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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 years

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just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be.

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids.

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together.

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes.

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out.

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee.

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard.

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final.

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.”

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing.

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.”

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time.

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?”

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break.

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs.

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit.

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs.

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint.

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint.

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car.

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now.

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store.

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs.

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone.

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?”

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too?

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?”

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?”

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number.

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?”

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously.

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks.

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts.

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you.

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me?

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably.

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles).

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa.

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks.

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet.

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there.

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display.

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs.

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood.

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently.

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently.

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you.

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly.

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.”

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds.

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters.

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says.

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes.

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until-

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts.

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with.

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated.

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.”

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile.

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless.

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently.

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back.

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains.

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,” yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date.

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand.

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck.

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him.

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works.

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods.

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.”

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns.

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles.

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear.

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa one shot #ateez one shot #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagines #ateez fluff #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fluff #park seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa one shot

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

The OM! Boys + their reaction to you walking into the room naked

My HC for this may be slightly different than the tiktok challenge (I assume that’s what you’re referring to), but hopefully you still enjoy!

(MC/Reader is GN)

Lucifer:

He doesn’t bother looking up when you step into his study--too absorbed in his current work. He needs to read through the proposal on his desk and have the signed papers to Diavolo by morning, and it’s already nearing midnight.

“Lucifer.”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t give you his attention, at first. He’s used to you coming to check on him when it gets late, pestering him about coming to bed and getting some much needed shut-eye. “I’ll join you shortly. I need to finish up here.”

“Lucifer,” you try again, tone a little annoyed. He pauses at that, not used to hearing you upset. He sets his pen down with a sigh--gloved hand combing through his dark hair.

“Yes, Y/N, what--,” his voice cuts off as his gaze finally finds you. You’re leaning against the doorframe to the room, arms hugged in front of you, and a playful look in your eyes.

There’s not a shred of clothing on your body.

Seeing that you have his attention, you don’t bother saying anything. Simply watch his reaction--loving the way his crimson eyes widen in shock.

However, it doesn’t take him long to recover. He presses to his feet, and steps around the wooden desk, a handsome grin on his lips.

As he approaches you, his demon form materializes without warning.

“You’re lucky that I could use a break,” he tells you, hooking a finger beneath your chin and forcing you to face him. There’s a sadistic glint in his gaze, one that has you swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth.

“But don’t think I’ll be kind. As much as I’m thrilled to see you present yourself to me like this, next time, you need to be patient. Now--,” his wings flutter, and you gasp as he cages you against the door. His fingers curl around your throat.

“Prepare yourself.”

Mammon:

He’s in the middle of looking up “get rich quick” schemes on his DDD when you enter his room without knocking.

“Oh~” he greets lazily, not bothering to turn away from his current task. He knows it’s you, because you’d messaged him earlier, asking if he was free, and alone.

He had assumed that you just wanted to spend some one-on-one time with The Great Mammon, and who could blame you?

“Mammon,” you call, a purr to your voice that makes the Avatar of Greed pause. Turning away from his DDD, he looks over and sees you leaning over his pool table, with your palms pressed against the edge of the wooden surface.

You’re...stark naked.

He can’t see your ahem nether region thanks to the height of the table, but he can see the tops of your hips, and there’s a very clear lack of underwear.

“Wh--!” his hand flies to cover his mouth, a brilliant blush blooming on his face. “Where are your clothes?!”

You blink innocently. “I figured you might like this type of surprise. But if I’m wrong~”

You fake a disappointed sigh, turning and acting like you’re going to exit his room.

Immediately Mammon is on his feet and vaulting over the pool table (quite literally). His arms wrap around your torso, hugging you protectively back against his chest. You can already feel that he’s semi-hard as his pelvis rubs against your ass.

“I...of course I like it,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “Ya just surprised me, is all…”

You giggle, lifting a hand to pet through his hair. “Would you like me to stay, then?”

His arms wrap tighter around you, teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. “As if I would let ya go anywhere looking like this, silly human...you’re staying here tonight.”

Levi:

When you excuse yourself in the middle of the game the two of you are playing, saying something about needing the bathroom, Levi doesn’t think much of it.

His attention is solely on the screen of his computer, concentration through the roof as he completes the boss battle without your help (he really hadn’t needed your aid, anyway. He just loved spending time with you in person, and in game.)

Levi is in the middle of picking up all the rewards the boss had dropped following its defeat, so he doesn’t notice you return to the room.

“Levi.”

Blinking, the Avatar of Envy glances over his shoulder, hearing your voice behind him. The moment he catches sight of naked body, his brain short circuits.

With a surprised yelp, he instinctively swivels in his chair to face you, but his headphones catch--yanking his head back, and effectively making a mess of everything as the taut cord shoves an army of gingerly placed figurines from atop his desk.

Perhaps you should have waited for him to get his new wireless headphones from Akuzon before attempting this trend with him…

“Oh dear,” you sigh, an embarrassed blush spreading on your face as you survey the damage you’ve done. Levi is the same color as a tomato, his wide orange gaze shifting between your naked body, and the ceiling. Like if he stares at you too long, he’ll self-destruct.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment, sighing. “I thought surprising you might have been fun, but…”

Your voice trails off, a shiver raking up your spine as you feel something slick curl around your ankle. When you look down, you note it’s Levi’s tail. His demon form has materialized without you realizing.

“No, i-it’s fine…,” you see him swallow harshly, his tail continuing to wind up your leg. He tugs you forward, closer to him. His hands hover near your waist, his eyes soaking in the sight of you. You can see a tent beginning to form in his pants. “Can I touch you?”

You nod, and in the next beat, he’s all over you.

Satan:

Per usual, he’s engrossed in a novel, so he doesn’t notice your disappearance behind a particularly large stack of books. Nor does he hear the sound of you shedding your clothes.

Thankfully, he can’t miss the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“Satan.”

He turns his gaze away from the book, pausing when he sees you standing a few feet in front of him, completely nude.

His eyebrows raise high on his forehead, grin tugging at his lips. Silently, he moves to place the book face-down on the arm of the chair.

His obvious satisfaction at your surprise has you unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Like what you see?”

“You could say that.”

He presses to his feet and makes his way towards you--emerald eyes soaking in every inch of your revealed skin. When he finally reaches your side, his hands immediately reach out to grip your waist. His fingers give you a gentle squeeze.

“Is there some special occasion I should know about?” he asks, chuckling. You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. His smile widens at the action, gaze falling to your lips.

“No occasion. I just wanted to see how you would react.”

“And is my reaction what you were hoping for?”

You lean in, connecting your lips with his. “Mhm~”

The two of you share a few kisses, before Satan is backing you into one of the many bookshelves, his knee slotting between your legs.

He leans in, mouth hot against your ear.

“Getting the full experience of my reaction may take a few hours, just so you know.”

Asmo:

The Avatar of Lust has never heard of the human world challenge, same as his brothers, but he’s always more than open to seeing you naked, that’s for sure!

So, when you excuse yourself in the middle of your study-session--returning a minute later, and calling out his name so playfully--he’s thrilled at what he finds.

“Ooo~! Look at you!” He starts fanning himself, leaning back in his chair as he regards you with rapt attention. His honey colored eyes drag from the top of your head, all the way down to your feet, and back again.

“Will you turn for me?” He asks, biting his lip. You’re tempted to roll your eyes, but do as he asks--slowly rotating yourself so he’s able to see every inch of your nude skin.

“Gosh, you should absolutely do this more often.” There’s a slight groan to his voice, a show of his satisfaction at your bold present.

“If I did, I have the feeling I’d never leave your room,” you respond with a laugh. Asmo jumps to his feet, making his way to your side. His fingertips roam over the skin of your arms, and he leans in to kiss you.

“Did you want to continue our study-session like this, or should I clear the bed?”

You smile against him. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

Asmo giggles, and before you know it, he has detached himself from you. He works quickly to clear his mattress of any notebooks, and loose papers.

“Shame on you for tempting me like this, when I’ve got a test coming up soon,” he scolds you, but there’s no real anger in his voice. Once the bed has been cleared, Asmo crawls atop the plush sheets and settles on his side, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He beckons you with a roll of his finger. “Come here, darling.”

And you’d be a fool to disobey the Avatar of Lust’s command.

Beel:

He has invited you over to watch his favorite cooking show, but you’d left during the commercial break to go and grab some snacks (the ones he had already prepared long gone--filling his stomach).

It only takes you a few minutes to return, but since the program has started up again on the TV screen, Beel doesn’t bother looking up at the sound of the door opening.

“Y/N, hurry, they’re finishing up the dish,” he says, mouth practically watering. You silently make your way to his bed, dropping the snacks beside him. He mindlessly reaches for a bag of chips, attention still on the TV.

“Beel,” you finally speak. For the first time since your return, his purple eyes shift to look at you.

What he finds has the chip between his lips falling onto the sheets--his newly opened snack forgotten about. His adam’s apple bobs against his throat as he swallows, and you squeal in surprise as he suddenly reaches out--dragging you into him.

You end up straddling his lap, one of his large hands gripping your waist, while the other moves to cradle the back of your head.

Just like that, his favorite program is forgotten about.

“Itadakimasu,” he grumbles, mouth connecting with your shoulder.

He doesn’t question your lack of clothing--doesn’t need to know the reasoning for your current actions.

All he knows is that you taste better than his snacks, and are more entertaining than the cooking program.

Besides, he can catch the rerun later.

Belphie:

You decide to surprise him while attempting to wake him up from a nap.

After entering his room, you carefully shed your clothes, and then approach the side of his bed. He’s thoroughly snuggled beneath the covers, just his eyes, and messy hair peeking out from beneath the piles of blankets.

“Belphie,” you call out quietly, shaking his shoulder.

He groans, pulling away from your hand. His eyes don’t open, his groggy brain not ready to be awake yet.

“5 more minutes.”

You breathe a laugh, posing a hand on your hip. “Belphie, look at me.”

Despite not wanting to be awake, the Avatar of Sloth begrudgingly cracks his eyes open. His gaze falls on you, and you can see his eyes widen ever so slightly--the cogs in his brain beginning to move.

He stares at you for a few long seconds, eyes trailing the length of your naked body.

“Hehe~,” he extends his arms, the covers folding down as he reaches out and makes a grabbing motion at you, revealing the grin on his face.

You laugh, but nonetheless step forward into his waiting hands. Immediately he’s tugging you onto the bed beside him.

“Can you start waking me up like this from now on?” he asks, folding your head beneath his chin. His fingertips roam across back, settling near your waist.

“I have a feeling that if I do, we won’t ever actually get out of bed.”

He chuckles at your words, mouth moving to your ear. His teeth tug at your earlobe, and you can’t help but shiver.

“Hopefully that’s not an issue, because I don’t plan on letting you go now that you’re here.”

Solomon:

Despite being a magically inclined human, Solomon is a human nonetheless, so he’s aware of the tiktok challenge.

However, he never actually expects anyone to do it to him.

You’re chilling in his room at Purgatory Hall when he excuses himself to go and fetch a beverage. When he returns, he finds you right where you had been when he’d left--lounging atop his bed, on your stomach--but all of your clothes have disappeared.

For a half second, he wonders if he’d forgotten about a spell he’d cast on you as a prank. However, judging by the teasing grin on your face, and the glint in your eyes, your clothes have disappeared of your own volition.

Then, he remembers the tiktok trend.

“My apologies for not rushing to jump your bones like many of the men do in those videos.”

He walks over and calmly places the coffee mug in his hand on the nightstand. The bed dips a moment later as he moves to join you on the mattress.

However, rather than settle down beside you, he grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. Solomon then leans over you, caging you in as he lowers himself just inches from your face.

“While I may not have reacted like you expected, I’m more than happy to give you the same outcome.”

You grin up at him. “Which is?”

He smiles mischievously, his fingertips moving to dance across your ribs. You can feel magic buzzing on his skin.

“I think you know.”

Simeon:

Nothing can prepare Simeon for the moment he swivels around at his desk--his name falling from your lips, and beckoning his attention.

You’re over for a study date, and had excused yourself to the restroom for a moment.

“Yes, Y/N--?” his voice catches when he spots you there--standing in the doorway to his bathroom in all of your glory.

The Angel’s heart feels like it may beat straight out of his chest, his mind momentarily blue-screening as he stares at you.

“Wow,” he eventually breathes, raising a gloved hand to cover his blushing face. Despite obviously being flustered, his gaze still roams across you--only his mouth and cheeks hidden from view.

“Despite being a celestial, you’re truly the angel among the two of us.”

That gets you blushing, your arms hugging at your sides. Seeing you turn pink at his words has Simeon feeling a bit bolder, and he presses to his feet, moving to join you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a tight hug, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“No you,” you mumble in response, pouting up at him, and wondering how he’d managed to turn the tables on you so easily. Simeon only laughs, leaning in to connect your lips.

“Thank you...shall we move to the bed?”

Oh.

“Yes, please.”

Diavolo:

Diavolo had been informed by Barbatos at the end of the student council meeting that you were waiting in his office for him.

Without a second thought, he had left to find you--assuming you wanted to talk about sometime in private with him. Which, honestly, he didn’t mind in the least, considering you were always good company.

However, the last thing he expects to find when he steps into his office is you, sitting behind his desk, in his oversized leather chair...completely nude.

You fold your hands onto the wood, smiling at him.

“Good evening.”

There’s a playful glint in your eye, one that has Diavolo’s initial shock wearing off quickly--replaced with amused interest instead.

Closing the door behind him, the Demon Prince slowly makes his way around the desk.

“Is there something you need to tell me about?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to surprise you,” you giggle, gasping when Diavolo suddenly reaches out and secures your waist.

He lifts you out of the black chair, seating you on his desk, and stepping between your spread legs. A blush dusts your cheeks, eyes widening as his grip slides down to your hips--his handsome face just inches from yours.

“Well, I certainly enjoy this type of surprise.” Diavolo grips your chin with his fingers, and guides you into a soft kiss.

“Perhaps you should surprise me like this after school hours more often.”

Barbatos:

While staying the weekend at the Demon Lord’s Castle, you volunteer to get up early and help the royal butler prepare breakfast. It’s a large job, considering the brothers, and other exchange students are staying over as well.

“Good morning, Barbatos,” you greet, stepping into the spacious kitchen. The butler, standing in front of the stove, takes a moment before turning to address you.

“Good morn--,” he begins, but pauses when he sees your state of dress. Or, rather, undress, considering you’re wearing absolutely nothing.

A light blush dusts his cheeks, and he coughs to clear his throat.

“Have you misplaced your clothing? It’s not wise to cook in such a state.”

“I just wanted to see your reaction,” you respond with a laugh, stepping further into the room. He notices that your clothes are bundled in your arms.

“Well, perhaps it is a good way to start the day off,” he comments, smiling as his eyes roam over your figure.

Then, he’s moving away, walking to the edge of the kitchen to retrieve something you can’t quite see. When he returns to your side, you note that he’s holding a plain, white apron.

“I hardly mind such a sight to accompany the breakfast preparation, but I’d prefer if you not injure yourself.”

He slides the neck of the apron over your head, and then moves to your back--tightly securing the ties. You shiver when his gloved hand traces the length of your spine.

He smiles charmingly at the reaction.

“Shall we get to work?”

3K notes · View notes

baobaojng · 4 years

Text

ember nights - one: formalities

ember nights - chapter one

summary: You could forget pain, nothing was as immensely capturing - nothing as captivating, consuming than his ember eyes.

wordcount: 4366

series masterlist

< prev | prologue / next | two >

To your dismay, you woke up the same way you did in Zurich. Tucked safe and sound in the Airbnb you stayed in, as if everything had been a dream conjured by your imagination.

Amber colored eyes still secured their way into images in your brain, a little reminder that maybe there was reality to last night.

The buzzing sound muffled by the thick cotton sheets distracted your internal monologue. You were going to find out if your theories were true.

“Hello?” Pressing your phone to your cheek, you disregard the display of multiple messages on your home screen. You get up from bed to check any signs of foul play in your room.

“Oh! Oh. Thank God you picked up! Finally!” You recognize the voice of one of your friends, but turn your attention to the mirror to notice that you look exactly as you did last night. Save for the smell of alcohol coming through, and the dainty necklace hugging your neck - a deep blue shade of gem stone sitting perfectly above your sternal head. “Are you okay? Is everything alright?”

No. You want to answer. Realistically you currently weren’t able to figure out the logistics of how you even got into bed, even more so the place you were renting out for your stay. But it was difficult to explain everything through the phone, “yeah, I guess so. I just woke up.” Your fingers make their way to play with the jewelry, childishly hoping it would give you answers.

“That’s why you haven’t been answering any of our calls and texts— Y/N we were worried!” Her sigh exhausted the sound of your speakers, the volume of her voice fluctuating with all the worry in her tone.

“Did anything happen?” You turned the question she was meant to ask to her; hoping that your act of feigning any suspicion would get an answer from her.

“Well for starters you disappeared in the club last night,” she pauses, probably giving you a second to feel guilty, “and nobody saw you leave!”

“I just went out to get some fresh air and I thought I’d go, I felt a little too tired.” You lie, now a little disappointed that you barely had confirmation about the owner of the eyes you were still mentally stapling in.

“And I didn’t know you had friends in New York!” She complained, and this encouraged your speculations.

“What do you mean I have friends in New York?”

“A couple of guys went up to us asking where you were a couple of minutes after we realized you disappeared,” she sounded confused this time, “even showed us your picture and stuff, said you met three of their friends from Zurich.”

You gulp, knowing this wasn’t a good thing.

“They left some details with me actually! Gave me an address to a building in case you wanted to meet up.”

Obviously, any rational human being would stay away. Think of this as a bad idea, go home today like you were supposed to. But you weren’t rational, anything about waking up to this situation didn’t make you feel normal. There were questions in your head that desperately needed answers and you were determined to get them. Even if it meant putting your life on the line like a movie character idiot.

You take two fingers and try to stretch out the silver band, and it does not budge. But you hope that your intuition would save you from danger.

“Text me the details.”

It dawns on you that you like to see things in rose colored glasses. Maybe it’s the grime on the walls, or the unsuspecting run-down building in the middle of the city that catches you off guard. You only noticed the beautiful buildings and the distractingly humungous skyscrapers made of glass. Unknowing facades of perfection.

If there was any way for you to turn the address into a lie, or a typographical error committed by your friend, you would take the easy way out and manipulate the address.

At this point it was easy to turn away and pretend like none if it was real, maybe think of it as a nightmare that just happened twice.

But who’s to say that this won’t follow you elsewhere? The pain.

When you enter the building, it feels a little bit too confined. The dangling light bulbs seem like they haven’t been replaced since the building was put up, decaying wooden steps on the staircase, and paint chipping off the walls.

From what you could gather, this was a run down motel. The countertop of the supposed reception was painted a tacky lime green, and a bell sitting on top already accommodated spider webs. Nobody was behind the counter, only keeping you more tense.

Of course, you let stupid curiosity reign, pinching the wooden handle of the bell to lift it up slowly.

Shaking the bell, you notice no sound comes from the rusted copper. So you shake it frantically, hoping that it would emit some sound. It takes only a few seconds until you hear echoes of the bell sounds, muffled, as if they’re coming from miles away.

The sound is clear, and it breaks into your head like daylight shoving itself in a dark room. The sound is only in your head, not providing any destruction to the silence of the room.

You wince, forcing your eyes to close for a good few seconds, and when you open your eyes you are brought into a new room.

A huge ninety-seven burns into your eyes, flashing quickly in written neon and disappearing moments later. It is the room number, the one you were sent to go to.

Velvet colored red lines all the floors, matched with the paint the walls were coated with. Only dark and aged wooden furniture decorates the place, no signs of any other being lingering around.

It’s an odd thought, but you secretly wish to feel the pain.

Maybe the pain’s supposed to tell you something.

You’ve been holding your breath in short inhales and exhales, cautious with taking even the slightest of baby steps. You were in a bedroom, and it was safe to assume that there were was a common room outside. There could be somebody else.

What did ‘three of his friends’ mean, exactly?

Was it meant in the literal sense? Friends. Was this the dumbest decision of your life, and were you stepping right into the end of it? This person could be avenging his ‘friends,’ and you could be taking the blame for the deaths of those soulless eyed people. If they were people. These people could be mistaking you for someone else.

Okay, okay. Clear and rational adult thinking. If living the life you have has thought you anything. Business, you studied business. Something good or something great like out of a sales pitch, you could start there.

The unclear assumption that somebody terrifying was waiting for you outside could hold the possibility that sweet talking could save you out of this.

You think that you aren’t even worthy of suspicion; you only harm mosquitoes that land on your skin and you can barely get a hold of yourself when you see a cute guy in public spaces.

How could you pique anyone’s interest?

There was nothing particularly harmful about you.

With five deep inhales you slowly walk out of the room, opening the door to see a man already slumped over with his back facing you. He was bloodied right on the floor, body directed to the entrance of the room you were in.

You cannot consider the details of his face, seeing none of it at all with the stream of bodily fluids that you’re avoiding with your feet. The clothes are familiar, the same tailored dark clothing like the men from Zurich.

Reality sets in, and your human instinct kicks you in the throat. You want to hurl.

In Zurich, you were spared the chance to even see a dead body. And now, you were left alone to gaze over it, your hands gripping at the doorframe not knowing how to get past the body blocking your way.

Just when your knees were about to give in, hands hold you up from behind, and you scream in terror.

Amber stares back at you, and you don’t know if you should be unafraid. No matter how familiar the shade or the feeling is, but the handsome man stares at you with a disappointed glint in his eyes.

In the most delicate tone, he speaks. “You really do have a death wish, don’t you?”

“Oh, I—“ You try to speak up, now that you’ve regained some sense of composure. He softens his hold and leads you carefully and swiftly to the middle of the common room where you see that he had company with him.

“Jungwoo, you didn’t do a very good job keeping her away from this place.” He complains as he stretches his neck up to louden his voice, although still as gentle as when he asked you a question.

“You think Jungwoo would actually listen to you?” Someone emerges from the bathroom, and the man holding you loosens his grip of your uncomfortably tense arms. “He barely listens, and the Oracle told him to never second guess his gut feeling.” You observe this man who opposed the other, half of his hair dyed red and the other half left white.

“Was I not clear when I told you guys I didn’t want her to be part of this?” The man still holding you said, obviously referring to you.

“We can’t keep bending fate, Jaehyun. You out of all people should believe that more than we do.”

Jaehyun, apparently, leaves you be. Away from the confines of his warm hands. The moment he walks away, huffing in his own frustration - you shiver.

Your mind could not process this, someone else showed up from one of the rooms and dragged the body away. You were standing there frozen, not knowing if these other men were any better - of it it meant you were any safer here. Could you get away? No, you didn’t even know the way in, or at least you could not even explain it.

The man with half red hair approaches you slowly, and you could tell he was aware of the state you were in. “Hi,” he gently says, “I’m Taeyong.”

You look up to get a better look at him, his soft brown eyes— almost grey— mirror back to you. You don’t notice you’re shaking until he lays a soft hand on your shoulder.

“Am I going to die here?” Is the only thing you ask, straight and without any comical sarcasm.

He laughs, the reaction isn’t something you expect, but he looks at you as if you’re insane for even asking something that seemed normal for you to assume. "Die?" He wheezes and his eyes go even wider in disbelief, "you think we’re going to kill you?"

"Are you not?"

Taeyong disagrees quickly, "no." He sets his hand on your now, and like magic you’ve stopped shaking. "If anything we were trying to help you out."

The sudden calming of your nerves is unnatural, you know he has something to do with it. "How are you doing that?"

"Taeyong stop playing around." The one with the ember eyes emerges from one of the rooms he disappeared to, looking pretty annoyed. "She isn’t around for you to do your mood games with." He had a problem with you, you could feel it.

Taeyong smirks, not caring for Jaehyun’s remarks.

"I know you’re pretty aware about how weird things are," Taeyong whispers to you, "it probably wouldn’t faze you if I told you that I can control somebody’s mood with the touch of my hand." He withdraws his hand from yours and your goosebumps returned.

Momentarily, you try to grasp for rationality.

This couldn’t be practically real. As far as you were concerned maybe the colored eyes were just an aesthetic choice; contact lenses were actually a thing for some people. Holding up the bell and getting into another room could’ve just been a hallucination. And maybe you do find comfort from touch. But all of your ‘practical’ explanations couldn’t compensate for the gut feeling you had. It was stupid, illogical, but you felt like you could trust what was happening.

“What am I doing here?” You ask to no one in particular; you were sure that all five of them were pacing around the common room. Perhaps they were unsure of an approach, they didn’t seem exactly like the friendly type - except Taeyong who bit his tongue. Waited for somebody else to interject with an acceptable answer.

“You came here looking for answers,” Jaehyun said staring at the wooden flooring around his feet, “you know exactly why you’re here.”

His tone mocked you, and it was baffling. How a few sentences could catch you off guard.

“What, you want to accuse me of knowing and readily putting myself in danger?” You’re offended by the condescending smile he manages to hold. “Excuse me for wanting an explanation.”

“If you weren’t so eager to flirt around with death then you wouldn’t come here in the first place.” The answer is plain and it’s monotone, but he catches you right where you were wrong.

You did think about ignoring the address, you did have thousands of chances to not know. Not see what this was, or at least risk the safety of getting there at the wrong time and possibly being hurt by the man they killed.

There was no justification you could come up with, and this time you bite your tongue to contain projecting your frustrations.

He laughs, entertained by your silence.

“I thought so.”

Taeyong looks like the most sorry human being on the car ride back to your Airbnb, but the quiet in the car keeps him from explaining the puppy dog eyes he was wearing so well. Jungwoo was sitting next to you, the runner up for looking sad about not vocalizing his quite odd tendencies. Mark was scrolling through his phone as he occupied the seat behind you, and he seems to do well with the the tension. Johnny, who was probably the most approachable feeling one, was sitting shotgun and was turning his head back to finally start some conversation.

"So, Y/N, what do you do?" Johnny asks you, but you take a quick look at Jaehyun whose arms tensed at the steering wheel at the question. He was bothered that somebody was speaking, but even more so speaking with you.

"I operate mostly online." You try not to sound like you’re showing off.

"Like what?" The tallest one wonders, and Mark reaches his phone screen out on display to show Johnny.

"She owns retail," Mark scrolls without looking, "but right now she’s writing for her travel blog."

"That’s why she moves around a lot, huh." Jungwoo completes the thought that all of them were wondering. Nobody confirmed that it was Jaehyun you saw in Zurich, but you no longer needed confirmation. You just knew.

Johnny looks over to Jaehyun, who looked like he wasn’t paying attention to what was going on. "See, she can’t help but be in different places. Jungwoo told you she couldn’t help it."

Jaehyun presses his lips to a thin line, keeping his eyes on the road. But Johnny has more to say, "you know you do have the option not to be a control freak about everything."

Right on time Jaehyun steps on the breaks at the sight of a red light, making everyone in the car feel the movement of the sudden stop. "Leave it, Johnny." He looks at the rearview mirror, where he catches you looking back at him. "We’re getting her out of this city."

And again, silence. He says no more than ten words and nobody around him wants to act normal.

"What if I don’t want to leave?" You challenge, alarming the other four pairs of eyes. The amber ones had 20 seconds left on the red light to keep looking at you through the mirror.

"Do you want to die?" He asks you like you’re stupid.

"How do you know that? I don’t even know who you are and you’re acting like you have complete dominion of my life." You irate, but not enough to exhaust yourself.

"I saved your life three times, don’t you think you owe me more than this?"

"As if someone like you even has the heart to—" The light turned green and he sped the car off.

"You want me to remind you of Zurich? Or last night where you almost passed out vulnerable in some club? And that necklace around your neck too—" You quickly unlock at the piece, making it fall into your palm much to his really pissed off dismay.

He’s about to say something much meaner, something more vile to prove his point, but your face aches in pain. The same kind that had your body shivering, quickly grabbing on to the arm rests of your seat.

"Stop the car!" Taeyong demanded, concerned about your appearance.

Jaehyun pulled into a random alley for some resolution to be made, but the pain was even worse.

The metal of the car made a crashing sound and rumbled through vibrations in the car. This sound repeated multiple times until you could see booted feet stepping on the windshield.

“We have company.” Mark sighs, like he’s tired of this constantly happening.

“Call Yuta, Mark.” Jaehyun tells him.

“Why do I have to?” Mark whines, but the van’s shaking one more time and there’s a screeching sound to the doors being scratched - and it’s bleeding through and through your head.

“We don’t have to get over this Mark! Yuta listens to you!” Jaehyun complains. “Johnny, Jungwoo, and I are going out and the three of you,” he looks at you to exaggerate, “stay in the car.”

The three quickly leave and Taeyong turns to you, “put the necklace back on.” He suggests and all you can do is nod in pain, and the moment your shaky fingers clasp the locks back it’s like all the tolling sensations went away.

“Woah.” You comment and Taeyong smiles.

“Now you know why he gave you that thing?” Taeyong says and you suppose you have to agree.

“You want me to believe that that–“ you point to the sight outside, where Jaehyun twisted a man’s neck almost 360 degrees to a point where you were sure the other man was decapitated -“beast of a man is supposed to have enough heart to give me this necklace and care about the pain I feel?” The vivid, very vivid, sight of him outside catches Taeyong’s attention completely and you think that it backs up the opinion you have. Mark couldn’t swoop in to agree with Taeyong, too engrossed with the phone call he was having. Little did you know this Yuta was shamelessly flirting with Mark instead of feeling any sense of urgency to the situation.

“If he didn’t have the heart to protect you from the pain, he wouldn’t be out there kicking ass. He’d be in here and he’d probably save our entire clan from the trouble of getting you to safety.” He convinces you, and you have to accept that you’re getting your ass handed to you more than twice in one day.

“But I think...” You trail off, but he cuts in the conversation.

“You know, you do have the tendency to prove everyone else wrong. We haven’t known each other that long yet, but in every single situation you try to paint it off as if Jaehyun’s not the best character.”

You nod, considering his point. “We could say he was, but maybe he doesn’t present himself to be.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, his tone a little sad, “it’s the coping mechanism he stuck with. Not the best, but he means well. You have to trust me.” He pats your arm, and you already feel at ease.

“No fair.” You point out at the contact of skin, and he laughs - momentarily forgetting he can do that.

The sound of breaking glass comes in only moments later, and it’s Jungwoo’s head being used to bash into the car. Jungwoo seems unfazed by the impact of his head to the glass of the car, but Taeyong takes this as a sign to get up off his seat and take matters into his own hands. Any more damage to Jungwoo’s head and the damage would be terrible, maybe even fatal.

So Taeyong doesn’t answer you. Instead, he quickly runs out and it’s you and Mark inside the car.

Mark’s face is laced with panic, freshly off his call from Yuta, and he too has barely enough time to express his emotion - when the glass of the rear windshield gets broken into by another black-eyed man. Dragging Mark out within actual literal seconds.

You think, based on Jaehyun’s instructions, that you shouldn’t leave the car. But the wreckage is already too great for you to stay inside, afraid that all the dents it was receiving would only result to it caving into you. You didn’t see the appeal of suffocating to death by a metal contraption. Nonetheless a 2016 Honda.

So you do hesitantly step outside, and it’s already awfully quiet when you do. You can hear the grunts and the punches from a distance away, but the area around the car had already been abandoned. They were all chasing each other off elsewhere.

It isn’t long, just a few uncomfortable inhales and exhales and a stalking figure walks up to you sinisterly. Like how predators carefully stalk their prey’s movements before coming in for an attack.

You don’t mistake the black eyes for anything else this time, sure that it is death. Walking grossly on two feet.

“Finally, the one kissed by Persephone.” He says, doing away with all the breath in his lungs. Prolonging the word in a way that horrified you, he reached out a finger to graze upon your cheeks - he finds entertainment in the way you twist in discomfort. “Mortality.” He says, swiftly lifting up your arm to observe your wrists.

You stay silent, frozen in place. You’re terrified.

“We don’t want to ruin your pretty face.” It’s the way that he says the words with a smile that really scare you, digging deep into your bones.

The man opens his mouth to reveal fangs, and you can’t even fight back when he punctures them into your wrists - immediately drawing blood. It hurts. There’s no other pain you can describe it to, no kind of pain that can be the same to this one. It’s piercing, burning, stinging you quickly and traveling almost at lightning speed.

You look at the man, and his greyed skin quickly regained color. Drinking your blood visibly altered his appearance, slowly faded away the darkness from his eyes. Everything about him had life almost way too rapidly. Drinking your blood made him look human.

But he didn’t stop there, when you heard the sound of your own wrist breaking from the sudden pressure of his bite. His teeth heavily pressing into your flesh now, drawing blood greedily - and he returned back into his original form. Lifeless.

You’re squirming with the pain.

“Y/N!” You hear somebody’s voice echo from the end of the alley, and it’s Jaehyun looking petrified. Ready to blow his fists at the man who had your wrist caged in his teeth.

It felt like there was too much blood, too much of your blood was being taken away.

The man bites deeper, and you wince when you feel skin tearing apart. In only a split second the man makes an alarming gurgling sound, followed by the clear noise of his throat constricting.

Jaehyun stares blankly for a couple of seconds, trying to process what had just happened when the man falls down - paralyzed.

Yuta arrives a few minutes later, and you’re all piled up in the van he brought.

Nobody was injured, just a few scratches and cuts, but Taeyong insisted that they’d all heal in no time.

This time you and Jaehyun were sat next to each other, and he’s repeatedly running his hands through his hair - bent down with his elbows rested on his knees. You know it’s a little weird to gloss over his pale arms, but he volunteered for you to use his corduroy jacket to wrap around your pretty damaged wrist.

If the first car ride was silent, this was dead air. Everybody looked so desperate to hold in their breaths.

"Where do we plan on going from here?" Yuta asks, and the question is aimed at Jaehyun.

He looks unsure, his eyebrows knitted together - you want to focus at his delicately handsome features, the way they shrivel up, but you’re enduring a pain you never imagined. The question implies more than it lets on. Obviously it doesn’t just ask where everyone is going, the way everyone’s eyes swiftly turn to your frame says that it asks what happens to her, where are we taking her.

So you answer for yourself, "maybe you guys should start by getting me home." You suggest.

"No," Jaehyun disapproves, "you’re injured. Don’t expect us to drop you off at the airport like that." He says as if he’s offended by your assumption, and once again he’s sitting atop your nerves and you don’t have much means to deny the fact that he’s right. It was a little ridiculous for you to be playing hero, especially now that you still weren’t sure what this whole situation meant.

But the lifeless eyes of the man biting your wrists gave you a pretty good idea.

“Okay, but only if it means that after this you won’t run into any more trouble trying to protect me from something I don’t even know.”

He sits up, and everyone silently anticipates his response, looking to you with the same plain expression.

“Then it was nice meeting you.”

< prev | prologue / next | two >

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagine #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun scenarios

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patchwork-panda · 3 years

Text

“I don’t want to be your... ‘ex.’”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870812

Genre: romance/angst Rating: 17+ for CW: subtle (non-graphic) mentions of depression, drinking, suicidal ideation, implied sex. Reader-insert has no description of gender/height/weight/race, etc Plot: You are Dazai Osamu's ex-lover. You run into him again one day at the Uzumaki Cafe, months after you've broken up. He says he missed you. Do you take him back?

Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. based off of Ailee’s cover of Ex by Kiana Lede: link here

There he is.

You nearly drop your cup when you turn around.

Like usual, he’s sitting there at the table in the corner. He’s got his coffee in front of him along with that little red book, the “masterpiece” he carries with him everywhere he goes, the bright, lurid text trailing down the center of the tome visible even from your place by the counter. His lashes twitch as his deep brown eyes skim the page, the subtle flicking of his irises going right to left telling you that while he only looks to be idly flipping through, he’s drinking in every word.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had never read this book before.

But you know all too well how many times he’s read it, don’t you?

Pulled it out of his bandaged hands on more than one occasion, often late in the night, throwing it on the floor in frustration as you let your silent tears do the talking for you.

You bite your lip.

Why does he look so beautiful to you even now?

It’s been months since you threw that bouquet of stark-white lilies back in his face. Months since you threw him out of your apartment and told him never to come back. Months since you decided you could finally come back to the cafe where it all began...

You clutch the cup of coffee in your hands a little more tightly, barely feeling the burn of the paper hot against your skin.

Unable to let go.

It’s been nearly half a year.

So why do you still feel that subtle, familiar ache in your chest when you look at him?

At Dazai Osamu?

Your ex-boyfriend...?

It must be the light...

Yes. That has to be it.

Something about the time of day, the way the sunlight streams through those elegant stained glass windows at his side. Bathing his body in the colors of a time long since past...

Right here, right now, the Uzumaki Cafe looks exactly like the way it did on that fateful morning you met him for the very first time.

He’s still wearing that dusty old trench coat with the sleeves rolled up, that softly pressed jet-black vest and those long, white slacks. The gem of the bolo tie around that thin bandaged neck glows like polished tourmaline in the light and as he shifts a little to turn the page, you see a fresh scar arcing across the back of his spindly left hand. His eyes, beautiful and inscrutable beneath those dark, softly curling bangs, don’t leave the page.

As you silently watch from across the cafe, he raises his free hand towards the sugar bowl and picks up a single white cube with a pair of tongs. He drops it into his cup with practiced ease, all the while never looking up from his book.

He always did have such a sweet tooth...

A sweet tooth to go with that sweet smile.

A subtle, bittersweet twinge tugs at your heart, the ache coming from somewhere deeper than the organ beneath your ribs.

He looks exactly the same as he did back then.

Like the picture in your cell phone you couldn’t bear to delete.

Like the man you’d fallen in love with the moment he’d taken your hand with a smile and declared that you were the most beautiful person he had ever met.

Just looking at him brings the memories back...

The memories of the nights you spent at his apartment. The smell of his sweat, the feel of his body moving against yours, the look in his eyes, glowing like burnished gold as he took you in the privacy of his home...

Your heart beats faster.

He was always so good with his hands. Even better with his words.

He would always have a honeyed greeting on his tongue, pleasant words to soothe away your fears as you lay next to him in the twisted, tangled sheets, the air growing colder on your bare skin as the waning moon rose higher in the night sky.

You loved the way he stroked your hair. Loved the pet names he used when the two of you were alone. Loved the way he looked at you when you woke up in his arms in the morning.

The way he smiled when you finally called him, “Osamu.”

His eyes and skin glowed when you saw him then, his dark, tousled hair curling so perfectly about his flushed, sweaty cheekbones when he smiled that you wondered how someone so dazzling could possibly be real.

But he wasn’t, was he?

He drops another cube of sugar into his cup with a soundless splash.

The twinge in your chest grows sharp.

Oh, how he had you fooled.

How could you have known on that bright, promising day?

That he was no hopeless romantic, no light in the darkest of nights?

No.

The man who sat before you countless times in that seat in the corner with a smile on his face and a joke on his lips was nothing more than a jester wearing a mask. A sad, broken, lonely soul whose good humor ran no deeper than the bandages on his wrists. A man who’d jerked away from you the moment you’d asked to see his scars.

And that’s when the spell began to break.

You began to see it.

That he drank too much.

Stayed up too late.

Refused to care for his body and deprived himself of the things he needed in order to keep it going, whether that fuel was food or sleep.

Referred to it as a pretty, empty shell that he’d hoped to leave emptier than it was already.

But you wouldn’t let him.

You loved him too much to let him. Owed him too much to let him.

He was your savior. The man who came to your aid when no others did. The man who saw you when no others would and insisted you were worth more than you could possibly know.

And so you’d tried to take care of him. You did.

You’d sometimes iron his work clothes when he stayed at your place. Threw a blanket over him and kissed him on the cheek when he fell asleep on the couch. Pushed him to eat a proper meal whenever you could and left little memos for him to read so he would know how much he was loved.

But it wasn’t enough.

He still wanted to leave. Even with you in this world, loving him as hard as you could and straining to stay by his side, he still wanted to leave.

Leave and take you with him...

He turns the page of the little red book in his hands.

You bite your lips.

How can he just sit there like that? At the booth you always shared? On the same side he always sat down at, only after he’d seen you settle in across the table from him?

After everything you've been through?

After everything you've both been through?

You bite your lips.

Was he waiting for someone?

And if he was...

You turn away.

You should go before he sees you.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, his bright brown eyes flick upwards towards you, spotting you over the pages of his favorite book. They widen momentarily in recognition.

He drops the book and you turn.

You hear running footsteps. He’s at your side before you can reach the door.

So quick in his thoughts and his movements.

Long, familiar fingers wrap around your wrist. You try to jerk away but he turns you to face him and the moment you see the look in his eyes, you feel your resolve begin to crumble.

“So it was you,” Dazai says, his voice low, “watching me from the counter...”

Of course.

Of course he was aware that you were there. He was aware of everything, wasn’t he? He always was.

“You look well,” he says when you meet his eyes at last. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A smile slowly creeps onto his face as he inclines his head back towards the booth he’d just vacated.

“You wanna come sit? I’m just taking a little break from work and I could use the company...”

He trails off when he realizes you’re not answering.

He sighs.

Rubs the back of his neck with that freshly scarred hand.

“Guess not, huh?” he mumbles, looking away slightly.

He drops the hand rubbing his neck but doesn’t let go of you.

“Not like I blame you.”

Dazai looks back at you and his smile grows wistful. The familiarity makes the ache in your chest return, sharper than ever.

“Hey...” he says. “I know you probably don't believe me, but I really am sorry about before. I shouldn’t have said all those things I said, or done the things I did. It... it wasn’t fair to you.”

He’s only saying this because he knows these are words you want to hear. Because he’s two steps ahead of you and everyone else in everything that he does.

Because he’s Dazai.

His smile tightens.

“I mean that, you know,” he says, a note of pain sneaking into his voice as those perceptive brown eyes meet yours. “Really, I do. And I’ve missed you.”

Fingers reach up and wind their way into your hair.

“So much.”

He falls silent. Those beautiful amber eyes are sweeping over your face, as if he’s reading you. Reading you the way he was reading his book not two minutes ago.

His lips part and he speaks.

“Hey...”

The fingers around your wrist tighten and twitch.

“Do you think we could try again?” he asks, his voice soft and sweet.

He smooths your hair away from your face and gently caresses your cheek. His eyes seem to sparkle in the light.

“I’ll do better this time. I will. So, please...”

He takes your hand in his and slowly raises it to his lips.

“Give me another chance?”

Presses a burning kiss to your fingers.

“Give us another chance?”

Smiles like he did before. Bright, happy, charming. Like a little lost puppy, begging for a treat.

“Please? I don’t want to be your..."

You hear a subtle break in his voice and you feel a part of you breaking along with it.

“Your ‘ex.’”

You want to shake your head.

You have to.

You know you have to...

It’s a matter of life and death. Literally.

But you can’t.

Just one look into the depths of those sparkling brown eyes, dark and warm--warm like the cup of coffee clutched in your trembling hands. One glance at those softly smiling lips, sweet with sugar and affection, the most endearing of expressions.

One moment to consider a softly spoken word...

Dazai quietly whispers your first name.

And his voice seems to echo in the silence of the empty cafe.

It’s over.

You can’t walk away from him again.

You sigh.

“I’ll think about it...”

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu

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resetpermalik · 3 years

Photo

Mass Music Measurements Survey Form

A freeCodeCampChallenge

Gaining Speed

This marks my second freeCodeCamp challenge. As I mentioned in my after action report from the first FCC challenge (tribute page), it took some time to finally gain traction and fully complete that project. That was a problem with (one) unnecessary complexity of design and (two) a lack of planning (before I began to code.) It was my assumption that if I laced the project with many working parts, I would learn much, much faster; also, that by getting right to the code, I could pick up the syntax, semantics and general knack for writing (code) in less time. And wow, I was very incorrect in thinking so.

As a response to my previous poor start (with my tribute page,) this time I was better able to address some lessons which had only occurred to me when halfway through the last project. So this time, I really dialed in the importance of streamlining my initial paperwork designs, learning how to more proficiently use Figma and some of its tools, how to better approach icon design with Photoshop and vastly improve my entire workflow. This provided (not only) an easier build, but also a more efficient angle by which I was empowered to catch more lessons along the way.

In the next few paragraphs, I will detail just which specific advantages I picked up in terms of HTML5, CSS3 and JavaScript capability. In addition, I will move through some of the tactics I employed to help me finish this challenge with much more confidence than the last.

Planning Stages

When I set out to hand-write the marked goals (set down by FCC’s challenge,) I do find it tedious. The thing is, I am copying (in my own words) precisely what the challenge is demanding of me. Let me elaborate…

With every line, I am telling myself that I really do not need to do this. I mean, I can pretty easily peer over at the other browser window (when necessary) and see exactly what my marching orders are. Though albeit true, there are a couple of key differences in (one) reading from FCC and (two) writing/reading my own notes.

As I write out every expected step of my project, I can build an image immediately for how I would like my creation to take shape. This falls in line with the visual aspects and design, the color scheme, the functionality of each element and the code itself. It is a powerful method to which I will pay better respect going forward. (I already have plenty of ideas on how to implement more potent procedures �� like larger drafting paper, (which will allow for a greater landscape on my pages, maybe using a tablet for notation and perhaps a few voice recordings along the way)). Now, I may be getting ahead of myself! Back to the plans..

And so writing out the objectives is terrific for lots of reasons, but moving to the drawn design itself — this may be the most crucial bit yet. Here’s the deal. When I physically drew the (expected) survey form, I may have well completed the whole project. So what does that mean?

I took so much liberty in imagining what the design should resemble. More specifically, I let my mind wander and allowed thoughts to spill out onto the legal pad before me. This (in combination with my understanding of how everything needed be expressed in code) let me structure my rough draft with such a degree that the next step made the actual coding like an exercise in copy and paste. I’ll expound…

I was drawing parts which were effectively elements of HTML. This was followed by some (more precise) markings of pseudo-code (which amounted to about all of the HTML I required to code for the whole challenge.) So, when I say the planning has proved to be useful, this would be an undestatement. This attention to planning has made it possible for me to avoid the ‘nuts and bolts’ in my code editor. Now, this advancement is massive, because the saved time and effort was a testement to why I was then able to better learn more intricate detail when coding. And now let’s get to those lessons and the code at large.

Within Earshot of Paper and Pencil

My goal is not to elaborate on the use of specific technologies, but more-so the process itself. however, I will briefly touch on Figma and Photoshop…

Using Figma helped me focus on each element and understand how they more literally fit together in the puzzle. I was able to name every piece such that it would show me what my HTML element should be in code and how each need be named. Also, I took those separate entities and grouped them such that I could postion everything exactly as I wished. My next goal with Figma will be to utilize the ‘component’ feature and truly unroll some strong functionality of the software.

Regarding Photoshop, I made a logo for my survey and spun it into a favicon with relative ease. In an attempt to create animations and advertisements for my affiliate site, I have better come to understand Photoshop’s effectiveness. Thereby, building my icon was fairly straightforward. I simply pieced it together with a couple of layers and exported the PNG. I still want to be able to employ SVGs for this application; but until now, I haven’t perfected the craft. I will leave that for the coming FCC challenge. Onward!

Coding the Beast

The first topic to address here is quite obvious for me… SUITE TESTING.

When I began coding this project, I wrote my HTML boilerplate and immediately tied in the FCC testing script so I could begin verifying my code at every turn. I’ll elaborate…

I ran into a few issues with debugging throughout my last project; those were problems which resulted in code errors piling up on me simultaneously. And, while an error (for which you don’t know the remedy) is frustrating…several of those errors (all at once) becomes infuriating. Luckily, I ran into a great solution. Unit testing.

By instantiating the FCC test suite before I began coding the bulk of my project, I was then gifted the opportunity of verifying each of the sixteen goal posts.

In more detail, nearly no problems snuck up on me while coding the breadth of this project because I was adamant on addressing them in real time (as they appeared). What a true life-saver...

Input Text (element, attribute)

I found it repetitive and annoying at first, when the 10th goal of this challenge asked me to give both the input and label elements their own respective and corresponding ids. This was because I (very simply) did not understand the request. Along with that, I definitely didn’t understand why it was being asked (to begin with.)

That said, I now realize that the goal was to identify the label for the text field, in addition to the field itself. In understanding this distinction, I have now been able to find value in this very feature.

By giving ids to both my labels and input texts, I was then able to style each distinctly and find them with more ease (while peering though my HTML.) Now here’s real solid tip which I will not soon forget.

Don’t Pick More Than One Option!

So, I was writing the code for my radio buttons and what happened next is certainly a rookie mistake. When I navigated to my browser (in order to test the options,) I found that EVERY one of my buttons was clickable. And this, for obvious reasons, is not ideal.

This solution was super easy. All I needed to do was unify (or make each value the same for) the input-radio buttons. After I placed cloned values for each radio button, only one option could then be chosen. Success!

Nitpick the Name and Ids

This is something which should possibly be glossed over. But, when working with various input fields, I was asked to employ many names and ids for each.

While I’m not entirely certain (even now) whether there is a standard for which comes first, I have come to realize that name attributes should possibly supercede id attributes.

Using Visual Studio Code, it seems to like placing names before ids. And in a real life estimation, using name over id seems to be old-fashioned, but admirable.

More seriously, I understand in code, name will be less subjective (while more actionable) and ids will more far more particular and prone to alteration.

Dropdown

I was in a position to use dropdown boxes twice in this project. The problem I came across was that my options continued to begin with the default option as selectable. While I learned the solution quickly and with ease, I believe it should be recorded as vital.

When inserting a placeholder option in a dropdown box, in order to keep it from being a clickable entity, you have to style it as such.

I called the id of the option in my CSS sheet and set its display as none. That easy.

Pseudo Class and Element Selectors

Very little of my experience with this challenge dealt with pseudo class or pseudo element selectors. But, I will cover (in short) what I did learn (with these topics in mind.)

Using a pseudo element selector is the best (or maybe only) way to call an attribute from an HTML element and style with CSS.

This is how I was able to change the appearance of my placeholder text in each input-text.

I know pseudo class selectors are the way to alter elements (in a certain state) like ‘hover’ or ‘before’, but I haven’t used them enough to expand this monologue. That said, I’ll press on…

Attribute Selectors

In confluence with my previous words, I may have provided a misnomer to exactly what was being modified with pseudo-elements. But, I digress (and hopefully you see what I mean).

Using attribute selectors is quite different from other selectors, because you will be placing true brackets in as your selector which house your attribute, followed by an equal sign and a set of quotations (housing your value.)

Looks like this [attribute=“value”]. And that’s that!

Media Queries

While I employed media queries for this project, I have yet to fully grasp exactly how to use them (in reference to appropriation and context.) Therefore, I will not go into detail; but, only mention that I used them to alter my CTA button across pixel-widths. Also, I realized that setting a new media query works better when starting with the immediate values from your last screen size.

A Bit of JavaScript

The big task I pushed for in this project was this: change the client-side font family for a text area as the user types. And by big, I mean, it took me about as long as the rest of the whole challenge to learn this functionality with JavaScript. That said, I now understand much better how JS semantics are employed. And, that’s pretty priceless…

For this goal, I inserted a script with an event listener. First, I started with DOMContentLoaded, which allows for firing without the images or styling need be loaded.

The next bit lets my document be called by its (element) id.

Then, it states that my id will be triggered by any input (via an eventListener) and will force my later instantiated function.

The function declared will let the charCode number equal a string which will be console.log(ed) out as my target.value (of Nunito, sans-serif) with proper style.fontFamily.

Conclusion

Attempting to wrap this project up in a nice bow is difficult, as I have onboarded a great deal of information (from one simple survey page.) After completing this task, I am left with a split-brain. While I have learned so much from something, seemingly straightforward, now I am thrilled to make it to the next project and take on those new expectations.

I suppose my takeaway is that I should fine-tune my HTML and CSS understanding and seriously crack open all that is JavaScript. All which, can wait until tomorrow. Cheers!

#freecodecamp #html5 #css3 #javascript #design #coding

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totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes · 4 years

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After the Rain (Fanfic)

Beetlejuice

In which sibling chaos ensures and Lydia comes out to Beetlejuice.

Guys I think this might be the most angst-free fic I’ve ever written

TW: Reference to Suicide (non-descriptive), bullying mentions

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There was something going on in the house. Things had been a little too chummy around here ever since Lydia had gone back to school. Beetlejuice was annoyed to lose his partner in crime for seven hours out of the day plus all those hours she would spend in her room yelling at her homework. He hardly got a chuckle when he offered to eat her homework so she could blame it on the demon living in her house, she just rolled her eyes at him as she curled up another sheet of what she considered wrong answers and tossed it in the trash can next to her desk. The first week everything was fine, he was lonely but when she came home she was still excited to see him and talk about her day. He didn’t tell her how extremely boring it was, but sometimes her stories would drone on and she’d get into these tangents that he didn’t quite understand. For example, she came home on a Thursday and complained about for a solid hour about her geometry class and how difficult it is to find the circumference of a circle. He thought that was pointless but she seemed worked up over it. It all just seemed like normal teenage stuff to him for the first while back to school, but the second week she stopped coming in all smiles or huffing about some stupid question she got wrong on the quiz. She would spend more time shut up in the room, not wanting to talk to anyone.

He wasn’t good with the whole emotions thing, any time he tried to help her he usually made the mess a whole lot worse so he figured he’d just let the breathers figure out why she was mopping around so much. It was a boring waiting game though, he heard fragments of what was going on some kids were being pricks to her at school but she rejected his offer to “take care of things” because his idea of taking care of things was apparently “immoral” and “illegal”. He was walking past her bedroom one night and he heard her crying, and something was thrown against her wall. He peered in cautiously wanting to do something, even if it was just distracting her with a stupid joke but she noticed him, walked over and gently shut the door in his face. He took the message and gave her space, but he couldn’t help but to feel a little hurt when he heard her talking to her father in his bedroom about how she was feeling. She was glad though that things were getting better, she seemed happier after that conversation and though he didn’t understand what exactly was going on he was happy to have his friend back.

“Do you ever worry you’re avoiding doing something really important?” she asked him while he was absolutely destroying her at Mario Cart

“Constantly, I was supposed to give Chuck the keys to his car back like a month ago.”

“Wait my dad let you borrow the car?”

“Borrow isn’t the word I would use, I would say I took it without permission and have been avoiding giving him his keys back to not get caught. I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything, I have no clue how he’s been getting to work all this time.”

Lydia glared at him, “He has a second set of keys? He thought he lost his at the store or something.”

“You aren’t going to tell on me are ya, Scarecrow?”

“No, I’m not a snitch. You just owe me now.”

“The usual?” Beetlejuice lowered his voice while Lydia tried to hold back a giggle as she nodded, “Okay fine, you’re a tough customer. I’ll find a way to get you more Capri Suns but it might take me some time.”

She wrinkled her nose at him just like she did any time she thought he was funny. He liked it when she laughed, he was so used to seeing her somber and upset during those first few days he knew her, and he still shuddered when he thought about when he found her crying in the bathroom...a bottle of pills thrown in the garbage can. Thankfully unopened but his mind instantly went to the worst. Seeing her happy was the closest thing he got to feeling alive again, and it was much nicer than the rollercoaster of emotions that first time around.

“So what are you avoiding? Telling Chuck about a bad grade or worse...telling Barbara about a bad grade? What was it in, because I’ll have you know I graduated for Julliard and I’m sure I can figure out whatever easy stuff they’re teaching you, sixth graders.”

“I’m in high school BJ, but no it’s not that. I don’t know, it was dumb of me to ask. It’s just kind of confusing and I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually but,” she was getting flustered trying to explain, “I’ll tell you another time.”

He shrugged and they went back to playing their video game. He was heavily insulted to realize that there wasn’t even a second controller to the console and that the whole time he had been using a flower pot and thinking one of the cars was his. She had let him go on like that for almost two hours before she eventually broke down laughing and told him the truth. Said flower pot was then smashed on the floor and the two had to quickly fix it before Barbara found out.

Another week or so passed by with Lydia getting more comfortable with her new routine. Every Saturday she made time to spend with him just hanging out, doing friends things while listening to her talk about her week. He had been planning an amazing prank with Lydia to play on her father. The two struggled to figure out where he, a dead guy, and Lydia, a child would be able to purchase fireworks, but they figured they could just cross that bridge when they got to it. Friday nights though he was kind of the odd man out, that’s when she went up to the attic to hang with the Maitlands, so he usually either popped back to the Netherworld or recently he found out he had a lot more in common with Donna than he thought, he even finally figured out that he named was actually Delia. That Friday night Delia was busy though, selfishly going on a dinner date with Charles leaving Beetlejuice to his own devices, he thought about crashing the attic party but when he got to the door he heard Lydia sniffling about something and figured this was a whole lovey-dovey thing that he shouldn’t interrupt. He couldn’t help but feel left out, wishing that sometimes Lydia would come to him with this kind of stuff too but he figured the Maitlands or her parents knew better, he should just stick with being the fun one.

Lydia woke up the next morning feeling so much lighter after having told the Maitlands what was on her mind and she was ready to unleash the master prank her and BJ had been planning for almost two weeks now. Though it took some work and possibility lying about her age on the internet they were able to secure three bottle-rockets and fourteen confetti poppers, she wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen but she was just excited to see the look on everyone’s face if they could actually figure out how to get it to explode the colors they had picked. The two of them were out in the backyard, trying not to draw attention to themselves when she realized she hadn’t told BJ yet. He was just as much a member of her new family as everyone else was, and she felt bad for not telling him sooner.

She didn’t know how to approach it with him though, it had been an accident with Delia, a serious conversation with her dad and the Maitlands, and none of those seemed like options for telling him. A joke seemed too casual but he wasn’t the serious conversation kind of guy. She looked over at him kicking a rock at the fence in the yard because “it was looking at him the wrong way” and she decided there was no right or wrong way to do it.

“Hey Beej, can I tell you something?”

“Is it how to get vengeance on a rock because that fucking STONE over there is getting on my last damn nerve”

“No, it’s not that dumbass.” She rolled her eyes at him, and lead him by the hand over to the porch swing, “I want to tell you something, and it’s kinda important so don’t be weird about it, alright?”

“No promises.”

“I’m gay.”

“I’m a hazard to society.”

Lydia jerked her head back, “Wait what?” “Oh, I thought we were saying things that were obvious.” She smacked his arm roughly and he gave her a toothy grin, “What? Come on you think I didn’t know that my best friend wasn’t into dudes?”

“You literally married me!”

“Oh my god, how many times do I have to tell you it was a green card thing! It was funny the first time you joked about being my widow. Besides, that sham of a marriage was mutually beneficial.”

“I fail to see how I benefitted from it besides it being an interesting topic to discuss with my therapist.”

He groaned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “It was meant to serve as a message to reinforce that men are trash.”

“Aren’t you a man?” Lydia tilted her head at him

“Am I not trash?”

“And don’t you have like a massive crush on the Maitlands? I can’t say for sure but I’m pretty sure Adam is a guy.” She laughed when she was tints of crimson flush on Beetlejuice’s cheeks. They both laughed for a little bit before Lydia sighed, “I’m glad I told you, even if you’re being annoying about it.”

“That’s my job.” He ruffled her short black hair affectionately, “...I’m glad you told me too.”

#lydia deetz #delia deetz #adam maitland #barbara maitland #charles deetz #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #beetlejuice #incorrect beetlejuice quotes #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fanfiction

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kawaiikichi · 5 years

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The Body Swapping Hijinks of Shuichi and Kokichi (Saiouma)

(Yes, this is literally the title. Aren’t I creative XD)

Saiouma #3 (Roommates) and #22 (College AU) from the “Two Tropes + Pairing” list for @sunshine12340! First, I would like to apologize for the long wait. I feel bad for not having this out earlier ;^;

This one was pretty fun to write and just some of the things that they said and did in each other’s bodies was just so downright hilarious that I would have to take a small break from it because I was laughing too hard XD

I hope you like it and let me know if you would like anything changed/edited! :D

*Based off of this request (here’s the second part of it)*

Title: The Body Swapping Hijinks of Shuichi and Kokichi

Tropes Used: #3 (Body Swap) and #22 (College AU)

Summary: After colliding with each other, Shuichi and Kokichi wind up swapping bodies. Chaos ensues as they try to get through the day as each other.

One-Shot Notes: Shuichi and Kokichi are roommates with Kaito and Gonta being their suitemates; Green zone: At my university, we have sections of the library labeled the green zone, yellow, zone, and red zone (or as I remember it being called during my campus tour, “green light, yellow light, red light”), where you can talk as loud as you want in the green zone, only whisper quietly in the yellow zone and complete silence in the red zone

One-shot is under the cut!

“Eh? You’re going to a mixer tonight?”

Shuichi blinked at Kokichi in surprise as he threw on a cream-colored cardigan over his blue and white plaid button-up shirt.

“Yeah. Honestly, I had no intention of going because I’m not really looking for anyone to date because I already have someone I like, but Amami-chan insisted because he didn’t want to go alone. So, in the end, I’m going.” Kokichi explained.

“I see...” Shuichi trailed off.

He bit his bottom lip. The idea of Kokichi going to a mixer and getting friendly with someone there unsettled him.

He started developing a crush on him two months after they met at Rantaro’s birthday party last year. When they first met, they surprisingly hit it off quite well and decided to room with each other this year. Maki and Kaito weren’t happy about the fact that Kokichi, who was well-known for his troublemaker antics, was pretty close with Shuichi, but they chose to keep those feelings bottled up for Shuichi’s sake.

These feelings for Kokichi went from being just a simple crush to being head over heels for him. However, he felt that Kokichi didn’t feel the same way. So, he kept quiet about it.

“Hm?” Kokichi tilted his head to the side. “Saihara-chan, you look like you oppose the idea of me going to a mixer.” he commented.

“Huh?!” Shuichi stared at Kokichi in surprise. “No, I—“

“Now, now, there’s no need to lie about it. I can see it in your eyes.” Kokichi grinned. “Could it be that you have a crush on me? Is that why you’re so against it?” he asked.

“Huh?!” Shuichi’s cheeks flushed red.

He hit the nail right on the head, he thought to himself.

“Nishishi, I’m just kidding with you. I like seeing you get all flustered.” Kokichi leaned against the door to the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to come back early enough so I can keep you company.” he teased.

“It’s fine! You don’t need to do that, Ouma-kun!” Shuichi exclaimed.

Just then, the bathroom door flew open, knocking Kokichi over in the process.

“Yo, bro! Do you have any toothpaste I can borrow—“

“Ouma-kun!”

Kaito watched in surprise as Shuichi caught Kokichi, the two falling to the floor in a messy heap of tangled limbs as their heads hit against the footboard of Kokichi’s bed.

“Holy shit! Are you two okay?!” Kaito paled. “I had no idea you two were so close to the door...” he trailed off.

As Kaito continued to panic, Shuichi reached up to rub his head.

“Ouch, that hurt...” he mumbled.

That was when he noticed something.

Wait a minute. Why do I sound like Ouma-kun, he asked himself.

He looked down and realized that instead of the button-up shirt, cardigan, skinny jeans, and dark brown oxfords that he chose to wear for today, he had on a pastel rainbow striped sweater with a white tank top under it, white skinny jeans that had tears by the knees, and white slip-on Vans. His eyes widened in surprise.

It couldn’t be...

He reached up and pulled at a lock of hair, seeing that it was purple rather than black. He paled as realization hit him.

What the fu—

“I got taller!” a loud scream reached his ears.

Shuichi turned in surprise only to come face to face with his own body. Horror flashed through their eyes as Kaito spoke.

“U-Um, you guys? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re starting to frighten me...” he trailed off.

“There’s no need to worry, Momota-kun. We’re both fine. At least...” Shuichi looked at Kokichi (rather, at himself). “I think we are.” he commented.

“Momota...kun? Oi, Ouma, you never say that. Are you really sure you’re okay?” Kaito asked.

“No, we’re not okay!” Kokichi glared at Kaito. “We are not okay at all, Mister Grey Matter for Brains!” he snapped.

“Shuichi?” Kaito questioned.

“Um, Momota-kun, let me explain...”

“What is there to explain?! You’re acting way too polite, Ouma, and Shuichi is acting really rude! You guys are acting as if you’ve swapped bodies or something!”

“That’s exactly what it is, though, Momota-kun! I think we did swap bodies!”

Shuichi and Kokichi untangled themselves and stood as they looked at Kaito, whose face resembled a sheet of paper.

“You...what?” Kaito asked.

Shuichi sighed, reaching up to rub his temple (or Kokichi’s temple, in this case).

“I think we swapped bodies when you swung open the door, hit Ouma-kun, and the two of us went falling to the ground.” Shuichi explained.

“Oi, oi, oi, don’t mess around with me, bro. There’s no way that’s possible!” Kaito shouted.

“It is, though.” Shuichi pointed at himself. “Right now, I’m in Ouma-kun’s body and he’s in mine.” Shuichi explained.

“Oh my god...this whole situation is like it came straight out of a novel. It’s like...the supernatural...” Kaito yelped. “The supernatural! Ghosts! You two have been possessed by ghosts!” he screamed at the top of his lungs before passing out.

“Momota-kun!” Shuichi exclaimed in horror.

Kokichi cackled from behind him.

“Man, he’s such a wuss, passing out after hearing that we swapped bodies!” he exclaimed as he continued to laugh.

Shuichi turned to watch Kokichi in shock as he continued to double over in laughter. It felt weird hearing Kokichi say things like that in his voice.

Just then, Gonta poked his head inside.

“Gonta heard loud noise! Is everything okay?” he then saw Kaito passed out on the floor. “Ah! What happened to Momota-kun?!” he exclaimed.

“Hey, Gonta-chan!” Kokichi waved. “Mister Space Freak passed out.” he stated.

“Eh?! No way! Saihara-kun, is that true?!” Gonta asked, looking at Kokichi in shock.

“Actually, I’m over here, Gonta-kun...” Shuichi trailed off, raising his hand.

“Eh? Saihara-kun is Ouma-kun? Gonta is confused.” Gonta said.

“Yeah, it’s a little hard to understand. What happened was that when Momota-kun opened the door not too long ago, he hit Ouma-kun with it. I caught him in order to cushion his fall and the two of us fell and hit our heads against the footboard of his bed, which I think caused us to swap bodies. So now, he’s in my body and I’m in his.” Shuichi explained.

“Eh?! Saihara-kun and Ouma-kun swap bodies?! No way!” Gonta said.

“Welp, it’s the truth, Gonta-chan! I’m now veeeeeery tall and Saihara-chan is now a total shortie!” Kokichi jeered.

“You just called yourself a shortie, though, Ouma-kun...” Shuichi mumbled.

“Watch that smart mouth of yours, Saihara-chan!” Kokichi snapped angrily, hands flying onto his hips as Gonta spoke.

“Oh...Ouma-kun and Saihara-kun swap bodies...Gonta suggests that you two go see doctor!” he suggested.

“That sounds like a good idea, but...” Shuichi looked at the clock on the wall. “We have to go to class soon.” he said.

“Oh...Okay! Maybe Saihara-kun and Ouma-kun can go after classes!” he chirped.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Shuichi said.

He watched how Kokichi furrowed his brows at that statement as Gonta spoke.

“Gonta bring Momota-kun back to room now!” he said as he picked Kaito’s body up from the floor and he left, closing the door behind him.

Shuichi sighed, reaching up to rub his fingers through his hair.

“Ugh, what do we do now...?” he asked.

“I’ve seen this happen before in a lot of the mangas I’ve read. All we have to do is headbutt each other in order to turn back!” Kokichi replied cheerfully.

“Okay, let’s do that.” Shuichi looked at Kokichi. “Also, why are you twirling my hair around your finger?!” he exclaimed.

“It’s a habit of mine, okay?!” Kokichi whined.

“Well, cut it out!”

“I don’t wanna!”

Shuichi groaned as he reached up to grab Kokichi’s cheeks and yank him down, their heads slamming together. They both staggered backward, holding their pounding heads.

“Ugh, dammit...that hurt a lot more than I thought it would...” Shuichi mumbled.

He looked at himself, noting that his line of vision was still pretty low.

“Well, that did nothing. I’m still in your body.” Shuichi commented.

“Congratulations on pointing out the obvious, Sherlock.” Kokichi shot back.

He then looked at the watch on his wrist.

“Shit, I’m supposed to meet up with Amami-chan soon so that we can walk to class together...” he trailed off.

“You mean I’m supposed to go meet with Amami-kun. I’m in your body, remember?” Shuichi reminded him.

Kokichi facepalmed.

“Oh, damn it all.” he stated.

“Okay, it looks like we’re going to have to wait for this to wear off. Akamatsu-san was telling me about a manga that she read where two girls swapped bodies with each other and the effect didn’t wear off until the next morning. So, maybe we just need to wait.” Shuichi looked at Kokichi. “You need to get going, as well. My class starts in seven minutes.” he suggested.

“Your class is in the forensics building, right?” Kokichi asked, reaching to grab his backpack.

“Yeah. I’ll send you my full schedule so that you can reference it throughout the day.” Shuichi looked at the bag that Kokichi had grabbed. “Also, I need to take that bag. Your bag is over there.” he said, nodding to the navy blue messenger bag that was on his bed.

Kokichi looked over at the messenger bag.

“Ugh, for real?” he complained.

“Yes, for real.” Shuichi took the checkered backpack out of Kokichi’s hands. “Geez, why do you have so many pins on your bag? Aren’t you afraid that you might lose some of them or get scratches on them?” he asked as he put his arms through the straps.

“It’s my bag, I do what I want!” Kokichi stomped over the messenger bag. “Also, why is your bag so plain-looking? It’s plainer than Mugi-chan’s appearance.” he commented.

“Like you said, it’s my bag.” Shuichi shot back.

Kokichi narrowed his eyes at Shuichi as he slung the messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Whatever.” Kokichi breezed past Shuichi. “I need to hurry and get to your class. I’ll also text you my schedule, so for now, just go down to the dining hall’s entrance and meet up with Amami-chan.” he said.

“Okay...” Shuichi trailed off.

He then turned to look at Kokichi.

“Make sure you don’t slip up! You need to act like me or else people will get suspicious, okay?!” Shuichi called out.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Kokichi responded with a nonchalant wave of his hand before heading out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Shuichi released a loud sigh.

“I hope he doesn’t mess up anything...” he grumbled before heading out into the hall, as well.

💜💜💜💜

Kokichi sat in the classroom for Shuichi’s first class, staring blankly at the words written on the board.

“Get into your groups and discuss how you plan on giving your report to the class on your investigation...?” he wondered out loud.

What the heck is this report even on? Does he have a sheet or something that has the information about this assignment in his binder or something? Also, who is part of my group, he asked himself.

He flipped through the pages in Shuichi’s binder, finally finding what he was looking for. At least, he hoped it was what he was looking for.

“This looks like something relating to an investigation report...” he mumbled under his breath.

He opened the rings of the binder and took the papers out, snapping the rings back together as two guys came up to him.

“Hey, Saihara-kun! You managed to finish up the report, right?” the guy to his left asked.

Kokichi furrowed his brows at him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Huh? I’m your group member for this assignment.” the guy replied, blinking his eyes twice in confusion.

“Really now?” Kokichi said as he looked down at the sheet of paper, seeing two other names besides Shuichi’s at the top.

“Amano Shigeru-chan? Or Taguchi Takato-chan?” he asked.

“It’s Amano...” Shigeru trailed off.

“More importantly, are you okay, Saihara-kun? You’re not usually this forgetful. Also, you never refer to anyone by -chan.” Takato commented.

“Hm?” Kokichi hummed in response.

Just then, he recalled Shuichi’s words to him as he was leaving their dorm room.

“Make sure you don’t slip up! You need to act like me or else people will get suspicious, okay?!” Kokichi immediately turned pale.

Oh god, he did say that! Goddammit it all, he thought to himself.

He forced out a chuckle.

“Did I really say -chan? Ah, sorry about that.” he apologized.

“It’s fine, Saihara-kun! We all have off days, so it’s fine!” Shigeru said as he waved his hands wildly.

Takato sighed.

“So, is the report finished?” he asked.

“Yup, it’s done!” Kokichi chirped in response.

Shigeru and Takato eyed Kokichi curiously as he flipped through the papers.

I hope this is what they mean when they ask if it’s done because I got no clue, he thought to himself.

“So, Saihara-kun, we’ll have you go over the list of suspects and who the culprit of the crime is while we go over everything else. Sound good?” Takato asked.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” Kokichi replied.

As he began to read through the report, his eyes grew wide.

My god, they were working on such a complicated case?! There’s a lot of terms here that I don’t really understand, he thought to himself.

He began to sweat.

Oh god, I really have my work cut out for me, he thought to himself.

💜💜💜💜

As the professor continued to go through the lecture on complex characters in fiction works, Shuichi jotted down the notes in Kokichi’s sparkly purple spiral notebook.

Rantaro eyed Shuichi curiously as he flipped to the next page. Then, he poked his arm with the eraser end of his mechanical pencil.

“Hm?” Shuichi said as he shot a glance at Rantaro.

“This is the first time I’m seeing you actually take down notes in class. I’m shocked.” he commented.

“Really?” Shuichi questioned, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

“Yeah, really.” Rantaro took a look at the examples that Shuichi had jotted down. “They’re even color-coded and neat. Compared to your swirly and cursive-like writing, these are more easy to read. It reminds me a lot of Saihara-kun’s notes.” he commented.

“Is that so...” Shuichi trailed off.

I can’t believe this...does Ouma-kun not take notes in his classes or something? Amami-kun sounded like the world had ended when he saw that I was taking notes, he thought to himself.

He then looked at what he had written down, observing his handwriting.

As much as I wanted to replicate Ouma-kun’s writing, it’s too swirly for my taste. Just how is he able to understand what he’s written down, he wondered to himself.

He continued writing as the professor told them to start sketching out a complex character of their own. As he began to brainstorm, Rantaro slipped a note in his direction. Shuichi arched a brow at this as he read what the piece of paper said.

We’re still on for the mixer later tonight, right?

Shuichi had to resist the urge to release an annoyed sigh.

Gosh, I almost forgot that he’s going to that mixer, he thought to himself.

He was nearly tempted to write down that he wasn’t going to go after all, but he stopped himself. He turned the piece of paper over and wrote his response.

I guess? Why are you asking?

Rantaro took the piece of paper and wrote something down under his response.

Just checking.

Shuichi frowned at this as Rantaro wrote something else.

It’s just funny that you’re deciding to come after all, seeing as you were so adamant about not going before. Does it have something to do with Saihara-kun?

Shuichi’s eyes widened in surprise upon seeing his name on the paper.

Wait, what, he asked himself.

He took the piece of paper and wrote down his response.

What do you mean?

Rantaro chose not to respond to the question, going back to working on the exercise. Shuichi wanted to nudge Rantaro and ask him to explain what he meant, but something told him that he wouldn’t say anything more, so he decided against it.

However, even as he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

💜💜💜💜

Kokichi looked at the schedule that Shuichi sent him over text, sighing deeply.

“Ugh, now it’s a break for an hour and a half before going to the abnormal psychology lecture hall from three thirty until ten minutes to six...this is so ridiculous! How in the world is Saihara-chan able to go to all of these difficult classes without dropping dead?” he wondered out loud.

He glanced over at the nearby dining hall.

I should at least go and get something to eat, he thought to himself.

He began to make his way over there as a voice called out to him.

“Oh! Saihara-kun!”

Kokichi immediately stiffened.

Oh, hell no.

This could not be happening to him.

He slowly turned, watching as Kaede began to make his way over to him.

Goddammit it all. It’s Miss Piano Nerd, the last person I wanted to run into, he thought to himself.

He forced a smile onto his lips.

“Hey there, Kayay—I mean, Akamatsu-san!” he greeted.

Kaede smiled as she approached him, ignoring the way he covered up his mistake.

“What a coincidence, running into you here! Harukawa-san and I were just thinking about going to grab lunch before we head to the gym!” she chirped.

“Wait, who’s with you?” Kokichi asked, hoping he heard her wrong.

“Harukawa-san!” Kaede replied.

Kokichi felt his blood slowly turn cold as Maki poked her head out from behind Kaede.

Oh, god no.

No.

No, no, no, no—

Okay, scratch what I said about Kayayday earlier. She’s the second to last person I wanted to run into. It’s Harukawa-chan! She’s the last person I wanted to run into today, he thought to himself.

“Yo.” Maki greeted.

“Y-Yo.” Kokichi replied lamely.

Oh my god, I want to die. Please let the ground swallow me whole, please, he silently pleaded.

“Are you going for lunch, too?” Kaede asked.

“Yeah, seeing as I have some time before I go to my last class for the day.” Kokichi replied.

“Wow! It truly is a coincidence!” Kaede beamed at him. “Let’s get lunch together, then!” she chirped.

Kokichi could only stare as Kaede looped her arms around his own and she began pulling him in the direction of the dining hall with Maki following close behind.

Ugh, I can’t believe this! I can’t believe I have to eat lunch with Kayayday and Annoying Harukawa-chan, he thought to himself.

He then stared down at Kaede’s arms, which were wrapped around his own tightly.

Also, does she always hold him like this?! Gosh, ever her boobs are pressing against his arm...he actually lets her do this?! Ugh, now I’m really angry, he thought to himself.

They headed to the dining hall and after getting their food, they sat down at a table and began to eat. Kokichi poked his chopsticks at the bowl of white rice in front of him as Maki and Kaede conversed.

I can’t even eat what I usually have for lunch or else they’ll find out the truth, he thought to himself.

He sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, proceeding to type out a text to Shuichi.

Shuichi S: Saihara-chan, I know that you’re in class rn, but I need help!!! I’m being forced to eat with Akamatsu-chan and Harukawa-chan and I’m 99.9% sure that I’m going to screw this up

“Who are you texting, Saihara-kun?”

Kokichi looked up mid-text and saw Kaede watching him inquisitively.

“Uh...I’m texting Saihara-chan.” he replied.

“Saihara...chan?” Maki questioned.

Kokichi grew pale upon realizing that he slipped up.

Shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiiiiiiit! I was not supposed to say that, he thought to himself.

“But...you’re right here, Saihara-kun...” Kaede trailed off.

“Ahahaha! I was just kidding with you two! I mean, I’m texting Ouma-kun.” Kokichi said, putting emphasis on -kun.

He quickly finished his text and sent it, silently hoping that Shuichi would respond to it soon.

“Are you now?” Maki asked.

“Of course I am.” Kokichi replied.

Stop asking questions if you know what’s good for you, Harukawa-chan, he thought to himself as he shot a pointed glare in her direction.

He reached for his cup of water and began sipping on it as Kaede spoke.

“Speaking of Ouma-kun, have you told him yet?” she asked.

“Hm? Told him what?” Kokichi inquired.

“That you like him, obviously.” Kaede replied.

Kokichi sputtered, water spilling all over the counter.

“Ah! Saihara-kun, you spilled your water!” Kaede exclaimed as she scrambled to pull napkins out of the holder and wipe up the mess he made.

Wait, wait, hold on a minute! Did I hear her right, he asked himself.

“Wait, Saihara-cha—I mean, I like Ouma-kun?” he asked.

“Yeah? You said you liked him since December of last year.” Maki stated bluntly.

“I did, huh...” Kokichi trailed off.

He leaned back in his seat, staring up at the modern light fixture above the table they were seated at. On the inside, he was freaking out.

Saihara-chan likes me?! He actually likes me?! Oh my god, is this for real?! Are my feeling requited after all, he asked himself.

He chuckled to himself.

“Holy shit...”

💜💜💜💜

Shuichi looked down at the text that Kokichi sent him of his schedule earlier today.

Shuichi S: After school, you need to meet with Keeboy in the library! He should be on the second floor. We usually spend Fridays after class in the library for a little while before returning to our dorms~

Okay, so now I need to head to the library and meet up with Keebo-kun, he thought to himself.

He sighed as he made the trek across campus to the library.

I really don’t want to poke fun and tease Keebo-kun like Ouma-kun usually does because that’s just mean, but I’m going to have to in order to keep up appearances, he thought to himself.

He arrived at the library a few minutes later and he stepped inside, making his way up to the second floor. He weaved through the shelves of books before spotting Keebo sitting at one of the tables near the window.

There he is. Now, how does Ouma-kun usually approach him again? Doesn’t he tackle him while shouting some rude nickname or something, he asked himself.

He shrugged.

I’ll just wing it, he thought to himself.

“Hiya, Keeboy!” Shuichi shouted as he tackled Keebo.

Keebo let out a startled shout, AirPods flying out of his ears at the force. Some people gave them looks, but turned back to what they were doing soon after.

Shuichi let out a relieved sigh.

Thank god we’re in the green zone. I can be as loud as I need to be, he thought to himself.

“Ou-Ouma-kun!” Keebo exclaimed.

“Nishishi! Spooked you, didn’t I? Did your heart leap out of your chest when I did that?” he asked.

“Of course it did! Who wouldn’t be terrified by that?!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Shuichi moved to sit down across from him as Keebo bent down and picked up his AirPods from the floor.

I’m so sorry, Keebo-kun. Once this whole situation is over, I’ll come and apologize to you myself, he thought to himself as he placed Kokichi’s backpack on top of the table.

Keebo sighed as he placed his AirPods on the table and paused his music.

“Well? How were classes today?” he asked.

“Just dandy!” Shuichi chirped.

“That’s good.” Keebo replied.

Shuichi pulled out the materials he needed to work on and got to work. Keebo did the same, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence. As he worked, he couldn’t help but think about Kokichi.

I hope he’s doing alright...I mean, I told him what he needed to do in order to survive having lunch with Akamatsu-san and Harukawa-san, but I can’t help worrying over him, he thought to himself.

He sighed, setting his pencil down as Keebo spoke.

“So, are you still going to that mixer?” he asked.

“The mixer?” Shuichi questioned.

Great, even Keebo-kun’s asking...I am so tempted to say no, but at the same time, I shouldn’t let my emotions get the better of me, he told himself.

“Yeah. Are you still going with Amami-kun?” Keebo asked.

“Well...” Shuichi reached up to twirl some hair around his finger. “Yeah, I still am.” he replied.

Keebo stared at him with an incredulous look on his face.

“I still can’t believe you’re going, let alone actually agreeing to it.” he stated.

This made Shuichi arch a brow.

Keebo-kun’s acting like he’s against it...come to think of it, Amami-kun also seemed surprised when I confirmed that he was still going to the mixer...he even mentioned something about me...I wonder why that is, he wondered to himself.

“Hm? How come?” he asked.

“I mean, I don’t see why you would go if you have feelings for Saihara-kun...” Keebo trailed off.

The world screeched to a sudden halt. Shuichi’s eyes widened as he stared at Keebo in shock.

He...what?

“...Huh?” he asked.

“What do you mean, huh? You like Saihara-kun and you’ve liked him from the very moment you saw him! How come you’re acting so surprised about this? You’re always gushing over him and telling me everything from how he helped you with your homework to how you like it when he’s shirtless because he has such a ‘killer body.’” Keebo explained.

Shuichi felt his cheeks turn red.

I had no idea he felt this way about me...he’s thought of me the same way I thought of him, but he’s liked me from the very beginning, he thought to himself.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he failed to hear Keebo call out his name. The snapping of fingers was what pulled him out of his trance, eyes blinking rapidly as Keebo gazed at him in concern.

“Ouma-kun?” he asked.

“Ah! Sorry, it’s just...” he resumed twirling some hair around his finger, doing it faster than last time. “You brought it up so suddenly that I couldn’t help but react that way...” he trailed off.

“I see...well, I guess that’s normal.” Keebo pulled away (Shuichi has no idea of how close Keebo leaned in towards his face until he withdrew) and propped his elbows up on the table, resting his face in his hands. “Also, didn’t you say you were going to confess to him? What happened to that?” he asked.

“Huh?! C-Confess to Saihara-chan?!” Shuichi exclaimed in shock.

At that point, the blush on his cheeks had spread to his ears. He bit his lip, twirling his hair around his finger even faster as Keebo watched him in surprise.

“You’re acting like a flustered schoolgirl, which is so not like you. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah! No need to worry about me! I’m okay, Keeboy!” Shuichi replied.

He tried to calm the quick racing of his heart as he stared down at the open notebook before him.

Oh my god, he even planned on confessing to me soon?! This is crazy, totally crazy, he thought to himself.

Then, another thought hit him.

Wait a minute...if Ouma-kun has feelings for me—

“Then why...?” he trailed off.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Keebo said with an exasperated sigh.

Shuichi bit his lip as he looked back down at the open notebook, thinking about this sudden revelation.

This is all so weird...

Shuichi sighed.

I’m going to need to get to the bottom of this.

💜💜💜💜

Shuichi arrived back at the dorm room he shared with Kokichi after being at the library with Keebo. Upon stepping inside, he saw Kokichi digging through his closet before pulling a set of clothes out.

It was a loose, white cardigan with gold stars all over it, a light blue button-up shirt, and dark denim skinny jeans.

He laid them out on the bed as he looked over and locked eyes with Shuichi.

“Oh... you’re back.” he said.

As soon as Kokichi spoke, he was immediately reminded of what Keebo told him in the library.

Oh god, now that I know Ouma-kun likes me back, this feels so awkward, he thought to himself.

“Hm? Saihara-chan, your face is red. Are you alright?” Kokichi called out.

“H-Huh? Uh, yeah, I’m alright.” Shuichi replied.

“Mmmm, you sure about that? Because your face says otherwise.” Kokichi commented.

Shuichi swallowed as Kokichi made his way over to him. He backed up until his back was pressed against the door, Kokichi trapping him against it. Shuichi’s mind was going haywire.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, he’s so close! Very close! He’s completely towering over me! I wonder if this is how feels each time he’s beside me, he told himself.

Kokichi peered at him before reaching out and pressing the palm of his hand against Shuichi’s forehead.

“Hmm...it doesn’t seem like you have a fever...” he mused.

Shuichi’s cheeks turned redder as Kokichi flipped his hand over so that the back of it was against his forehead. He withdrew his hand soon after and a smirk crossed his lips.

“My, your cheeks got even redder. Maybe it’s because I’m close to you like this?” he asked.

“That’s...!” Shuichi squeaked out.

“Oh my god, were you thinking something dirty?! Man, Saihara-chan’s not as pure as I thought he was!” Kokichi exclaimed.

“That’s not what it is, Ouma-kun! Also, don’t say those kinds of things with my face!” Shuichi shouted.

Kokichi laughed as he pulled away from Shuichi and made his way back over to the bed.

“So, I took out the clothes that I’m going to be wearing to the mixer.” Kokichi pulled out a pair of black boots and placed them at the foot of the bed. “You have to meet up with Amami-chan in front of the dorms for seven fifteen and then you guys will go to the mixer from there. Put that on and then I’ll help you with makeup and stuff.” he explained.

“I see...” Shuichi trailed off.

He stared at Kokichi as he began to think.

I need to tell him now. There is no way I can keep quiet about this forever, now that I know how he feels about me, he thought to himself.

He balled his hands into fists as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Actually, Ouma-kun...before I go and get changed, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” he said.

He let the backpack fall to the ground beside his feet as Kokichi turned to look at him.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he answered.

“Well...” Shuichi’s tongue darted out to lick at his lips. “I just want to know, why are you going to that mixer, anyway?” he asked.

“Why? It’s because Amami-chan didn’t want to go alone, so I decided to go with him.” Kokichi replied.

“But, you said you had no intentions of going before because you already have someone you like, didn’t you?”

“Yeah? But now I’m going. I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply, Saihara-chan.”

“It’s just...it doesn’t make sense!” Shuichi stared at him. “Why would you still go to the mixer despite the fact that you’re in love with me?!” he asked.

Kokichi grew still, his eyes wide in shock.

“Wait...what did you say?” he asked.

“I heard from Keebo-kun while I was at the library. You had feelings for me from day one and you even planned on confessing to me soon.” Shuichi said.

Kokichi’s hand flew over his mouth.

“Oh, dammit...” he mumbled.

“Why is it, despite the fact that you like me, you’re going to a mixer?!” Shuichi asked.

“Why should it matter to you? Are you also in love with me? Is that why?” Kokichi shot back.

Shuichi’s eyes widened.

“How did you find that out?” he asked.

“Akamatsu-chan said it! She was asking if you told me yet that you—wait. When I teased you about having a crush on me because you were acting like me going to this mixer was such a bad idea...that was true? You actually do have a crush on me?” Kokichi asked.

“Yes, it’s true. I like you too, Ouma-kun.” Shuichi made his way over to Kokichi. “So, you better not go to that damn mixer or else you’ll really regret it.” he said.

“Saihara-cha—“ he was cut off by Shuichi grabbing his wrist and yanking him down, their lips colliding in a kiss.

Kokichi stiffened at first but kissed back soon after. His arms went to wrap around Shuichi as they moved toward’s Shuichi’s bed, Kokichi climbing on top of him. Shuichi wrapped his arms around Kokichi’s neck.

This is definitely not how I was imagining my first kiss with him to go...oh, whatever. That means nothing compared to the fact that I’m actually kissing him right now, Shuichi thought to himself.

Shuichi pulled away, eyes slowly opening as he looked to see that Kokichi was under him rather than above him.

“Wait...what are you doing below me?” he asked.

That was when he noticed that he was speaking with his own voice rather than Kokichi’s. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait...could it be...?” he asked.

“We changed back.” Kokichi commented.

It was silent between them for a few minutes before Kokichi burst into loud laughter.

“Oh my god, we’re back in our bodies! I’m me again!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Shuichi said with a laugh of his own.

“I can’t believe all we had to do was kiss.”

“I know, right? That was interesting.”

Just then, Kokichi’s phone dinged. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone, reading the message that flashed across the screen.

“Ouma-kun? Who is it from?” Shuichi asked.

“Amami-chan. He’s asking for confirmation on the meeting place.” Kokichi replied.

“Oh...” Shuichi trailed off.

“Let me respond to him, one minute.” Kokichi said.

Shuichi’s lips pulled into a frown as he watched Kokichi type away on his phone.

Don’t tell me that after all this, he’s still going to go, he asked himself.

He felt his heart sink at the thought as Kokichi locked his phone and tossed it into a random corner of the bed.

“There, all done.” Kokichi stared up at Shuichi. “What’s wrong? You look like a kicked puppy.” he commented.

“I do not look like a kicked puppy!” Shuichi complained.

“Yeah, you do.” Kokichi replied.

Shuichi pouted.

“It’s just...what did you say to him?” he asked.

“Oh, that. I just told him that I’m not going to go to the mixer after all because I have something else to do.” Kokichi reached up to touch Shuichi’s cheek. “I need to spend some time with my beloved boyfriend, don’t you think?” he said.

Shuichi felt his heart soar at the words “beloved boyfriend.”

Oh my god.

I feel so giddy.

Holy shit.

He completely ignored the fact that Kokichi told Rantaro he wasn’t going to the mixer anymore. He just felt incredibly happy that his feelings were requited. He got off of Kokichi and laid down on the bed beside him. Kokichi curled up against his side as Shuichi spoke.

“So? Why were you going to go to the mixer in the first place?” Shuichi asked.

“Well...I started thinking that maybe you didn’t like me back, so I decided that maybe it would be better to go.” Kokichi smiled up at him. “But now that I know you like me back, I have no reason to go.” he explained.

“I see...I’m happy.”

“I can tell.”

Shuichi turned to lay on his side, staring at Kokichi as he stroked his hair.

“I love you.” he said.

Kokichi giggled.

“I love you too.” he replied as their lips came together in another kiss.

113 notes · View notes

dontatmethanks · 4 years

Text

Part Of Your World

A levihan fic (mermaid AU)

AN: Hello bebes, I come bearing an offering of apology that is chapter 7 for making you guys wait so long again 😭

Chapter 7

————————————————-

Levi woke up with a start.

He wasn’t where he was supposed do be, his body felt like it wasn’t supposed to be.

The mer quickly sat up, steel eyes flashing sharply and his gills flared up in a threatening manner. He looked around to see that he was on a large bed with a thick quilt covering his bottom half.

The raven lifted the quilt to see that he still had those smooth human legs, and was still wearing the shorts and jacket that Hange gave him.

Hange.

Where the hell was that shitty woman?

Levi looked up and noticed that he was in a room, but the place looked like a monsoon had washed over it.

What kind of beast lived in such a place?

The answer came to him in the form of memory, that shitty woman lived here and was responsible for this shitty mess.

Last night’s events came rushing back. After growing a pair of human legs, he checked and yes they were still there, he managed to literally walk out of the medical room he was in and get himself lost while looking for Hange. She found him asleep in the one of the many bathrooms in the research building, completely naked and much more human like. She was shocked at the new development but also because of his lack of clothing, which again he did not completely understand why it was such a big deal. After much convincing from Erwin, the brunette scientist ended up taking him home with her. As soon as they arrived to her humble abode, she took note of the Mer’s exhaustion and let him take her bed, he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

And now here he was, wide awake and sat up straight on his caretaker’s bed and glaring at the mess around him.

Humans were truly a disgusting species.

Sure, the ocean was just as disgusting but Levi always kept himself and the space around him clean. Always scrubbing out the scum and sea foam from the rocks of the underwater caves he would sleep in with sponges and neatly crafting makeshift beds with the finest peices of sea weed he could find. Other Mermyds would make fun of him for it but he didn’t care.

This mess around him was irritating him beyond belief.

The mer tossed the bed sheet off of him and climbed out of the bed before clumsily getting to to his feet. His toes wiggled comfortably at the soft feel of the carpeted floor beneath him. The half man crossed the room with much more ease than the night before and examined the area with care.

The room itself was modest, there here shelves mounted on the cream colored walls that were stacked to the brim haphazardly with books. Next to the bed he slept in was a dresser table that had a small alarm clock and various of half empty cups of who knows what and random wrappers and crumpled up papers.

There was a desk near the door and closet, it held a mess of books, papers, charging cords, pens and pencils. The Chair in front of it was draped with clothing that was also strewn all over the floor.

Levi sighed and bent over to pick up the clothes on the floor and placed onto the chair with the rest of them when something on the desk caught his eye. It was a picture frame, of course but the ravenette had heard stories about how humans could capture the souls of another into into a small square and was awfully curious if this was what hey were referring to. The Mer leaned closer and cocked his head, it was the image of Hange and two other people both blondes one man one woman, they both looked familiar. The woman’s hair was very short and her skin was fair, the man’s hair was a bit long, the bangs covered most of his face and he also had a prominent mustache. They all had on goofy smiles and Hange had two fingers sticking up in the form of a peace sign.

He may not be completely human but he was pretty sure Hange still had her soul.

The mer padded over to the door and slowly turned the knob just like he’d seen Hange do and peered down the hallway. The house was quiet and a bit dark, the only light was coming from the rising sun outside and spilled through the curtains.

He strolled out into the hall and stopped in front a flight of stairs. Levi glared at the stairs with great determination and began to slowly descend them, one foot after the other while tightly gripping the wooden railing. He grinned as he made it to the last step and turned the corner, his bare foot suddenly struck something hard and caused him to fall over with a surprised yelp.

A hiss escaped him when he felt pain bloom from his stubbed toes and curled up into himself on the floor. After a few seconds he sat up to look at what had tripped him.

A cardboard box.

Many of them were scattered around near the landing of the stairs.

The mer frowned and shook his head as he got back up onto his bare feet. He slowly made his way around the boxes and found himself in another room, the kitchen. Like a lost child in a grocery store, Levi stumbled around. It wasn’t until his stomach gargled loudly did he realize that he was extremely ravenous.

Food

The animalistic side in him protested for sustenance, a low growl rising from his chest as he breathed in deep. The mer sniffed the air around him and followed the scent of what he assumed was food and ended up in front of the refrigerator. It was silver and had a touch pad on the right door. It was a smart fridge, but of course Levi didn’t know any of that.

He sniffed around it and inspected it with a cautious gaze, before grabbing one of the handles and yanking it.

It didn’t open, but the whole refrigerator almost tipped over from the force.

Levi huffed and attempted to pull it open again, a little more gentle this time. Another growl ripped from his throat in frustration before he slammed a hand against it, right where the touch pad was. The refrigerator beeped and he hissed and skittered backwards at the sound. Both the fridge and the freezer door opened, effectively surprising the raven yet again.

Once he was sure the contraption wasn’t going to attack him, he approached it and sniffed inside. He shivered from the cold and tucked himself further into Hange’s jacket as he peeked inside of the fridge.

The scent of fish wafted lightly in his nostrils and made a beeline towards the freezer and produced a bag of frozen salmon. Levi sat himself on the kitchen floor infront of the refrigerator and tore the bag open. He frowned in annoyance when a few fillets fell onto the floor beneath him.

After he picked up the mess he took one and attempted to take a large bite. He hissed in mild pain and extreme aggravation when his sharp fangs met cold hard resistance. The mer continued to gnaw on the frozen peice of fish out of hunger and desperation, his teeth made a loud clacking sound as they hit against the frozen surface. Once he got fed up he just tossed the fish back into the freezer and huffed.

Then a different smell teased his senses.

It was salty and meaty, and it made his stomach grumble loudly.

Levi leaned his small frame into the fridge side and dug around for the source of the delicious smell.

He produced a package of smoked cold cut ham.

The small ravenette wasted no time on ripping it open and shoving the slices of deli meat into his watering mouth. His eyes widened in surprise at the taste and he hastily shoved more of it into his already full mouth, which he would have found disgusting but he was too hungry to care.

It was was absolutely scrumptious, the meat. Of course nothing could compare to fresh fish, but this was absolutely hitting the spot.

“...And while he is in your care, you will be responsible for him and his actions and needs. As long as he is out here in the world the way he is he will be considered human. It will be your responsibility that he understands what that means, we don’t need anymore mass hysteria about Mermyds being dangerous and evil creatures. The tabloids would have a field day.”

Hange chuckled wryly at Erwin’s last comment.

They were all in his office in a meeting about Levi. It was just Hange, Erwin and Mike.

“I will make sure that everyone else here knows about the current situation as well, but for now it’s business as usual”

“Understood,” Hange nodded as she got up from her seat in front of Erwin’s desk. “Permission to leave early today? I kinda left the grumpy fish alone at home, haha.

Her boss gave her an unimpressed glare. “Just go.” He waved at her dismissively.

She just grinned sheepishly before grabbing her bag and waved goodbye to both Erwin and Mike and trotted our of the door.

Half an hour later, Hange arrived home and almost tripped over a box on her way over to the dining room area.

“Jesus I should really unpack those.” She muttered to herself as she caught herself against the wall that connected to the kitchen.

It’s been six months since she moved into this house. It was her mother’s house, she had inherited it when she died those months ago. If she was honest, she hadn’t really felt anything when she died. Their relationship wasn’t really normal nor close. Her mother would leave her with her father a lot to business travel when she was young. She’s much more close to her father, even though now he lives in Germany. But know here she was living alone in a unnecessarily huge house- well not alone, she now had Levi to look after.

Hange huffed and set her bag on the dinner table before making her way into the kitchen. The brunette immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw that both of the doors of the refrigerator were open. She quickly walked up to it and saw that inside was a whole mess of empty containers, bags and wrappers, but nothing inside of the freezer was messed with except for a bag of frozen salmon fillets. The biologist let out a surprised squawk.

“Who the hell ate all of my food?!?”

The culprit waddled into the kitchen with a bored expression, barefoot and clad in the same spandex shorts and her jacket from the day before.

“Levi?! Seriously?!!!!”

He flinched at her volume and gave her a confused but annoyed look.

“Why must you humans be so loud?” He grumbled.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because YOU EMPTIED OUT MY FRIDGE!”

She knew that Mermyds had a large appetite but damn.

Levi shrunk back away from her, sensing anger rising.

“I was hungry...” he mumbled, not looking her in the eyes.

All of the anger in her drained out once she saw his demeanor. She sighed and closed both doors of the fridge before walking up to Levi and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed like that, you don’t know any better. You were just following your instincts. I also shouldn’t leave you alone anymore.” She told him apologetically.

The raven looked up at her and she gave him a warm, reassuring smile that made him feel weird again.

“I have an idea!” She perks up and Levi flinches away again, this time from her exuberance.

“I was planning on doing some grocery shopping this week...that was before you suddenly become so human.”

Levi gave her a death glare. “Not human.”

Hange grimaced and laughed awkwardly. “Ah, right sorry, before you grew legs, that’s what I meant.”

“... and I can’t really leave you alone again, you’ll probably chew on the furniture or something.” The brunette joked and the mer gave her a confused look.

“You look acceptably human,” his caretaker continued as she examined him from head to toe. “We’re just going to have to conceal the parts of you that are..not human.”

He fidgeted underneath her experimental gaze. The Mermyd was able to keep up with what the woman was saying, he just didn’t know what the hell she was thinking to do with him. And what the hell was ‘grocery shopping’ ?

His thoughts were interrupted when Hange grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along with her.

“Come with me!” She said over her shoulder as she dragged her upstairs and towards her bedroom.

Levi tried his best to keep up with her, his bare feet often tripping and catching against the steps.

“Oi,Oi you shitty human! What did I say about suddenly doing that?! Are your ears that filthy?!” He spat at her as they finally entered her room and he yanked his wrist from her grasp and rubbed at it with his other hand.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be careful next time hehe.” She apologized before heading to her closet to dig through it.

Hange’s companion made a ‘Tch’ sound before sitting himself on the edge of her bed that he woke up in earlier to observe her actions.

“Can you explain all this mess?” He grumbled and Hange emerged from the closet with a sheepish grin and a black turtleneck sweater.

“Haha, I don’t really have the time to do house cleaning. Of course it must have been easy for you, the whole ocean was your home.”

A sudden sadness passed through his system as he looked down at his lap. He missed the ocean, he missed the feel of it’s salty currents against his slick tail as he glided through the blue canvas. He missed racing against Farlan, from the bottom of the reef floor to the surface of the water, not quite breaking through it as Isabel would cheer along. His heart squeezed at the memory as his eyes began to glisten.

Hange suddenly wished she hadn’t said anything once she saw the moisture that began to collect in his silver orbs.

“Oh no, hey I’m sorry, I should’ve known that would have been a sore subject for you.” She said to him softly as she sat next to him, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

The mermyd closed his eyes and shook his head softly, causing a lone tear to escape and trail down his cheek. Hange really had to resist the urge to wipe it away.

Levi wasn’t stupid, he new that he wouldn’t be able to return to the life he had before, living- no surviving in the vast blue. He had lost too much, Isabel, Farlan and his tail, it wouldn’t be the same. He is so much more vulnerable, subjected to live among the humans now. Isabel would be so envious of him, she was so obsessed with the human world. She’d often watch them from the surface as they would walk along the shores of the beach with families and small little humans-children, yes children. Isabel taught him most of what he knows about humans and their manurisms, she would often drag him up to the surface to do ‘people watching’ is what she would call it.

A sudden small noise escaped him, similar to the whine of a dog, when Hange wrapped her arms around his small frame.

“W-what are you doing, shitty glasss?” He sputtered embarrassingly, his face was pressed against the nape of her neck and he’d hope she couldn’t feel the way it burned at their closeness.

She smelled of the water from the place he was in before- the ‘rehabilitation center?’- sweat and a hint of something sweet that he could not decipher. The mixture was kind of weird but it comforted him a little.

“I’m hugging you, grumpy.” The brunette said in slight amusement as leaned her head against his and ran her thin fingers through the shorter side of his hair.

“..and why do you keep doing it?” He asked in confusion, not yet surrendering to her hold, Hange sighed at his tenseness.

“I do it to help you feel better, that’s usually the case with human contact- or any physical contact really. You know that during the process of skin to skin contact a type of endorphin is realeased-”

The ravenette tuned her out, he’s been around her enough to know when she was about to talk his ear off, he didn’t hate it but he really couldn’t grasp everything she was saying ‘endorphins?’ Hah.

He found himself relaxing in her arms, Hange had noticed to but didn’t comment, she just smiled and gave herself a mental pat on the back for her success.

The two of the stayed like that for a while, Levi let his slate eyes droop as he snaked his arms, that were trapped in between the both of them, around her waist and his clawed fingers gripped the back of her shirt just like he had done the night he broke down.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying this.” The biologist teased as she patted his head gently.

He blushed furiously and yanked himself away from her with an unconvincing glare that made the bespeckled woman laugh profusely.

“That’s enough of that.” The mer stated before crossing his arms in front of his chest and looked at anywhere but her.

Hange chuckled and shook her head, aburn flyaways shifting from the movement, and pushed her round frames up the bridge of her nose as they began to slide down.

“Okay haha, but put this on.” She tossed the black turtleneck sweater that she recovered from the closet at to him and got up to rummage in it once again.

Levi picked the garment up with the sharp nails of his thumb and forefinger, not sure how exactly it worked yet. It did not have an opening in the front like the jacket he was wearing, so he guessed that you had to shove it over yourself. He did just that.

Hange caught him before he could pull it on.

“Wait, wait!” She giggled at him and he paused his actions to give her a confused glare.

“What? I’m putting it on.” He grunted at her and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing. He was halfway in the process of putting on the sweater, his head was poking out through the head hole and one arm was halfway in one sleeve while the other dangled helplessly.

“You have to take the jacket off first or you’ll suffocate.” She explained as she pulled the sweater off of him and unzipped the jacket and let him shrug it off.

That’s when she blushed lightly at the sight of his bare chest, it was like she was looking at some kind of sculpture. She shook her head, he had to swim for all of his life so of course he was ripped- it was natural, yes very natural, why was she acting like she’d never seen it before?

Levi sat there in front of her with his usual ‘bored with life’ expression, only wearing a pair of her spandex wet-shorts and waiting for her to come out of whatever trance she was in.

He made a small grunting sound when Hange quickly snapped out of it and quickly pulled the sweater over him and helped him slip his arms through each sleeve. Once it was on, she handed him a pair of her baggy boy jeans and told him to put it on like he had put on the shorts, but of course remove the shorts first. The mermyd nodded and stood up to take off the shorts and Hange quickly spun around and made a mental note to buy him some underwear.

Once she was sure he had the jeans on, she turned around and snorted at the image in front of her. The jeans were a bit too long for him and he left them unbuttoned, Levi frown down at himself and then looked at her for help. She assisted him by pulling the pants a little higher for him, effectively earning herself a surprised squeak from the poor mer, he had to hold onto her shoulders to keep himself upright as she bottoned it up. The brunette then bent down to cuff each of the pant legs so it ended just above his ankles.

“There!” She chirped before getting up to head back to the closet to look for her smallest fitting shoes, she ended up deciding on an old pair of high top chucks. When she presented them to Levi he grimaced and shook his head at her.

“I’m not putting those on.” He states while glaring at the dirtiness of the shoes, and Hange rolls her amber eyes.

“It’s fine Levi, humans wear shoes all the time. You can’t just be barefoot, you’ll hirt your poor little feet and get them dirty.”

The short half human glared at her when she called his feet little, but it was true, his feet were small. Shoes just looked so restricting and uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to get his feet all torn up and disgusting so he complied and sat on the bed. Hange gave him some socks to slip on, after a long explanation on what they were used for, and helped fit the shoes on his feet.

“Now,” the woman sighed as she sat crouched down on her heels in front of him. “ I will eventually teach you how to tie your laces but for now I’ll do it for you so watch me closely.”

Levi nodded and directed his attention to what she was doing. She grabbed both of the laces and crossed them over each other before pulling one underneath the other and yanked them to tighten the shoe. Them she formed one lace into a loop and wrapped the other one around the loop before pulling it underneath and creating another loop and tightening both of them so that they now resembled bunny ears.

“Ta-da!” Hange cheered up at him while gesturing towards the now tied laces after she finished the other shoe. If he were anybody else they would be embarrassed with the fact the he couldn’t even tie his own shoes and that she had to do it for them like they were a child. But Levi was different, he didn’t know any better, he didn’t know the norms of the human world, hence why he sat there with an impressed look on his face as he studied Hange’s handiwork.

“Don’t worry I’ll show you again later,” she reassured the raven headed mer as she gestured for him to stand from the bed. “Let’s get a good look at you know.”

The brunette looked him up and down, left to right to make sure she didn’t miss anything while Levi stood awkwardly tugging at the neck of the sweater, it covered his gills uncomfortably and it was hot.

“Hm, we’ll this will work for now until we can get you something more comfortable and less warm, especially since it’s summertime, but hopefully nobody will question it- Oh wait your ears!”

She reached a hand over and gently brushed her fingertips against his pointed, web-like ears and Levi shuddered and slapped her hand away before covering his ear with the sleeve of his sweater with a glare.

“Sensitive, huh?” Hange asked him with a sincere expression and he nodded. “Ah, sorry.”

The brunette quickly walked over to her nightstand and rummaged through one of the dressers before pulling out a dark blue beanie and let out a small noise of success. She the walked back over to the small mermyd and carefully fitted it over his head snugly, making sure to cover his unusual ears in the process. Taking a step back to examine hime one last time, she cooed adoringly.

“Oh, you look so cute!” She squealed and Levi’s pale cheeks darkened with a shade of pink.

“Shut up shitty glasses I don-” Hange pulled him in front of a long mirror that hung behind her bedroom door and he frowned deeply. “Oh I look stupid, humans and their stupid ‘clothes’, how ridiculous.” The raven crossed his arms like a pouting child.

“Would you rather have yourself exposed to world? Our society has already deemed your species as dangerous and hostile, once they catch wind that they can somehow evolve to roam on land they will panic, lock you up and subject you to all kinds of unethical experimentation.”

The mer blinked and was silent for a few seconds before catching Hange’s hard gaze with his own conflicted one.

“Levi, it’s my job to make sure that none of that happens. What I- what we do, back where we took care of you, we make sure that all kinds of marine life, exotic, dangerous and all in between, are cared for and protected. You’re no different, i promised you before and I’m keeping it. I promise we’ll find out what’s happening to you as well.” Her voice became more tender towards the end and Levi had never felt so cared for before, it almost freaked him out.

He swallowed thickly before turning to look at Hange in the eyes, his own betraying the emotions inside him.

“I believe you.” He muttered and she smiled widely, light brown eyes shining softly behind her crystal lenses. The moment was ruined when the brunette ruffled his fringe affectionately. He waved her hand away and scowled before turning back to the mirror to fix it.

“Aliright lets go now, to restock the fridge!” Hange cheered and grabbed her wallet and keys from her work bag and gestured for Levi to follow her.

She ended up taking them to a nearby local superstore, after parking she skipped out of the car with newfound energy to open the door for Levi. The half man stepped out of the car with wary eyes as he examined the parking lot. Hange tugged him along with her by the sleeve of his sweater as she went over some rules.

“Stay close to me, if you need to use the restroom let me know and if you see anything that peaks your interest tell me before trying to take it with you haha.” She laughed when she saw him purse his lips and nod.

On their way towards the entrance of the store, Hange grabbed a shopping cart and told him to push it along side her. As they approached the entrance, the automatic doors slide open, effectively startling Levi which caused Hange to laugh loudly and drag the surprised mer through the entrance.

The raven’s eyes became comically wider when he took in the sight of the superstore. Everything was bright and there were so many people talking, walking around and shopping. His senses were on overload, multiple sights, smells and sounds were hitting him at once and it took him a moment to ground himself and focus on pushing the cart and staying by Hange’s side.

An hour and half full cart later, Hange was escorting Levi down the snacks isle when something caught his attention.

It was a bag of Golfish crackers.

He cocked his head at the packages design, its bold lettering and bright oranges, yellows and white coloring. But what most peaked his interest was the pictures of the smiling, fish shaped snacks, it was oddly cute to him.

“Mommy, can I have them pleeease?!”

The mermyd whipped his head to the left of him to see a child shove a package of Oreos up to him mom as he pleaded for her to take them. His mother sighed and nodded, gesturing for the child to place the cookies into their own cart as she went back to her list. Levi took the scene in before grabbing the golfish off the shelf and turning to search for his caretaker.

He found her near the kettle cooked chips with their shopping cart, the moment she spotted him she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Levi, I turn my back for one second and you run off. You can’t just-Oh?”

The brunette is cut off by her companion when he presented the bag of snacks to her with a determined expression. She glanced at the bag then at him before raising and eyebrow.

“Is that what you want?” Levi nodded.

“Oh..kay, we’ll it’s a good thing that Erwin gave me a budget to spend on you then haha. Go ahead and put it in the cart and let’s go get you some clothes.”

A tiny grin formed as he inwardly praised himself for his success before he placed the snacks into the cart and pushed it after the brunette.

They headed out of the snacks isle and towards the non food area of the superstore when a sudden familiar voice called out to them.

“Dr. Hange?”

Both her and Levi whirled around to see Eren, Armin and Mikasa standing there with wide eyes.

“Oh hey kids!” Hange greeted them with a wave, but they were all staring at the now bipedal mermyd next to her.

“Levi?!” Eren said with a befuddled look. “You’re..walking..”

“On two legs...” Armin continued.

“So Jean wasn’t lying.” Mikasa finished with an impressed expression.

Hange chuckled. “Nope it’s all true, Levi has seemed to morph, how and why it happened is still a mystery.”

The whole time they spoke, Levi was just leaning in the cart and glaring at the kids.

“So what’s going to happen to him now then?” Armin asked her curiously as he waved to Levi, who rolled his pale eyes in response.

“I promise I will explain everything to you and the others when I get back to work, but for now I would rather not talk about this in public. I don’t want to expose this to the media, that would only be nothing but problematic.” The woman explained calmly and the teens all nodded.

“Alright, is there anything we can do to help?” Eren piped up.

Hange smiles at the young boy’s dedication. “If there’s anything you can do I’ll let you guys know, perhaps you can help with his acclimation to human society?”

They all nodded and Eren turned to Levi with a grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you with everything there is to know.”

Levi wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I’d rather stick my head in a sharks mouth.”

“I’m still working on his social skills.” Hange chuckled. “ I’ll see you kids later then!”

After bidding them a goodbye, the pair continued their way towards the men’s clothing section. Hange grabbed some underwear for him, boxers, she assumed it would be the most comfortable type for the touch sensitive mer. She also got some socks and basic white tee shirts, making sure she grabbed the the closest size estimate, If anything she could always exchange them. Next came the actual clothes, everything she grabbed for him she had him try on in the fitting rooms with her, which he wouldn’t have minded if the stalls weren’t so small, their close proximity made him hotter than the sweater he was wearing.

They ended up getting a couple of thin, long sleeved turtlenecked shirts in various colors, some regular shirts for when he isn’t out in the public, a couple of beanies including this one cute one that Hange loved, it had little bear ears on them. Levi was opposed but Hange got it anyway, she also bought him sandals and shoes that fit him nicely, some jeans, sweatpants, joggers and shorts.

Hange then moved on to get him some toiletries, that’s when Levi became a little hungry so she let him have his goldfish. The sight of him casually munching on the snack while trailing after the bespeckled woman was almost comical. They neared the section of household items, where Hange was looking for some pillows and bedsheets for the mer, she had explained to him that she’d be ordering him his own bed to put in the guest room she had in her house once she cleared it out. He had nodded as he listened along to what she was saying to him when he suddenly stopped. The woman noticed he wasn’t following her anymore and turned to see him standing a couple feet behind her, one arm holding his bag of goldfish crackers while the other hung limply at his side. She almost thought that something was wrong until she saw the awestruck look on his usually non-expressive fave.

“Hey, Levi don’t fall behind now....” the doctor’s mouth formed into a small ‘oh’ when she realized what Levi was intensely gazing at.

It was a pillow plushie of a cat, but it also had a Mermyd tail.

Levi had read about cats with Hange during their many reading sessions, he found them really cute and soft looking. But this plushie pillow held some sort of spell on him, the cat had a tail and he had never seen something so adorable in his life...well besides Hange’s eyes but he could dwell on them later. The mer quickly placed his snacks bag into their cart before dusting off his hands and grabbing the pillow, it was so soft and squishy that he almost sighed.

Hange found it hard to contain her fondness as she watch the display in front of her. Levi was acting extremely, adorably and innocently cute right now, childlike wonder reading across his pale face, it made her heart squeeze. She found it hard to say no when the ravenette looked to her for permission, she nodded with a smile and was rewarded with a sight she wished she could capture with her phone camera.

Levi hugged the plushie with a small smile that he tried to hide, as a light blush dusted over his cheeks.

Yup.

She could have died contentedly right there.

“Leeeeviii, you’re being unfairly cute you little guppy.” Hange cooed at him and he glared at her.

“Shut up.” He grumbled but still held on to his new pillow.

Hange giggled before gesturing for him to follow her.

“Let’s go now, it’s getting late.” Levi nodded and dutifully followed her like a puppy.

They paid, with the budget card Erwin gave her, and made their way out of the store and to her car where Levi helped out everything in the back while simultaneously never letting go of the cat pillow.

Once she closed the trunk she opened the passenger door for Levi so he could get in, before closing it and climbing into the drivers seat and starting the car.

“I just realized that we almost spent the entire budget that Erwin gave me for you, hehe. Hope he won’t be too angry when he finds out.”

What the two of them didn’t realize though, was the fact that during their whole shopping trip they were being followed by two inconspicuous men. They now were watching them intently from their own car as Hange pulled out of the parking lot.

The younger of the two pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After two rings the person in the other line answered.

“Hey boss.....yeah it’s him, no-yes sir.....he changed-yes-no I mean shifted.”

The older man next to him watched him from the corner of his eye.

“....yes sir, legs sir....very human like. That means it worked sir, does it not?....sorry sir......okay sir.” He hung up and looked to the older man.

“Start driving, boss wants to know where the half is is staying at.”

———————————————————————

AN: Ohohohooo, and the plot thickens 😈 who are the men? Who’s their boss? What do they mean ‘it worked’? All your questions will be answered soo, all I can say is one of the big baddies will be showing up.

As always, thanks for reading! 🥰

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tulipanthousa · 5 years

Text

silver in our lungs

Virgil definitely didn’t expect “Operation Pester Logan Into Proper Self-Care” to go like... this.

He’s definitely not complaining.

Pairing: background LAMP, analogical focus

Word count: 2496

Warnings: its smut (with feelings but like, thats what it is) gentle dom virgil, sub logan, teensy bit of food kink which is mostly just an extension of laoft-logan’s canon oral fixation

Notes: part of my Love and Other Fairytales verse, which you can find over on my main (@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors) and most of which is sfw. i’ll be 100% honest I wasn’t expecting the first pair-off smut for laoft to be analogical At All but uhhhhh guess what

these weren’t quite prompts but a couple people asked if i was gonna do Virgil POV and someone asked about D/s stuff for laoft analogical and i kind got possessed

thanks to @trivia-goddess, my lovely beta whom i adore

the title is from “Spectrum” by Florence + the Machine

---

Logan was hiding.

Logan did that a lot, and it never got less irritating.

Especially when he’d come back from his first year away at school armed with the knowledge that he had enough plant in him to subsist on air and sunlight, a fact that constantly drove Virgil, Patton, and Roman absolutely insane.

So now they frequently played Virgil’s least favorite version of hide and seek. Logan, hiding away somewhere to do his summer online class (which Virgil fervently thanked Dot Sanders in his head for letting him only take one), pretending that living on water and sitting-in-front-of-windows was acceptable – and literally everyone else trying to track him down and bully him into actually taking care of himself.

Virgil let out a sigh.

Well. If he wasn’t going to do it, Virgil was.

Even when he was trying to be unpredictable, Logan’s thought processes were easy to follow. He probably thought Virgil’s room was the last place Virgil would look – too obvious.

But Logan liked quiet, and he liked familiar – when Virgil opened the door slowly to keep silent, Logan was barely visible around the side of the chair at Virgil’s desk, chewing on a pen.

Virgil shut the door just as silently. He moved to the little cupboard Patton kept snacks in for when he wasn’t feeling up to going after Virgil for food. Logan was so absorbed in whatever he was doing he didn’t notice.

Virgil retrieved a little plastic container of what looked like blackberries – or possibly mulberries. Virgil wasn’t a plant person.

He popped one in his mouth.

Blackberry, then. He crossed the room, setting the container on the bedside table.

And then he went after Logan, who let out a startled “Hey!” when Virgil plucked the pen out of his grip and unceremoniously scooped him up out of the chair.

“Get your book,” he said.

“Virgil, what the hell!”

“If you don’t get it now, it stays over here,” said Virgil flatly.

Logan scowled, leaning over and grabbing the book off the desk.

Virgil carried him over to the bed, sitting up against the headboard and positioning a still-frowning Logan in his lap. Picking a blackberry out of the dish, Virgil held it out in front of Logan’s mouth.

“Are you kidding?” said Logan acidly.

“When was the last time you ate?” said Virgil, pointed.

“I had breakfast,” said Logan, too quickly.

“I didn’t ask what meal, I asked for the time,” said Virgil, “And honestly now I’m even more sure you’re staying here. You can keep studying, but you are going to be eating the fruit, Logan,”

The last time Virgil had referred to the expression Logan was wearing as a pout, Logan hadn’t spoken to him for an hour. Virgil decided to keep it to himself this time.

Logan huffed, opening his mouth, and Virgil plopped the berry in just quick enough to avoid the petulant click of Logan’s teeth.

“Whiner,” said Virgil.

“Fusspot,”

“That’s hilariously ironic, coming from you,” said Virgil, and when Logan when to fire back Virgil cut him off with a second blackberry. Logan gave another huff, turned to the book in his lap, and started pointedly ignoring Virgil except for the perfunctory opening and closing of his jaw.

They spent a minute or two like that, Logan reading and Virgil absently placing the berries in his mouth. It was almost meditative, the turn-and-pluck and the brief wait for Logan to cooperate, Virgil popping the fruit in. Repetitive enough to be soothing, important enough to be interesting.

And then it got a whole different kind of interesting.

Logan’s mouth closed around the berry a little faster this time, and Virgil resisted the urge to look smug. He knew Logan had to be hungry, that Seelie trick of his wasn’t nearly enough-

Virgil pulled his hand away, and just as he did there was low, nearly inaudible sound.

Virgil didn’t react, but only barely. He turned to grab another blackberry from the bowl, but watched Logan out of the corner of his eye.

Flushed, though not quite the red Virgil really liked. He was still looking at the book, but Virgil would bet quite a few things he wasn’t actually reading it, from the way his eyes were glazed and his pupils were a little wide. But Logan’s expression was as serene as ever.

Well… if it was a game he wanted…

Virgil schooled his face into something neutral, turned back and held the fruit near Logan’s mouth again.

Logan opened his lips, and Virgil pressed it to his tongue, and didn’t take his hand away.

A pause, and Logan’s eyes jumped up from the book to Virgil’s face.

“What?” said Virgil, feigning innocence.

Logan’s blush burned brighter, his gaze skittering away. Hesitantly, he let his mouth close, his lips wrapping around Virgil’s fingers. Just as slow, Virgil pulled back, until only his index and middle fingers were pressing down on Logan’s tongue as he swallowed. Barely dragging them across Logan’s bottom lip, he took his hand back.

There was nothing subtle about it this time; Logan’s lips chased Virgil’s fingers as he pulled away, and Virgil couldn’t have stopped himself from grinning even if he wanted to.

“Good?” he teased.

Dragging his other hand up Logan’s back, Virgil cradled the nape of his neck and Logan shivered.

“Answer me,” said Virgil gently.

“Y-yes,” said Logan, “It… it was good,”

“I’m glad,” said Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t expecting that to be something that made Logan produce a faint, breathy noise and jerk his eyes away again, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Are you done?” said Virgil.

Logan looked baffled, and… maybe a little hurt, actually, and Virgil wondered why for a moment before he realized he’d been very vague.

“With your book?” he elaborated.

Logan relaxed, and then immediately tried to pretend he hadn’t, because he was a very silly Spring.

“For the moment,” he said.

He moved to shut it, but Virgil was faster, plucking it out of Logan’s grip and setting it out of the way on the bedside table.

“Virgil,” said Logan. He sounded like he might be trying for admonishing; Virgil wasn’t convinced.

He plucked another blackberry out of the dish.

“Open,”

And there was that red – one of Logan’s hands clutched at Virgil’s hoodie, the other white-knuckling the blanket.

“You’re so pretty,” said Virgil, almost on accident.

Logan shivered.

“Virgil,” he repeated, already breathless, and Virgil might end up ruining the game if Logan kept looking at him like that.

“Open,” he repeated firmly.

Another press, and the slow drag across Logan’s lip made his eyelids flutter this time. He was all red now, sunlight-warm in Virgil’s arms and pressing up against him. Virgil soothed the back of his neck.

“You looked flushed,” he said sweetly, pressing a slow kiss to the swell of Logan’s cheek. “You should take your shirt off,”

Logan gave the barest eye-roll and a short huff of laughter, but he didn’t hesitate to start fumbling for his buttons.

Virgil followed along. Another kiss to his cheek for the first button, light and chaste. Lower for the second, barely open-mouthed for the third, until when Logan’s shaking hands undid the last one and yanked off the shirt Virgil was sucking a dark bruise onto his chest.

“Please,” said Logan, squirming in Virgil’s lap. Virgil smiled into his skin.

“Please what?”

“Vir-gil,” he whined.

Virgil laid a kiss on the bruise, sitting up.

“You know the rules,” he spoke into Logan’s neck, “You need to ask for the things you want, beloved,”

Logan squirmed a little again, running his thumb across the hem of the hoodie. His tongue darted out to wet his lip, and Virgil barely restrained himself from pressing Logan back into the bed and suckling that tongue into his mouth.

“May I have another, please?” said Logan, quiet and slightly winded.

Pressing a slow kiss to the hinge of Logan’s jaw, Virgil hummed a little when Logan let out a short, pitched moan and arched his back.

“Of course,” Virgil rumbled.

Virgil pressed against Logan’s tongue harder this time, so the fruit burst before Logan closed his mouth. Eyelids fluttering, Logan gasped, his nails scraping at Virgil’s chest through his clothes. The juice stained Virgil’s fingers, and when he took his hand away he smeared it across Logan’s lips.

Virgil had meant to leave it. It was always lovely to make Logan a little messy (or a lot, for that matter) because Virgil knew the list of people who got to see him like that was very short. It was heady, taking him apart and seeing his blissed-out expression while they did it.

But the blackberry juice was purple, Virgil’s color, and Logan was already leaning towards Virgil again, his eyes lidded, and his expression so sweet and open and trusting – Virgil’s beautiful, perfect Seelie, and Virgil couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing him any more than he could have lied about wanting to.

Surging forward, Virgil licked into the wet warmth of Logan’s mouth, the taste of sweet blackberries and florid jasmine blooming on his tongue. Gasping, Logan clutched at Virgil’s shoulders, and then let out a sigh of contentment when Virgil pressed him back into the sheets.

“Please, please keep touching me,” Logan pleaded into his mouth.

Wrapping his hand around Logan’s thigh, Virgil rolled his hips forward.

Logan keened, rutting against him, and Virgil’s voice came out in a startling low growl.

“So good,” he murmured into Logan’s ear, punctuating it with a sharp nip to his earlobe that made Logan’s hips stutter.

“So good for me, asking for what you want, tell me-”

“More,” Logan panted, “Please, more, please, Virgil-”

“More what?” Virgil teased, “Harder? Faster? Do you want to make you cum like this, just grinding on my thigh?”

Logan made a choked off noise.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” said Virgil, licking a stripe up the column of Logan’s neck. “Maybe I’ll watch you come undone just like this, is that what you want?”

“I-”

Logan swallowed, clinging to Virgil’s shoulders like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Please touch my cock,” He blurted, “I want- I want your hand on me-”

Virgil cut off the end of his sentence with a short, rough kiss before leaning back just enough to get at the buttons of Logan’s pants.

It was more difficult than it ought to be – mostly because Logan couldn’t seem to hold still. When Virgil had him stripped, he sat back on his heels, running one of his hands up the outside of Logan’s hip and trailing his fingers up the sensitive inner skin of the other thigh.

Logan suddenly lurched up, and when Virgil looked back at his face it was almost dizzying. His cheeks blooming with color and his skin dewy with sweat, his irises a razor-thin ring of silver around huge night-black pupils, Logan was so beautiful that for a moment Virgil thought he would melt right there, done in by the loveliest spring thaw that ever graced the earth. He doubted he’d even have complained.

“U-up-”

Lacing his fingers with Virgil’s at his hip, Logan tugged gently.

“Up here?” he said quietly, “I- I want to kiss you, please,”

Virgil moved so quickly Logan must not have seen him, because he looked a little startled as Virgil hovered over him.

Virgil kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Of course,” he said. If his voice was a little thicker than it had been, Logan didn’t say anything.

Logan sighed into the kiss, his breath like warm May air in Virgil’s lungs. Wrapping his hand around Logan’s straining cock, Virgil ran his thumb across the head, gathering the beading precum there and starting slow, firm strokes.

The kiss stayed soft. Virgil swallowed every gasp, drank every sigh, until Logan was only panting against Virgil’s lips, open-mouthed and tasting of sunbeams and fading blackberry as Virgil sent him over the edge with a twist of his wrist.

Logan’s mouth fell open in a soundless oh, his back arching and his hands clutching so tight at Virgil’s shoulders that Virgil could feel the little half-moons Logan’s nails were leaving behind even through his shirt and hoodie.

Sometimes Logan liked for Virgil to overdo it a little, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood. Whimpering, he pushed at Virgil’s hand until he stilled.

Trailed his hand through the cum painting Logan’s stomach, Virgil smiled when Logan wrinkled his nose a little.

“I’m messy,” he muttered at Virgil tipped to the side and reached for the bedside drawer.

“You love it,” Virgil said simply. Logan huffed.

As soon as Virgil turned back to him, with one of the soft cloths they kept close for just such occasions, Logan tried to press up against him. Virgil gave him a little peck.

“Be patient,” he said, “You hate when it dries,”

Logan hesitated, but then he stilled.

Virgil cleaned him up, and by the time he was done Logan was looking slightly more coherent.

“Better?”

Smiling a little, Logan nodded, tucking himself into Virgil’s side.

“I would...”

He trailed off, and Virgil waited for a few moments before kissing him on the forehead.

“Would what?” he prompted.

“I would… like to go again,” said Logan, eye focused firmly on Virgil’s neckline, “If you give me a minute,”

“No rush,” said Virgil, shrugging.

“But you didn’t...”

Virgil reached up and titled Logan’s head back, kissing him a little slower.

“No-”

Another kiss.

“-Rush,”

Logan frowned, a little petulant. Virgil rolled his eyes a little.

“Some of us are patient,” he said teasingly.

He flicked one of Logan’s faintly shimmering locks of hair.

“And maybe I just want to watch my pretty Seelie glow for a little while,”

Logan sputtered.

“Oh my- Virgil,”

“What?” Virgil replied, “You’re gorgeous and shining and I could look at you for hours,”

Logan whined, hiding his face against Virgil’s throat. He was already squirming again, though only barely. Virgil grinned into his hair.

“So no, I have no complaints,” he said, kissing the top of Logan’s head.

Logan blew out a breath, leaning back again, but keeping his eyes trained on Virgil’s collar. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was thinking something over.

“What?” Virgil prompted.

Logan fiddled with one of the strings of the hoodie.

“You-”

He cleared his throat.

“You did take very good care of me,” he said quietly, “Thank you,”

Virgil froze, all his breath leaving him at once.

Logan looked a little startled, and even more so when Virgil sat up suddenly and started pulling his hoodie off.

“What did I-”

“Put this on,” said Virgil, draping it across Logan’s naked chest.

“Um,” said Logan, sitting up as well. “Why?”

Leaning over, Virgil pressed his mouth against Logan’s ear, relishing the way Logan leaned into it, his breath already shaky again.

“Because I’m going to fuck you while you wear it,” he purred.

Logan shuddered, smiling against Virgil’s jaw.

“Please do,”

---

ko-fi

#not safe for sanders #still dont know how to tag smut on tumblr #this is probably not a good posting time BUT im cleaning the house tomorrow and will Forget

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drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Pinned Down

masterlist request guidelines please give me requests i’m begging you i love them so dearly

pairing: draco x hermione

request: yes! thank you, i think i know who sent this in ;)

summary: draco fails a transfiguration exam in 6th year. hermione is tasked with tutoring him for the next exam against her wishes. this imagine takes place during one of their study sessions. i’ll try and keep this as in character as possible so there isn’t going to be that much fluff...but i’ll do what i can since the request wanted fluff. they aren’t dating. ok coming back to this they literally go AT each other so it’s hardly fluffy i’m so so so so sorry to the person who requested this i butchered the request so hard

warnings: mature language (probably), draco being a git, also draco and hermione literally fight each other

a/n: i was plannign on getting 2 requests out today but unfortunately my internet went out for the majority of the day and i was unable to write the other one that i wanted. i’m gonna be busy as hellll tomorrow so i won’t have another fic out until thurs/fri.

music recs: i’m listening to the pride and prejudice soundtrack (it’s my favorite guilty pleasure movie). i never thought that i’d write a fight scene to pride and prejudice piano music but here we are

word count: 4,616

“...and if you wouldn’t mind staying for a minute or so after, Miss Granger, I’d like to have a word with you.”

Hermione was just about done clearing her things off her desk as she heard Professor McGonagall utter her last sentiment. She waited for the room to clear out, waving goodbye to Ron and Harry as they left the room. Ron grinned and allowed himself to be dragged away by Lavender Brown, leaving Hermione with a rather sick taste in her mouth.

When the classroom was empty, she approached the head of her house who sat at her desk, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

“Yes, Professor?”

Hermione noted that a graded exam was on the desk in front of her Transfiguration professor, all marked up in red ink and clearly not very well done.

“Merlin, that’s not mine, is it?”

McGonagall allowed a small smile to lift up her thin pressed lips.

“Quite the contrary, Miss Granger. As usual, you passed with flying colors.” She spun the parchment around, a giant P for Poor scrawled up in the corner. “This student, on the other hand, has experienced quite a large drop from his usual performance, and...I’m rather concerned for him, I must confess.”

Hermione noted that McGonagall was covering the elegantly penned name in the upper left corner and wondered if it was purposeful.

“If I am to be so bold,” she prodded, “I’d assume that you’d like for me to tutor this...student.”

Her professor nodded.

“Only if your schedule allows, of course. If you’re able, I would be very thankful.” McGonagall seemed unusually wary about asking Hermione for tutoring. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before--she tutored problem students all the time, and McGonagall never hesitated to ask her for her free assistance. Often, her work wasn’t truly free--McGonagall tended to gift her different books that weren’t in the library that she herself enjoyed. It was, without a doubt, a sweet deal for the young scholar.

“Of course I am, Professor!” Hermione frowned, picking at one of her cuticles thoughtfully. “But if I may ask, why are you so hesitant? Normally you don’t think twice about asking me to tutor.”

Instead of answering, McGonagall moved her hand, revealing the name on the failed exam sheet..

“You want me to tutor Malfoy?”

♥♥♥♥

It had taken her some convincing, but after McGonagall promised her an uncommon edition of a book she couldn’t find in the library, she had no choice but to accept.

The old witch seemed to understand that she was upset and felt uncomfortable with the arrangement, but McGonagall let her know to remind Malfoy that if he didn’t accept her help, McGonagall would refuse to let him pass her class.

What Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around was the fact that Draco Malfoy, a smart wizard in his own right, was failing Transfiguration exams. He was always directly behind her in her class ranking, and even further, he had grown up in a wizarding household, so when he went home, he was still surrounded by magic. By all means, he had no excuse for failing exams with that intellect of his, as much as she hated to admit it.

It was all unnerving, really. Harry’s suspicions of Malfoy being a Death Eater were slowly becoming more reasonable as the year went on. Hermione had watched Malfoy sit in isolation at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, barely eating anything and staring off into space.

He hadn’t verbally attacked her for quite a while. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had a conversation with the pureblood, and she couldn’t tell if that made her feel better or worse about him. Something was definitely up. She could only hope that he had come to his senses and realized that the side his family was on was the wrong one, but that was wishful thinking.

McGonagall had arranged for their very first meeting to occur on the following Thursday in the evening, just after dinner. She savored the moments at the Gryffindor table, hanging out with her friends and praying that Malfoy wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Unfortunately, she caught a few glints of the low lighting of the hall reflecting off of a head of white blonde hair. She noted that his head was bowed and he looked awkward and anxious. He was sitting suspiciously far off from his burly Slytherin quidditch friends that he normally surrounded himself with at meals. Even Zabini, Nott, and Parkinson, his personal friends, were nowhere to be seen.

She was ashamed to admit that she knew that much about him. In all honesty, it was a kind of guilty pleasure of hers to appreciate his aesthetic qualities. She downright knew that he was the worst person to date and didn’t fancy ever having to hold a conversation with him longer than she was forced to, but by all means, he was attractive when he wasn’t running his fat mouth. Malfoy was a helpful distraction from the fact that Ron was sticking his tongue down Lavender’s throat on a regular and--ugh--very public basis. There was some comfort in knowing that they weren’t going anywhere, and that they were never even going to be a thing.

As Hermione was treated to a full view of Ron and Lavender going at it, she suddenly felt thankful that she’d have an excuse to get out of her common room for the evening.

♥♥♥♥

Ouch.

The quill Hermione had been rubbing in between her fingers nicked her thumb, causing her to jump up as she saw the pearls of red come to the surface of her thumb.

Shit she murmured, pressing the pad of the wounded finger into her black robes as she sat, waiting for the Slytherin boy to show up. His failed Transfiguration exam lay in front of her and she was spending her time studying it nervously, trying to pinpoint what exactly he was having trouble with. It was embarrassing, but she was actually a little on edge about meeting Malfoy. The more she had thought about it, she hadn’t spoken to him since 5th year. He’d left her alone since the start of term, something that made her wonder what exactly he was spending his precious time on.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cold, elite drawl pulled Hermione’s eyes up to meet the frigid silver ones of Malfoy. He stared down at her with an uninterested and unbothered look, one eyebrow arched and his pale, rosebud colored lips pressed together in an unimpressed line.

“I know, a P? Pretty low, even for you, Malfoy.” Hermione addressed him in a similar fashion, hoping that her features would harden like his did.

“I’m not referring to that,” he snapped back. “I’m expressing my shock that McGonagall thought that out of all of the students in her god-forsaken classroom, you were the one worthy of tutoring me.”

“A bit of an insult, don’t you think?’ Hermione quipped. He really hadn’t changed.

“To me, yeah.” Malfoy snorted, slamming his textbook down on the table and sending her a cold glare. “If I pay you, will you just tell her that I’m the best student you’ve ever had and that I’m not giving you any trouble? I have better things to do than waste my time with you.”

Hermione bristled up.

“I don’t want your filthy money, Malfoy,” she spat. “Don’t push me, I’ll punch you again, and this time Harry and Ron aren’t here to hold me back, so there’s no telling what I’ll do to you.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, bringing a pale hand up to grab the corner of the table and lean in closer to her.

“You have no idea what you’re messing with,” he growled. “Take the money. Do as I say.”

“As I said,” Hermione rebuked, “I don’t want your money. I’m here to do what McGonagall asked me to do, not to accept your petty bribes.”

“Let me rephrase myself,” Malfoy muttered, getting in her face. “Forget about the money. I’m not being nice anymore. Do as I say, or there’ll be consequences.”

Hermione scoffed, whipping out her wand.

“I’m going to count to three, Malfoy, and if you don’t sit down and start behaving, you’re going to need a trip to the hospital wing.” She pressed it into the soft part of his neck, watching as the skin pressed in to accommodate the wooden tip.

“Is there a problem here, Miss Granger?”

She spun around to see Professor Snape glaring at the two, holding a few books under his black-clad arm.

“No, Professor,” they both chorused. Hermione hid her wand and prayed that he didn’t see it.

“You two are being awfully obnoxious,” Snape stated, stretching each syllable out in that horrid nasal tone of his. “I’d hate for you to call any more attention to yourselves.”

With that, Snape turned and was on his merry way to wherever greasy men go after criticizing children, and Hermione looked back to see an especially pale Malfoy sitting in the chair next to her, looking perfectly civil.

“Let’s begin, then,” he ordered, pulling out a quill. “I don’t want to disturb anyone else in the library.”

♥♥♥♥

Malfoy was smart, sure. But as the tutoring session continued, Hermione began to realize just how much he didn’t know about Transfiguration.

“And how was I supposed to know that?” Malfoy exclaimed as Hermione went over one of his incorrect answers.

“Drac--Malfoy, we went over that during the second week of school. If you’d been paying any attention, you would’ve heard.” Hermione was baffled at his lack of diligence this year. “What happened to you? You’ve completely mentally checked out of this class, why?”

“None of your business, Granger,” he snapped. “Some of us have better things to do than this pathetic nonsense.” Malfoy spat out the last few words in his typical fashion, proving to Hermione once again that he really was the same boy who called her a mudblood relentlessly in the past.

His stomach suddenly growled loudly, interrupting the charged silence in between the two of them.

“You have better things to do than eat too?” Her tone came out a little more scathing than she meant it to, but at the same time, she didn’t mind all that much. Hermione just hoped that he knew she was asking out of spite, not concern.

“I’m busy.”

“With what, exactly?”

Malfoy glared at her with such a venomous look that even her Gryffindor bravery yelled at her to run.

“None. Of. Your. Business.” He leaned back over the table again, purposefully breaching her personal space. Unfortunately, Malfoy was much taller than Hermione. She was left with the amusing thought that she’d been able to deck him in 3rd year before she hit her own growth spurt.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked, his lips curling up to deepen his scowl. “What’s so funny?”

Hermione couldn’t hold back a little laugh as her mind treated her to a full trip down memory lane.

“Oh, nothing, just remembering how...” she snorted, a noise she would normally be embarrassed with but no longer cared about, “...how...scared you looked in 3rd year when I...when I punched you, you looked like you were about to cry...”

She attempted to calm her laughing attack but failed, only gulping in another breath of air before chuckling again. “You have no idea how funny that was...oh my god...”

Malfoy’s pale face had turned a special shade of carnation pink.

“...and now you think that you can scare me...”

Hermione cackled once more, bracing herself by placing her hand on the table.

“It’s just....you’re just so...”

She burst into laughter, no longer holding back, clutching her side and doubling over.

“Oh my god...just...what are you gonna do, transfigure me into a Hippogriff and try and get me executed? You can’t, because you got a....” she snorted again. “You got a P on the exam! I’m so...I’m so scared...”

She managed to get the punchline out before erupting back into a laughing fit, eventually bringing her sleeve up to wipe her eyes before calming back down.

Malfoy was now tinged completely pink, his silver eyes standing out against his flushed skin.

“Think that’s funny, huh?”

“No matter. I’m supposed to be tutoring you, so let’s get on with it.”

His stomach growled again, interrupting her train of thought as she scanned his exam over one more time.

“Did you eat anything this evening?”

“No, Mum, and regardless, it’s absolutely none of your fucking business.”

Hermione shot him a threatening look as she tried to plot her next move. She still needed to look over the last portion of the exam with him as it would be retested on this next one, but he was also still rusty on some of the incanta--

His stomach sounded one more time, interrupting her train of thought.

“That’s it,” she snapped, jumping to her feet and grabbing his arm. “We’re going on a field trip.”

“Don’t touch me!” he hissed, trying to pry his arm from her grip. She refused to give in.

“No, you’re coming with me, and I am not letting you run off,” she retorted, holding on tight to the upper part of his left arm.

“What the fuck is a field trip?” he asked as she dragged him down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchens.

“Muggle thing,” she muttered. “I’m taking you to the kitchens so your stomach will shut up.”

“First of all,” he began, “why do you care? Second of all, they’re not going to give you any food, you know. I’ve tried this before.”

“Probably because you’re a huge ass to them,” she responded, tugging him along when he lagged behind. “And as for why: I can’t focus on helping you when your stomach sounds like an airplane taking off, and if you fail the next exam, McGonagall will be disappointed in me, so I want to help you.”

He scowled, or at least, he deepened the preexisting one. She couldn’t quite tell. They walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again.

“What’s an airplane?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Hermione grumbled as they neared the entrance of the kitchens. “Next, I’m gonna have to tutor you in Muggle Studies as well.”

She cast his question aside, dragging him inside and greeting the first house elf she saw. Hermione knew him well, and he brightened as he saw her.

“Miss Granger!” he greeted her. “How can I be of service?”

Hermione turned to Malfoy.

“What do you want?”

He rolled his eyes.

“The roast we were having tonight. The squash as well. Also, tea.”

Hermione turned back to the house elf, relaying his wishes before turning back to him. She became uncomfortably aware of the fact that she still had Malfoy’s arm in a death grip and released it, watching as the fabric she had been squeezing bounced back to its original position.

She allowed her gaze to travel down to the bottom of his sleeve and sucked in a breath at what she saw. From her insistent tugging, the white fabric had ridden up a tiny bit, exposing some of his forearm. If she looked closely, she could see a tiny bit of what looked like a tattoo on the inside of his arm.

Draco must’ve heard her as he whipped back around to look at her, following her line of sight to his arm.

He stared back at her frozen expression, unsure of what to do. Normally, he glamoured his Dark Mark and never had an issue with it, so he had been careless recently. It was late, though, and the concealment spells he used were wearing off.

“Roll up your sleeve, Malfoy,” she demanded, motioning to his left arm.

“Why?” His mind raced as he tried to figure out how to recast a Glamour spell without her seeing, but then again, she was the brightest witch of their age.

He probably wasn’t going to get away with this one. He cursed himself as he remembered that his wand was in his coat pocket, somewhere still in the library.

“You know why.” Her voice cracked. “I thought that for sure Harry was going crazy, but... oh, Merlin...”

Draco swallowed once, twice, three times. He couldn’t show her. If he did, it was over.

Thinking fast, he stepped forward and snatched her wand out of her hand and jumped away from her.

“Malfoy!” she shrieked, lunging at him and tackling him to the ground.

Oh, he was not expecting that.

(a/n: request: tons of fluff please ♥ me: of course i love you! also me: *writes them getting in a physical brawl and considers it fluff*)

“You give me my wand back, you fuck,” she shrieked, straddling him and attempting to reach for her wand, held tightly in his left hand. His arm was stretched as far above his head as possible, making it impossible for her to reach. In a moment of panic, he launched her wand somewhere far behind them and heard it land with a clatter.

Fuck. Hermione looked up to see her wand fall into a pile of rubbish, none of which was going anywhere, but by now it had sank to the bottom of the bin and would require her to dig through it to find it.

She pinned his arms above his head, reveling in the fact that his face looked similar to what he looked like when she nearly hexed him and then punched him.

“Where’s your wand?” she snapped.

“In the library,” he wailed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Can I please go? I’m not hungry anymore. Please, Hermione, I’ll do anything.”

She balked at the fact that he used her first name. He had never done that. Shaking it off, she reached up as far as she could while still straddling his chest and yanked his left sleeve down, exposing the ugly mark in its entirety.

Draco’s eyes snapped open, staring up at her pleadingly as she took in the sight before her. Here she was, sitting on the chest of a Death Eater. Life truly was something.

“Er....”

Hermione had always suspected, but she never knew for sure. Seeing the Dark Mark before her, ugly and writhing on the pale arm of one of her classmates was something entirely different than just theorizing about it.

Draco took a strangled breath below her, shaky and unstable. She finally looked back to his face and was stunned to see tears forming in his eyes.

“I had to.” His voice wavered, like he couldn’t quite pick what pitch he wanted to speak at. “It was because my father couldn’t...”

He sucked in another breath.

“It was a punishment. I had to, or else my family would be killed. I thought it was a rewarding opportunity at first, but it’s a punishment.”

Draco lifted up his head to meet her in the eyes at a better angle.

“Do you believe me?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed a couple times. For the first time in all 6 years of knowing her, Draco saw that she didn’t know what to say.

“No,” she whispered, almost painfully. Her warm brown eyes were narrowed, almost as if herself didn’t buy into her response. “I can’t...trust you, why would I? You’d say anything to get out of this situation unscathed. Even if it means garnering sympathy from the... from the mudblood.”

Draco winced when he heard the slur. For some reason, it sounded more vulgar when it left Hermione’s mouth.

“Yeah, that is true,” he muttered. “But I promise that that I’m being truthful. You can try Veritaserum on me if you’d like.”

“You’re bluffing, Malfoy,” she snapped back, adjusting her hand so she was clutching both his wrists in one hand, freeing her other one. “We both know that I couldn’t possibly gain access to it and corner you again.”

Instead of answering her accusation, he slumped back onto the ground. Hermione stayed frozen in her spot as she felt his frame shake below her. Leaning forward, she peered at his face to see that Draco was crying, thin slivers of salty tears rolling down the sides of his face and wetting his cheeks.

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispered shakily, his voice breaking. “If I get exposed, then I get put on trial and sent to Azkaban. If I get set free, then he’ll be after me since I won’t be able to finish his bidding while I’m on trial...”

Hermione didn’t need clarification as to who he was.

“So what am I supposed to do? Pretend like I just didn’t see it?”

“Yes!” Draco croaked. “Can you...er...”

He paused for a few seconds.

“Can you reach into my pocket? I need a handkerchief.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. This was a whole different world of strange. Against her better judgement, she just reached up her robe sleeve and gently wiped off the wetness on his cheeks.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered, pointing to her thumb. It was only a slight bit, but what was on there had been transferred onto his pale face when she brought her hand to his face.

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered, returning to his face to wipe off the red liquid off his cheeks. “Hate to get mud on you.”

He visibly winced. Hermione didn’t even need to see it to know that it happened--she could feel it below her.

“I don’t really...feel that way anymore,” he confessed. “I’m getting a bit sick of hatred. It’s so draining.”

“Oh, is that why you still talked to me like trash today?”

“I have to keep up appearances.”

Hermione watched as another tear formed in his eye.

“And how long have you felt this way?”

“Oh, probably once I figured out that the man at the center of my belief system is a goddamn homicidal maniac,” Draco muttered. shutting his eyes to coax the tears away.

Hermione couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“You’re right.”

They both sat there for a few moments in complete silence, Hermione attempting to figure out her next move and Draco just waiting for what was to come.

“You’re really not that bad, Hermione,” Draco said out of nowhere.

“Granger,” she corrected. “And thank you, but nice try. I know what you’re trying to do here. False flattery isn’t going to get me to let you go. However, I will concede that if I knew you were this cordial of a prisoner, I would’ve taken you hostage much, much sooner.”

Draco snorted, a funny sight with a few undried tears left on his face.

“I’m hurt. And I wasn’t aware that this was a hostage situation.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do with you, how do I know that you’re not going to run away and kill me in my sleep later on the second I let you go?”

“Why do you insist on insulting my character so much? I’m a git, not a monster.”

“Oh, so you admit it!”

Hermione’s attention was pulled away when she heard the house elf she spoke to before clear his throat.

“Miss Granger, your food is ready.”

She twisted around to see the house elf set a plate of food on the table near them, paying no mind to the scene before him. While she was distracted, Draco took the opportunity to wriggle out of her grasp and pin her down on the ground, effectively swapping places.

Hermione yelped. Draco was much heavier than she was, and his weight was nearly crushing her. He seemed to realize this.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a kind tone settling in his voice that she didn’t think he was capable of.

“Please get off me,” she whispered, his weight making it difficult for her to speak from her chest.

“Oh, now you understand how I felt,” he said triumphantly. “Now that I’ve taken you hostage, you have to agree to my conditions.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh. Sorry.”

He eased up a little, putting more weight on his knees placed on the ground than her chest.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “Fine. I’ll agree, as long as they aren’t too crazy.”

“You don’t really have a choice though, do you?” He crinkled his nose, a glint of something Hermione couldn’t quite place in his eyes.”Okay. You have to promise me that Potter and Weasel aren’t going to hear a word of this. In fact, no one can know. Not anyone. Not McGonagall, not Luna, not Hagrid...no one, okay?”

“And how are you going to hold me to that? Obviously, we’re not going to do an Unbreakable Vow...”

“Obviously,” he echoed. “No, I have no way of knowing. But if you tell anyone about me, know that you’re essentially ordering my death sentence.”

The truth hung between them, heavy and unforgiving. Hermione knew, deep down, that Draco was right.

“So unless you want me dead...”

He wasn’t even pinning anything of hers anymore--he was instead just kneeling over her, his hands supporting his weight on either side of her head. If she wanted to, she could use both her hands to shove him off her like her rational mind wanted her to.

But there was the irrational part of her that, quite frankly, didn’t. Draco was peering deep into her eyes in a way that made her feel things that she was not supposed to be feeling.

“I promise.”

Hermione was always supposed to be in love with Ron. She sometimes thought she was, but she could never shake the feeling that she was meant to be with someone a little more high-strung, someone a little more motivated to achieve their ends. Perhaps...a Slytherin, if blood prejudice was off the table.

And all of a sudden he was right here, leaning over her and close enough for a rebellious strand of wintery blonde hair to tickle her forehead, close enough for her to smell whatever cologne he was wearing. She couldn’t place it, olfactory related skills were never her forté, but whatever it was, it was heavenly. Maybe it wasn’t even cologne--perhaps it was just a mix of shampoo and whatever kind of expensive lotion he used. Regardless, she would consider selling her soul for a vial of cologne that smelled like it.

He had a freckle on his collarbone that she wouldn’t have been able to see had she not tackled him and knocked his tie loose. His face, closer to her than it had any business being, was no longer blotchy pink from crying, returning to its pristine, icy tone.

His eyelashes looked wet still, and he shifted once to quickly wipe away the evidence. Draco stared curiously down at her, his rosy pink lips slightly parted. He had another freckle just above his lip, just light enough for her to see in the low lighting of the closed kitchen.

“Your food is getting cold, Malfoy,” she uttered, breaking the trance.

“Draco,” he corrected her, knitting his eyebrows together and sitting up. “You can call me Draco now.”

“Wow.” The word left her mouth more sarcastically than she would’ve liked. “Thank you...Draco.” His name was easy on the tongue. She could get used to saying it.

He offered her a small smile before finally standing up, giving Hermione the freedom she was never expecting from him.

Draco turned to leave, but not before Hermione grabbed his arm again.

“No, you idiot, I said we came here to get you to eat, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

final a/n: forget the whole “i’m keeping them in character” thing because i literally did not do that at all sorry. maybe i’ll do a second part because i’m a slut for two part stories but i already said i wasn’t going to but also....i kinda liked writing this. sorry if the fight scene was a little weird and unrealistic. also i couldn’t think of a house elf name because i got like 5 hours of sleep last night and don’t feel capable of any critical reasoning right now. also, my internet is down (woooo!) so if i don’t respond to you for some reason or if i don’t reply to comments it’s because i’m too busy living the simple life while i wait for my internet to figure itself out

118 notes · View notes

irrelevantwriter · 5 years

Text

Mommy’s pregnant, Daddy’s sick, and Who’s in the basement?

Pairing: Negan x OFC, Non-apocalyptic AU

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Language, tiny bit of Daddy kink, pregnancy, vaginal fingering, hungover Negan, domestic Negan, lots of fluff

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: Camilla is expecting. Negan is in rare form. And someone decides to show up unannounced.

A/N: Hey guys! This idea would not let me be and I’m not entirely sure why because there is literally nothing to it. I have a writing challenge piece to finish and I could not even touch it without getting this all down. Its fluffy with a dash of smut and hopefully now that it’s out I can get back to more important matters. Read, comment, and re-blog! Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist in bio.

***

Camilla stirred from sleep as a heavy arm tightened around her stomach. The heat radiating off the prone form made her pull away in displeasure. A low groan sounded from behind her, but no movement followed. She smiled softly at the action and went to fall back asleep but a distinct urge to use the bathroom had her throwing the comforter off her body.

Bleary eyes settled on the clock sitting on her nightstand.

8:15 am

It was early for a Sunday morning, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. She padded on bare feet to the bathroom, careful not to wake her slumbering husband. She quickly used the facilities as quietly as possible, briefly noting that her once favorite night shirt was now starting to become tighter around her six month pregnant belly. The shirt actually belonged to her husband, but she’d stolen it years ago and cut the collar out so that it dangled off one shoulder. There was a time it nearly swallowed her, but now, like much of her wardrobe, the article of clothing was being invaded by her unborn child.

She made her way to the kitchen, laughing noiselessly at the man who lay sprawled on his stomach in just his boxers on their bed. The clothes he’d worn last night sat in a messy pile on the floor. It looked as if he’d barely gotten his pants off before he was diving face first into the king sized mattress. His head was turned towards her and she could hear his heavy breaths with random bouts of snoring filling the room. She could swear she saw a small line of drool leave his puckered lips.

Negan had come to bed early in the morning. She’d been jostled awake by his drunken striptease. He almost looked like Woody from Toy Story; his long limbs a hinderance in his altered state. When she’d turned to face him, she could instantly tell he’d been intoxicated. A lazy smirk had adorned his mouth. His cheeks were red with warmth and alcohol, his hair mused from his hands running through it. When he realized he’d woken her up he immediately tried to coax her into a two AM romp…she shut it down, though it was hard for her to do. She was six months pregnant and her hormones were running rampant inside of her body, but she couldn’t stomach the smell of whiskey on his breath or the scent of cigar smoke that clung to his skin. Not to mention the bastard had passed out when he’d been edging a thick finger past her panties.

Camilla scoffed at the memory as she put on a pot of coffee for her most likely hungover spouse. She started on breakfast, knowing Negan would be hungry when he woke. He was the kind of hungover person that needed to eat as much greasy food as possible to cure the sickness. She was more of a water and broth kind of gal when she was nursing a killer hangover, but to each his own. Greasy food just also happened to be what her baby boy was craving that morning, so she happily obliged.

The night before, Negan had hosted his weekly poker night with a few of his friends. The guys gathered in their finished basement, or as Negan liked to call it: ‘Big Daddy Dick’s Dwelling’. It was a heinous name, but anyone who knew Negan knew that it fit his personality (and from personal experience she knew the words to be true). And despite the constant threatening, none of his friends addressed it by the official name. She’d made a comment about changing the name when the baby arrived, but Negan assured her he’d only refer to it as ‘The Dwelling’. The man was persistent.

The smell of cooking bacon and coffee started to penetrate the air and Camilla could feel her mouth start to salivate. Her hunger never seemed to be satiated lately, in the kitchen or bedroom. She whisked eggs together for herself, but set two aside for Negan since he liked his over-easy. Hash browns sizzled in a pan next to the bacon while two pieces of toast popped from the toaster. She hummed to the radio she’d turned on as she cooked, focused on her mission of feeding her family.

Nearly an hour later a muffled moan from down the hall made her smirk as she cracked Negan’s eggs into the pan. She could hear his heavy feet shuffling as he made his way to her. A pair of thick arms encircled her from behind, large hands coming to rest on her stomach. His chin settled onto her shoulder, his scruff pricking her skin in a familiar manner.

“The dead has risen.” She teased, avoiding the pops of grease from the hot pan below her. He hummed against her, the action making his chest vibrate against her back.

“Fucking barely.” He groaned, his voice still gravelly from sleep and the cigars smoked the night before. It made a shiver travel up her spine. The effect the man had on her seem to triple in size now that she was carrying his child.

She laughed, remembering his actions the night before. Negan didn’t make it a habit of getting drunk. It was a fairly rare occurrence and now Camilla was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought to at least record the spectacle on her phone. The video could’ve been a source of real entertainment for her, as well as blackmail.

“At least you had the forethought to shower before you came to find me. You reeked last night.”

He leaned into her as he moved her dark hair to one side, molding their bodies tighter together as he planted a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. I know how sensitive you get to smells now.” He rubbed her stomach affectionately and she could hear the real apology in his voice.

Since the day she’d found out she was pregnant, Negan had been amazingly supportive of all her pregnancy ailments. He rolled with the punches and accommodated to a lot of things in the early months. She’d had morning sickness for weeks and he’d instantly stocked the fridge with ginger ale. When the smell of cooking beef became too much, he’d stopped buying and cooking the meat until the aversion wore off. She knew how hard that was for him. Negan was a steak man. But he understood she was carrying his child and he was going to make her as comfortable as possible. His words, not hers.

“It’s not so bad anymore. Although we’ll need to wash the sheets. I think whiskey was spewing out of your pores this morning.” She laughed as he released another groan, his large frame cocooning against her as she continued to cook.

“Don’t say whiskey.” He muttered gruffly.

Camilla moved his now cooked eggs to a plate and turned off all the burners. She turned in his arms, her own coming to rest around his neck. The only way she could reach was because he was hunched so far down. His face was a little off in color, but for the most part he appeared relatively normal, save for the miserable look reflecting in his eyes.

“Coffee?”

He nodded and she moved to pour a cup, dressing it the way he liked. Two sugars. No milk or cream. She handed the mug to him and watched as he took a sip, his eyes closing in pleasure.

“Thank you, baby.”

The raspy quality of his voice was doing things to her and she was fighting hard against the urge to let him take her over the counter.

She moved to stand in front of him again, craning her neck upward to meet his gaze. “Did you at least win last night?” She asked, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Fuck no. Rick and Ezekiel cleaned everybody out.” Negan pouted, his hands setting the cup of coffee behind her and coming to rest dangerously low on her back.

She tutted disapprovingly up at him, shaking her head in mock condemnation. “Momma doesn’t like losers.” She provoked, arms encircling his neck once again.

His eyebrows shot up and that gleam she loved so much appeared in his hazel eyes. “Will Momma let me make it up to her?” He asked huskily, his mouth already descending to the bare flesh of her neck.

Camilla allowed him access, unable to fight against the strong attraction her vagina was currently experiencing towards him. He’d come into the kitchen wearing a clean white t-shirt and low-hanging grey sweatpants. He may feel miserable, but he was oozing sex and her hormones were picking up on it.

“Maybe.” She finally breathed out, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as Negan continued to lather her neck with sensual kisses. His hands slid to her ass, pushing her into him gently. She could feel the situation fast-approaching the point of no return and she begrudgingly pulled away.

“Hungry?” She asked, hoping to diffuse the tension. Her question only fueled it.

“Fucking starving.” Negan replied with a lavish lick of his lips, his eyes feasting on her body from top to bottom. The man had a way of making her feel completely naked while fully clothed. It was a real talent.

His hands went to pull her to his lips but she put a hand to his chest to stop him. “I made you breakfast.” She gestured to the food behind her and watched as his eyes took in the feast.

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby…” He trailed off as he kissed her. The kiss represented a different type of desire than the one that’d been present moments before. The kiss was sweet and filled with pure love. It was a thank you; a token of appreciation.

Camilla was breathless once they pulled apart, her fists tangled in the fabric of his shirt. She looked up at him between her lashes and she knew she looked completely dumbstruck.

“God, you are fucking gorgeous.” He whispered with an air of awe. The sincerity and seriousness of his tone made her blush, something she didn’t think she was capable of anymore since being married to Negan.

“You know,” She started, hands caressing the salt and pepper scruffiness that adorned his cheek. “This is exactly how I got pregnant. You flattering me and me letting you ravage me all over this house.”

He chuckled at her words. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Except at winning poker.” She quipped with a smirk, enjoying his reaction. His eyebrow rose in amusement and surprise, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek.

“You’re full of jokes today, aren’t you?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he was hovering dangerously close to her lips. “I guess I still got some making up to do with Momma so I’ll let it slide.”

She smiled up at him, feeling his hands start to pull at the shirt she wore. His calloused hands felt delicious against her skin as he caressed her thighs. Again the situation was veering off course, but she was tired of fighting it. If she wanted to fuck her husband multiple times a day and accomplish nothing else, then she was fucking going to. He’d just have to adjust and keep up, you know, for the baby.

“Seeing you carrying my kid has made me the horniest son of a bitch.” He mumbled against her neck. Camilla moaned, her body receiving his attention willingly; nearly begging for it. It was as if he hadn’t just fucked her into oblivion the day before, which he had.

“Carrying your kid has made me the horniest son of a bitch.” She retorted breathlessly. Her hands moved under the fabric of his shirt, eager to feel bare flesh. He was solid where she was soft. He was hard edges where she was delicate curves. They complimented each other and yet, in many ways they were the same.

“Filthy fucking mouth on you…” He teasingly chastised, catching her earlobe between his teeth.

“You love it.”

He thrust his hips into her, letting her feel how true her words were. She hitched her leg around his waist, eager to feel the friction. He aided her movements by holding her against him and rutting into her.

“Fuck…” She trailed off, her sensitive body already building to that familiar crescendo. Negan loved how easily responsive her body had gotten during pregnancy and he often liked to test that by making her cum multiple times. It was fun for everyone.

A thick finger eased under the waistband of her panties, reminding her of his unfinished task the night before. She gripped his wrist and placed his finger at her entrance, her hips rocking forward to take him in.

“Impatient?” He goaded. Even in his hungover state, Negan made sure he tortured her. He got off on seeing her in such a blissed out state. She felt much the same where it concerned him, but patience was not a virtue for her as of late.

Camilla sighed in frustration as he traced her flesh, unwilling to go deeper and give her what she so desperately craved.

“Negan-,” She whined, unashamed of her attitude. He knew what he was doing.

“I love how fucking wet you get for me.” He growled as he relented and pushed past her lips to massage her soaked walls. A moan flew from her lips, loud and almost comically enthusiastic.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as he worked her over the way she liked. Since being pregnant, she found that the need for foreplay was useless and she much preferred Negan to go hard and fast. She craved the finish without extra theatrics. And Negan being Negan, happily obliged his darling wife.

A sudden low groan and shuffling of footsteps penetrated through Camilla’s lust-fueled fog. She tried hard to concentrate on the sounds, thinking she’d made a mistake. Negan seemed none the wiser, his fingers still fucking her with ridiculous precision. Her eyes searched beyond his shoulders for the source and she caught a shadow walking towards the kitchen. She yelped and pushed at Negan’s shoulders, trying to alert him to their intruder.

“Holy shit…”

It was another groan, as if someone was in pain. Camilla realized she knew that voice and before she could pull Negan’s hand from her underwear, Simon was standing at the entryway. His clothes were rumpled and somewhat askew, as if he’d slept in them. His hair was sitting at odd angles and his skin held the same pallor Negan’s had moments before.

He didn’t seem to catch on to what he’d walked in on. One hand was rubbing at his eyes, the other holding his head as if he was in agony. Camilla was thankful of his cluelessness as she and Negan adjusted their clothes. He pulled her to stand in front of him and she rolled her eyes upon feeling his raging hard-on poke her lower back.

“Simon, what the fuck?” Negan bellowed. He was pissed and Camilla noted she was only slightly turned on by that fact. Give it time and she knew she’d be a puddle.

Simon startled at Negan’s booming voice, both eyes now wide open and alert. He looked around in confusion, his ruffled moustache making him look like a character from the Three Stooges.

“Not so loud.” Simon grumbled, cradling his head again.

“What are you doing here, asshole? How the fuck did you get in?” Negan fired back, his voice only getting louder as he spoke. Camilla put a calming hand on his arm as she stepped back, finally able to move now that her husband’s erection was gone.

“What’d you mean?” Simon asked with bewilderment, his voice ravaged by sleep and tobacco as well.

He looked hilarious in his disheveled state and Camilla struggled not to giggle. The situation almost seemed like a glimpse into the future with their family, minus the half-balding man child. Negan was in full parent mode and Camilla was trying hard to focus on why Simon was randomly in their house and not on how sexy Negan sounded reprimanding his friend.

“What do I mean?” Negan mimicked back angrily. “What the fuck are you doing here at nine in the fucking morning?”

Simon held out his arms in surrender, obviously still confused by his friend’s strong reaction to his presence. His eyes flicked to Camilla in hopes that she’d offer some assistance. She imagined she gave the same puzzled expression he wore because he went back to trying to calm her husband.

“You said I could stay. Last night.”

The words seemed to jog something for Negan because he instantly shut up. She could see he was struggling to piece the previous night together. His jaw unclenched and his tongue did that thing where it darted out and wet his lips. It’s his normal go-to move for seduction, but Camilla had noticed over the years that he also did it when he was concentrating hard on something. It was adorable.

“I got pretty hammered and you said I could crash on the sofa bed downstairs.” Simon explained, his words finally seeming to spark something in Negan.

“Shit…” He breathed out, hazel eyes meeting her onyx gaze. She could tell he thought he was in trouble, and normally he probably would’ve been. But for some ungodly reason, Camilla found the whole thing humorous.

“So let me get this straight,” She started, eyeing both men with amusement. “You both got so plastered that you-,” She pointed to Negan. “Forgot that you invited him-,” She pointed to Simon. “To stay the night in our basement.” She finished, eyes darting between the two men.

Negan had the audacity to look slightly sheepish. “Sounds about right.” He admitted, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily. “Fuck, sorry baby.”

“Yeah, sorry Camilla.” Simon chimed in. To his credit he did look apologetic, even though it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s fine.” She waved them off with a laugh, but eyed Negan with a look that said he still had some groveling to do.

“I should head out.” Simon interrupted, suddenly looking embarrassed by the situation. He went to leave, but Camilla stopped him.

“No, stay. I made breakfast and you should eat before you drive.” She demanded, unwilling to take no for an answer. He looked to Negan, as if for confirmation but Camilla interjected. “Get Simon a cup of coffee, will you?” She directed to Negan. He knew better than to say otherwise and moved to the cupboard for a mug. Seemed like she had the parent thing down too.

“Stay, Simon. Have a cup of coffee. A bite to eat. Say your goodbyes. Because my wife is going to kick my ass once you leave.” Negan joked, though she could see he was half serious.

Simon chuckled and moved to sit at their dining table, gratefully accepting the warm coffee Negan handed to him.

Camilla scoffed and shoved at Negan’s shoulder. “Overdramatic much?” She teased as she moved to make Simon a plate of food, turning the burners on once again so she could scrounge up more for herself. She went to start about cooking again when she belatedly noticed what she was wearing. Suddenly, the length of her shirt felt too short and the tightness across her belly and breasts felt too revealing.

“Ummm...I’m gonna go change first.” She announced, garnering the attention of the two men sitting at the table. Negan seemed to catch on to her sudden awkwardness and jumped into action.

“Have some fucking respect, man. Close your eyes.” Negan admonished with a light shove to Simon’s shoulder. Camilla shook her head. Discreet her husband was not.

“Not necessary now, Negan.” She deadpanned, but Simon was already holding a hand to his face to shield his eyes.

“Sorry!” Simon called out, looking ridiculous with half his face blocked from view. The image made her laugh.

“No worries. I’m gonna go change. You guys help yourself.” She gestured to the food and moved towards their bedroom. She could hear Negan get up and say something before he was following her down the hall.

“Need help?”

Camilla pulled off her night shirt and started to put on a black bra. She turned to answer her husband who was leaning in the doorway looking sexy as fuck.

“Sure.”

She turned her back towards him and waited. His footsteps moved closer until he was standing with his chest practically pressed against her back. His warm hands pulled the two halves of her bra together, clipping the clasps in a few swift movements. She adjusted her ever-growing breasts in the cups and turned to face him.

“Thanks.”

He was eyeing her with a glint in his orbs that made her thighs clench. He knew he had some recent missteps and he was apparently going to try to make it up to her now.

“I’m sorry for being a drunk piece of shit last night.” He apologized as he reached for her. She let him pull her in his arms, soaking up his affection like a house cat.

“I’m not mad, Negan. I’m annoyed. And it’s not because you got drunk.” Camilla explained against his wide chest. He pulled her chin so that her face was angled towards his, her lips ripe for the taking.

His questioning gaze made her continue on.

“Do you know what it does to a pregnant woman when you don’t finish what you start?”

Again he said nothing, but his eyes lit up and his lips cracked a wide grin.

“You can’t do that to me! I’m ready to cum if I sneeze at this point.” She grumbled, not liking the way he was finding amusement in her pain. Though she supposed she deserved it for her teasing of him earlier. Karma was in fact a real bitch.

“Oh my poor nymphomaniac…” Negan cooed, his hands cradling her head against his chest like he was comforting her.

“Not funny, dick.” She pushed away from him and went to finish getting dressed when he tugged her to him. He caught her just before she slammed against him, but it was enough to throw her off balance. His hands were suddenly everywhere. One was palming her ass while the other made its way under the lace of her panties and into her depths.

“Daddy owes you one.” He taunted, two fingers deep in her pussy while another teased her clit. She dug her nails into his shoulders, making sure he felt the sting of pain. He did.

“Negan,” She began, unable to focus on stringing her words together. “Simon is in…fuck…” She felt her walls start to flutter around his fingers, felt his lips suction against her heaving breast, felt his hand dig into the flesh of her ass.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Lemme take care of you.”

His words set her off. She froze and tightened around him, sparks of light dancing behind her eyelids. His smell engulfed her. His touch set her on fire. His voice encouraged her. She was finally reaching that crescendo that’d been just out of reach. Her muscles spasmed and Negan’s hot breath in her ear made her whimper, her walls soaking him to capacity.

“Goddamn…I’ll never get sick of seeing you like that.” He mumbled against her now flushed skin, his grip loosening. He gently eased out of her, careful of how sensitive she was.

Camilla gasped at the loss of him, but felt her insides hum with life again when he licked himself clean of her.

“Bastard.” She said in faux aggravation. His teasing was merciless and she planned on making him pay for his sins later.

“Aw…you say the sweetest things to me.” He laughed, mirth dancing in his eyes. “No thank you?”

Camilla pouted her lips, her signal to let him know she wanted a kiss. He delivered. His tongue danced with hers, her lips devouring his like he was the sweetest chocolate to hit her taste buds. Her fingers ran through his hair and she nibbled on his lip just the way he liked. He responded by rubbing against her, his dick hard and ready to feel her clasping at him.

They pulled apart and Camilla mentally patted herself on the back when she saw the goofy look Negan was wearing.

“Thank you.” She said, lips now swollen and chaffed from his stubble. She walked around him and picked out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to change into.

“Smartass.” Negan retorted, eyes watching her dress like he hadn’t just finger fucked her minutes before.

She smiled triumphantly as she pulled her shirt over her head, ignoring the way he feasted on her half-dressed body. Being pregnant was certainly having an effect on her husband’s libido too. You’d think he had pregnancy hormones coursing his veins.

She finished dressing and turned to face him, waving him towards the door. “Come on. Your son is hungry.”

Negan immediately attached himself to her rounded stomach, caressing her flesh as if their son was already in his arms.

“You sit and I’ll make you a plate.” He gently demanded. Camilla wasn’t going to argue, especially when her heart still stuttered after he said and did such sweet things for her.

They walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen, but upon turning the corner they found the room empty.

“Where’d he go?” She asked, though she knew her husband had about as much of an idea as she did.

Negan walked to the table where Simon had been sitting and grabbed a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed. She watched as he read whatever words were printed on the sheet before laughing heartily.

“What’s it say? Is it from Simon?” She questioned, eager to know what he found so funny. He handed her the note and she read it silently.

Took a plate to go. You guys took too long and by the sounds Camilla was making, I’m guessing you didn’t need me to stick around anyways. Thanks for letting me crash and the food.

Camilla wanted to be mortified, but couldn’t conjure up the emotion. Instead, she laughed along with Negan, clutching the paper to her chest.

“Oh my god…” She said between giggles.

“Well, guess he got more than he fucking bargained for.” Negan chuckled, pulling Camilla with him onto his lap as he sat in a chair.

“Guess so.” She agreed, nestling herself into Negan’s chest and neck. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy and her limbs felt utterly relaxed. Negan’s hand in her hair didn’t help matters either. His heartbeat sounded beneath her, the warmth of him further soothing her.

“Need a nap?” His chest rumbled against her as he spoke. She was tired, but the promise of food still kept her conscious.

“Food first.” She mumbled, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt. They sat in comfortable silence until a movement within her belly made her smile. She wordlessly placed Negan’s hand on the spot where their child was making his presence known. She didn’t have to look up to see the smile that adorned his face. She could feel it. She had the image painted in her mind for eternity.

“I fucking love you. Both of you.”

Camilla squeezed his hand that sat beneath hers. Her heart felt like it doubled in size in that moment. As hot as the fire of desire burned for him, the extent of their love was immeasurable. It was what made their two souls partners in life. It was what had made a family.

“I love you too.”

#negan x ofc #negan fanfiction #negan fic #twd negan #the walking dead negan

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