned into his hand and he snuck his fingers into her hair and found her scalp.

He rubbed at it gently, product would cling to his fingers later but he didn’t mind it.

“We’re the same you and I.” She hummed.

He cocked his head and continued his task.

He never understood her when she said that. But in fear of being scolded he kept quiet.

She was good. So good. He was bad bad bad.

He felt her shuffle to rise and he stopped his actions unwillingly.

She sat up and he reluctantly removed his fingers from her head.

She ran her palms down her dress to straighten it out before she looked in his direction.

“You’re harmless. ” She joked lightly before lifting her hand awaiting his arm to lead her back to her room.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, you should be scared of me.” He murmured slyly.

She rolled her eyes.

He offered her his arm and she grasped it in a familiar fashion and let him lead her.

They walked leisurely through the hallways. When he didn’t get a response to his last statement he assumed his previous joke fell flat.

“Erik, when are you gonna go?” She asked softly. Her fingers added more pressure into his arms, concern lacing her tone.

She’s been pestering him for months to go to therapy — deal with his murderous thoughts.

He didn’t like the idea.

So he wasn’t going to do it.

“I’ll go when you go.” He shot back.

She sniffed and turned her face away from him.

He grinned cheekily, dimples shining through.

“You know why I can’t go. It’d be taboo for me. Plus, they treat me like an invalid.” he watched her mouth twist into a scowl.

He scoffed, and continued to lead them to her destination.

Their route was coming to an end and he knew she felt it.

As they got closer and closer to her quarters her grip tightened on his bicep. And he paused.

“Erik I’m scared.” she whispered.

“If he can do this. Openly. In our room. In our bed, then...”

“What’s next? What’s next for me?“ she looked in his direction — lost.

“If he don’t got you, I got you.” He crowded her space and bent down so he could be level with her.

She needed to understand that she could rely on him for anything. He wasn’t sure he knew just how deep his feelings went for her.

She lifted her hands to hold his face. It was how she saw. Her hands immediately found his beard. He saw the tears pool in the corner of her eyes.

“Anytime you get scared you call me. You hear me?”

Her gaze was downcast. This wouldn’t do.

“I’ll gut em. Like fishes. The whole lotta them.” He pushed out huskily.

“Erik...” she murmured disapprovingly.

“You believe me?” He asked.

“I —“

“C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.” He pushed lowly committed to making her see that she wasn’t alone, he was there.

“Yes Erik, I believe you.” She whispered lowly. She quickly wiped the tears that had slid down her face disobediently.

“Good.”

“Goodnight E.” She stepped back and turned to her door. He watched as she steadied herself.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and crushing her in his embrace.

He wanted to grab her and kiss away her fears.

Instead he subdued his wants and watched her walk through her door.

The door to the room she shared with T’Challa.

He spun around and began the familiar path back to the kitchen.

After knocking back the drink of the night he steadied himself.

Erik walked to his chambers in the same manner he did every night — longing for his cousin's wife.

Taglist:

@fd-writes @amorestevens @raysunshine78 @adreamsublime

Idek what I’m even doing with this story but lmk what you think 💜

If you want to be added to the taglist just comment.

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gleamglows · 3 years

Note

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

#requests #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You” and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

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#mercy 1k celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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warmau · 3 years

Text

☆ko-fi au: rich kid!au inseong other rich kid aus: hongseok | hyungwon | haechan

you should have known something was wrong when your date didn't send you the address for the restaurant you two were going to meet at for the first time

instead opting for an expensive and suspicious-looking black car that makes itself a nuisance in front of your apartment building

you stare at it from the door and beside you is your neighbor, a busybody office worker named dawon, who holds his mail in one hand and twists his mouth up into a frown

"i wouldn't get in that car if i were you."

"it looks like it's a bmw"

"this date of yours is starting to look like a psychopath."

you roll your eyes, but the sentiment isn't lost on you

who has the money to rent this kind of car? all for a dinner date?

you look at your phone where there's a text from your date, kim inseong, who you met through one of those online dating apps you had sworn you'd never use

but with the years passing by and your friends all gushing about the fountain of love and relationship

you had caved

actually, you had caved after a particularly teary-eyed solo re-watch of breakfast at tiffany's

not that you really cared about the plot or anything - just that the fantasy of being loved and taken care of for the rest of your life - well

whatever, the point was you had made a profile and you had matched with inseong

you were initially worried about him being a catfish - the one unnormal thing on his profile was the fact that he was gorgeous

but a video chat had melted those doubts away

still, this car and this secret reservation was starting to raise red flags

"im taking down the license plate number"

dawon says and you re-read the text from inseong again

'are you sure you can't just tell me the address of this place? i can take the train'

'don't worry, the car will get you there faster and the hostess knows the driver so you won't have any issues with the reservation'

you slip your phone into your pocket, suddenly aware that all you're bringing is it and your keys

dawon is furiously taking photos of the car now and you tell him it'll be ok

he asks before you go out to the car, "what's this guys name?"

"kim - kim inseong."

dawon's eyes go wide and he gapes, you tell him to stop fooling around as you wave goodbye

just as the door shuts, you don't hear dawon go

"that kim inseong?"

the driver is quiet but polite and you try to overcompensate with your manners and not pester him about where you're going

the inside of the car smells of new leather and there isn't a speck of dirt or evidence of anyone else being in here but you

the city's winding streets and lights both distract and worry you and you nervously tap on the dating app to see inseong's profile again

a mirror selfie is the first picture, he's smiling and looks like he might be in a fancy hotel bathroom somewhere

the next picture is him and a couple of what you assume are work buddies

the next is him at a bookshop, wearing pretty framed glasses that compliment the shape of his face

his interests are artsy and he says he works in photography

he's a cancer and he likes ballads and doing puzzles

his profile is pretty generic, you don't want to be vain but you'd matched with him because he was totally hot, but also after talking you'd come to realize there was more

he was definitely witty, charming, and didn't ever send you the kind of messages you had heard horror stories about

(three am hookups or requests for pictures of your feet)

you close the app, just as the driver parks the car and you expect to get out at some small, but cute italian place

or at most somewhere more new and stylish that might have been mentioned in a magazine

you do not think you're going to stop in front of one of seoul's most high-end restaurants

the kind of place that looks like it should be a palace - high rise ceilings and huge fountains and a line of hopeful socialities waiting around the corner praying someone miss their reservation

the driver comes around to your side, opening the door and suddenly you look down and think

im not dressed for this place, hell im not a person made for this place

you step out and he motions for you to pass the line, up the stairs and into the huge doors

as soon as the hostess sees him she shoves forward a lanky looking valet boy and sends you a big, red-lipsticked smile

"ah, you're mr. kim's date. come with me - he's in our private dining room."

you feel like a newborn animal walking on shakey legs as you follow her, you walk past the first level of dinners who are seated at elegant looking tables in low light

there's a hum of talking and the sound of someone pouring wine

you look for inseong, but don't see him anywhere

the hostess leads you to an elevator at the back - and when it arrives she motions for you to go inside and tells the person inside that you'll be going to floor nine

turns out the entirety of floor nine is one big dining room, adorned in gold and red and at the table right before one of the huge windows is inseong

you can't think of a word to say - not even when his eyes light up to match the chandeliers and he stands up from his seat to greet you

"inseong"

you squeak and he says your name prettily like it's the name of a flower

"inseong - " you repeat and look at him with eyes like saucers "is this some kind of practical joke?"

the look of happiness on his face dims

"w-what?"

"where are we, this place of town is for millionaires - stars, i can't afford to eat here! i probably can't even afford to breathe the air here! if this is your idea of a fun prank date then im going to-"

you throw your hands up, fussing so much so that the waiter who had wanted to come over stops in their tracks

inseong looks at you and for a moment there's hurt in his expression but then something else dawns on him

"you didn't know?"

you shake your head - "how would i have known that this is some elaborate joke! i knew those dating apps would end up embarrassing me-"

"no, i mean you don't know who i am?"

your hands swing down to your sides and you look at him almost stupidly

"well, you're kim inseong."

"yes."

he motions to the photographs that line the red-painted wall, all framed and featuring famous models and public figures

they look vaguely familiar, as if you seen them multiple times on the covers of magazines or newspapers

"im kim inseong, the photographer of seoul"

a blankness coats the room and then, like a rubber band, it snaps into place

the magazine covers, the job title 'photographer' on his profile, and now the inseong standing in front of you in head to toe gucci

you step back like you've just been approached by a dangerous-looking beast

hands flying up to your mouth

"oh my god - you're famous and-"

he grins, "and rich."

somehow you sit down, probably because the news hits you like a truck and you can't stand any longer

it's enough time for inseong to wave the waiter over safely and order wine for the two of you as well as an appetizer in french that glosses over your head

he looks at you and folds his hands under his chin

"i thought you knew."

"why is a millionaire like you on a dating app for plebeians"

he shakes his head, "you're not a plebeian"

"im pretty sure my yearly salary is the same amount as one of your cameras."

he looks down at his wine and swallows, suddenly the air of glowing confidence and ease shrinks

"you're right. it's silly of me to say i wasn't trying to act a little bit below my status by joining the app."

you straighten in your seat

"i - i didn't mean it like that, i mean rich people still want love im sure - i mean you're a normal person."

"normal?" he flicks his gaze to you "no one has ever called me that."

great, here i am putting my foot in my mouth in front of one of seoul's most eligible bachelors

"i mean - i just. ok i mean you're not 'normal' in your field of work but you want to feel a connection right. that's why you joined the app - just like me. you just want someone in your life."

you don't notice the little smile that tugs at the corner of inseong's long lips

your appetizer arrives and you are offput by the amount of truffle on it

inseong tells you to look at the menu and order anything you like and as much of it as you want to

one look at the price and you tell him you'll pass, you'll get mcdonalds on your way home

"please don't worry, it'll go on my bill"

he insists and you cross your arms

"this is our first date, we go dutch. i can't have you treating me if im not even your partner yet"

inseong bites his tongue not to laugh at the simple way you look at everything

"fine, well then." he closes the menu and snaps his fingers, within a moment a man arrives at his side - you assume it's his assistant "let's got to mcdonalds together."

you think he's being funny, but he's not

you find yourself in the second expensive car of the day. this time it's a slicked silver lamborghini that inseong drives with an almost alarming carelessness.

he seems to have forgotten how to order at a drive-through and so you have to lean over his lap to speak for the both of you

as you put in the order, inseong flushes and tries not to look at the areas of your shirt that have slide up as you hang out of the window

when you sit back you grin at him

"i hope you like chicken nuggets"

inseong does, so much so that he eats his and puppy dog begs you for one of yours

you both sit in his car and you try not to spill anything, but inseong says not to worry about being careful. he has another car (or five) that he can use if you stain the seat with your sprite

but aside from that you ask inseong more about his life

you had briefly chatted before you met, but now there was a treasure trove of new information about him to unlock

the weird thing is that you just genuinely want to know

inseong picks up on it, you have no ulterior motive. you haven't had one since you found out who he really was.

you nibble on a fry as you ask, "so are you traveling these days for work?"

"usually. when we video chatted i was in denmark."

you stick your tongue out

"denmark! what a show off, my last vacation was a two hour train ride outside of seoul."

"well - where do you want to go?"

you gather your garbage and his neatly, inseong finds the normal gesture pangs something in his heart

"hmmm i think i would want to go someone really warm. like brazil or chile."

"are you free this weekend?"

you blink and turn to look at him

"are you asking me on a second date?"

he puts a hand on the wheel and nods

"yes."

"well - i am free actually.......but if we go on a date let's not do anymore uptight restaurants."

he promises he won't and instead he says he'll pick somewhere comfortable and fun

you try not to get bashful when he says your photos do you no justice - you should let him take your portrait next time too

and although he drives you home in his car, you are aware of the black car you arrived in following close behind

when he stops in front of your apartment you turn and mumble that you had a good time, after the heart attack-inducing revelation of his identity

inseong laughs and you straighten your shoulders slightly

he notices the way you position yourself slightly and he turns to you too. suddenly the look in his bright eyes dulls just a bit as he lingers from looking into your eyes to your lips

you decide to be brave - closing your eyes as an invitation

inseong's smile is soft against your lips when he leans in

nothing more than that happens and you blurt out that you'll look forward to the next date, inseong watches you scurry inside your apartment before letting out the breath of nervousness he's been holding

never thinking you would give him butterflies he hasn't felt since he was in high school

when you get home - dawon is knocking on your apartment in five minutes

and you two spend an hour going through inseong's photos again as dawon points out that "how could you not know he's rich, he's wearing a 100k watch in this bathroom selfie!"

you tell him you're just dumb, or maybe just charmed by who inseong is rather than his money

dawon doesn't believe it but he asks when your second date is and you say this weekend

"where is he taking you?"

you giggle, "he said somewhere comfortable and nice! maybe we'll go to a market or something."

the weekend comes and. inseong has bought you two private jet tickets to brazil.

such is the world of dating a rich kid.

#rich kid au #sf9 scenarios #sf9 au #inseong scenarios #inseong au #sf9 imagines #inseong imagines #kim inseong #sf9 #inseong x reader #sfw #ko fi commissions

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coexiising · 3 years

Text

Good Neighbors - Chapter Two

SUMMARY ✦ Your parents host a dinner party for the new neighbors.

WARNING(S) ✦ Nothing

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

It had been three days since your last encounter with Anakin Skywalker. Three days since you could’ve sworn he winked at you. Not that you were counting . . . No, you were most definitely not doing that.

Since then you had been doing, well, essentially nothing but thinking back to that moment of the two of you talking. And it was probably stupid, since it was just two neighbors talking to each other. He was just being nice to you and that was all, there was nothing to think more of. There were way better things to keep your mind on, like going to your part time job and focusing on finishing up your classes to get your degree. You were busy, but that didn’t stop you from stopping whatever you were doing and glancing through your window to see if you could catch a glimpse at your new neighbor.

You blamed it on stupid infatuation. He was incredibly attractive and you were bored, and you weren’t the only one to think so, since your mother the other day said something about inviting your new ‘attractive neighbors’ to dinner one night. You hated how quick you were to say it was a good idea.

One thing that you learned was that your window was right across from your neighbor's master bedroom, which meant that when the curtains were drawn back, you could see right into their room. Which really wasn’t often, since it was only a side window and they had a much bigger window in the front of the house that was open way more often. But sometimes, if you looked at the right time, you could see Anakin or his wife walking around or talking with one another.

You wondered what she was like. She was very beautiful, with coffee brown hair that stayed in natural curls. She also had a good sense of style, always looking classy and elegant that made you feel out of place every time you and her were outside at the same time for whatever reason. It was wrong to be comparing yourself to her, you shouldn’t, and again blamed it on some stupid fantasy you had made up in your head. It was childish, sure, but it wasn’t like anything was ever going to happen.

You could hear him now, downstairs in the open hallway leading to your kitchen and dining room, talking to your mother about something you couldn’t quite make out. It was later in the evening, almost seven, and your family decided to give the courtesy of inviting the Skywalkers to dinner tonight, something you had been looking forward to since your mother informed you a day prior. Splaying your hands on the front of your black dress, you made sure that there were no creases, looking in the mirror to do one final once over of your appearance. You looked nice, maybe nicer than your family were going for, but no one would comment on it anyways. There was a golden necklace around your neck that had been given to you for your birthday a few years ago, which accented right off of your chest. Once you were satisfied, you opened the door to your room and walked down the steps, getting closer to the voices of your parents and your guests.

The second you got to the ground level of your home and saw the backs of both Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, you made a beeline for the other direction, deciding to make a detour to the kitchen, stumbling over your feet. You didn’t see all of him, but you could see that Anakin was wearing a dark navy blue dress shirt and those black pants that he was always in, the ones that you always ended up looking at for more than the normal amount of time. Pressing your palms into the countertop, you took deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. This shouldn’t be so hard, you were making a big deal out of this . . . Right? You once again had to repeat to yourself that he was married and there was no way that anything could happen, even though deep down you wished that something would.

“There you are, why didn’t you come down earlier?” Your mother asked, walking into the room and heading for the oven, the smell of something cooking taking over your senses and taking you away from your thoughts. “Anakin was asking about you.”

You almost choked on the air you breathed in. “He was asking about me?” Your tone was a little too questionable and she turned to look at you behind her shoulder, her eyebrow raised and a tiny smile on her face. “I mean, why was he asking about me?” You asked, attempting to save yourself.

“I don’t know, something about a ball and his kids, did they almost hit you or something?”

Oh, right. The incident at the barbeque. Of course that’s why he was asking, that’s probably the only time he had thought about you.

“So, anyways, go out there and be a charmer. Your brother is terrible at it and you know your father is probably boring them with business stuff,” She said, going back to the meal she was preparing. You nodded, deciding it was finally time to face them and get your own awkwardness out of the way. The walk to the dining room was brisk and you saw that your father was, in fact, talking about something business related. Padmé seemed somewhat interested, but Anakin was definitely not listening by the way he stared down at the table. You almost laughed, before realizing that your father was talking to you now and you had no idea what he was saying. You were too busy looking at Anakin, seeing his blue eyes dart to your own the moment you walked in the room.

You faltered for a moment. “What’d you say?” You glanced at your dad.

“I was just saying that you finally joined us!” He said, giving you one of his kind dad smiles. You flashed one back, meekly sitting in the only seat that was open at the table, conveniently right next to the person you were trying to keep your distance from. As you pulled your seat out and sat down next to Anakin, your father started talking to Padmé again. You were glad that the attention had seemingly been taken off of you and you could try to keep yourself together for the rest of this dinner.

Though that didn’t seem to be in your favor.

“Luke wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about kicking that ball again, he seems to be really broken up about it, not sure why,” Anakin said to you, turning his head to look right at you again.

You laughed, looking down at your hands in your lap and shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, you may be hearing from my lawyers soon,” You joked, facing him and seeing a grin on his face. “But you’re one, right? So you should be good.”

“I’m not sure, you have a good case,” He joked, taking a sip of his wine. “I haven’t seen you around in a while, still picking up shifts for your friend?” He remembered.

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’m all done now. We get off for the Fourth tomorrow anyways.” The summer holiday had come quickly this year, but it was still something to look forward to. You loved all the fireworks and the food that came with the celebration. In addition to that, it was your family’s favorite holiday as well, meaning that everyone would go out to celebrate like you always did with the traditional block party that the Skywalker’s would now be invited to. It was as if Anakin would never get out of your life no matter how much you wished to avoid him.

Perhaps it was silly, this whole idea that you could have some type of romance with him. He was married, and it seemed like they were happy together. They had two beautiful children together, nothing could ever change that fact.

“That’s good, your mother was telling us all a while ago about the party. You guys sure love to throw them,” Anakin teased, taking a sip of his glass of wine. You watched his lips meet the glass, noting how pink they looked in the correct light. It took you a moment to compose yourself, looking down at the table and taking the biggest breath you could take without him noticing.

You gave a nod, opening your mouth to say something but being greeted by your mother walking in the room with different pots in hand. Finally, a good distraction that could get your mind off of the hunk of the man beside you. Padmé said something about the food that you couldn’t quite make out, reaching to grab one of the serving spoons while you grabbed for the other. Right as your hand hit the wood handle, Anakin’s own hand came down on yours, him not knowing that you were going to reach for the same one.

“Sorry,” You said, hoping that he would mistake your blush from the contact for embarrassment. Luckily, he only gave you a glance and pulled his hand away.

“You first.”

You took some of the food onto your plate, looking down at it until you were sure that the blush had diminished. The room was so hot at this point that you thought that it was possibly on fire. But it wasn’t, it was all because of how close you were to your neighbor, so close that you could feel his presence right next to you and you could smell the cologne that you had smelled the first day that you met him, bringing you back to the moment you looked into his eyes for the first time. You were sure that if you thought about him any more that you would combust right then and there. So you focused on eating, staying silent while the others made small talk.

Minutes passed by and you felt somewhat comfortable again, reaching beside you to grab your phone to check it under the table. Messages blinked up at you, almost illuminating your face as you read: Y/N! Please pick up. I left my computer at work and my brother has my car. I need it tomorrow so that I can work on my thesis, please, please, please can you get it? It was your best friend. Your heart practically thumped out of your chest at the opportunity to get out of this whole ordeal, where you could take your time to get the computer as long as the Skywalker’s would stay over. And then you would have an excuse for your mom instead of just sneaking off to your room.

“Mom, it’s Julia,” You said, holding up your phone so that she could read the text. “I’m sorry, I really need to stop by work and get her computer. It’s important.” You knew that she wouldn’t be happy about you leaving, but nonetheless she said you could go and you were already halfway out the door when you heard your father shouting your name.

Turning around, you saw that he was standing up with Anakin, a firm hand on your neighbor’s shoulder. “Anakin has offered to drive you. It’s late, you know how bad those roads get at night and I would feel more comfortable if you went with him,” Your dad said. You didn’t really have much room to object, since Anakin was already walking into the entrance area and putting on his coat, a black one that matched the same ‘put together’ style that he always seemed to have.

“Okay,” You said, feeling your nerves turn you almost inside out.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Anakin said to everyone, walking behind you out the door and closing it.

You walked to the car alone with Anakin, basically jumping out of your seat in joy the moment you sat down.

#anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x reader #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin au #star wars au

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive | gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

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nh20tensin · 3 years

Text

Telling the AoT boys you love them for the first time.

⚠️There should be little too no spoilers⚠️

Mostly fluff

Gn reader

None of this is has been proof read

Ft. Levi Ackerman,Connie springer,Armin arlert

Levi Ackerman

We all know that this man is touch-starved so it was hard enough for him to let you even Remotely close in anyway

He would probably deny the fact that he care for you

He wouldn’t know that he loved you till you said something about it

It was a cleaning day you decided to help Levi and his squad clean (this man forced you to clean)

You didn’t mind I mean as long as you were with him

You knew you loved him for some time,you just didn’t know how to tell him or in fear that he would hate you(who knows why he would) but you only thought about worst case scenarios

“Oí “

“.....”

“Oí”

“....”

“BRAT”

“Huh?”

“What the hell are you doing”

You gave him a confused look

He points down to your feet

You were sweeping with the dust collector facing the opposite way so that no dust is going into the pan

“Oh shit sorry”

“Just pick it up “Levi spoke

The rest of the day went by

It was dinner time you Decided to sit with eren,Armin,jean,and Connie

(The girls where training)

“Yo is she even listen to us “ a buzz-cut boy said

“ probably not” said Jean

Eren threw a small carrot at you

“😐”

“You were zoning out” a blonde boy said

“I’m not really myself right now....I’m going to go to bed”

They all nodded and told you goodnight and bye

On your way to your room you bumped into hange

“AHHH SORRY IM IN A RUSH” they said

“It’s alright are you ok?”

“I’m fin-“

They stoped talking you gave them a confused look

“Why’d you sto-“

They put a finger on over your mouth

5 mins pass the finger hasn’t left

“Sorry i thought I heard something ”

The finger moved

“Thought you where in a rush “you said as you walked hange followed

“Never mind that what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.............How do I tell someone I love them”

(Ofc you would eventually regret asking hange but desperate times call for desperate measures😪)

“oh”

“Oh”

“OOHHH”

“YOU LOVE LEV-“

You cover their mouth

“Shut up or I will Carve ur eyes out”

Hange nodded

“Will if you really Want my opinion....just don’t make it a big deal”

“Why Not”

“You shouldn’t have to make it special ,anyway if you really do love him and just tell him “

Knowing Levi he would hate it if you made it a big deal so you took the advice and made up your mind

One week passed and you finally thought of the perfect way to tell him

You would make him his favorite tea(you aren’t allowed to make his tea considering you suck at it)

” what did you do” he said in a stern voice

You walk over to his desk and sigh

“ I have something to tell you and besides my tea skills aren’t that bad”

“ last time I drank it I ended up in bed for a week”

“I promise it’s better just trust me”

He reluctantly put the cup to his mouth and drank

“I love you “you said

He almost sit out his tea he didn’t know what to say or do

How could someone so perfect love someone so....him

“What did you say” he said

You repeated yourself

You climbed in his lap

“I love you Levi Ackerman “

God he loved the way you said his name

He didn’t know what to say but what he did say broke your heart

“Why” he said in a voice below a whisper

“What do you mean why?”

His hand found his way to your waist his face hidden in the crook of your neck

“Why me ?”

You knew he could get insecure but it still hurt

“ Levi I knew from the minute I saw you that I would love you for the rest of my life and I don’t wanna rush you to say back to me because quite frankly I know how hard it is for you but I’m telling you now because this is how I feel you are the one for me no one else do you understand me please say you do”

All memories he thought he forgotten about his mother came flooding back in

And you could’ve sworn you felt a tear but when you looked there was nothing

He looked dead in your eyes and said

“I love you too” in a very soft voices he gave you a rare smile

You brought him in for a very long and meaningful kiss

“Hange Made the tea by the way “

“I know”

Connie springer

A relationship with this man can be one of two things very fun and chaotic or more serious and loving

Which ever version you happen to be in it won’t matter because it will always be happy

“Hey Connie have you told y/n you love them yet”

He froze up and realized that he never actually told you though he was in love with you he just never thought about telling you because he thought you knew

“What’s it you you horse face”

“Nothing....it’s just The two of you have been dating for six months I’d start to feel a little self-conscious if you asked me”

“Well I didn’t so stop “

Jean and Sasha stay laughing

“CADETS IN LINE” Levi yelled

The next day

“Hey Armin if I hypothetically possibly maybe was in love with someone how would I tell them?”you said while looking at the ground

“ well it really just depends on the person and how far along in the relationship you are with them I can’t really help you how to tell them but I sure can encourage you”

You roll your eyes and sigh

“Thank anyways”

You walk back inside considering you were training outside with Armin(obviously beat him because you’re a bad ass)

You ran into Connie right now I’m going inside you both fell to the ground stared at each other and started laughing like you’ve never laughed before you were mainly laughing because you were nervous as hell to tell him you loved him he was laughing because he loves the smile that was on your face

you both helped each other get back up Connie looked at you and ask

“were you training”

“ depends what answer do you want to hear”

“....”

“Fine I was “you admit

“ it’s 11 at night”

“ and your point is”

” at the rate you’re going you’re going to end up dead by the time you’re 25”you said sarcastically

“ as if you’d be able to live without me though”

You froze didn’t know what to say or do you just nervously laughed it off and walked away

he looked at a very confused but I thought you needed space considering you just got done training it was dark out you’re probably tired he thought

It’s around two in the morning you wake up something inside you just burst so you get up out of your room and find your way to Connie‘s room you knock fiercely

“ Open the door Baldy”you say sternly but in the soft voice

“ what are you doing it’s like two in the morning you should go to sleep “he said while opening the door

you force yourself into his room and sit down on his bed

He followed you confused on why you were here but he just stared at you not wanting to say anything basking in your beauty

“ Connie I’m about to say something that I might regret well not regret but do you know where I’m going with us”

“Huh”

“I love you “

his eyes shoot open he thought this has to be a dream right there’s no way that this is real

You pinch his arm so he knows he’s not dreaming

“ say it again”

He couldn’t help but smile so much that he felt like his face was gonna melt

At first he thought he was looking at you in disgusted minutes later it was a face of happiness and he was proud in his own kind away

“I L/N F/N AM IN LOVE WITH YOU CONNIE SPRINGER”

“ I love you too but you know I was supposed to tell you first”

“Oh?”

“ this whole thing with Jean and Sash and our relationship”

“It’s.a long story”

He brought you in for a tight hug that ended up in a very intense make out session

The both of you woke up in his bed in the morning he looked at him and he woke up

“I love you”

You both said in unison and you ended up laughing you both really did love each other and it was a funny love story .

Armin arlert

As smart as Armin is he has no idea what to do when it comes to a relationship

True he wants to give you all the love in the world but he’s clueless when it comes to things like that but he will know when he’s in love with you

He will go to Mikasa, Eren,hell even Levi if he will listen

“ listen kid I don’t know what to tell you all right do you love them just tell them I don’t see what’s wrong with it”Levi said while drinking tea

“ but sir it’s not that easy what if they doesn’t feel the same way”Armin spoke

Levi sighs not really knowing what to do

“ The two of you are dating right so of course they feel the same way”

“Damn kids and their commitment issues”he muttered under his breath

Armin saluted him before exiting the room

His mind was in 1000 different places having no idea what to say to you so we did the next best thing any person would

He ignored you

(Asshole)

He didn’t want to ignore you or make you feel bad he’s just caught up in his own brain to actually think about anything

It’s been a week since you guys last talk

“ i’m sure he doesn’t hate you he’s been ignoring us to” eren said

Mikasa nodded

“ it’s been a week did I do something wrong is he mad at me?”

“ even if he was he wouldn’t take it out on all of us at the same time” Mikasa stated

you take a deep breath and sigh

“ The both of us will try and figure out what’s happening OK can’t promise you like the answer though” eren said

“Ok...”

The both of them left the room

Little did you know Armin was listening in the whole conversation he wanted to make it up to you just didn’t know how

” I don’t hate them” armin said

Eren then said “ then why are you ignoring them and us they don’t deserve this”

Eren was pissed off because he knew how much you were hurting

“ seriously Armin there’s no need to lie you’re mad at her just tell them I’m sure they will understand besides you’re also ignoring us did we do anything?” The tall girl spoke

“I love them”

“😮” Mikasa and eren

They spent the rest of the day talking about his feelings and how he should make it up to you or more importantly tell you

“ just follow us it’s not a trap or anything”eren said (this bitch it was FYI)

Mikasa used her scarf to cover up her giggles

“ can I just sleep in peace”

“NO!”

You couldn’t really tell who said it as you saw Armin standing right in front of you

You turn around to see no one‘s behind you those bastards left the room before you could even check

“ look if you’re mad at me I don’t know what I did but I don’t really feel like talking anymore I just want to go to bed please”

“Wait now please I’m sorry i’ve had a lot on my mind I just needed time on my own”

“ and you couldn’t tell me or let me know not even Eren or Mikasa you’ve noticed all week do you know how bad I felt thinking that I did something wrong ”

There was a moment of silence you saw that look in his eyes the one that made you fall madly in love with him you couldn’t be mad at him you loved him and everything you were pissed about steered clear

“ I love you more than I probably should if you were anybody else I’d probably kill you right now”

He looked up from the ground he was staring at

“What “

it didn’t take him long to understand the situation

“I love you too in fact I love you more that’s what I’ve been thinking about all week and how to tell you”

You both ran to each other in a hug tears falling down his eyes making you want to cry as well you really did love each other

The next day

“ i’m guessing you finally told them” Levi said

“ yes Captain thank you for your advice” as he saluted him

“ don’t thank me you’re the one who grew a pair and finally told them”

#levi heichou #armin attack on titan #aot headcanons #connie springer #head cannons #ackerman clan #fluff #armin arlet x reader #mikasa ackerman

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malfoyheartsgranger · 3 years

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You Just Go on Living

Summary: In which Draco Malfoy destroys himself to protect his lover.

A/N: I wrote this between 2 and 4 AM, so it’s a little shitty but I’ve had this little idea for a while and finally got around to writing it so I’m just going to post it, oops. I also did not proofread in the slightest... It’s gonna be a long one, and there will probably be a good bit of backstory also, so sorry if that’s not your thing, but I hope you enjoy the heartbreak!

(PS please ignore the inconsistencies with time travel info and the butterfly effect and whatnot in this fic because quite honestly I didn’t know how else to go about it. You’ll see what I mean!!)

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 4.3k

. . .

Draco Malfoy knew what he had to do.

He had known since four nights ago when Voldemort made an appearance in his own living room. Draco Malfoy, surrounded on one side by laughing Death Eaters and on the other by the grim faces of his parents, watched as his own professor was murdered, while another one watched.

Severus Snape was Draco’s godfather, and this title came with certain duties, even above those of the Dark Lord, one of which being to protect Draco. Draco was unaware of this fact, but Snape had sworn to protect him at all costs, and while it seemed that the vow would have been fulfilled after Dumbledore’s death, Severus Snape still felt a sort of honor in protecting his godson. And, as much as he despised the notion, this meant protecting his heart as well.

And so after Voldemort’s theatrics at Malfoy Manor, Snape pulled Draco aside and told him the most heartbreaking news he would likely ever hear.

“The Dark Lord,” Snape drawled. “He knows of Y/N.”

Draco Malfoy’s solemn face instantly rose to look Snape in the eye, a sudden urgency to his actions.

“What?” he questioned, standing from his chair in the corner of the drawing room to be eye level with Snape. “What does he know about her?”

Snape bowed his head in some manner of helplessness, yet stayed silent as Draco turned on his heel to approach the fireplace. He rested his arm on the ledge above it for a moment before spitting out his words once again, although this time with much more aggression.

“What does he know about her? What does he know about Y/N?”

“Draco,” Snape began, but his usual slow tone was not a quick enough source of information for the desperate Malfoy boy.

Rather than repeat his question to the stone wall he faced, he spun around to face Snape. The look on his face was all the motivation the professor needed to prioritize his answer. He may not particularly like the boy, and he certainly did not like Y/N, but he understood what it was to have the Dark Lord find one’s weakness.

“He knows,” Snape said gravely, “of your relations with her.”

Draco ran his hands across his face and through his cropped hair in angst. “So you’re saying . . .”

“Yes, my boy,” Snape confirmed, knowing exactly what Draco would have to say, “he knows of your love for her.”

Draco collapsed back into his chair as Snape merely watched. He did not expect comfort, and he thought it would be rather strange if he were to receive it. And so Draco, alone, remembered last year’s looming threat of Voldemort harming his parents if he did not do as he was told. He had thought that in itself cruel, although this was not unusual for a creature as horrid as Voldemort, but he recalled being relieved beyond measure that the Dark Lord knew nothing of his relationship with Y/N Y/L/N. He had not known what he would do if she was used as a pawn, a motivational sacrifice.

But now he knew. He knew, and Draco did not know how, but he did. And Draco thought it odd that Voldemort had not yet flaunted that to him, or to anyone, but Snape knew. Logic told Draco that of course Snape knew; he was one of Voldemort’s most trusted allies, but his grief convinced him otherwise.

Draco’s hands paused in his hair and came to lay on his thighs, just close enough to the trouser pocket that contained his wand. He leaned forward from resting on the back of the wooden chair he sat in, and in a collected tone, asked Snape, “How does he know this?”

Hesitant, Snape replied, “I am not sure. Although, you and I both know he has countless sources of information, and—”

His voice suddenly louder and sharper, Draco said, “How do you not know? Surely he would have told you this also?”

It was at this point that Snape realized Draco’s thoughts, and he reached to quell them before they could truly take root. “I assure you—”

But Draco was too quick, and before Snape could let any more words from his mouth, Draco was out of his chair, grabbing Snape’s cloak in one fist and gripping his wand in the other. He held the tip of his wand to Snape’s cheek, and for a man who was usually so composed, Snape seemed almost . . . afraid. However, he had the right, for he had never seen his godson in such a state.

“What did you tell him?” Draco whispered, his face incredibly close to Snape’s, close enough that the professor could smell the scent of shampoo wafting from his hair and the tingle of mint on his breath. He cringed.

“I told him nothing,” Snape repeated. As Draco breathed heavily into his face, Snape moved excruciatingly slowly to pull his own wand from his robes. Upon success, he pushed the tip of it into the side of Draco’s torso, and when Draco felt the pressure, he immediately backed up.

Both of their wands raised, the two men stared at each other, one defensive, one anguished, each in dangerous states. Snape’s paranoid reaction to his words convinced Draco’s inconsolable mind even further of his guilt. And so he yelled this time, “What did you tell him?”

And he shot a curse at his own godfather. Snape merely blocked the spell and begged Draco to calm himself, but before the boy could even send another curse toward him, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rushed into the room, both concerned with the noise. Voldemort had left, and along with him any commotion, so the Manor had been silent, until the sound of Draco’s shattered voice rang through the halls. Upon seeing her son and old friend seemingly preparing to duel, Narcissa Malfoy approached Draco, and he finally noticed her.

“Mother, go,” he urged her, not wavering in his hostility toward Snape, though softening his voice a bit for his mother. Narcissa saw her son’s hands shake a bit as he aimed his wand at Snape, but he never shot another curse. Something in him broke a bit when his mother entered the room, and perhaps it was because of her lack of hesitation in approaching him despite his clearly unsteady state. Lucius did nothing, though Draco would admit his presence alone intimidated him out of trying to harm Snape further.

In a moment of weakness, or perhaps strength, Draco stalked from the room and into the gardens, and it was in the following moments of solitude that he realized what his next step had to be: what he had to do to protect Y/N.

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N’s reaction upon seeing her boyfriend was always hearty. This was mostly due to her cheerful demeanor, and that it always took her a moment to read Draco’s own mood and subsequently shift hers to fit it.

And so when Draco Apparated to her home just days before the start of their last year at Hogwarts, she needed time to adjust to his obvious devastation.

She heard a pop outside her bedroom window some time in the early afternoon, and when she looked outside, she was delighted to see a head of blonde hair headed for her backyard. That was her and Draco’s spot when she was home, and he knew that she always heard him arrive and did not need to announce himself.

Y/N threw on a sweater to brave the crisp air outside and rushed down the stairs to meet Draco. She swung open the door in the kitchen that led to her grassy backyard and nearly shouted a greeting to her boyfriend, but she noticed that he was sitting, slouched, on the brick wall around her mother’s garden, and his head was hanging low, so she sobered her presence.

Not realizing the severity of his state, Y/N still maintained a certain level of joy in his appearance. She walked around the dirt patch of fruits, vegetables, and regular flowers, and stood in front of Draco. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit and teased, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

When Draco did not answer and continued to stare at the grass beneath his dress shoes, Y/N sighed and took a seat next to him. She knew life had been terrible to him recently, especially after last year. She had been the one to convince him he was better than Voldemort’s plans, and so Draco had not harmed anyone. He had tried desperately to destroy the Vanishing Cabinet, but to no avail, and Y/N did her best to pull him through the guilt that wracked him every day because of it. It had been unbelievably difficult to forgive him for what happened because of his actions, but she had already fought so hard to convince him that he could survive Voldemort’s threats, and it seemed she was the only one who could do so. If for no one else, Y/N stayed with Draco Malfoy because he needed her, and because he would destroy himself without her.

And consequently, it was Draco Malfoy’s most menacing fear, that Voldemort would come to realize his love for Y/N. And now he had, and Draco had tried to find any solution but the one he could come to to deal with this fact. But every plan had a roadblock, most of them being that Y/N would wind up hurt, and after all she had sacrificed for him, Draco could not allow that.

“We need to go somewhere else,” Draco whispered, and his tone immediately filled Y/N with dread.

Yet, she quickly responded, “Anywhere,” and without another word, Draco took her hand and Apparated them away.

After the initial shock of the Apparition, Y/N adjusted to her surroundings to find that Draco had already begun walking away. They were on a shore of some sort, although Y/N had no idea where, and Draco was walking along the sand, away from her, under a grey sky.

“Draco!” she shouted, but he did not turn around, and she assumed the crashing of the waves was disturbing his hearing. However, she chased after him, tripping through the sifting sand, and he still did not respond to her repeated shout despite her new proximity. He did not seem to be heading toward anything in particular, and as Y/N looked around even further, she could not find anything that he even could be aiming for.

So caught up in her own thoughts and determination in reaching her horribly despondent Draco, Y/N did not even realize that he had suddenly stopped walking and was staring at the sea. So when she took a break from watching her own feet to ensure their stability and was met with a prompt crash into somebody else, she gasped. Without a word, Draco gripped the top of her arm to stop her from tumbling over, and she couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful, but she was also infuriated.

“Draco Malfoy,” she scolded. “You Apparate us to the middle of nowhere, with no warning, and then leave me practically stranded down the shoreline? Merlin, I hardly had time to figure out where I was before I had to start chasing you down—”

Draco spoke. “Y/N. Please.”

Just the tone of his voice was enough to silence her, for despite her frustration, she would always listen to Draco.

She softened immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Draco, without granting her even a quick glance, continued to stare at the waves, and the shores upon which they crashed. “I’d like to think that I’m out there in some other life.”

Y/N said nothing.

“That maybe I’m a wave in the ocean, and you’re the sand.” He paused. Shook his head. “No. Then again, perhaps it’s the other way around. Yes, you’ve always been the ocean, so I suppose I’m the grain of sand.”

“Maybe we could both be waves,” Y/N suggested, not quite sure where Draco was going with this, but knowing it would lead to him defaming himself in order to raise her up. “Maybe we’re small waves that meet and make something big.”

Draco scoffed. “You’ve always thought too highly of me,” he mumbled. “You think the best of people like me.”

“Of course I do,” she protested. “You’ve given me no reason not to. Even when you thought you were irredeemable, you proved yourself wrong.”

“No,” Draco interrupted. “I’ve proven myself right this time.”

Confused, and a bit shaken, Y/N whispered, “Draco, you’re scaring me. What’s happened?”

A beat of silence.

A wave’s thunder.

A recession of water.

A lifetime of uncertainty.

“He knows, Y/N,” Draco finally said. “He knows.”

The grim look on Draco’s face was all Y/N needed in order to know that he was speaking of Voldemort. No one else, not even his father, could instill such simultaneous fear and disgust in the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Their peers dubbed him a coward for joining Voldemort’s side, but Y/N knew the truth: knew that he had no intention of ever again following through with one of his dark plans. She knew that he was incredibly afraid of what his role entailed, but that he faced it in order to protect those he loved. He was called a coward, but Y/N thought Draco Malfoy was the bravest person she had ever met.

And for someone so brave to look so grave in this moment, in her presence: the place he usually felt most at peace . . . Well, it was disturbing. And there could be nothing else but her safety that would have Draco so troubled, so after a moment, Y/N understood what he meant. On the surface, this seemed to be an unconcerning issue. After all, so what if Voldemort knew that Draco had a girlfriend? Her blood status was not an issue. She was a half-blood, after all. But when she went to voice this, she remembered how Draco had been threatened with his family’s safety last year. How Voldemort swore that if he did not complete the task at hand, his parents would be killed. How if he found out Draco loved someone else, he would approach his threats with the same mercilessness.

As soon as the realization struck her, Y/N shifted her thinking to formulating a plan. “I’ll hide,” she suggested. “I’ll go somewhere he can’t find me. I’m not sure if the safest place would be Hogwarts, that might be too obvious.”

“Y/N,” Draco spoke, although she did not hear.

“My parents,” she continued frantically. “I’ll have to tell them or - or send them away, I don’t—”

And this time, when Draco repeated her name, with more urgency in his voice than she had ever heard, Y/N noticed. After the initial aggression with which he spoke her name, Draco’s voice softened. “Nowhere will be safe enough. He’ll find you. No matter what.”

Her body went cold.

Draco was a man of extremes. A man of loyalty and ferocity and an innate desperation to protect those he cared for, no matter what the cost. He had proven so before. There was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if that meant breaking her heart, along with his own.

“No,” Y/N protested, sure she knew what Draco was thinking. After all, how many times had she been able to finish his sentences for him? How many times had she read his mind before he even formulated a thought in his own consciousness? How many times had she known what he would do, how he would act before he knew so himself? “We’re not breaking up. I’m not letting you go through this by yourself Draco, we’ve seen how—”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Draco said solemnly. It had been what felt like a lifetime since he looked at her, since he touched her.

But Y/N was too relieved at his words to comprehend the stern tone with which he spoke them. She released an alleviating sigh, thanking the universe that Draco had not gone to extremes this time, that maybe he would let her help him and they would confront this together.

“But we can’t be together either,” he continued after a moment. Y/N’s shot from the sky above her to the boy who stood stoic next to her. She tilted her head in confusion and opened her mouth to voice her bewilderment, but before she could let out more than a syllable, Draco clarified. “It’s not enough to part ways, Y/N. I’ll still love you, and he’ll still know that. I can’t care for you at all.”

This time, although still perplexed, Y/N did not move to speak. Rather, she allowed Draco to think aloud.

“A memory charm won’t be enough either, not even on the both of us. I’ve heard lovers can still feel a connection between themselves after their memories are taken. And I can’t think of any other solution . . .”

When he did not continue, Y/N whispered, “What does this mean?”

“It means I need to make a reality where I never fell in love with you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at the sea. “If I even considered entertaining this idea, how in the hell would you go about that? We’re wizards, Draco, but even we can’t change the past to that extreme. There’s no way to—”

She stopped speaking, stopped the flailing of her arms, stopped breathing, when Draco Malfoy pulled a Time-Turner from his pocket. Even without knowledge of how Draco planned to use it, Y/N would have been shocked at his possession of one. Time-Turners were extremely rare, likely due to the peril they risked, and the last she had heard of someone owning one was Albus Dumbledore himself.

“How did you—”

“My father stole it,” Draco filled in the gaps. “I know it’s not an honorable way to come into possession of one, but I plan to use it nobly.” He turned to look at her, finally, for what seemed like the first time in years. He met her eyes for a split second, then shifted them to the charm that lay in his open palm. He grasped it shut. “Point is, Y/N, I have it, and I intend to use it to protect you. I’ll go back to before we met, I’ll prevent it, I swear.”

“Draco, you can’t just make this decision,” Y/N professed angrily. “I know I’m in danger, but I never thought loving you would be completely safe. I mean, come on, you’re Draco Malfoy. Even without You-Know-Who, your friends serve a mighty threat.”

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N.”

“I know it’s not, Draco. But this is my life too.”

When he looked up, Y/N thought he would meet her eyes, but they instead drifted over her face and to the clouds above them. He threw his hands in the air in frustration, still clasping the Time-Turner with all his might. “And that’s exactly why I need to do this! I can’t be the reason you lose it! I need to make this world so that I never put you in danger by falling in love with you.”

Y/N was not one to back down from a fight, but even she knew there was nothing to be done to change Draco’s mind. The only thing that had ever been greater than Draco’s love for her was his fear of Voldemort, and in this moment, his two phobias were colliding. And that meant there would be no steering his proposed course of action.

So rather than continue to fight him, although she desperately longed to, Y/N sat in the sand and motioned for her forlorn lover to join. He appeared hesitant, but the fact that Y/N was no longer protesting him convinced him to lower to the ground. Y/N had always been the only one able to drag him out of his conservative shell. As unproblematic an action as it seemed, Draco Malfoy would not be caught dead sitting in damp sand in the presence of anyone but his Y/N. Something about her made him forget about the trivial issues of everyday life. Sometimes she cleared his mind completely, but it was much too cloudy today for him to hope for such an outcome.

As soon as he was seated next to her, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder.

“I know there’s no way I could change your mind, but is there a chance I could convince you to wait a bit?” She looked up at him, his blue eyes, his light hair, his perfect face. “To give us some time just to be here?”

She felt his chest move with a deep breath, and she saw his head dip with a wordless nod.

And so Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N sat on an unknown, unnamed shore, exchanging stories of their time together, of the highs and lows, the laughs and tears, for what they both knew to be a long time, but what felt like none at all.

They recounted their night at the Yule Ball, and Y/N told him it was the first time she had ever seen him truly carefree. He told her he used to despise her for supporting Harry Potter, and she laughed knowingly, assuring him she already knew, but glad that he had learned to agree with her views (although only tolerate the boy). She remembered how jealous she had been when Pansy Parkinson was his Potions partner but how relieved she felt when he admitted he smelt her in his Amortentia.

And when the words were no longer enough, Draco and Y/N sat in silence, with only the crashing waves as ambience, and they watched the sun set an ocean away from their problems. Tears fell from both lovers’ eyes, especially when Y/N sat back and placed her hand on Draco’s cheek.

“You know I don’t want this,” she whispered. “But I know that you’re going to do it either way. Because that’s just who you are. You’ll do anything to protect those you love. But Draco Malfoy, before you do, I need you to know,” she paused, blinking harsh tears from her stinging eyes and trying to ignore those forming in Draco’s own, “that there is no reality in the universe in which I do not love you. I will love you in any and every world that allows us to meet.”

Draco tugged his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, the pooling tears escaped. “And I you. Always.”

Without another word, Y/N pulled Draco’s face to her own and met his lips softer than ever before. They were both shivering at this point, but as soon as their lips connected, their bodies warmed. Draco tugged Y/N into him with a hand behind her neck, and deepened their kiss just enough to communicate his love, his yearning for another lifetime of such kisses. The kiss broke with Y/N’s shuddering breath, and she rested her forehead against Draco’s, her hand still holding his face. She felt wetness pooling at the tops of her fingers, and she swiped across Draco’s face with her thumb, all the while her eyes closed.

“You know I only wish to keep you safe,” Draco sighed. “I would not do this if I did not truly believe it to be the only way.”

Y/N nodded, and sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of a tick.

She opened her eyes to see Draco’s hands around the Time-Turner under their faces and quickly looked up at him. For a moment it seemed he would not meet her gaze, and Y/N panicked, thinking she would be forced to abandon this world looking into something other than her lover’s eyes.

But then Draco looked up, and in his mind, he wavered. He could not leave her. How could he possibly think he would be okay without her?

But if they stayed, he would eventually be without her when Voldemort reached her, and that would hurt infinitely more.

Another twist of the Time-Turner.

Countless more.

“Wait.”

Draco’s hands stilled.

“What do I do?” Y/N spoke. “The me in this reality? What does this me do without you?”

Draco shook his head slightly, almost in pain, but before he resumed his motions, he offered, “You just go on living, I suppose.”

One last turn. A twist in time. A seal of fate.

. . .

It is snowing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A young girl is walking to class with her peers, smiling wondrously at the frenzy of snowflakes. A blond boy walks the same path with his own companions. He races ahead of the two boys with him and crafts a snowball out of fallen snow in his gloved hands.

In another, much more fortunate reality, the same events conspire. However, in this universe, when the boy throws the pack of snow, it hits Harry Potter, his intended target, rather than the back of the beautiful girl’s head. So she hurries her pace upon predicting a brawl and ducks into the castle, already on the way to her next lesson. The boy smirks at his friends and mocks Harry Potter’s misfortune. In this universe, Y/N Y/L/N and Draco Malfoy never meet.

And so, years later, when Draco Malfoy’s heart breaks, it is not because he lived to regret falling for Y/N Y/L/N, but rather because he never got the chance.

. . .

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minjoonalist · 4 years

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Buzzkill | Ksj. 18+

Pairing: Boss!Seokjin x Driver!Reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: Request, PWP

Word: 6k

Discription: In which your boss has a consistent streak of being the biggest wet blanket.

Warnings: soft dom!Jin, sub!reader, penetration, fingering, unprotected sex they have sex on a stolen car, cursing, explicit wording, slight degradation, Quickie

A/N: so this is request I received and decided to turn it into a mini fic for a cute little bean, I’m sorry took a second but I do hope you enjoy it sweetie! 😘

———

There was nothing more thrilling than the violent purr of the engine surrounding your senses, the harsh wind whipping through your hair, the exhilarating sound of power that brought you and your crew mates through the dark silent streets of an unknown neighborhood and especially the pride that came with knowing everyone would end up praising you for your extraordinary skills as a getaway driver. You’d only known them for about three weeks, but that was plenty of enough time to showcase your abilities and impress them. They would compliment you, lifting your ego for the complicated turns and cheering you on for the risky maneuvers that allowed all of you to get off scot free with more than five hundred thousand dollars...you loved it, every single part of it.

It was moments like this where Jimin snaps his hands to applaud your fearless energy, Hoseok, the personified can of sunshine boosts you for whipping the fast car in front of a massive truck as a means to shake the three police cars chasing you down the highway. The kid, known as Jungkook- widening his eyes in amazement and slight fear once that same truck misses all of you by a hair as you exited fast lane.

It was a thrill and one you found yourself living off of recently.

The adrenaline and rush of everything you had done, bringing life to the boring, mundane one you’d use to live before. How you were just some pretty accountant by day, kissing the asses of rich old men with too much privilege on their hands- but only to turn around and take care of it for them by night time...in other words you were robbing them blind and just the thought alone always had you grinning ear to ear, even while you turned the unharmed vehicle into the hidden garage that your crew mates owned. It was fun, yet rewarding every time and nothing anyone did could ever ruin that-

“That was dumb.”

“Excuse me?”You balk.

All too quickly, the rush of your misdeed had drained away from your body and suddenly the air had gone incredibly still. The three men currently residing in the back of the car, pauses just as perplexed as you were in the driver’s seat- your eyes glued to the platinum blonde male staring you down in the passenger.

Arms crossed, his pearly teeth nibbling on a silver lip ring- Jin, otherwise known as Kim Seokjin and your boss, meets you with an unimpressed gaze “You heard what I said, that was stupid and reckless.” He continues, voice devoid of any kindness as well as having irritation enter those black irises.

You shake your head, blinking a couple of times just to make sure you’re understanding him and maybe you weren’t in some dream. “I’m confused...what are you talking about?” your voice lifts slightly with outrage while you turned the key in the ignition to shut the car off.

Jin’s face only hardens “Don’t make me repeat myself, that bull crap stunt you pulled back there could’ve nearly killed us. We were lucky that truck driver only hesitated from hearing the police sirens just before that exit...like I said, dumb.” The tense outburst between all of you, was enough to throw the entire atmosphere and stun you all into silence.

Well all except Hoseok, as the optimistic member, he suddenly reaches forward to pat Jin on the shoulder from the back “Hey man, She was great back there- Lighten up.”

“Yeah Hyung, the important thing is that we’re all alive and we each have a hundred thousand dollars in our pockets without anyone catching on.” Jungkook decides to chime in as well, peering around for confirmation- which he does receive. “There's no telling what could have happened if she didn’t.”

You on the other hand didn’t reply to the hurtful insult of the soured male beside you and neither did Jimin, Too busy trying to cope with the foreign reaction of your driving skills and that you were being scolded for actually doing your Job. As you sat there listening to the both of them defend your honor, you’d hoped some of it might have gotten to the quiet grouch raining in on your thrill, but instead it only increased his anger. Which only caused Seokjin to turn his attention to the three men in the back.

He sends an expectant look to Hoseok “I’m sorry...do you and Jimin not have money in the back of this car to go count?” He presses harshly “Instead of worrying about the brat, I suggest you tend to your duties.” Seokjin snaps his fingers, causing the dark haired male to flinch and send you all a beaten look before backing down. Within the next few seconds Hoseok opens his back seat door, getting out grumpily and causing a chain for Jimin to follow him. They both walk around to the back of the car, both of them coming into your vision on the rearview mirror. You catch sight of Jimin, a short wink coming from him with two hits to the closed trunk signaling you to pop it open.

Immediately, you oblige.

Meanwhile Jin turns around to Jungkook, the poor kid’s Adam Apple bobbing up and down as your boss looks at him sternly. “Well?”

“Um, I-I should probably help them?” He says a bit unsure, his pitiful posture within the middle seat, making your soft spot for him ache.

His knees knocked together, rough hands rubbing nervously across his muscular thighs- which makes you wonder how he could possibly be so wrecked from one man and yet keep a calm composure when facing the lethal obstacles of obtaining glorious amounts of money. Nonetheless, you don't have much time to process before the kid is scurrying out of his seat, doing the same as his friends and opening the back seat’s door to let himself out-leaving the both of you inside with silence.

“...Well that was uncalled for.” You finally mumble after a few seconds go by.

From beside you, Seokjin Sighs tiredly- almost ruefully before completely ignoring you. The skip in your heart beat from the situation only serves to remind you of how much adrenaline you still had running through your system.

Just like that, Seokjin had immediately ruined the mood like always and if that weren't enough to have you fuming from the buzzkill, then what he said next did him no Justice. “Aw the brat can’t handle criticism all of a sudden?”

Your face turns sour “I can when that person isn’t being a dick.”

“It's never stopped you before.”He scoffs “ Pointing out a selfish move like that doesn’t make me the bad guy Kiddo, unfortunately for you, you have a hard time seeing that fault.”

Your anger spikes, watching as he rests his head back. Even more now that the adrenaline in you had become noticeable and part of you wondered if he was riling you up on purpose.

It wouldn't be the first time…Seokjin had pissed you off plenty of times before in-fact the man had been giving you a hard time since the first day you began. You couldn’t recall a single memory where you and your boss had a pleasant conversation with each other, not when you brought him the damaged and stolen vehicle of your ex to his garage and especially not when you had to explain the wreckage it’d received after you crashed it in an impromptu street race after your break up.

Now that you were thinking about it, you remembered how you even managed to land the job in the first place…Right, because maybe it didn’t help that your ex happened to be very good customer of the garage owner and that if it weren’t for him- you’d be facing a few years behind bars at the moment. Agreeing to never tell the poor soul the whereabouts of his precious child unless you agreed to work a few jobs for him.

Before then, he’d already been aware of your talent, hearing about it constantly from his babbling friend and always dreading the long convos of another man bragging about his girlfriend, who ‘knows how to drive a stick shift in more ways than one’. You grimaced from the crude comment when Jin had mentioned it to you and it’d been a pleasure knowing he wouldn't be able to say it anymore, Although the man himself had no problem bringing it up just to toy with you on the matter.

So yeah you kind of owed it to him, especially when he’d taken the liberty to fix the car up for you...but still...It doesn’t mean he gets to be an ass right now.

“You’re right Jin, It's not like I'm risking my life too,” The man rolls his eyes as soon as you speak “-Or that I managed to lose three police cars and a helicopter that nearly caught us from a misdirection you gave prior.” You huff out from your nose, your face turning so red Seokjin could've sworn he’d seen steam coming from your ears.

He then hears it before he sees it, the sound of an opening car door and shuffling coming from his side, only to see you clamber out of your seat angrily and turn his way. “You know what, forget it, we got the money... If you think what I did was selfish, fine, but I’m done, I did what you asked and I got us the hell out of there. So do us all a favor and take that damn stick out of your ass for once.” You snap at the older man, not giving him a chance to reply before slamming the car door in his face and also not noticing the way he shamelessly eyes you from his seat.

From behind the car, all three men freeze from your sudden outburst- their shocked expressions morphing while seeing someone so calm suddenly go-off on the most intimidating person here. You clear your throat from the awkward air surrounding you…maybe now would be a good time to leave. You think to yourself, your feeting shifting to turn away until one final sound of a slammed car door stops you as well.

Seokjin steps out, his own aura turning for the worst, but he doesn't plan to take it out on the others. No in-fact even as the three quickly move into action from seeing him appear as well, he doesn’t spare them glance when his eyes ignite on fire from your words. Seokjin’s nostrils flare, inked arms flexing at his sides under a light pink button down and the back of his neck gone completely red, bringing the tiniest bit of fear in you, that you’d gone too far.

Oh and you did.

“Jungkook.” The air practically vibrates with the bass of Seokjin’s voice. The younger stops in between Hoseok and Jimin, eyes widened with curiosity of hearing his name.

“Y-Yes?” he answers quickly.

Seokjin glances at him, an honest emotion written on his face- giving you whiplash from the sudden change of character. “Go home. It's late and the last thing I need is for your older brother to jump down my throat about where you’ve been. Tell Namjoon I’ll be making your drop Tomorrow morning.” He says with finalty. Namjoon...That name itself was enough to punch you in the gut and had it not been for the crippling rush plaguing your body- you’d be feeling quite nauseous at the mention of your ex-boyfriend.

At first Jungkook makes no effort to move completely bewildered by the sudden order “I...but-”

Jimin gives him a light shove to break his trance. “Go, before you piss him off even more -we got it from here.” he whispers but not low enough that you couldn’t catch it from your side of the car.

Jungkook, looks around to all of you for the last time tonight, muttering a silent confirmation before slowly backing off and heading in the opposite direction. No doubt heading out to his own car. After that is done Seokjin barks the simple orders to the two others “Count and leave.” Insisting how late it is for them as well and if he saw them again tonight- they’ll have more to worry about than whether or not they make it home.

Unlike Jungkook, the both of them agree with no hesitation, grabbing what was left in the trunk and heading off somewhere deeper into the garage without so much as glancing your way or saying goodnight. A strange way to act, considering they were always the first ones to do so and with that- you couldn’t stop the sinking foreboding in the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

Finally Seokjin comes back to you, expression blank and yet you could still feel the cold chill draping down your spine from the look- A strange mix of adrenaline with the beginnings of a newfound lust rising in your abdomen from the wolfish gaze he sends your way. Across from his side of the car, He snaps his fingers once again and points to you. “Come here.” He doesn’t question and neither do you, your body on autopilot as your slow footsteps reaches his ears. Each step felt non-existent as if you were walking into a trap and it was too late to turn back. You swallow, frowning up at the tense man staring at you while you walk around the car. Once close enough, you stop a few feet away from him, the butterflies in your stomach sending alarms to your head that you had found yourself in this situation with Seokjin.

Strange how it quickly turned to excitement.

He gives you a once over, narrowed eyes zoning in specifically on how far you’d allowed yourself space. He suddenly meets your eyes “Do you like pissing me off?” The male could only ask, crossing his arms together- your own eyes flickering to the tattooed biceps bulging out from the action.

You swallow in your very dry throat. “I could ask you the same thing, you’ve grown quite the record.”

He arches a brow, face hardening from the reply and he suddenly takes a step forward, beginning to circle opposite of the car and towards you. “ I’m not trying to be an ass, y/n.” He starts cautiously.

“You’ve been an ass since the first day we met,” You sputter in disbelief watching him take another slow step. “admit it you don’t like me because you think I broke your friend’s heart. Good news, it's the other way around.” You point out wearily, subconsciously taking a step back of your own towards the hood of the car.

It was no secret how bad of a break up you and your ex had and if anyone knew, it was definitely Jungkook. The constant bickering and fighting between you and his older brother, the poor thing had to have heard every horrible word you both spat at each other within their home and there was no surprise that even he wanted you to end it. Truth be told, you both were wrong, a bad match to put it lightly and the biggest problem seemed to be how easy it was for Namjoon to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was too jealous, too demanding, too sensitive and It's probably why anyone would think you were the one who hurt him, that definitely wasn’t the case.

Seokjin’s Features turn down in confusion, before a sly grin breaks across his face, a reaction you weren't expecting and his brows furrowing in as if the words you were speaking are absolute gibberish. “Is that what you think? That's... Interesting.” he ponders out loud, amusement clear as ever in his voice. “I mean you’re wrong, but you’re right I don’t like you.”

Your face goes flat, from where you stand Seokjin has gotten significantly closer- your entire body on high alert as your boss begins to tower over you. He tilts his head, your instincts screaming at you to run away and yet you don’t move a single inch- your heart pounding in your chest. “Your mouth and narcissistic tendencies piss me off to no end, but you can drive so Namjoon was right about that and If I actually gave a shit about your past relationship- I wouldn’t constantly find myself wanting to fuck a brat against his car at this moment.” He shrugs while bringing himself even closer, those sinful eyes swirling with a much darker intention.

“I-I what?”

Your entire nervous system jolts from the confession, the electrifying mixture of arousal strumming through you more than ever as the visual had gone to your head. It’s not like you’ve never thought of it before, After all you’d be lying to say you weren’t attracted to him- he was insanely gorgeous. However the problem came whenever Seokjin would go out of his way to comment negatively to you or for instance dismiss your every attempt whenever you tried to have a decent conversation with him.

But now that was different, So much that part of you couldn’t comprehend the sudden force of his lips crashing down on yours. A surprised yelp leaving your body from the soft plush fiercely molding against your mouth, accompanied with the searing cold of his silver lip ring. The kiss is completely unexpected and yet for some reason hot licks of arousal pool around within your stomach easily. You breathe deeply into him, two long arms coming to wrap tightly within the curve of your waist and Seokjin’s hand snakes slightly under the warmth of your shirt, resting at the small of your back.

All over, the butterflies you were feeling had gone completely haywire, your body being pressed firmly into his hard chest and on instinct your own hands had braced themselves onto his broad shoulders.

He groans, a startling vibration that has you rubbing your thighs together, managing to catch his attention in the process and Seokjin can’t help but to run his tongue across the bottom seam of your lips. It feels as if your body had naturally melted into him, the dominance in his kiss leaving you breathless and your head had begun to spin as he moves to suck on your bottom lip- wanting entry so bad he had even sank his teeth to elicit a moan from your end.

“Damn I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His husky chuckle has you keening into him, the hands on your back roaming up further, when he lifts you more into him. By now Seokjin had managed to slip in completely, the wet muscle maneuvering in every way it pleased, taking over completely and tasting you to the fullest.

At some point you’d managed to get completely lost in Seokjin, all your previous thoughts vanishing within his embrace and slowly you could feel your panties dampening from his touch- a violent shiver racking down your spine once his cold fingertips grazes all the way up on your heating skin. Your back arches, the thick bulge of his erection digging into your abdomen and you nearly grow goosebumps everywhere. Without noticing, your boss had managed to back you up against the car, a muscular thigh parting itself between your legs and rutting up into you, causing you to shiver pleasurably into his hold.

With his lips continuing their attack on yours, you’re still reminded of the silver ring digging into you, your own impulse to latch onto it, teeth tugging slightly to push a faint gasp from him. He feels an immediate twitch in his pants, his own arousal getting to his head and He suddenly parts- “Fuck okay.” You hear him breath, panting as the air finally makes its way back into your lungs and it doesn’t dawn on you what exactly just happened. Perhaps it could have been from the adrenaline running through your system or maybe that it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone except Namjoon- but slowly you felt yourself slipping away, your fucked out gaze meeting Seokjin’s feral one and you held no ounce of regret.

“Lets try not tugging on that.” He suddenly gives a dry laugh, but there's no denying the deep lust residing in it.

“S-Sorry, we probably should have stopped sooner.” he hears you breathe in response, your eyes clouded with a long gone emotion and there was nothing more he wanted than to bend you over and fuck you mercilessly.

He’s wanted that for a while now, often finding himself wondering what it would be like to have the prideful little vixen rendered helpless under his touch. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t like you, but damn if you didn’t turn the man on beyond what would even make sense. To him, you were infuriating and at the same time a forbidden fruit to be eaten. How you’d come to the conclusion he disliked you because of Namjoon he wouldn’t understand, but what he does know is that you were a wild card and one his friend thought could be tamed. He was wrong, and Seokjin could tell the second you brought in the poor scrapped vehicle without an ounce of guilt.

“You’re not sorry.” he whispers lower than ever, catching you by surprise. “If anything you’re the opposite...you’re practically grinding yourself on me.”

Your hands dig nervously into the cloth of his shirt, an untamable throbbing striking you between your thighs proving the truth behind his statement. As if completely drawn to him, all you do was wish his lips were back on yours- your eyes switching repeatedly to stare up at him and that's when you feel it, a movement so slow and torturous it nearly had your knees buckling.

Somehow without being noticed, His hand had begun to move from behind your back, coming around between the both of you and landing at the front of your jeans. He suddenly pops the button open, your zipper being tugged down afterwards and Seokjin watches you cautiously as he slips his hand in and over your clothed heat. His lips part at the feel, your slick wetness drenching the frail material on his hand. “And quite frankly, you’re a terrible liar...aren’t you kiddo?”

You whimper pitifully rutting yourself down onto his hand, enjoying the pressure of his fingers gliding over your slit and rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

“...please.” you find yourself saying to him, your hands clutching him tighter.

“Please? That's new, but I don’t know what you’re asking for.” He frowns, applying more pressure between your folds and then switching to pull your underwear aside. You gasp at the new pleasure, your pussy becoming more and more sensitive to his touch and it was foreign to suddenly feel this way for him, at this point you didn’t care.

“Jin just fuck me already.” You groan, two of his fingers sliding downwards and deeper into your folds, stopping right at your entrance before one sinks in and then the other. Your body tenses, pressing yourself closer to him and he smirks wickedly-wanting to hear exactly those words coming from your mouth.

Seokjin suddenly leans down, bringing his lips close against your ear “That's no way to speak to your boss- If you really want my cock, you’re gonna have to be nicer about it...So let's try again hm?” You gasp, feeling the slow thrusts of his slender digits before he curls them inside. He hums slowly, soft lips caressing over your earlobe and trailing down more to place a soft kiss on your neck. “What are you asking for y/n?” Seokjin tries once more, licking and nibbling on the soft flesh while fucking his fingers a little harder into you.

This time your knees really do buckle, a soft mewl coming deep from within your chest and you don’t hesitate to breathe out what you wanted. “Jin please I need you to fuck me.”

He hums out again, this time as if to think more on the decision...as if he was actually going to change his mind. “Now?”

“ Y-Yes.” He hears your reply, so soft and desperate almost able to rub off on him in the process.

“Right here?” By now you could hear the smile on his lips, which was strange since you’d actually never seen one on him. The idea makes you roll your eyes while muttering another yes, but you bite your lip immediately afterwards- your stomach swirling with warmth from the new action.

It doesn’t last long however, in the next second Seokjin was slipping his hand away from you, placing one last kiss at the bottom of your neck before pulling back with hunger swirling fierce in his eyes. “You know, you sound a lot hotter when you beg.” He teases watching your face screw up into one of your famous glares.

“Fuck o-” You’re being moved before you could finish. He grabs your waist, twisting it with enough force to have you turning away from him and presses your front towards the car.

“Bend.” He grunts when you take too long to catch on.

You yelp in again in surprise, a huge palm pushing towards the middle of your back and suddenly you’re doing just as he says- bending forward over the warm hood of the car. Your ass pushed back towards his front and unable to see anything he was doing. Your body trembles from the new position, feeling Seokjin’s hands run soothingly down your sides towards the back of your ass- giving it a harsh squeeze. “Good little brat.”

Bent away from him, you silently await the moment his fingers would then latch onto the band of your pants and undies. You bite your lip, the cold air rushing around the heated flesh of your ass, his knuckles grazing your hips as he tugs them down to the middle of your thighs. Your pussy clenches to the praise he gives you, wetness seeping out and down your exposed core while also making Seokjin groan out from the sight. He takes in another breath- mouth watering to your drenched core and wanting so badly to taste you in the moment, but there just wasn’t enough time.

“Jin hurry.” you whimper, feeling a single finger glide up your slit once again- taking the opportunity to sway your ass in front him, inviting him.

“Fuck, ” He swallows, his own hands flying for his zipper and you can hear as he undoes himself behind you.

Part of you wondered just for a second if he’d happened to have any protection on him- realizing how you both were out in the open and-“O-Oh.” You suddenly hiss into the silent air.

Seokjin, grips himself at the base of his dick and presses into one side of your cheek to spread you out for him. Thank god he’d prepped you before, your heart racing in your chest as the warm mushroom tip presses into you, gliding up and down your bare core. Eventually when it’s coated enough he stops just outside your entrance, pressing himself in and begins to sink himself slowly into your tight walls.

Hissing again, you gasp at the unbelievable stretch of his girth, your pussy slowly taking him in and molding around him almost to a point where it was slightly uncomfortable- however despite his nature, Seokjin is gentle about it. He rocks himself in, giving you time to adjust to the size of him and there was no denying the gradually growing pleasure that was beginning to take over your body.

“Yes…” you gasp out breathlessly, hands bracing under your body once you feel him reach deep inside you, able to touch the special area of nerves that made up your g-spot...you start to become restless.

“Fuck you’re so tight, I need to move.” His voice comes out strained, grip on your hips tightening a bit more, you simply whimper in return while pushing yourself back onto him fully. In unison, the both of you groan out in pleasure, his slow rocking stuttering from the action.

Seokjin, Takes in a breath- pulling himself slowly out of your heat and snaps his hips back into you. He does this again, pulling back and thrusting into you a bit harder before setting a comfortable pace. With another cry coming from you, it almost takes everything in him not to lose control, his slower thrusts giving you enough to get off and still you need more.

Oh yeah it's definitely the adrenaline.

You whimper, voice cracking as his length hits your g-spot over again. “More...p-please” you try biting your lip.

Seokjin hears you, the untamable emotion riding in his chest fluttering from the request. His hand leaves your hip to bury itself in the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to pull you up to him. You cry out, his grip twisting in your hair to turn your face towards him. When you do, your breathing stops, dark eyes lit with so passion in them you nearly melt right there.

“Do you want me to fuck you harder brat? Is that what you’re asking?” His deep and breathless voice vibrates on your back. Without thinking you’re nodding your head frantically, a desperate need is filling your eyes that has Seokjin’s will to hold back snapping in half.

Immediately he slams his lips back onto yours, the grip in your hair becoming painful as he pulls out to ram himself back into you. Your hands reach back, managing to latch onto his thighs and you can't help loud cries you set free into his kiss. Seokjin moans too, loving the feel of your body shaking under him and he slowly feels his own resolve. He suddenly breaks the kiss, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer and Seokjin lets you fall forward again, suddenly taking a rougher turn to make you reach your release.

With a deeper snap of his hips, the delicious stretch of his cock begins to turn your legs to jelly, a louder moan falling past your lips and into the night air as another one of his powerful thrusts jerks your body forward. Your torso falls even more, the warmth from the hood caressing your chest and easily you were met with your fucked out reflection. Teary eyes, wild hair and a sweaty face twisted into ecstasy- you shut your eyes before the predicament could truly set in.

How the hell did you get here? Letting Seokjin fuck your brains out in such an open space and loving the thrill of it. His fingers deep within your hair, pulling and tugging you back towards him as he drills himself in and out of you repeatedly, bringing your awaiting orgasm closer and faster than ever, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Such a good little slut, Who would've thought you’d be so whipped for my dick.” You hear him growl from behind you, a large hand connecting harshly with the soft skin of your ass. A tiny shriek is ripped from your throat and you then let out a tiny sob as your walls quivered around him from the action. He chuckles darkly, gripping harder onto your hips as he picks up the pace and begins to pound harder into you- loving every sexy ass moan that leaves your mouth every time he thrusts into you. “Oh the brat likes that? Do you like when I talk to you like a cock loving slut? You don’t want me to call you princess or baby girl?”

Your mouth parts in protest “I-...f-fuck Seokjin shut u-up, yes!” You cry out, As your nerves begin to prickle with the beginnings of your release- your sweaty hands squeaking up against the hood as they try to grab anything to anchor you down and before you know it- he's pressing down harder into your back, his other hand leaving your hair to come and rub frenzied circles around your clit.

“Oh shit, fuck you just gushed around me. I bet you’re going cum.” He pants, thrusts becoming relentless and overwhelming. “ Fuck, fuck yes- keep taking me just like that...wanna cum in this tight little pussy. Do you want to cum on my dick? W-wanna be a good little slut and let me cum in whats mine?”

“Yes J-Jin, Fuck yes!” By now you felt as if your body was going limp, your loud cries turning into drawled out moans and it could be accompanied by his grunts of pleasure as well as the connecting of his hips to your sore ass.

He swallows a fevered moan of his own “Then cum, show me who this pussy belongs to.”

You grow more butterflies in your stomach, hearing him call you his so suddenly when the guy had barely acknowledged you before. It was confusing to say the least, but all the while so fucking hot and you didn’t have the time to truly comprehend it- instead you allowed the pleasure to consume you. The strong feeling of intense warmth abruptly overtaking your body, your toes curling inside your shoes, a sharp squeak escaping your lips and Seokjin could feel your body stiffen under him as your legs shook sporadically from your powerful orgasm.

Seokjin growls out a guttural moan, His sloppy thrusts tipping him over once he feels your walls clenched tightly around him- bringing his orgasm on so suddenly, the next thing he knew, Seokjin was suddenly collapsing heavily over your back with a curse. “Shit!”

You pant trying to ride out your high, hips continuing to rock against him even as his cock swells in you. Sudden spurts of hot cum drench your walls and manages to trigger the aftershocks of your own release.

“Um wow.” You breath out, after staying in your position for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath. Seokjin’s chest could be felt rising and falling heavily onto your back, his length softening within you and it was then then that you finally heard him speak.

“He was right.” Jin mumbles out into the now silent garage, making you frown in confusion.

“Who was?”

Seokjin presses his forehead into your back, his mouth twitching to hide a smile even though you couldn’t see him and his silence probably should have been a red flag for you, however you don’t press any further. Its until the small vibrations of his chuckles and the feel of his chest shaking behind you has you curious as why the man would say such a random statement after sex.

“Namjoon…” Seokjin is full on laughing and before you know it, he's lifting off of you and sliding himself out while making you hiss. Once the joke registers, you find yourself rolling your eyes and you're lifting yourself up as well, wincing from the stickiness between your thighs and that you would need to hurry home fast so you could clean up.

Watching him put himself together, you start to do the same- reaching for your pants to pull them up and you’re sending him a disgusted look while fastening your button “Don't Seokjin, please don’t say it.” You say as you then run your hand up to fix your hair.

Already done, he steps closer to you - sending you a devilish grin that you’d never seen before, the look shocking you in the process and you don’t understand why you were still feeling the strange flutter in your stomach, your adrenaline long gone. Suddenly he pulls you closer, a hand tipping under your chin to have you look up at him and then...

“you really do know how to drive a stick shift in more ways than one.” He whispers dreamily before cackling in an unattractive manner and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to punch someone more.

“I regret having sex with you.”

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