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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

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bigasswritingmagnet · 4 years ago

Text

Uncle Bob

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: G Summary: Bob Zanotto does have roots, if he'd like to reconnect to them. Lili has a plant question, and Bob's got an answer.

"Ok, see the bolt your hand is on?" Helmut asked.

"Yes..."

"Not that one. Go left. Left. Left. More left. Less left--"

Bob looked away from the block of grease and rust that was the Feel Mobile's engine, and leveled a flat stare to the brain ball beside him.

"You mean right?" Bob said. It was hard to feel annoyed or upset with someone when you forgot how to breathe every time you remembered that they were alive, but he was definitely about to manage some exasperation.

"This would be so much easier if I had hands. I could just point!"

"Helmut, if you had hands, you could do this yourself," Bob said. "Why don't you wait until we get back from Grulovia?"

"I can't wait that long! Look at the state it's in!" The ball rolled forward until it thunked gently against the side of the bus. "My baby."

"What if you got Otto to help you instead?"

"Oh no no no, not while I don't have the hands to stop him from making "improvements" while he's in there."

Bob had to give him that one.

"We can do this!" Helmut insisted, with such enthusiasm Bob couldn't help but smile. "We're a great team. Just put your hand back where it was and move it very slowly left until I say stop."

"Hey guys!" Rescue came in the shape of Raz rounding the corner and waving. "Whatcha doin'?"

"We're fixing the Feel Mobile!"

"We are trying to fix the Feel Mobile," Bob corrected. "But I don't know anything about engines, and Helmut doesn't have hands. It's a process."

"Fortunately, I am excellent at instructions," Helmut said. "Just because I don't have eyes doesn't mean I can't see you rolling yours, Bobby."

"What brings you out to our neck of the woods?" Bob asked.

"We had a plant question," Raz said, triumphantly. There was a brief pause.

"Is that the royal 'we', or...?" Helmut asked.

Raz looked at the empty space at his left. He looked at the empty space at his right. He looked back up the way he came. He gave Bob a slightly embarrassed smile and held up a finger, backing away.

"Gimme one second."

Bob tossed the wrench into the tool kit and stood, a process that was a lot more involved than it used to be.

"Jeez, you sound so old," Helmut teased.

"I am old, you--" The words cut off short, caught in Bob's throat at the flash of dark pigtails zipping back behind a tree. Bob looked away, wiping his hands off on a rag, but he couldn't stop Raz's words from drifting into his ears. The kid had lowered his voice, but not low enough.

"You can't be shy, you're you. ...What? ...Why wouldn't he?"

"Bobby?" Helmut asked, softly.

"It's Truman's daughter," Bob said, gruffly, focusing very hard on getting the grease out from around his nailbeds.

"Oh."

What must she think of him? The last time he'd seen her she wasn't even walking yet. She'd only know him as the crazy old hermit who lived on top of a thorn tower and hated everyone. Or worse, as the drunken mess who screwed up so many missions his own nephew had had to put him out to pasture before he got somebody killed--

Something bonked insistently against his ankle.

"Hey. Hey. Stop that," Helmut ordered. "You're great and she'll love you."

"But--"

Another bonk, this one so hard it actually hurt.

"You're. Great. And. She'll. Love. You."

"Of course he'll like you! ...My psychic senses tell me so. ...It'll be fine, I promise."

Lili stepped out from behind the tree. She looked exactly like the pictures Truman had sent, minus the usual glazed look that came with a school photo. She was clutching a terracotta pot to her chest, one far too large for the sullen, drooping stalks that protruded from it.

"Hey there!" Bob said, trying to sound as cheerful and un-evil-hermit-that-lives-in-the-woods as possible. She approached slowly, but at least didn't look like she was on the verge of running away.

"Hi," she said, softly. "Um...Raz said you might be able to help me with my amaryllis. I've been trying to get it to bloom again. I let it go dormant twice, but it still won't put out any buds."

Bob reached out, and then hesitated. Lili released the pot, which floated over to Bob and hovered. Bob examined the plant, curious. He was impressed, to say the least. Second bloom or no, there weren't a lot of ten year olds who could successfully winter an amaryllis at all, let alone twice in a row.

"No fungus, no pests," he muttered. "Soil seems fine. Is it getting the right kind of light?"

"In the window, sunny and south facing," Lili said, with more confidence. "I checked the soil acidity, I used filtered water, I tried different kinds of plant foods, I tried playing music, I tried talking to it--"

"Yelling at it," Raz corrected.

"I was only yelling because talking wasn't working," Lili said, narrowing her eyes at him. Bob cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.

"Welp," Bob said. "I figured out your problem."

"You did?" Lili's eyes lit up. "What is it? What should I do?"

"You got a dud bulb," Bob said. He prodded the limp leaves, which looked like tangled green shoelaces. "You should just toss it."

"...what?"

Bob gave her a large wink, then continued loudly.

"Yep. That's amaryllis for you. They're weak, give up easy."

The leaves twitched.

"I never bothered with them, honestly. They need so much hand holding, and as for looks, well..."

"You're right," Lili said, nodding sagely. "They're just not pretty enough to justify all the work I've been putting into them. Maybe I should just dump them and grow tulips instead."

"Honestly, you're better off with roses--"

The stalks shot up, straight as arrows and quivering with indignation. Lili laughed in delight as first one, then two, then three pink bulbs swelled and unfurled into three perfect flowers.

"I can't believe that worked!" she cried.

"...did you just use reverse psychology on a plant?" Raz asked, nonplussed.

"Yep. Nothing like spite to put a little color in a flower. Amaryllises are divas," he told Lili. "You need to treat them carefully, but don't coddle them. Make 'em work for your attention." He took the pot in his hands and held it away, leaning down to mutter "And they hate roses."

"It's a plant," Raz said, in the same tone.

"You get used to it," Helmut said.

"But it's--"

"Let it go, kid. Trust me."

Bob handed the pot to Lili and opened his mouth to ask Helmut to explain just what that was supposed to mean...

But the girl took the pot in both hands and beamed up at him with a smile like the sun, and said "Thanks Uncle Bob."

It made it very hard to think of anything to say other than 'sure thing, kiddo.'

#bob zanotto #lili zanotto #helmut fullbear #razputin aquato #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts 2 spoilers

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darkorderaf · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

#mjf fanfiction #mjf imagine #mjf fic #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine #maxwell jacob friedman imagine

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selinakidreams · 4 years ago

Text

here’s a lil something for baku (and you) to enjoy on his birthday <3 all apart of the bakugo birthday bash hosted by the lovely @jodrawssmut @phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe @ramen-rambles ! !! thank you guys so much for letting me be apart of this <3

pairing: (established relationship) QUIRKLESS AU kiribaku x fem! reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: alcohol consumption but sober sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of throat fucking, mentions of spit roasting, lots of mentions of spit <3 (and exactly one spit into a mouth), very light degradation, praise

a/n: this is my first time writing with three characters kdjdkdk it’s way out of my comfort zone and I only had 6 days to write it,, but I did it!! trust me I wanted to write more but I actually wanted to make it to baku’s birthday so !! don’t be mad at the endiiiiiiinnnngggg <3

The jazz wafted throughout the empty bar; your silk dress falling from the edge of your seat. It has been a slow night for the bar. You leaned your head into your hand, elbow keeping you sturdy as you swirled the drink around it’s glass cup.

Your friend's party became a bit too feral for your taste, but you kept your word and stayed as long as you could for the sole purpose of seeing her smile, but then they showed up and you saw yourself out.

The dim lighting made your eyes droopy with no action to keep your brain going, so you take another swig of your drink before swiveling in your chair to face the other side of the bar.

Floor to ceiling windows greeted you, giving you the perfect overlook to the twinkling city lights below. It was incredible how your friend could afford a room in this hotel for her party.

You noticed a movement in the corner of your eye; someone had entered the bar.

You turn back to face all the expensive drinks displayed on the shelf, the perfect excuse to catch a quick glimpse at him. The contrast of his hair against everything else in the room almost made your eyes pop out of their sockets.

Platinum blonde hair tufted out like an explosion, a satin red shirt that danced with the warm light of the room, black slacks and from what you could tell, some expensive ass shoes. Too dressy just to be here for some drinks.

Wanting to see more but not willing to fully stare at the man, you signed and waited until it seemed like he got settled on the bar stool before saying, “Is it your party that’s on this floor? It seems like quite the... experience.”

Your voice came out smooth and velvety to bakugo’s ears, not that he would ever admit it. He scoffed before taking a second to look at the stranger who was daring to talk to him. His first thought settled in his mind and accepted it, almost prompting for silence- waiting to see if you would push to talk to him again.

From what you could tell, he was scanning you up and down. He opened his mouth to say something; his pink plush lips looking extremely inviting as they began to mouth something.

No sound came out for the next few seconds, showing he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He closed his mouth and took out a phone from his pocket, the screen illuminated his face as he began typing something out.

With this newfound light, his features became even more alluring- which couldn't be said for most people. Perfect porcelain skin, his profile pointed and devilishly handsome.

He’s well aware that he still held your attention, so when he slid his phone back in his pocket, he responded to your previous question, “yea, that’s the one. I’d rather stick it out instead of hearing them complain about me not going to my own party for the rest of the week.”

By the end of his sentence, he had a glass of something amber in his hand that seemed to look a lot like whiskey. He didn’t spare you another glance but you could tell he expected to hear a response.

You hummed, slightly nodding your head, “The party I had to go to is upstairs and it’s… a lot. They're all just talking about expensive this and designer that and I couldn't listen to another word so I had to get out of there…” you trailed off at his silence. Noting that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, you introduced yourself in hopes to continue interacting with him. You knew his type, and you knew in some way, he was going to surprise you.

“Bakugo Katsuki.” He said in turn.

You slowly nodded before posing another question.

“So Bakugo, not really a party goer?” You attempt to ask, only to get a huff in return.

“not one for small talk either, i see?” You add at the end.

Another few quiet moments go by before he responds

“If I was a party goer, I’d be at my own party wouldn’t I?” He quipped back and your eyebrows shot up as you raised your hands in defense.

“Well hey, I dunno ! For all I know you could have had a really rough night and this specific bar could be your saving grace. Could possibly use this night to drown your sorrows away behind a whole bottle of what… whiskey?” You say, ushering to his drink before turning to face your own, knowing he probably didn’t like being pegged as such.

“but you wouldn’t do that. You’re a strong man who knows what to do when things get bad, huh?” you continue, sprinkling praise to his dignity. He seemed like the type to prioritize that.

He didn’t do or say much in terms of a response but a small smile grew on your lips seeing how his body suddenly released a bit of the physical tension that was winding up.

You moved a few seats closer to him. If he didn’t like it, he hadn’t said anything.

“So-'' Interrupted before you could continue the line of questions, Bakugo surprised you by asking, “you think you’re better than your friends? Leaving them and comin’ here to drink alone?” his voice coming out gruff and low.

“No, not one bit. I was the one who planned the whole thing for my friend, it’s just unfortunate that she had to invite all those people who aren’t all that nice to her. I can’t stand them. I’ve told them off more than I can count, but they just brush me off. A group of bullies is one thing, but a group of people who pretends to be friends with you then talks behind your back is another.``

Bakugo was quiet, not by astonishment or anger; he seemed to be expressionless as he piped up, “fake people are some of the uglies nobodies out there.”

You turn to look at him before sipping your drink and moving a seat closer. This time Bakugo glanced your way but continued to stay silent.

“You ever beat someone up?” you ask, resting your chin on your palm, tilting your head towards him.

Your second surprise that night, he chuckled. It was soft, the complete opposite to the demeanor he'd been holding.

“Why? You want me to go in there and beat a few of those assholes up?” his eyes were relaxed by this point, no longer sharp and heavily guarded.

“Only because they don't believe I'm intimidating enough.”

“Maybe because you're not.”

You fake gasped, bringing your other hand up to your heart. “Excuse me sir but I'll have you know that I can be quite the fighter.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hadn’t realized you got so close to Bakugo until you heard the footsteps nearing you both. When a handsome voice called out bakugo’s name, you slightly jumped. Putting as much space between the two of you as possible, you looked to the source of the voice.

Handsome would be an understatement.

With red bangs that framed his sharp toothy smile perfectly and the rest of his hair tied back in a messy ponytail, this man looked a bit taller than Bakugo with a much warmer aura... but radiated the same type of... manliness.

“Bakugo, I just got your text- Mina has been dragging me everywhere to make sure your party’s going well. Is this her?” the handsome man asked, a slight indistinguishable gleam flashes in his eye when he looks over to you.

“Yeah, ‘nd i wanna leave now.” he almost pouted before looking over to you.

“You comin’?”

Your gaze snapped between the two men, only slightly putting two and two together.

Red hair spoke up, “He probably didn't explain it well but I'm his boyfriend, Kirishima Eijiro!” he held out his hand cheerfully, listening to your introduction.

“Not to sound too forward or to make you uncomfortable... but do you wanna come home with us? He texted me earlier saying that there was this hottie in a silk dress and… well…” he trailed off licking his bottom lip as his wandering gaze slowly shifted hungrier, “he wasn't kidding.”

There was a lot happening at once but all that you were thinking was that these two hot men wanted you, and the happy buzz that was coursing through your system couldnt object the offer, so with a quick nod of your head, you were handed a water bottle, guided off of the stool, and into the back of the next taxi they could hail.

The ride was filled with wandering hands and mischievous looks. Kirishima was whispering naughty promises in Bakugo’s ear that you couldn't quite hear, while your attention focused on the big palm that was making its way to the most heated part of your body. The quick inhales that the blonde took went straight to your core, making you incredibly excited for what the night had to offer.

As soon as the door swung open, lips were on lips and clothes were coming off. The rush to get to the bedroom was heated and messy but once you all entered the room, there was an intense shift that even you couldn't predict.

Kirishima spoke first, “So what does my birthday boy want? Does he want to fuck or be fucked?”

With a suck at his teeth, Bakugo knew if he didn’t give an answer soon he’d be met with-

“Better hurry up handsome, or I might just choose for you…” Kirishima hummed, bright crimson eyes hopping on over to meet your gaze, “better yet…”

He was by your side in mere seconds. His huge figure towering over yours, you almost flinched when his bulky fingers grazed up your arm.

“What if you chose for him?” He purred in your ear loud enough so Bakugo’s ruby eyes found yours. Your name rolled off the red-haired man’s tongue like sweet honey, “go ahead, what do you think he would want more?”

Your gaze flickered between them, you couldn’t tell one or the other’s preferences but if they wanted to use you, they could.

“How about… Eijiro… you could fuck my throat and Katsuki… could fuck whatever hole he wants?” You ask, the question raising an octave out of uncertainty.

Kirishima raises an eyebrow towards the man of the hour, slightly amused and completely aroused.

Bakugo is already smirking,“Atta girl, knows exactly what to say.”

Kirishima starts to kiss your neck as Bakugo stands in front of you, occupying your lips for the first time that night.

With one arm wrapped around your waist, he seemed to have rubbed on his boyfriend's bulge before reaching for the zipper of your dress. In turn, the feeling of the Eijiro’s bulge humped your back.

Whether it was your dress hitting the floor or Katsuki’s tongue slipping in your mouth didn't matter, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, causing Kirishima to chuckle and whisper, “get on the bed, princess.” while Bakugo pulls away from you, a string of spit keeps you connected.

With your gaze lustly hazy, you dreamily make your way to the bed, but not without a little show. Before splaying yourself out on the mattress, you stretch out- almost in the child's pose of yoga except you add a deep arch in your back for the sole purpose of showing off your pretty seamless thong.

As you reposition yourself, you glance over to the side to find that both men are now only in restricting briefs, eyes glued to your figure, both palming themselves over their boxers.

Eyes half massed and back flat on the bed, you begin to pout, feeling almost bare without anyone’s hands on you.

As if on cue, they began to make their way over to you, looking oh so hungry.

You immediately sat up and swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, pulsating at the prospect of having two seemingly thick dicks at once… but they were still in their boxers. Why?

“Ya have to ask nicely in order to get a treat, you ungrateful slut.” Bakugo growled before taking your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks with his fingers.

“Better yet, beg.” he said with a coldness that heated your core and had your eyes going wide.

Whimpering when he let go, you kept your innocent doe eyes as two sets of starved eyes stared down at you.

“W-wanna get fucked, please. Wanna feel both of you everywhere…” you say as you reach both hands out to palm the silhouette of their bulges. “Please…?”

There was a “christ” that was muttered out before you were pushed back on the bed by Bakugo, then kirishima manhandled you so that your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, your head mostly hanging off.

Even in the midst of the binding tension, Kirishima didn't hesitate to instruct Bakugo to put a pillow under your hips, the blonde eagerly following through with the demand.

“How’dyou want Katsuki to prep you, baby? He’s skillful in every sense but he really enjoys using his mouth.”

The bed shifted and before you could string a thought together, you looked down and lost all ability to think. The sight in front of you was downright sinful. A smirk was pulling at the left corner of his lips as he sunk closer to your clothed pussy, his red gaze now a deep wicked crimson as he watched for your reaction.

You didn't have much time to analyze before a thick hand laced through your hair and ushered your view back to the red head’s now exposed cock. You gulped.

Not incredibly long, a moderate size but with a juicy girth, Kirishima’s cock had a thick vein trailing up his underside.

If you could make heart eyes, you're sure that you'd be doing them by now.

Focused on paying attention to his pretty pink weeping tip, you felt your panties being pushed to the side. As tempting as it was to look down, you kept your sights set on the task at hand. Licking and kissing his cock, mixing your saliva with his precum, you earned a guttural groan from the big man above you, encouraging you to do more, please him more- until a warm muscle was met with your sopping core, causing a high gasp of a vibration to hit Kirishima’s head.

Your mind stopped reeling for a second- it stopped doing anything to be frank. Your hips mindlessly thrust up in attempts to get more of Bakugo’s mouth. He chuckled against you in response.

Moans bounced off the walls the deeper you guys got with each arousing movement; slurps coming from your’s and Bakugo’s mouth were the loudest noises in the room- that was until you moved down to pay the much needed attention to Kirishima’s balls. He couldn't seem to take it when you began sucking and fondling, moaning about how full he looked. He let out an obscene whine that you couldn’t believe came from him but when Bakugo pulled his lips from around your clit, you followed the noise with a similar one.

Unlike Kirishima who had stayed still, you tried to push Bakugo’s face back down out of lack of patience. Somewhere along the lines, the dominating rolls have switched, but you couldn't really find it in yourself to trace back to when that happened.

“You really are a fighter, huh?” he chuckled out before adding, “quit whining shitty hair, you’ll get to fuck her throat once I’m done eating.”

And with that, he dove right back in, causing you to clench around nothing yet and arch your back to get impossibly closer. In turn, your gaze caught the big desperate pleading eyes looking down at you, nearly begging you to do something...

You were so dizzy with pleasure that you murmured a mindless, “I didn't forget about you Eijiro.”, before using your hands to guide his cockhead back into your mouth to coat it in your saliva then pulling off and spreading it down the rest of his length. He bit his lip and let out a cute “mmph!”, which went straight to your abused core. Wanting to hear more, you began to pump his shaft with your messy fist.

With everything going on, you didn’t realize how built up you were. At an astounding rate, your climax crashed over you, making you shriek against Kirishima's dick as you attempted to cage Bakugo’s head in with your thighs. What pushed you even further was the death grip Katsuki had on your thighs and the sinful sounds he was making while lapping away at your juices.

Your hands shot from Kirishima’s cock down to grip Bakugo’s hair, freeing your mouth to pant out breathy praises and a whiney “Katsuki!”.

“Fuck,” Bakugo groaned as he came up from your pelvis once you’ve relaxed, whipping your juices from off of his chin with the back of his hand.

“Kiri, c’mere, you gotta try this,” he said before pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss over your slumped body. Watching their lips meet and seeing Kirishima’s tongue slip into his lover’s mouth sent a dull throb to your core, even moreso when Kirishima sighed into the kiss while his cock twitched upwards, close to your face.

When they pulled away, Bakugo gave one more little peck to Kirishima before looking down at you with a mischievous grin. You mentally gather yourself and sit up, already ready to be told what to do next.

“Open up, sweet cheeks.”

You did as you were told with your tongue out on display, unintentionally closing your eyes as a sweet little “aaah” came out on instinct.

The spit hit your tongue dead on and you had to refrain from automatically swallowing.

A low whisper about how good you were to Katsuki pulled him out of his daze, his eyes darting away from the new wetness on your tongue.

“Swallow, slut.” and so you did.

“You're right Kiri, she is such a good girl… Are you ready to get fucked stupid as your prize?” was the last thing you remember before both of them did exactly that.

629 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 4 years ago

Text

detention retention finale p.2 (the real finale!)

masterlist (catch up on parts 1, 2, and the first half of the finale here!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no my original idea

summary: gryffindor and friend of the golden trio y/n y/l/n is tasked with getting close to malfoy to learn his secret in 6th year. things quickly become more complicated.

warnings: (please pay attention this time around) nsfw content, implied sex, swearing, character death. however, if you are sensitive to gore know that this one is a lot less graphic than the first half of the finale

a/n: wow. here we are! this part is going to be considerably more light hearted than the first part. ngl while writing this i reread my 8th grade diary when i spent hours overanalyzing what my crushes did/said and i kind of wanted to emulate that school crush feeling of “does he like me does he not”. if this seems like a weird turn considering how dark things were in the last chapter, i’m sorry i just really wanted to give poor draco and y/n a break fdajkfls. i hope you guys like it :)

word count: 16.1k (the longest part of them all...lmfao)

tags! @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss

here’s a spotify playlist i made for this!

enjoy!

Back at the Gryffindor tower, she was met with a surprise: Ron, sitting cross-legged on her bed, paging through a random Quidditch catalog he stole from Fred.

“Hi, Ron,” greeted Y/N tentatively. Despite the fact that Harry and Hermione had both been outwardly stand-offish towards her, Ron had, for the most part, remained neutral. “What’s up?”

He jerked his head upwards, his eyes wide. “Sorry, er, you scared me. Hey, Y/N.” Ron awkwardly waved.

“Is something...going on?”

“Oh.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, his thumbs twiddling together in his lap. “I just wanted to, erm, have a chat with you. I know Hermione and Harry are a little angry with you still, but I miss you. And I don’t think they’re right in doing this to you.”

Y/N allowed her shoulders to sag in relief as she joined him, letting the bed sink under both of their weight. “I understand why they’re upset. I just felt so bad, you know. Drac--Malfoy is going through a lot right now, and even though he’s been a prat to you guys, all of a sudden it was like I would be a horrible person to ignore what’s been going on with him.”

“Harry and Hermione think it’s because you’re a pureblood,” Ron said. “That’s mostly why I came to talk to you. Harry said something before the day in the bathroom about how he wasn’t surprised ‘your kind’ was so quick to turn on us.”

“Does he not know that you’re literally a--”

“Exactly.” A nervous laugh left Ron’s lips. “I mentioned that, and I think he realized how messed up that line of thought was. Anyways, he feels proper terrible about hurting you the way he did. I think you’ll have to wait around a bit before he swallows his pride and apologizes to you himself, but he hasn’t been the same since what happened before the break.”

“Wow.” Y/N allowed that thought to sink in. “And...Hermione?”

“She’s still hurt,” admitted Ron. “Can you blame her, though? One of her best friends starts messing around with her childhood bully?”

She winced. “I know, I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re not...like that.”

“I think you should try talking to her again. I’m not sure why you’re so insistent on keeping a promise to Malfoy, but nothing’s going to change unless you tell her why you did what you did.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Y/N reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Also, I don’t want to be gossipy or anything, but I think you should leave Lavender for Hermione.”

Ron balked. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just an idea,” said Y/N, shrugging. “I just have a feeling you two would be really cute together. I dunno what it is. Just an inkling of a thought.”

“I would never leave Lavender,” he said, frowning as his eyes hazed over. “I would never do that…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Y/N smirked, elbowing him in the side. He grinned at her, the dimples easily forming in the freckled skin of his cheek.

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Hermione Granger was not a difficult witch to locate. All Y/N had to do was wait until prime studying hours before searching the library’s long halls until she found the bushy head of hair craned intently over a large textbook.

“Hermione.”

At her voice, Hermione snapped to attention, a sour expression forming on her face. “What do you want?” She didn’t even wait for a response, dipping her head back down and continuing to take notes.

“I want to apologize, properly, for what happened,” Y/N said, settling into the seat across from her and dropping her voice. “I know I didn’t give you a very good explanation about what was going on, and I know I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

“I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say right now, Y/L/N.”

She brushed off the pain of her last name being used instead of her given name and continued. “I know you must be really hurt that I got close with Malfoy, especially considering how cruel he was to you.”

Hermione remained silent.

“I know that I’ll never understand how it feels to be an outsider in this world,” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t change what happened in the past. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want with me. Believe me when I say that I never meant to lie to or to deceive you. You had to have noticed how different Malfoy looks. He needed someone, and I was there. He might not deserve that kind of treatment, especially not from you, but it would’ve been wrong of me to just let him suffer on his own.”

Hermione finally met her eyes, a few tears shining in the deep brown depths of her stare. “I don’t understand how you could overlook all the things he’s said about me. Is...that what you think of me, too?”

“Of course not, Hermione,” exclaimed Y/N. The angry shh from the table over made her drop her voice once again. “You’re twice as capable as my entire bloodline combined. You have every right to be part of this world. You are part of this world and you always have been. If I thought that Draco hadn’t changed, I wouldn’t have become friends with him.”

“You call him Draco now?”

“He’s my friend. And I think that if things were a little different, he’d actually defect from his family’s beliefs and join our side. Living firsthand in the close proximity of Death Eaters really took a toll on him.”

Hermione chewed her lip. “This is really hard. I don’t know what to say.”

“I miss you,” confessed Y/N. “And, to be honest, I felt quite left out, too. I know you and Harry and Ron have important confidential business to attend to, but the way it was treated made it seem like I was too stupid to hear about or understand it. Draco didn’t make me feel that way, and I liked it.”

To her surprise, Hermione’s features softened. “I’m sorry. I really am, Y/N. I don’t know why I didn’t realize earlier how unfair we were to you about that.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “I think so.”

“Are we okay, then?”

Hermione frowned a little deeper as her idle hand allowed her quill to dribble ink over the fresh parchment she used. “Not really. I think I need some time. It’s hard for me to feel like I can trust you again after all of this.”

“I completely understand,” Y/N rushed out. “Hopefully one day things will be better, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Hermione offered her a small smile before turning back to her work. If it had been another time, Y/N would’ve invited herself to sit across from her and distract her as she tried to study, telling Hermione all about her day and how much she wanted to drop kick Goyle across the Quidditch pitch, but it was different now, and she knew that.

Without another word, Y/N got up and left her old friend in her library.

Her dorm was rather quiet as she settled back into her bed for the second time that day, this time happy to find it entirely empty. It was a Sunday, after all, and she had an entire stack of homework to try and drag herself through before her classes the next day.

As her fingers began to card through the messy parchment of her desk, she took notice of an item that hadn’t been there before--a crimson red envelope, embossed with glittery golden piping and a roaring lion. Her family crest.

Y/N tore into the parchment as she wracked her brain to try and guess the contents. A howler? No, she’d been (mostly) good. A gift? She hadn’t been that good. What awaited her was much more underwhelming--just a boring old piece of parchment with black ink penned in her father’s handwriting.

But the news that it brought her had the memories from Christmas Break rushing back.

The next day, he was sitting in his Potions seat, making small talk with Pansy that coaxed a few laughs out of both students like nothing had happened the day before. Their eyes met briefly before he uncomfortably cleared his throat and turned away, back to Pansy’s animated speech over how ridiculous this class was.

Her heart ached at the sight. How could he act like nothing had ever happened between them? How could he just evade eye contact like that? Y/N felt a wave of uncontrollable jealousy wash over her when the thought of Pansy lying in his silk sheets with the knowledge that she was actually HIS, that he actually wanted her. It was all she could do to avert her eyes and pretend it didn’t happen, though Draco wasn’t exactly ignoring her anymore, which was almost worse. Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls.

The days began to bleed into each other again, speeding along even quicker now that she actually had people to sit with during meals and to talk to during common hours. Hermione and Ron had begun speaking to her again, though Harry was still making himself sparse whenever she appeared in a group.

To her surprise, though, that changed one day when a paper crane fluttered onto her desk in Charms. She opened it quickly, hoping desperately (and against her will) that it was from Draco, but instead she was greeted with a messy scrawl that she knew very well.

Meet me after practice on the pitch if you’d be okay with talking to me. -Harry

Despite the recent events, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the many times that Harry had written her similar notes, back when their relationship wasn’t rocky and she was actually helping the Trio. That wistfulness was quickly replaced with anxiety when she tried to figure out what to expect from Harry.

“Y/N,” he greeted her a few hours later. She rose from her seat on the bleachers and began to walk alongside him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Listen,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I know I’m not very good at talking about feelings--that’s why I’ve been putting this off for so long--but you deserve an apology for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I don’t think I’ll ever understand your connection with Malfoy, but that isn’t an excuse for what happened.”

Well, this was going better than expected. “I’m not going to lie and say that it’s okay that you hexed me, but I don’t blame you all that much.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “That’s, er, really good to hear, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” responded Y/N. “Madame Pomfrey even said that the scarring might go away.” The way the blood drained out of his face made her realize that that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh, Merlin, there’s scarring?”

“Forget I said that,” replied Y/N, placing a hand comfortingly on his arm. “Water under the bridge. It really is okay.”

“Well…” He coughed awkwardly as they neared the castle’s entrance. “I think I owe you an explanation as well. If you want one, that is.”

“Shoot,” she said. “Preferably not a deadly curse at me, though.”

If Harry thought that was funny, he certainly didn’t show it. “Looking back on what happened, it was all just a complete blur. I lost control.”

“Because I hadn’t told you about Malfoy?”

“Oh, well…” He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. “Obviously I was angry that you’d lied to us. And I was angry at Malfoy over Katie Bell. But that wasn’t what made me lose control. It was seeing you together. There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…” Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood.”

“What do you mean?” asked Y/N, beginning to grow more and more confused. How could Harry have seen something that wasn’t even there in the first place?

“And the way you two looked at each other in Potions,” he continued, clearly not planning on answering her question. “It makes me sick. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t see me that way, Harry,” she said, her voice little.

“Has he told you that?”

“As a matter of fact he has.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replied, holding his palms up in a surrender. “It’s not as if it came as a surprise or anything. Plus, not like I care. Just because I don’t want to see him get hurt does not mean I have feelings for him.” Y/N was talking too animatedly, something that prompted her friend to tilt his head and send her a curious look.

“Right. Well…” Harry stood up, brushing his robes off. “If I didn’t make it clear enough already, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you see in him. But you haven’t lost me. I just hope I haven’t lost you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile before launching into his arms. He started, but once Y/N had her arms around his neck, he hugged her back. She breathed in the familiar woodsy smell she’d known since she was 11 and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I missed you, Harry.”

“I missed you too. So much.”

She was just about to poke fun at him for being sappy when someone pointedly cleared their throat behind them, prompting her to spin around and prepare to tell someone off for interrupting her conversation. Once she saw who it was before her, though, she froze.

“Try and keep the PDA at a minimum, yeah?” Draco Malfoy said, his lips twisted into a bored scowl.

“Draco,” she warned. He simply arched an eyebrow at her before swiftly passing by the two, being sure to brush harshly against Harry’s shoulder.

“What has gotten into him?” she asked in astonishment. “Merlin, it’s like we time traveled back to 5th year or something.”

He scoffed at her side. “Y/N, what did I tell you?”

The next day, Draco wasn’t at breakfast. Y/N tried not to think too much about his empty seat as she listened to Ron ramble on about how crazy Lavender was being. She had finally migrated over to the Gryffindor table, bringing her new Ravenclaw friend along with her. Hermione was still giving her side eye, but it was better than being treated like a complete outcast. This time around, Parkinson was gone from the Slytherin table, too. The thought of Pansy being the one to comfort him filled her chest with the slimy coolness of jealousy, but instead of dwelling on it further, she stabbed her fork through the strawberry on her plate and took a bite. If he wanted to mess around with her, he could. Merlin knew he needed some sort of distraction. But her most private thoughts couldn’t help but wonder if he ever had feelings for her. There were so many moments that made her think otherwise--the way he’d blush when she said anything flirtatious, how eager he had been to walk her to her dorm, all the glances sent her way…

It was at moments like these when Y/N sternly reminded herself that they were just friends and that was all he’d ever seen her as. Friends brushed hands. Friends walked each other to their dorms. Friends stared across the room at each other sometimes. Friends gave each other gifts. Hermione, Ron, and Luna had all acted similarly to her in the past and it was entirely platonic. She was just overanalyzing.

He didn’t show up to Potions, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape was giving her the eye, and Y/N uncomfortably shifted in her chair as she wondered if the wizard had found out it was her who stole the Veritaserum.

“As you all may know,” he drawled, stalking the perimeter of the classroom, “A particular potion of mine has been...misplaced. If any of you happen to know where it is, I suggest you confess now.”

Nervous chatter erupted around the room as Snape’s eyes bored into hers. Was he using Legilimency on her? Wouldn’t she feel something? Despite her worries, he broke eye contact and spun around to the board, scrawling the topic of the lesson on the chalkboard. Y/N reminded herself to breathe.

He wasn’t at lunch, Transfiguration, or dinner. Y/N was starting to believe that Draco had just up and left Hogwarts as she began to get ready for bed, showering off the day and dressing in comfier clothes. For once, her homework load had been lightened to the point where she could put it off for a full day. Diffuser on, windows open, and sleeping clothes on, Y/N was ready and settled into bed early with nothing but her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Was Draco okay? Did something happen with his task? Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light rap on her door.

“Y/N?” A young girl’s voice, muffled but distinguishable through the heavy wooden door shook her out of it. She groaned, throwing the blankets off her and closing her hand around the doorknob. She wasn’t even a prefect, but for some god-forsaken reason the first-years always went to her instead.

“Candace,” she greeted. “What’s cracking?”

“Someone wants to see you.” The first-year’s voice sounded shakier than usual. Y/N finally cast her eyes up from the short girl to take in the sight of a rather disheveled looking Draco Malfoy standing in her hallway.

“Draco? What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat. “Are you busy?”

“Candace,” Y/N said, addressing the eleven year old in front of her first, “Thanks for helping Draco. You should go to bed, you know. It’s late.”

Wide-eyed, Candace dashed off without any protest. Y/N cast a raised brow to Draco and tried to look like she hadn’t spent the past 12 hours obsessing over his disappearance. “You better have a good reason for showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night and scaring one of my first-years to death.”

“She wasn’t scared,” he argued.

“You must be horrible with reading children,” stated Y/N. “Anyways, is this a conversation that you want to have in my dorm hall? Or would you prefer to come inside?”

He tilted his head towards the doorway. “May I?”

“Er...sure. Come on in.” She bit back the quip about already offering. “What’s going on? You missed all your classes today.”

“I’m aware,” he responded drily as he sat down on the same spot she’d just been nearly asleep on. “I just...something happened last night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Y/N tried not to blush at how flattered she was. He didn’t even like her. Why was she acting like that still? Friends did this sort of thing. Friends were there for each other. “Oh. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to just take your mind off of it?”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment before exhaling a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe take my mind off it until I feel ready to talk about it.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, leading him by the cuff of his sleeve over to her window. “I think I know something we can do. Grab a pillow and a blanket.”

He did as she asked while she opened up the window wider until it was large enough to crawl through, spelling the tiles of the roof outside clean.

“Are we going on the roof?”

“As long as you’re not too scared of heights, yeah,” she responded, using her desk as a stepping stool while she swung the rest of her body out on the old Hogwarts roof. Despite the age of the castle, the structure was thankfully sturdy. “Pass me anything you want out here. I’ll get it set up for us.”

“I’m not sitting on that dirty roof,” he said, his usual snotty tone creeping into his voice as he handed her a blanket for each of them.

“Okayyy, Your Highness.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “We can sit on my blanket.” True to her word, she took the one she usually slept with and covered the tiles. “Will you come sit with me now?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He settled in next to her, his own blanket barely draped over his knees while she sat cross legged at his side, trying not to shiver from the cold late winter air. “Wow. This is actually a better view than from the Astronomy tower.”

“I know, right?” she said, trying to ignore how her heart fluttered every time he looked at her. “You can see Hogsmeade from here, too.”

The pair watched the scenery before them in silence. Y/N drank in the landscape bathed in soft moonlight, the winding creeks leading into the Dark Forest reflecting the moon while the Black Lake’s waves gently lapped at the shores.

“I come up here sometimes when I get stressed,” she confessed after a little while. Draco turned to look at her, his lips slightly quirked up and his eyes soft.

“Yeah?”

“It just helps clear my head,” she continued. “I feel really lucky to live in the Tower. It must be kind of weird to know that if you opened your window you’d just flood your room.”

Draco snorted. “You get used to it.”

Y/N hummed in something that felt a little like agreement.

He shuffled, clearing his throat. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you this since that night. I’m…sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”

“It’s really okay,” she said, her cheeks growing hot. “I understand. You can’t change how you feel. I’m happy to be your friend and eventually that’s all I’ll ever want.”

Draco dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement when a brilliant display of lights suddenly exploded over Hogsmeade. Fireworks. They were obviously magic, charmed to glitter in the shape of the words, “Happy Birthday, Margie!”

“Oh my god, happy birthday Margie,” Y/N echoed, eager for the distraction of their conversation.

“I wonder how old she’s turning.”

“I bet she’s 34,” said Y/N.

“32.”

“33, maybe, but that’s pushing it.”

She returned his grin before she felt something hit the top of her head--a raindrop, fat and cold--and roll down the back of her neck. “Shit. I think it’s going to rain soon. Do you want to go back in?”

As if to accentuate her point, the clouds above them rumbled. Draco shrugged. “If you want. I kind of like staying out here, though.”

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few more moments, the only sound coming from the soft patter of the rain and the occasional boom of Margie’s birthday fireworks. Y/N began to shiver as the raindrops became more frequent, her loose sleeping shirt and her shorts not really doing much for her. All of a sudden, she felt something fuzzy on top of her head.

She looked to her left to see that Draco had lifted his blanket to drape over both of them, creating a tent of some sort. “Thanks, Draco.”

“Don’t mention it.” His smile set off the butterflies in her stomach once again, but she beat them back. The fireworks continued, now switching to a glittering sage green. “I bet Margie was a Slytherin.”

“Or maybe she just likes sage green,” argued Y/N.

“Maybe.” He held her gaze for what felt like a second too long before clearing his throat and turning his attention back onto the night sky. It occurred to her at that moment that they could’ve just transfigured the pillows they were sitting on into umbrellas, but traitorously, she didn’t want to mention it if it meant she lost her chance to be near him.

She felt something lightly brush past the hand she had rested in the space between them but thought nothing of it, instead focusing on her breathing and making sure she didn’t sound like she was hyperventilating because she most certainly felt like she wanted to. She’d never shared her special roof spot with anyone, not even Harry or Ron. But he didn’t know that.

The fireworks exploded with a crescendo of motion as multiple green sparkles were launched into the air, crackling and sparking with energy. At any other point in time, Y/N would’ve found it easy to focus on the beauty of the show, but something else caught her attention: the fact that Draco’s hand was now set directly next to hers, the edge of his touching her with the lightest of pressures. Every nerve ending in her left hand felt like it was burning with energy as Draco, without even sparing a glance in her direction, inched his hand over just enough for his pinky to overlap with hers.

Y/N tried to remember how to breathe as her thoughts ran wild. Friends touched hands sometimes. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he didn’t even know it was her hand.

She heard Draco’s own breath hitch in his throat as his hand finally slipped under hers, intertwining their fingers and turning them so her hand rested in his palm.

Friends held hands sometimes. There was nothing romantic about this. Nope. This was normal. Y/N’s frenzied thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s voice.

“You know how much danger my family is in,” he said, finally revealing what had him so shaken up. “Well, I got a letter from my mother last night. Apparently she’s been getting these strange, veiled threats. She can’t identify the owl and it seems like whoever this is is hell-bent on breaking into the manor. My aunt and the rest of the Death Eaters have been ridiculing her for even worrying about it.”

Y/N started to feel a guilty pit in her stomach. The letter her father sent her was beginning to make more sense. “Draco, that’s awful.”

“Do you think that maybe they’re the ones who are sending them to her?” he asked, his voice raising an octave at the end, flourished with a small crack in his tone. “As a way to rush me to the end of my task?”

Draco had slowly leaned into her as he told her his worries, and Y/N found herself gently squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything else. This isn’t fair to you. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need help solving the cabinet?”

He shook his head, casting his gaze down to their hands. “Is it okay if I just stay here for a little?”

“Of course you can,” she said, immediately regretting her words. Having him around would only make her feel worse. Was this how he treated all of his friends? She held back an ill-timed chuckle at the thought of him holding hands with Goyle.

“Thanks, Y/N.” His eyes were so light that she could still see the silver hue of them in the dark, reflecting what little moonlight found him under the blanket. “You know, I’m glad we had detention together. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Pansy kept badgering me all day about how she could help instead of actually listening and Blaise just told me that if I kept moping around he’d nab my mother himself.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. Jealousy surged through her as she thought again about Pansy. When she held hands with him, she probably never had to wonder what it meant. “Do they know about…”

“Not everything,” Draco clarified. “That’s just you. They just know about my current house guests. I haven’t told them any specifics.”

Another pang of guilt rattled through Y/N as she ran through the information she’d gotten the night prior in her head while he squeezed her hand back, his thumb running along her skin. She felt like the shame of not mentioning it earlier was burning her up.

“Draco, I need to tell you something.” The makeshift blanket tent all of a sudden felt like the most intimate location in the world as he turned to face her fully, now gripping her hand with two of his own and leaning closer, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally ran through the contents of the parchment on her desk. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of rain and Draco’s breathing.

“If this is what I think it is, then I--”

“I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected,” she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. “I’m not that stupid.”

Draco took his own hands, now empty, and folded them neatly on his thigh. He stopped meeting her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t--I wasn’t going to--”

“It’s--no, I’m sorry.” Y/N found herself angry that she gave up her excuse to hold his hand. “That was just a little embarrassing for me. I promise I won’t bring it up again. This is something totally different.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” To her surprise, there was no usual teasing lilt to his tone; he was being entirely genuine.

“I want you to know that we can call this off at any time,” she began, watching his blank expression carefully should it change, “But I hope you think about this.”

“Think about what?”

“I’m kidnapping your mom.”

There. It was out. Draco’s mouth had long since fallen open, a look of mild horror on his face. “What the actual fuck?”

“Let me explain,” Y/N rushed. “The Order owes my family a favor. My mom knew yours. I may have mentioned something about the treatment towards her over the holidays and now my family is orchestrating a way to fake a kidnapping-turned-murder situation to get her out.”

He blinked at her.

“Of course we can call it off anytime you want,” Y/N repeated. She cast a quick Accio (something she was surprised worked considering how shaky she was) and summoned her father’s letter from her desk, thrusting it into his arms. “Read this. It has all the details.”

Draco scanned the document without a single word leaving his lips.

“You’re scaring me, Draco. What do you think?”

“You have an Italian beach cottage?” he asked.

“Apparently so,” answered Y/N. “I’ve never been there, but we haven’t actually registered it through the British Ministry. If we hide your mother there, no one is going to be able to find her. She’s not required to give up information to the Order, either--I mean, we kind of hope that she will, but there’s no mandated amount of intel to keep her safe.”

“And I can…”

“Yes. After your task is straightened out, you can join her if you want.” She hardly finished her sentence before Draco’s arms pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever been given in her life.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbled, his voice strained. “How did you...wow. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. “I’m just glad I could help.”

He finally pulled away, still keeping his hands gently placed on her forearms. She tried to keep her thoughts from straying too much as he gazed down at her, a slightly sad downturn in his lips. The way he was looking at her began to make her even more nervous.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she stated. “I want to get up early tomorrow so I’m not too late to Potions. Are you feeling better?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Er, yes. I suppose so. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m assuming this is when you kick me out?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She spelled her blanket clean from under him and stepped back into her room, turning to face him. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me.”

He sent her a small smile before swinging his legs over the windowsill and making his way to the door. “I hope you have a good night. Sleep well.” He went in for another hug, but this time Y/N accidentally leaned the same direction as him, nearly crashing her lips into his.

“Shit, sorry,” she murmured as she quickly corrected herself to lean the other way--and was horrified to find that he had done the exact thing as well, barely dodging him this time and instead reeling herself back as far as his hold on her allowed. Draco let out a nervous laugh, letting her go and stepping away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well. That was poorly timed considering the conversation we had,” he pointed out. What stellar observational skills.

“Er, yeah. Well…” Y/N held her hand out and immediately felt herself cringe. “Here’s to being good friends.”

He took her hand in his and tentatively shook it, a sort of half-smirk dancing on his lips as his eyebrow raised. “To being good friends. I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, and Y/N was able to flop back on her bed and frantically sort through her thoughts in peace. He’d almost--no, she’d almost--well, they both had almost kissed. As friends, though. Obviously.

This is ridiculous. She pulled a blanket up around her and immediately froze when she breathed in--black tea and sage, just as she remembered. She decided it was high time to switch her blankets anyways and tossed that one in the laundry bin.

“And then guess what she said?”

“Come on, we’re waiting,” Y/N said to Ron as they chattered over their cauldron in Potions together, flanked by the rest of her Gryffindor friends.

“Lavender said I’m obviously pining after Hermione because I keep asking her to study with me.”

“No!” came from Neville after a theatrical gasp. “She did not.”

“She literally did, mate,” Harry cut in. “I saw it myself. Honestly, I think she might be onto something. I’ve always sensed some sort of tension between you two.”

“I think Harry’s right, as much as it pains me to say it,” she teased, giving her friend a little shove. Seamus had just opened his mouth to start talking when the sound of shattering glass prompted them all to whip around to face the Slytherin section. Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly clutching the broken remains of a glass vial in his hand like he was still in disbelief over what had occurred.

“Malfoy, boy, is everything alright over there?” Slughorn asked from the front.

“Yes,” he said quickly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened.”

“You should sleep more,” the professor continued. “It’s harder to control your magic when you’re young and exhausted.”

Draco just nodded, his gaze turning over to meet Y/N’s worried one. She tilted her head, mouthing, “Are you okay?”. He sent her a tight smile and nodded, though Pansy sent her a very dirty look.

“So that was weird,” said Y/N, turning back around to face Harry. “I haven’t broken glass by losing control of my magic since I was a kid.”

“One time I let a snake out in a muggle zoo,” said Harry, his eyes miles away as he traveled down memory lane.

“You what now?”

“I can’t believe I never told you that.”

“I think I would’ve remembered that. What’d you do, whisper in its ear about how the only thing it has to lose is its chains or something until he was motivated enough to escape?”

Harry laughed. “No. I vanished the glass. And then it thanked me, which was horribly alarming for a kid who had no idea what magic was.”

“You poor, poor thing,” she mocked before Slughorn dismissed them and they began to make their way together down the hall. “Suffering from success.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N felt a surge of affection for the fact that they were friends once again. “Basically the story of my life. Anyways, I’m off to see Snape.”

“Merlin, are you okay?” asked Y/N, holding her hand to his forehead and miming the motion of checking for a fever. “On your own time?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he said, suddenly looking more somber. “I’m just serving detention for what happened in the bathroom. I am still very sorry about that, you know. If you wanted to curse me to get back at me, I’d understand.”

She shoved him forward, a smile dancing on her lips as she said, “Go on, suffer for my honor.” Then she felt a hand pull her back into an empty, dark classroom.

“Let go of me!” she exclaimed, twisting around to try and see the person who had grabbed her.

“Boo,” whispered a familiar voice in her ear.

“Draco, you do realize you could just talk to me in the halls like a normal goddamn person,” she chided, finally being released from his grip so she could give him a stern look. He only shrugged, a slightly impish look displayed across his features.

“But it’s more fun this way.”

She tried her hardest to frown at him, but it was honestly difficult when he was smiling at her the way he was. “So, what’s up? Did something happen?”

“Nothing really,” he admitted. “I just know that we both have free periods. Do you want to spend it together?”

Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends Y/N chanted in her head. He’s only saying this as a platonic thing.

“I guess I don’t really have anything better to do,” she teased. Despite her light hearted tone, she couldn’t help but notice the shift in Draco’s behavior. In a matter of days, he was looking more like himself than he had all year--the color finding its way back into his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled, the food on his plate in the Great Hall actually being eaten.

If there was one thing that Y/N was quickly learning about Draco, it was that under all of his snobbery, he was endearingly weird. He’d memorized all of the captains of the Slytherin Quidditch team, read everything there was in the library about alchemy, and always sent her the dorkiest fucking waves whenever their eyes met.

So, in spirit of Draco’s newly recovered persona, Y/N spent the rest of her free period sitting in the empty classroom and chatting with him about a whole load of nothing. They’d both sat on top of adjacent desks, and sometimes Y/N would swing her feet so she kicked his shin. He’d always promptly return the favor.

“So,” she said after a while, “Have you been thinking about what I told you? My family’s plan, and all?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze cast down to his hands. “A little. I guess I’m just a little confused about what I should do with my task or when all of this is going to happen.”

“I’m only asking because I’ve been thinking about it,” confessed Y/N. “I think I’ve figured out what you should do with your task. If you want to, that is.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve already established that You-Know-Who has nothing to hold over your head without your mother at stake,” began Y/N, searching his face to find agreement, “But it’s going to look suspicious if you suddenly stop sending progress reports.”

Draco reached his hand up to scratch his cheek. “One problem, though. I don’t think I’ll be able to repair the cabinet. I’ve hit a complete dead end anyways.”

“That’s fine,” said Y/N. “That doesn’t matter. Fake the progress reports. I don’t think that you should fix it at all, to be honest. I think you should leave it broken and still invite Bellatrix and her friends to travel through it.”

“And kill them?!”

“Or maim them,” offered Y/N. “I know it’s not ideal, but I think that if I tweaked the cabinet’s lunar belt just right, I might be able to control how the space-time continuum is warped and simply incapacitate them so the Order can take them into custody. Of course, the dark magic as an element may throw a curveball, but it’s worth a shot. And if you do this, it’ll mean that the Order will trust you more.”

“Hm.” Draco caught his bottom lip on his teeth while he shut his eyes, obviously stewing over everything. “That’s quite the risk.”

“I can run it by my family to get their thoughts on it,” she offered. “But the only caveat is that I have to mention what you’re trying to do.”

His eyes shot open. “Maybe don’t mention the part where I’ve already made more than one attempt on the headmaster’s life if we end up going down that route.”

Y/N shrugged. “The Order might already know. Isn’t Snape onto you?”

“He’s not ‘onto me’, he was instructed to help--” Draco stopped in his tracks as he stared at her. “Wait, what?”

“Oh,” she said, both of them frozen as they realized what they’d revealed to each other. “Erm...forget I mentioned that.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he mumbled, sending a half-hearted kick at her. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Love it,” she said absentmindedly. “Anyways, will you go to Slug’s Valentine party with me next weekend? As friends, of course. He wants all of us to bring dates and I don’t know who else to ask.”

Draco looked like he was glowing. “Really? You wouldn’t bring Potter?”

“Eh,” she responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s going with Ginny. Plus, I see him around the common room enough as it is.” Y/N waited a few moments. “So? Are you in?”

He shook himself out of what looked to be a weirdly stupified state. “Er, of course. Just let me know when you need me.”

The Hogwarts bells began to chime outside, signifying that the third period block was beginning.

“Saturday at 8,” said Y/N, turning to leave. “You can meet me in front of the Great Hall.”

“I’ll just walk you from your dorm.”

“Then you have to be there earlier.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t mind. Anyways, I’m off to Runes. Enjoy Divination.” He bumped her shoulder as he walked past, sending a thrill through Y/N. How had he even known that she had Divination? That was one of the few classes they didn’t share, and she probably just mentioned it in passing once.

Then again, they were friends. And just because Ron and Hermione hadn’t memorized her schedule, it didn’t mean that Draco was the same kind of friend.

Things only got more confusing as time went on. Draco found any excuse to talk to her, especially when she was with Harry. If he were any other boy, Y/N would’ve immediately assumed the obvious: that he had a crush on her and was jealous. But, obviously, that was impossible. He’d told her upfront that he didn’t have any feelings for her. So why was his behavior so different after that night they spent together on the roof?

It got even weirder on Friday. Draco once again pulled her away from a conversation with Harry to shove a little box in her hands.

“What’s this, Draco?” she asked, frowning as she turned it around in her hand.

“It’s just something I thought you might like,” he muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Her interest piqued, Y/N opened the box.

“A quidditch bracelet?” Y/N gulped as she looked down at the enchanted diamonds, each glittering with a gentle silver pigment--as well as a slight lavender purple sheen. This was not a normal gift to give to your school friend. This was at least a few thousand galleons--probably even more, considering the enchantments that made the stones glow. Even her considerably wealthy family wouldn’t buy her one because of her horrid track record with jewelry.

He shrugged. “I picked it up while I was at Barnaby’s a bit ago. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want. I remembered I had it when you asked me to Slug’s party and I thought I’d see if you’d be interested.”

“Erm,” said Y/N, stammering, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this from someone before.”

“Believable.” Draco snorted. “Take it and do me a favor. It’s not like I’d wear it. It might as well be appreciated by someone.”

“It’s beautiful, it really is. I’m just worried because I have a bit of a habit of forgetting I’m wearing jewelry and breaking it….”

“I assumed. That’s why I charmed it to be unbreakable,” said Draco quickly. “If you don’t want to wear it, I won’t be offended. I’m just offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be thankful that the abandoned classroom he’d pulled her into was dark. Otherwise, he might’ve seen how red her cheeks were. “I guess we’ll figure out how strong your unbreaking enchantments are shortly.”

“Is this your way of saying yes?”

“Help me put it on, will you?”

She could see dimples form in his cheeks as he allowed a small, close lipped smile to spread across his face while he unclasped the bracelet from the box and gently turned her arm so her palm faced up to the sky. His touch lingered over her skin for a few seconds. Y/N had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice suddenly low, “About what we talked about last time we were here. About the cabinet, and the Order…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to do it,” he said firmly, finally pulling his hands away from her arm and tossing the empty wrapping into his pocket. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

“Nothing yet, really. Just your consent to tell my family about your task. I’ll let you know if they want anything else.” Though Y/N’s response was truthful and concise, her mind was elsewhere as she came to a depressing realization. He wasn’t giving her the quidditch bracelet because he secretly liked her and wanted to spoil her or whatever. He was doing it as a thank you for what she was doing for him and his mother. An elaborate gift for an even more elaborate favor.

“That’s easy enough,” Draco mused. “In the meantime, I’ll keep sending progress reports.”

“Good plan,” said Y/N, her voice a little deflated. “Thank you again for the bracelet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left the classroom and spent the rest of her night stewing over the poor decisions she’d made regarding her emotions over the past week. She knew about the effect that Draco had over her, yet she still invited him to Slug’s party like an idiot. And then she’d let herself get her hopes up over dumb little things like the way he looked at her in class or the quidditch bracelet when he was really just being a friend trying to pay her back for a big favor.

Saturday night was going to be rough if she couldn’t get her feelings in line.

At 7:50 sharp, Y/N waited by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Peeves wailed above her as she tried to practice slow breathing--in for 5 seconds, out for 5 seconds. I am in control of my feelings. I control my own reality.

Then she saw him, and all of the work she’d done trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him amounted to nothing. He looked breathtaking. Y/N bit her tongue as she tried to violently beat back the thoughts of all the things she wanted him to do to her.

“You look nice,” he said smoothly once he was close enough for it to be socially acceptable. Her mouth went completely dry as she drank in the sight of him in an all-black suit.

“Thanks. So do you.” She internally congratulated herself for getting through that without stumbling over her words too much. Gingerly, she pushed herself off her position of leaning on the wall and began to walk alongside him.

As they ascended the steps, her heel teetered. She reached for Draco’s hand in a moment of sheer panic--and, surprisingly, he latched onto her and held her up.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you to not wear shoes you couldn’t walk in?” he said, amused. He didn’t move to let go of her hand.

“Don’t be rude, Malfoy,” she fired back.

“You’re not wearing it,” he noted. His lips slightly turned into a frown as he cast his eyes downwards.

Y/N stared at him, her mind barely functioning at this point. “What?”

“The bracelet,” he said, letting go of her hand to motion to her wrist.

“Oh,” she responded lamely. In truth, she’d tossed it into his quill box while she was in the throes of self-pity over the whole ordeal of unrequited feelings, but she could hardly tell him that. “I took it off to shower and it took too long to put back on.”

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to help again,” he said with a teasing lilt. “I’d only judge you a little.”

She smiled, grateful he wasn’t pushing it any further. “Ever the gentleman. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

They made it to the fifth floor in no time. Slughorn only seemed slightly concerned with the presence of Draco, but he didn’t say anything to Y/N. As she expected, Hermione and Ron gave her a little bit of side-eye once they saw her choice of a date, but neither of them brought it up and even spoke to her for a little--though they never verbally acknowledged Malfoy. While she was constantly overanalyzing the little things that Draco was doing--the way he offered her a sip of his drink when she spaced out on the way his hands looked holding it for too long, the way he was always touching her in some way, whether it be a hand on her lower back or a lingering grip on her waist--she couldn’t help but feel overcome with the relief that her friends seemed somewhat accepting of her new friendship with Draco.

Then Harry opened his mouth.

“Malfoy,” he greeted through gritted teeth.

“Potter.”

Ginny met her slightly panicked gaze with one of her own. To her surprise, though, Harry just flicked his gaze to where Draco’s hand was lightly poised on her waist, raising an eyebrow. “Congratulations for finally being honest with her. I always thought Y/N deserved a bloke who outright admitted his feelings. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe that is you after all.”

Draco’s hand immediately dropped. “Do me a favor and bugger off.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong,” replied Harry, looking Draco up and down with possibly the pettiest look she’d ever seen on a wizard before. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“That was weird,” said Y/N, though she secretly revelled in the fact that Harry was picking up on something too.

“I suppose.” Draco slid off one of his rings, running his fingertips over the ridges of his family crest.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Y/N, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just never really been a party person.”

“I imagine it’s probably not helping that Harry’s here,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing him. “Do you want to just get out of here? I think we’ve been here for long enough to justify ditching.” His grateful smile told her everything. “I had a feeling. Where do you want to go?”

He pondered this for a bit. “I’m not sure. Anywhere but here.”

“Anywhere but here” quickly turned into his dorm as they wordlessly made their way down to the dungeons, passing by Marvin the raven outside Snape’s stores. Y/N’s pulse sped up every time their hands brushed--which seemed to happen far, far too often for it to be accidental on either of their ends.

“I can’t believe you broke in there,” he said finally, chuckling as the raven cooed at her appreciatively. “And just for me? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” grumbled Y/N. Obviously she’d done it just for him--she was hopelessly obsessed with him. He knew that. She found herself profoundly grateful that she’d been under the influence of Veritaserum that time instead of now--if she’d had so much as a drop of truth serum, she’d spend the entire night telling him how much she wanted him. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how weird Harry was back there. I don’t get why he feels the need to make assumptions about everything.”

Draco hummed, tapping his fingers on her wrist. Just friends, just friends, you’re just friends. Merlin fucking damnit, why did he have such nice hands? “I don’t know. He was certainly sure about it.”

“And I have no clue why,” Y/N said, pretending like she was in disbelief instead of acute pain. “I know you don’t see me like that. I’m not really sure where he’s getting that from.”

“Oh?” Draco let his hand fall, a weird tone coming over his voice. “You aren’t?”

“Well, I remember what you said,” she said matter-of-factly, trying her hardest not to read into the way he was staring at her, watching every fidget of her hands. “It’s not like I’d be self-loathing enough to expect anything different.”

He let out a huff of frustration. “Y/L/N, honestly. I sent you a box of special Wurgie’s lavender chocolates on Valentine’s day. I spend all of my free periods talking to you.”

“Ok?” Y/N couldn’t help but be taken aback by how argumentative his tone was becoming. “I suppose I see how Harry could read into that. But I have to spend my free periods with someone, right? And sometimes I get my friends chocolate on Valentine’s day too.”

“I bought you a whole enchanted quidditch bracelet. It’s the only one of its kind,” he snipped, obviously becoming more agitated. “I spent an entire day trying to find the right unbreaking spell. My father literally wrote to me from Azkaban to ask me why the Gringotts bank statement recorded me taking out that many galleons at once. He thought someone had broken into our account.”

“He doesn’t know that.” Y/N was becoming keenly aware of how close he was standing to her now that they’d stopped walking, her back a few inches from the wall as he leaned into her space. “Even if I had worn it out, there’s no way he could’ve known it was from you.”

“That’s not what I’m--” he began waspishly before clearing his throat and collecting himself. “I’m just saying, those things aren’t exactly platonic.”

“Okay,” said Y/N slowly, trying to turn her thoughts away from how soft his lips looked, “I’ll concede that some things that we do can be read as something more than friendship. But I know how you feel. You told me.”

He wet his lips. “Do you actually think I care about whatever goes in that dim brain of his?”

“Normally, no. But considering the fact that we just had an argument over it, then maybe I’m incorrect in assuming.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. He was close enough that she could smell the traces of that expensive cologne he always wore that reminded her of loose leaf lapsang souchong and fresh parchment. “And I was never trying to argue with you about his perception. I was talking about my actual intentions.”

“What?” Y/N choked out as she tentatively glanced up to see his jaw set. Her heart was pounding so hard it must’ve been audible. What the hell was he talking about?

Instead of answering, Draco gently reached up to her shoulders, walking her back until she was pinned up against the wall. His other hand came to tilt her chin so their eyes met. She would’ve been deceived into thinking he was confident by his unwavering stare, but she’d felt how his hands were slightly unstable. “Merlin, are you going to make me spell it out for you? How many different ways am I going to need to tell you?”

In the end, she wasn’t quite sure who it was who closed the gap--just that, at some point, one of them did, and that she was all of a sudden kissing Draco Malfoy with a fervor that she didn’t know she had in her. His mouth was hot against hers as he pressed her up further into the wall, his knee rising between her thighs to prop her up.

In the recesses of the back of her mind, it vaguely registered that this didn’t add up with what he told her the last night they spent together--but she decided to brush all those concerns off to the nebulous concept of later when his hands tangled into her hair.

The sound of footsteps and students giggling echoed down the corridor, making the pair jump apart. Y/N wiped her lips, trying to fix the smear of her lipstick as Draco frantically straightened out his tie that she’d tugged loose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself meet his eyes.

“Do you still want to go back to my dorm?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She dared to look up at him, not expecting the sight of his pupils blown out and his cheeks slightly rosy. “If that’s okay, yeah.”

Neither of them attempted to make conversation as he led her through the empty Slytherin common room. She could feel her heart crawling into her throat. She’d never gone to a boy’s dorm before other than during the Veritaserum incident--sure, she’d kissed some boys before, she’d even gone to the Yule Ball with a cute Beauxbatons boy--but she didn’t know how this worked. Was she supposed to immediately start kissing him the moment his bedroom door was closed? Was she supposed to be kissing him now? Was she supposed to be kissing him at all after that?

They made it into his bedroom before Y/N could come to a decision on her next action, so she decided to just not make any moves. Fuck, that was almost worse. Where would she sit? At his desk? No, who the fuck does that? Next to him on his bed? No, too suggestive. Just stand by the door? Merlin, no. She wished that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so she could sit back in her dorm and think about the way he’d kissed her in private.

“So,” said Draco.

“So,” echoed Y/N, finally giving in and sinking down onto the bed next to him.

“So, I take it that you still like me?” A small smirk danced on his lips.

Her cheeks blushed into a furious red. “Draco, please don’t make this any more embarrassing than it has to be.”

“What are you...huh?” He shifted so he was on his side, propping up his chin with his palm as he studied her with agonizing attention. “Why would it be embarrassing when I was the one who kissed you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that this isn’t the first time? And the fact that I’m waiting for you to tell me you didn’t mean it again?”

“You think I didn’t mean that?” Draco’s eyebrows raised. “Do I need to do it again to get it through that thick skull of yours?”

“I--what--don’t be rude,” she stuttered.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t lose the upturn of his lips. “I guess so. I suppose I was planning on it anyway.”

All her nervousness melted away as Draco edged closer, the coolness of his rings pressing pleasantly into her neck. Instead of kissing her immediately like she expected, he traced the outline of her neck up to her ear where he wound his fingers into her hair, finally leaning in so their lips met.

His skin was soft against hers as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and pulling her into his lap, his fingers spanning the width of her waist and twisting in the satiny fabric of her dress. When she was out of breath and the pillow she was next to was beginning to get pushed dangerously close to the edge, she finally broke the kiss.

“Can’t you just tell me how you feel with your words?” she prompted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Draco.

“I thought it was obvious last time.”

“Well, it was. That was before I knew that I was relieved of my task,” he explained, his grip around her waist tightening to tug her ever closer.

“Why would that matter?”

“Because,” he began, a slightly exasperated look in his eye, “If I had my task and my mother was still at stake, I would’ve had to go back home over the summer. And You-Know-Who would see you in my memories. Plus, I think that being a full-time Death Eater makes it very difficult to be a good boyfriend to someone who’s best friends with Harry Potter. That would complicate things. I knew that if I told you I felt the same way I wouldn’t be able to say no to you.”

“So…” She swallowed. “Does this mean that you’ve liked me all along? Like, from the start?”

“What do you think?” he drawled, his fingers ghosting over the zipper of her dress. “Do you think I just go around kissing random girls in my bed?”

“Well, what about Pansy?”

“Yeah, actually, what about her?” he asked, a little glimmer appearing in his eye. “We haven’t been together since, what, the middle of 5th year? I talk to her as much as I talk to any of my other Slytherin friends. I don’t know what’s got you so up in arms over her.”

“She obviously isn’t over you,” Y/N pointed out. “I just know it.”

“And? I’m over her.” He gave her a knowing look. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “I thought that maybe there was something. It’s not like I’m keenly aware of the Slytherin social going-ons.”

“Sheesh, so defensive,” he tutted, his thumbs now rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s almost like you like me or something.”

“Draco!” She swatted at him, but he caught her hand in midair and kissed each of her knuckles, giving her an almost sheepish look. It was all she could do to keep her laughs from getting too loud as he dropped her hand and swept towards her again, kissing her fully.

Before she knew it, they were rolled over so he was on top of her, hovering over her with his elbows supporting his weight as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along the bare curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and let a soft sigh escape her as his lips drags across the spot under her ear, pushing up further into him.

“You liked that, huh?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” she said, reaching up to thread her fingers lightly through his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. Something possessed her to wind her fingers through the locks on the back of his neck and close them into a fist, awarding her with a sharp intake of air from Draco. “You liked that, huh?” she mocked.

He rolled his eyes, muttering a “fucking hell” so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear it. Despite the exasperation in his tone, his mouth was still fixed in an upturn as he looked down at her, his eyes soft. She couldn’t help but move up to kiss him again, and again, and again, until her lungs were screaming for air and her neck was cramping from the angle.

She let her head fall back onto his down comforter, taking in the sight of Draco with swollen, well-kissed lips.

“What?” He tilted his head as he regarded her.

“I just love you like this,” she said shyly. “Oh, Merlin, wait, I didn’t mean it like…”

Draco let out a chuckle. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. I love you like this, too. You’re not as difficult.” He rolled off of her, taking a moment to shed his dress coat and pull off his tie.

When he was close enough again, she rewarded his tolerance with a smile and a delicate, nervous kiss on his collarbone, dragging her teeth over his skin for just a moment. The hand that was placed on her back scrunched up the material of her dress as Draco’s breath caught.

“Your hands are bloody cold,” he complained as her fingers wound themselves under his dress shirt, exploring the new expanse of exposed alabaster skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, pulling away and letting go for just a second before he grabbed her wrists together and hauled her back.

“No.”

“I’ve never…”

“That’s okay,” he said as she settled back onto his lap, reveling in the soft way that he was treating the skin that was exposed by her dress. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m just scared,” she suddenly choked out. Where did that come from? “I want you, now, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to you telling me that you can’t do this or that you didn’t like it or…” She trailed off, distracted by the way he firmly tapped the outer edge of her thigh.

“I’m not going to do that to you,” he said. “I promise. I made that mistake once. Plus, the burden of the performance is kind of on me anyways, so there’s nothing to be nervous about if that’s a hold up.”

She snorted. “Don’t make me change my mind, Malfoy.”

Despite her words, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I mean it. If you want to just lie there that’s fine. As long as you enjoy it, it’ll be great for me.” His hand came up to gingerly brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen in her face before dropping to gently toy with the top of her zipper again--a question. Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be helped out of the garment, letting it fall to the ground before turning back to attack the buttons on Draco’s chest. He made an amused sound as she struggled, eventually unsheathing his wand and opening it up in a second.

“I could’ve done that, you know,” she said rather defensively.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, hardly masking his teasing tone. “You’re very capable. Now come here.”

And so she did.

The idea of sex had always been scary to Y/N. Someone, especially someone attractive enough for her to want to sleep with him, seeing her fully exposed made her want to freeze up and dive under her blankets. But that was before Draco. Somewhere, hidden deep in the back of her brain, lay an anxious switch that flicked off as soon as she was pinned under him with his knee pushing up to part her legs. She no longer felt like she had to be self-conscious--despite how intimidated she was by him, she’d never felt more adored.

Y/N learned three surprising things about Draco in the span of that night: one, that in some places his skin felt like crushed velvet under her fingers; two, that he melted in her hands when she pressed her lips to the sensitive spot on his neck; and three, that he had a freckle under his jaw. And on his left shoulder. And at the spot where his thigh met his torso.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured to her after they’d slumped together, his duvet haphazardly flung over their bodies while his fingers traced patterns on her back.

“I’m just so glad you feel the same way,” she admitted. “I thought I was going crazy over your actions not lining up with your words. It was driving me insane.”

Draco let out a little laugh. “I thought it was painfully obvious.”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs that time you walked with me after detention?”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs today?”

“You’re ruining this,” she said sourly as she swatted his chest.

Instead of responding, he just snatched her hand and held it hostage. “I’m not the one resorting to physical violence. Which, now that I think of it, is pretty commonplace for you.”

“Hey! If I hadn’t thrown the york pudding at Pansy, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Draco was silent for a few moments.

“You know I’m right,” she pressed. To her surprise, he shifted uncomfortably under her.

“I’m not so sure,” he finally admitted.

“Huh?” Her features flooded with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I’m lucky it worked out like this,” he said hesitantly. “And...so soon. You hated me.”

She sat up, pulling away from his embrace and folding her knees under her. “What are you talking about?”

“I dunno.” Draco refused to meet her eyes, his fingers instead playing with the edges of his sheets. “This is probably stupid, but do you remember the time we brewed Amortentia in Slughorn’s class?”

She nodded.

“You told me that it reminded you of a memory,” he continued, “And that you knew you had to have danced with them at some point.”

“I’m aware.” Y/N blinked down at him as she tried to piece the puzzle together.

He finally flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I guess you don’t remember it, but in fourth year we danced together once. I’d never talked to you before--I knew you were friends with Potter and the like--but I just never really stopped thinking about it since.”

“This is so embarrassing,” said Y/N. “How do I not remember?”

He shrugged. “I think you were a little tipsy at the time. I did, though. I’ve never forgotten.”

“Then why were you so mean to my friends?”

“I stopped for the most part,” he pointed out. “And, if you’ll notice, it was mostly towards Harry.”

“I thought that was because he’s the Chosen One.”

“No, it’s because I could see that he liked you and I was jealous. Eventually I just gave up around 5th year, around when I started dating Pansy. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I was ever going to be able to be with you, especially not after getting my task.”

“Oh,” Y/N said as she mulled over this information. “My story isn't as romantic. I suppose I’ve always had a little crush on you too, but I was definitely in denial. I just always found you ridiculously attractive and tragically funny considering what you used to support.”

He glowed down at her, pressing the pad of his thumb into her cheek. “Well, I’m glad I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“Me too.”

The weeks began to pass faster after that. Draco never really struck Y/N as a PDA type of guy, but he was surprisingly affectionate. When they began to brew potions together again, he was quick to tuck away her hair behind her ear when she was looking over the cauldron and sent her sweet, private smiles that made her heart flutter. He even sat with her every once in a while at the Gryffindor table when the trio was busy doing whatever they had to do to save the world. Y/N pretended to not notice the whispers that were elicited from her peers when Draco would casually touch her.

They spent as many nights together as they could, but considering how often her friends were giving her dirty looks for stumbling into Potions after not being seen in the Gryffindor Tower for the past day, they had to be reasonable, cutting it down to three or four nights a week.

Y/N treasured every moment she had with Draco, even when they were fleeting and in between classes. She learned everything she could about him--how he was actually terrified of snakes, how he preferred his tea black, how he had an elaborate morning routine he hardly ever deviated from--and committed it all to mind. Her favorite version of him in her head was the way he looked when he was between her sheets, fast asleep with his arms draped over her. Whenever she woke up before him, she tried to memorize it.

He was absolutely ridiculous with the kind of gifts he gave her. Y/N swore that one day she’d wake up to find that he’d bought the British crown jewels because he “saw them” and “just thought of her”. She now had enough Barnaby’s quills to rival the number of feathers on the country’s entire population of geese, but instead of feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, all Y/N could feel was the impending doom that, one day, those gifts would be the only thing she had left of him. He seemed to know this, too.

Draco always found some kind of reason to pull her away and kiss her senseless, whether it be behind a tapestry or in a broom closet when Filch heard them walking around the castle after curfew. In a way, it was like they were just normal teenagers, enjoying the thrill of the moment and acting out. When she thought of it like that, it made the inevitable events seem more bearable; at least they had some time together.

The letter came with no more context than just a simple “Tomorrow.” Y/N knew exactly what it meant--Narcissa Malfoy was going to finally be taken from the manor. Bellatrix needed to be convinced over the next 24 hours to enter the Borgin & Burke’s Vanishing Cabinet as a distraction, and Y/N needed to be sure of her work on the cabinet.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Y/N mused absentmindedly as she sat in front of the cabinet. Draco’s head rested on her shoulder after recounting all of the changes he’d made. “That was clever, switching out the conductor clasp with a copper fitting.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. “I’m not totally daft, you know.”

“Of course I know,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft murmur. Fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh as he pulled her onto him. “Draco, I have to fix this first. Then we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Hm,” was all he said, burying his face in her neck once again and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you worried?”

He was still for a few moments before dipping his head slightly in a nod.

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, winding his fingers through hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I should be comforting you, not the other way around,” he said softly. “I dragged you into this.”

“I pushed myself into this,” she corrected. “And, plus, it’s not my mother on the line. It’s okay to care, you know.”

Y/N got up, making her way towards the cabinet and meeting his eyes once. They shared a knowing glance as she brandished her wand and whispered a quick fracturing spell, sending cracks down the eastern side of the lunar belt. Her hand shook as she shrank back onto the couch until his arms found her shoulders and turned her towards him. “I can’t believe I just...I just did that.”

Instead of responding, he simply sat up straight and delicately pressed his lips to her forehead, his hand coming around to cradle her for just a moment. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Out of here” once again turned into Draco’s dorm room.

“I can’t believe this will all be over tomorrow,” Draco said, his back turned as he loosened his Slytherin tie. “I’m going to be gone by Sunday morning.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to let the lump in her throat garner too much attention at the thought of losing Draco into what was essentially the Order’s witness protection program.

He seemed to notice her uncharacteristic silence, frowning at his reflection before making his way towards her and diligently pressing kisses on her cheeks. Instead of grabbing onto his sleeve cuffs and pulling him closer like she usually did, she just let out a tiny sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the tie slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmured, moving so she had to look at him.

“Hey.” She sent him a watery smile, hoping that he couldn’t see how close she was to tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head, anchoring her bottom lip with her teeth so she didn’t choke up. “It’s nothing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull that with me. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to ask again. What’s wrong?” His hand came up to pull her chin up again so their eyes were level, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

Y/N tried to tell him; she really did. It wasn’t her fault that the most pathetic sounding sob of her life came out of her mouth instead of a confession. Instead of asking any more questions or trying to get her to talk, Draco just pulled her into his arms and held her there, letting her weep into him. His hands came up to rub her back as she struggled to breathe normally.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“This isn’t about me,” said Y/N miserably. “It’s about you. What if something happens to you while we’re apart? What if I don’t get to see you again?”

Draco made a small sound in his throat, almost like he was holding back a sob himself. “Y/N, don’t worry about me, okay? It’ll all be alright, love. Don’t worry.”

Despite the fact that Draco was doing his best to comfort her, Y/N knew one thing for sure: his word couldn’t stand against fate, and if he were meant to die or disappear during the time that he was hidden away in Italy, there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She turned her head and found herself pressing her lips to his with so much desperation that she hardly even noticed the few stray tears that had made their way down her cheeks. He met her with much more tenderness, his fingers gently brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. For someone as cocky as Draco, he could be so shy when he kissed her, almost like he expected her to change her mind halfway through.

“I don’t want this to be over,” she whispered as she pulled away, leaving the slightest gap between their lips.

He cupped her face, his eyes shining. “It’s not over. We have a few hours left.”

To her horror, another strangled gasp left her lips. Draco had her tucked into his arms in an instant, his lips pressing into her hairline. “It’s not over, okay? I just don’t want to hold you back if you aren’t allowed to see me. Don’t wait around for me.”

“I don’t care,” choked out Y/N. “I’d wait forever if it meant I got to have you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But it’s not fair of me to expect that from you. I don’t know how long this war is going to last.”

“I don’t care about fairness,” whispered Y/N. “I just want you.”

They spent the rest of the night tangled together in his sheets, just waiting for the morning to come. Neither one got any sleep. Instead, Y/N entertained herself by playing with his hands and asking him questions about his childhood--anything to keep her from remembering what was in store for both of them.

It had been decided earlier that Y/N would have no part in the cabinet plan after they ran the information by the Order. Actually, it was decided that she’d have no part in anything beyond just bringing the situation of Narcissa Malfoy to attention. “It’s crucial to your safety that you don’t connect yourself and by extension our family to this,” one of her father’s earlier letters had read. “Doing so puts you and everyone you love in jeopardy.”

That evening, just as dusk set in, she stood with Draco in her dorm for what was the last time, shaking with unshed tears. He just clung to her for the first few minutes, her head tucked under his chin as his hands were clasped around her back.

“Give me your hand,” he said finally. “I want you to have something.”

She felt something slide on her thumb, her eyes widening as she realized what it was--his family ring.

“Draco…”

“I probably shouldn’t have this on me, anyways,” he explained. “And I want you to have something of mine, something that’s really mine, not just a gift. Just...maybe don’t wear it in public, and if you do wear it as a necklace charm or something. The last thing I want is you to get connected to this--”

Y/N cut off his rambling by pressing her lips to his, his hand feeling oddly bare as it came up to touch her cheek. “If anything happens to you, I love you. I hope you know that.”

He smiled, then kissed her again--so long that it seemed like he was savoring every moment of

it before finally stepping away. “You know I love you. Always will.”

She managed to fit in one last kiss before he left.

Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday which turned into the next week. Before she knew it, her 6th year was almost over. Neither Draco nor Narcissa had contacted her. The Order had been cagey about the details leading to the Malfoys--while she obviously had a general idea as to the location of her Italian vacation home and thus by extent the Malfoys, she hadn’t heard anything about their travels there. All she’d heard was the basic news that everyone had--that Bellatrix Lestrange had been found dead and that the Ministry had taken both Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov into custody with near fatal injuries.

But that didn’t make her miss him any less. Y/N found herself longing for the nostalgic, innocent time when she shamelessly flirted with him in detention and only worried about whether or not the Trio would like her again. It all seemed so long ago.

Falling asleep was the worst. She couldn’t smell the lavender of her diffuser or her room spray without relating it to him, couldn’t slide under her sheets without remembering how it felt to fall asleep in his arms. Around May, Y/N came to the most disturbing realization: she wasn’t entirely sure if she remembered what his voice sounded like anymore. Not in the way that meant she wouldn’t recognize it if he called out to her--she would, of course she would--but she couldn’t replicate it in her mind or replay their interactions with convincing accuracy.

Sometimes, on the nights when she couldn’t sleep at all, she envisioned her last interaction with Draco: his snow blond hair ruffled and his face grim as he turned to leave. Even though she couldn’t hear his voice quite right as he told her he loved her, she remembered the scent of his cologne against her jumper and the feeling of his skin against hers as he slipped his family ring onto her hand. It was killing her that she didn’t know exactly what happened to him. He could’ve been taken by a surviving Death Eater and held hostage at the manor. He could be dead. The papers had printed that he’d been pulled into the Vanishing Cabinet and, true to the name, completely vanished, caught in the space passageway between it and the sister cabinet. She’d known that that was the angle the Order was going to take from the start, but it did nothing to ease her anxiety.

It was even more concerning when she remembered that they’d never agreed upon anything in the future--just simply that they cared about each other in March. At that moment it had been enough. But it wasn’t anymore. All she wanted was for him to appear, give her that stupid wave he sometimes sent to her from across the dining hall when she saw him enter in the morning, and sweep her up into his arms. But that was hard to do when he was countries away.

N.E.W.Ts had been cancelled, much to the dismay of Hermione, so Y/N had even less things to distract her with. Harry was off with Dumbledore doing Merlin knows what to try and defeat Voldemort. She was left with nothing to do but wallow in her own pity.

In early June, days before Hogwarts classes were officially concluded, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” mumbled Y/N. While she had thankfully gotten past the habit of crying every day, she’d instead slipped into a sort of anxious paralysis, lying on her bed after all of her tasks were done.

“It’s me.” Ron’s voice made her sit up in surprise. He hadn’t really spoken to her privately since he’d brokered the peace between her and the rest of the trio. “Do you have time to chat?”

“Sure,” she responded, moving over so he had room to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Lavender just broke up with me,” muttered Ron, his hand coming up to brush at something on his cheek. “And I’ve never felt this way before. Is this what it feels like for you? With Malfoy?”

Y/N met his eyes and saw the same kind of hopelessness in them, the edges pricking with tears. “Yeah. I think so.” It was hard to choke back her own sob, so she just hugged him. He smelled of caramel and spring grass.

“Not to be a prat,” he said, “But you shouldn’t waste any tears over Malfoy. I don’t care if he switched sides in the end, he’s still a snot-nosed tosser to me. When this is all over, we’re going out together so we can find you someone better.”

“You know he switched sides?” She pulled back in surprise. Ron sent her a little wink.

“Of course not. I’m not sure why I said that. I’m sure if it was true, it’d be confidential Order information.”

“Who else?”

“Just Hermione and Harry,” he replied in a low voice. “But we weren’t supposed to figure it out--it was an accident over Easter break while we were eavesdropping on an Order meeting. That doesn’t change anything, though. You could definitely do better.”

“And so could you,” she said. “Remember what I said about you and Hermione?”

He laughed. “I’m working on it.”

Her conversation with Ron shed light on something else that had baffled her as of late--the tentative rekindling of her friendship with Hermione. The witch was actually inviting her to study nowadays, making small talk with her despite steering clear of all topics regarding Malfoy and Death Eaters.

The last day of school rolled around before she was ready, the final ceremony being spoken by McGonagall instead of Dumbledore while he was still traveling with Harry. As she got up from her seat in the Great Hall, Hermione grabbed onto her sleeve.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

So, instead of walking straight up to the Gryffindor Tower on the route they’d used countless times since the beginning of their educational career, they took the scenic route along the Black Lake, away from the hordes of students. They walked the shore quietly until Hermione spoke up.

“Draco needs a tutor to cover what he missed this year.”

Y/N snapped to attention. “What?”

“Narcissa Malfoy has been requesting it and all the professors are busy with Order work,” continued Hermione, not bothering to repeat herself. “They want me to do it. When they ask, I’m going to turn them down and volunteer you instead. Is that okay?”

“Um…” Y/N stuttered. “I’m going to be a pretty shit tutor. Why would you do that for me?”

“I’m going to try and help Harry this summer,” she explained. “And even if I wasn’t, consider it my formal apology. I know it wasn’t right how I treated you this year. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just hope you understand why I was hurt.”

“Of course I understand!” said Y/N, reaching out to touch her elbow. “Considering the way he treated you, I can’t blame you for feeling betrayed. I should be the one apologizing. It just...happened the way it did. I didn’t want to fall for him, but I did anyway.”

Hermione covered her hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I know. Do you think we can put this all behind us? I’ve missed my best friend. Ron and Harry have been driving me crazy this term. Ron told me to tell you that you have permission to smack me if I ever say something condescending to you again.”

“Please, let’s. And I think I’d resort to throwing a nice york pudding instead…”

The familiar bittersweet feeling of looking forward to putting school behind her yet dreading leaving her friends consumed her as she filed onto the Hogwarts Express, looking back onto the castle for the last time. She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time.

“Luna!” she exclaimed as she ran into someone trying to find her seat. The blonde Ravenclaw sent her a dreamy smile.

“You certainly look happier.” Luna tilted her head as she studied her features.

“I never got to properly thank you for this,” said Y/N, “But you absolutely saved me this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you in January.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being your friend,” responded Luna. “If you really want to, owl me this summer. I think I’ll miss you quite a bit.”

“I’ll miss you more.” She let her new Ravenclaw friend pull her into a hug before she finally retired to her respective seat next to Hermione, who pressed a package into her hand.

“McGonagall just gave it to me,” she whispered into her ear. “Don’t show it to anyone. I think it’s a Portkey.”

True to Hermione’s prediction, it was a familiar object from her manor--an ornate vase that was normally on display in the main foyer. A piece of parchment was rolled up inside.

Activates at 9am on the 10th of June. Closes 5 minutes after the hour. Do not be late.

Instead of feeling excited to see Draco, all she could feel was her nerves as she stared at the vase in front of her at 8:55 in the morning. It’d been so long since she’d kissed him that she wasn’t even sure if she remembered how. She literally felt as if her virginity had grown back like her leg hairs did the morning after she cast hair removal spells.

And not to mention, seeing Narcissa again--that was terrifying. She’d always been a very intimidating woman, dressed impeccably with sharp, aristocratic features much like her son. Y/N doubted she’d take kindly to her son’s tutor being more interested in him than the actual job at hand.

That assumed he even wanted her still, anyways. Maybe three months in isolation made him come to his senses and realize he’d been absolutely off his rocker for liking her in the first place. Merlin, did he regret it? Was he going to tell her they couldn’t?

Swallowing her worries as the clock chimed at 9, she wrapped her hand around the vase and allowed herself to be pulled across international borders.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Instead of the florally pine forest that surrounded her family’s main manor, she was greeted with the scent of sea salt and the sound of cawing birds. The sun had long since risen, the temperature a pleasant warmth to her skin after she’d spent a year in the cooler English air.

Y/N stepped forward, towards the looming white structure that she assumed was her beach cottage. Her feet sunk in the sand as she made her way across the beach. Did he even know she was coming then? She would’ve thought he did, considering that anyone approaching the safe house unannounced would no doubt send everyone into some sort of a panic.

Finally, she made it to the front door, tapping her wand on the enchanted knocker to signal that someone was at the front door. It creaked, and all of a sudden she was looking into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. He looked less pale than he did the last time she’d seen him, like he’d actually begun to spend time in the sun instead of locked away in the Slytherin dungeons. His hair looked somewhat sunbleached. She could see the faintest beginning of unfamiliar freckles across his nose.

“Hi,” she said shyly, toying with her nails in front of her and not sure whether or not to embrace him. “I’m not sure if you knew, but your mother wanted someone to review the material you missed this year and Hermione didn’t want to, so--”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he whispered when he pulled away. Her eyes pooled with tears as his voice re-registered in her head.

“I missed you,” Y/N managed. She let her fingers run over his cheekbones and the rest of his face and hair like she couldn’t believe he was actually there in front of her again. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“Something kind of did,” he admitted. “My aunt died.”

“So I’ve heard. Sorry about that.”

“It was her own fault. She brought a dagger enchanted with dark magic and it messed with the energy.” His smile had morphed into something more tense, so she stood on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, a bit tentative after not touching him since March.

“You were all I could think about,” she admitted. “I’m not going to be much good at teaching you anything because I honestly stopped paying attention after you left…”

Draco’s smile widened, and she felt her legs turn to jelly. “I don’t mind. You were all I could think about, too. If you ever run out of things to teach me…” His fingers ghosted along her jawline as he spoke, “...I’ve had three months with nothing better to do than to think up ways to make up for the time we’ve spent apart.”

As she basked in the warmth of his embrace and the gentle sound of the Mediterranean ocean lapping at the earth, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in months. There was a war on the horizon, her friends were in danger, and her parents were once again risking themselves to aid the Order. But she’d gotten Draco out of his task. They had at least a summer left together. And at that moment, that was enough.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, tugging her chin up to meet his eyes once again.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

And so he did.

final a/n: thanks for hanging in there! i hope you guys liked it! first off, apologies if my fluff scenes are choppy or repetitive. i’m not very experienced with writing them yet. also, i decided to write draco this way last minute because i like to imagine him as someone who has never had to actually admit feelings for someone and put himself on the line--instead i think he’d try his hardest to get you to confess that you like him if he’s afraid of messing it up. also if you were confused the quidditch bracelet is supposed to be the magic equivalent of a tennis bracelet lol...when i was shopping w my mom i may have been inspired when i saw those bc literally who wears diamonds around their wrist that cost thousands of dollars every day? i asked the saleslady how much the smallest one was and she was like “only 4k and you can wear it anywhere!” like girl i work a minimum wage customer service job and that shit would break in a few seconds. no i would not wear that everywhere. tennis bracelet rant over but anyways ig i was saying that a tennis bracelet def has draco malfoy energy per se

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

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

FLESH⇢yandere!kth&pjm [E]

⇢ 18+ | Explicit ⇢ xtremity; 10 ⇢ pairing: kth & pjm x female reader ⇢ serves as a part two of Friends, but can be read individually. ⇢ genre: yandere, smut, gore ⇢ word count: 6.7k ⇢ warnings: my brain hah | bloodplay | use of razorblade/cutting on y/n’s body | dubcon smut | bloody biting | scratching/nail marks | oral choking | spanking | drugging y/n (not unconscious.) | she’s basically theirs to use as they wish | straight up noncon ending as it includes major character death.(hint; it’s y/n.) | kind of soft tho despite the fact that y/n literally dies. | also slight mxm moments but at this point that warning is so tame compared to the previous. | Jm calls KTH hyung in this ok its not a typo in this world he’s older just roll w it xoxo

You are reading this at your own discretion and with many warnings for very explicit content involving triggering themes. This is purely a fictional guilty pleasure. I enjoy writing these things, but it does not reflect my real life desires or morals.. Thank you for reading, it’s been a while since I posted anything of my own. I’ve had this idea in mind since last summer, and it’s been a long time before I was finally able to finish it. Honestly, it probably would’ve never been finished if it wasn’t for the fact that lovely @chimoona hyped me and helped me out when I felt like I was stuck. Hope you love it. xoxo

Taehyung and Jimin’s twisted obsession with you mixes with their insatiable sadistic desires of having your life under their control.

This time, they take it too far.

They believed in forever, they really did. And technically, they weren’t wrong.

You’d been their plaything for what did feel like an eternity. Not that you mind, you’ve grown to love them and what they do to you. With time, they grew to trust you wholly, and at some point they allowed you to roam their house freely, knowing you wouldn’t attempt to escape. You do not recall when you'd forgotten about your old life, and only knew the one you shared with Taehyung and Jimin. You didn’t want to leave, your life was dedicated to them, content in your current position as their property. To please them in every way you knew how and were taught to, to comfort them when they’re having a rough day... They did provide everything you have, after all.

They loved you so much. So fucking much it was so utterly painful. To the point that they were struggling to show you just how much.

Showing sweet affection naturally came easier from Jimin. He was softer, more gentle with the way he handled you. He absolutely loved to spoil you with hugs, kisses, and sweet words to no end…

Taehyung, however, was cold as ice. You knew he loved you too, likely even more than Jimin did. He wouldn’t show it in the same ways, often struggling with being gentle. So, he would show you his affection the only way he knew how; Fucking you.

The harder he fucked you, the more he loved you. His love was aggressive, and his self control often went way out of hand, especially as of late. He loved you more when he hurt you. Sometimes, Jimin had to stop him from going too far; although it was obvious that he enjoyed watching Taehyung handle you this way for as long as he allowed himself before his empathy forced him to step in...

You smoothed your fingers over the purple bruises on your neck, shaped in the form of Taehyung’s strong fingers. Standing in the quiet kitchen, you peered out the window, watching their car pull up on the driveway. A rush of adrenaline pumped through your veins, because you knew they were hungry. Not for food, but for you.

It was late at night, they usually worked late. You never knew exactly what they did for a living, and at this point you didn’t dare to ask. All you knew was that they made enough to provide. It was hell for them to be away from you, sometimes for days at a time; so when they came home, there was only one thing on their mind.

~~~

The few seconds it took for the door to swing open, the quick scurrying of your feet thudded against the floor, rushing to greet them with a smile. Jimin sprung on his feet to embrace you in a tight hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, as if it was the remedy he’s been craving.

“Kitten..” Jimin purred against your skin, placing hungry kisses along your collarbone. You gasped quietly, relishing in how his pillowy lips soothed the aching on your skin. “Jimin… I missed you.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything, just placed his duffel bag on the floor with a thud after locking the front door behind them. It took a moment before he joined in the hug, taking his place behind you to hug tightly. He grazed his lips against the nape of your neck, drawing another soft gasp from you.

“Taehyung.” You whispered as you melted into the touch between both of your men. “I missed you too.”

“My doll.” Taehyung murmured, his hands roaming down the curve of your waist before they settled on your hips, squeezing hard. He pressed his crotch against your ass, as if to tell you he missed you as well, if the hardness beneath the fabric of his pants were anything to go by.

“It’s time to play.” He stated firmly. It wasn’t a question, but a command, to the both of you.

“Yes.” Jimin agreed, his kisses travelling up your jaw to finally meet your lips in a sweet kiss. He pulled back to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Tonight felt different.

~~~

“Fuck, you look so pretty, doll. Isn’t she just exquisite, Jimin?”

“Yeah. She is perfect.”

The familiar words in each ear coaxed shivers to run down your spine. The deja vu brought back the faint memories of their first night with you, a night of fear mixed with arousal. Tonight, that feeling was back. Your bittersweet piece of heaven and hell in one room, ready to play with you to their heart’s content.

You were laid on your back in their large bed, dressed up in their favorite red lingerie like a full course meal for them to play with and devour, wrists tightly tied above your head against the barred headboard. The chain was loose, allowing you to be moved around on the bed, however not long enough for you to actually be able to get out of it. But you didn’t attempt to move. They were always in charge, this was second nature to you by now.

“P-please…” Your hushed voice was barely audible, head moving side to side, unable to see where in the room they were. It wasn’t unusual for them to do it like this, they loved to blindfold you, giving you absolutely no power to ever predict what they'd do or where they’d touch…

“Oh, kitten’s begging.” Jimin sounded like he wanted to ease your desperation. He always did, he loved to give you what you wanted, to spoil you with love and pleasure.

“Let her.” Taehyung huffed, a lot less sweet in his tone. He stood by the foot of the bed, slowly unbuckling his pants. The clacking sound of the belt had your body quivering in anticipation. “Come here, Jimin. Don’t touch her yet.”

“Yes.” Jimin obliged to Taehyung, always did.. well, most of the time. Sometimes there were moments where Jimin would disobey for fun, but reading the room of how tonight’s ambience was around Tae, the blonde knew that tonight wasn’t the time to be a brat. He needed to be a good boy, just like you needed to be a good girl. There was a fire in Taehyung’s dark eyes that ignited when Jimin approached him and dropped to his knees by the bed without hesitation. Jimin looked up at Tae with anticipation, wetting his plush upper lip with his pink tongue.

“Is this what you need?” Jimin asked quietly, as if he didn’t already know the answer by the impressive bulge fighting the fabrics of Taehyung’s pants..

Taehyung didn’t bother to answer, instead tugging down his pants and underwear in one go to kick them to the side, grabbing the shaft of his hefty length with one hand and Jimin’s blonde curls in the other.

“Make it hard.”

With parted, damp lips, Jimin doesn’t leave a second wasted to brace his hands on his thighs, leaning in to take Taehyung’s thick length into his mouth. His tongue had become skilled after countless times training himself to please the man just the way he liked it, swirling around the tip and moving forward to take inch after inch down his throat.

“Hmpf…” Taehyung’s breathy voice was prominent in the quiet room, humming in content while he watched the blonde’s plump lips stretch around his girth. His cock became slick with spit, more each time Jimin moved back and forth, sucking messily until it became hard to breathe, cock fully erect and filling every inch of the smaller man’s delicate mouth.

When Jimin deemed that he’d done more than enough to fulfill the command he was given, he pulled back with a wet pop, gasping for air to soothe the burning in his lungs from holding it too long for his comfort. He liked it though, and it didn’t go unnoticed when his own erection pressed between his thighs, aching for attention.

With a flick of Taehyung’s wrist, Jimin follows orders to move towards the bed, to you. The weight of Jimin’s body as it sunk into the bed next to you made you flinch, lolling your head to the side in his direction, cheek resting on the soft pillow they’d provided you with. You couldn't see, but you could hear Jimin’s soft breathing next to you until he spoke.

“Been a while since you dressed her up, Tae. She looks pretty.”

“Special occasion.” Taehyung’s lips twitched into the most faint of smiles. It was special indeed. He would occasionally dress you up in pretty fits that suited his tastes, to feed his visual desires. To him, undressing you from something tasteful and taunting was part of his foreplay. It drove him mad with lust seeing you writhe, helpless and in want for more--or less.

“Mhm.” Jimin agreed mindlessly, his gentle hand reached out to catch a strand of your hair between his fingers. It got stuck when he combed through it, but he tugged the little knots loose, drawing a quiet whine from you in return. “Sorry kitten.”

“Ah, it’s.. It’s okay.” You smiled, although your lower lip trembled when you heard the rustling of tools of various materials from the other side of the bed. “Tae?” You asked quietly, timid as if you weren’t sure you were allowed to speak, but did so anyway, “What are you--”

“I don’t recall speaking to you, doll.” Taehyung’s stern baritone echoed in the dim room, immediately silencing your words. You sucked in a harsh breath, feeling your nerves come to life, not even able to be soothed by the calming motion of Jimin stroking your cheek.

You couldn’t even muster to apologize, knowing all that the man wanted from you was utter silence. So, you obliged without a single word.

“I don’t care for your apologies. If you’re sorry, silence speaks louder.” Taehyung murmured, and more rustling is heard from where his hands are pulling out item after item to place on the duvet, surrounding your lying form. “I want to play, and I will not accept any objections.”

Silence followed, and both you and Jimin seemed to have frozen in place when the deafening silence filled the room.

“Understood?” Taehyung sounded different. It was incredibly subtle, but Jimin sensed it. There was no space left for any objections towards what Taehyung wanted. It was his way, and his way only. And the mere thought of defying his orders had a chill run down Jimin’s spine.

“Yes.” Jimin meekly replied, nudging your side. There was no use in disagreeing with the man in charge, especially not when he’s like this..

“Y-yes.” You automatically whined, although a bit confused to what it meant. Why was this any different than any other time he’d play with you?

You had an idea by the energy both men gave off, one of intensity and arousal, but something else lingered in the air when they spoke. You were soon to find out..

~~~

“G-gah, T-Tae—! Please, no more..”

“One more, you can do it.” Taehyung purred as he buried his face back between your spread legs, using a flattened tongue to lap up the sticky residue of your precious orgasms. How many times he’d made you cum, you’d lost count at this point. It felt like there was no end to Taehyung’s hunger tonight, as he’d barely done anything but eat you out until your muscles were trembling with exhaustion.

“I can’t, I can’t— stop, please…” You cried out as it began to hurt, eyes screwed shut as your body shakes into another orgasm— just like he said you could.

“Mmm, what a pretty kitten you are.” Jimin praised from the side, toying with your supple breasts and marking your neck with tender sucks. Wet smacks from where he touched himself to the sounds you made is heard, and you’re yet to see any of it. “Cumming so much, he knows exactly how to make you feel good.”

Hot, snappy breaths pushed past your lips when you desperately tried to gather yourself for the umpteenth time, only to feel the dip of Taehyung repositioning himself in the bed, kneeling between your legs. You felt his large hands hook behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest to expose your slick cunt for him to see. You felt hot, as if his gaze alone was burning into you— even with a blindfold on, you sensed it.

When Taehyung lined up his thick cock with your entrance, you began to squirm. You’re sensitive, and normally you’d be worked up to take Jimin first to ensure you’re stretched enough to take the size of Taehyung. However, this time, all you could rely on was the fact that your cunt was lubricated from your previous orgasms.

“Don’t move so much.” Taehyung muttered, holding onto your legs tighter as he advanced his hips forward, pushing slowly to fill you with his cock. He’s thick, and although he’s going slow, the stretch of his length parting your flesh makes you bite down on your lower lip, squirming harder on the bed. Taehyung felt himself twitch inside of you, liking the reactions you give him a bit too much.

“Does she feel good, Tae?” Jimin seeked praise in your place, knowing you wouldn’t ask for it-- you wouldn’t dare. He fists his own length, laying on his side next to you as he placed his warm cheek on your shoulder, providing you with his soothing presence in the middle of your discomfort. But, you loved it. Loved it all. So you aimed to please, knowing this is just the way the two showed their different types of love for you.

“She’s tight.” Taehyung confirms in his own way, that you did indeed feel amazing. If the lust lacing his tone wasn’t proof enough, the flexing muscles in his arms as he grasped you tighter, and the greedy way he stroked his cock in and out of you, lowly grunting, should be enough. He doesn’t always say it outright, but he probably enjoyed it even more than the two of you did.

“It’s because your dick is so big..” Jimin chuckled lowly, but his smile is quickly wiped away, morphed into an expression of pleasure when he hears you whine into his ear in pain. Taehyung had picked up the pace, plunging his cock into you roughly, all too sudden of a built up without little warning. His sadistic desires ramp up the hotter the moment, and tonight’s plans seemed to be nothing but sweet. “Don’t break her.”

“Why?” Taehyung’s sharp eyes flicker over to Jimin, who stares right back with hazy eyes. The blonde stroked himself faster, smiling. Your cries were growing louder as Taehyung fucked into you harder, still staring Jimin down, a smirk growing on his lips. Your body jolted upwards with every thrust, moans breaking into whiny sobs at the painful prod of his thick, swollen tip slamming into you over, and over, and over. “She’s mine.”

“But also mine.” Jimin countered, making his point by smoothing his free hand up your collarbones, until he reached your neck. He wrapped his palm around it, squeezing gently to force you to gasp. The blonde looked back at Tae with a lopsided smile, knowing it’d taunt him.

“Ours.” Taehyung threw his head back with a groan, feeling the way your slick flesh constricted around his length when Jimin took a chokehold on you. It spurred the man on to bury his cock deeper, grinding his hips into you. “If you’re gonna choke her, do it properly.”

Taehyung suddenly pulled out of you, and Jimin knew to let go to allow him to flip your body over, lifting your hips to make you stand on all fours. He entered you again, fully bottoming out in one quick stroke that parted your stretched cunt, smacking his pelvis against your reddening cheeks.

Jimin exchanged a look with Tae, who nudged his chin in your direction as if to tell him to ‘use her mouth, go on.’

Jimin didn’t need to be told twice to spur into action, and his quick understanding through a silent exchange pleased Taehyung immensely. The blonde positioned himself in front of you, on his knees, perfectly aligning the slick head of his cock with your lips. You clenched around Tae, drawing a low groan from the man behind you, which in turn spurred him to snap his hips forward roughly.

“Kh--Tae… mmff..” The moment your lips parted to moan out his name, Jimin took full advantage of your vulnerable position. He grasped your hair into his delicate fist and tugged you towards him, giving you no other choice but to take him into your mouth. Muffled whines got caught in your throat, and tears quickly welled up beneath the blindfold to stain the fabrics where your eyes were hidden. Compared to Taehyung, Jimin wasn’t as big, nor was he as rough. But the sudden intrusion without the anticipation from seeing what would happen, it caught you by surprise. You gagged around his pretty girth the deeper he went, earning a canary moan from Jimin.

Taehyung keeps his eyes on Jimin throughout their exchange of momentum, rocking your body back and forth for their own amusement and pleasure. However, that doesn’t exclude you from taking just as much pleasure from it. Both their lengths filled you so well, swelling inside of you with need.

“Jimin,” Taehyung’s strained baritone commands the blonde’s attention, “Look at me.”

Jimin rocked his hips to bury his cock past your gag reflex, earning a garbled squeak. He didn’t hear Tae right away, but the stern command snapped his attention directly to the man in charge. His starry dark eyes swirled with adoration as they settled on the familiar form.

“Hyung.” He’s breathless, all thanks to you. He can barely muster a response beyond a sigh.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Taehyung smirked, thrusting your body forward to take Jimin deeper, “Make some more noise for me.”

By the power of Tae pressing your body forward, Jimin is saved from all the work. He carded his fingers through your matted hair and grabs it tight at the back of your head while holding his eyes on his partner. He didn’t hold back a single whimper or throaty moan. Whatever the man requested was his pleasure to provide. Lip clamped tight between his teeth, taut, staining the delicate skin until blood drained from the surface. Strangled breaths huffed out through his flared nostrils until he let it out in an angelic sigh.

“It’s g-good, Hyung. Kitten’s mouth is so hot...tight. A..ah.”

Thighs trembled to hold still, itching to pulse in until you’re choking, but he lets Tae take the lead. Plus, it would take a lot more to make you squirm, as badly as he would have liked to when you constricted around him. The two men had trained you to their exact tastes, to hold your breath as they indulge in the warmth of your body with greed.

“Good boy… If only you could see yourself right now.” Taehyung scoffed between labored breaths. His nails dug into your hips as he spoke, smiling wolfishly when your body reacted just the way he wanted; squirming, squeezing his cock tighter while simultaneously muffled whimpers are choked back down your throat when Jimin rutted forward, every little rocking of his hips forcing tears down your pretty cheeks, “She’s already choking, you must be so hard. All ready to cum, hm?”

“Please,” he sighed dreamily with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His pleas sung a different tune, as his lips curled to a devilish smirk. Normally he might have asked for permission when Tae felt aggressively dominant, but in the end, he wanted what he wanted. His high krept over him, making it nearly impossible to succumb to his carnal desires.

“Wanna make our pretty girl even prettier...” He huffed sweetly, withdrawing his sopping cock and stroking it in his hand. “I-I’m…” Before Tae could say or do anything about it, Jimin pressed his tip against your lips and released warm spurts of cum. More whines as his own hand over stimulated, pumping everything he had onto your flawless face--over your cheeks, dripping off your chin. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel everything. The sticky, hot substance as it slid down your skin, the faint pulses of Jimin’s tip against your lips. But most of all, you could hear his pretty vocal fry as it broke into whiny moans.

“You weren’t supposed to..” Taehyung muttered, but he didn’t sound mad. Not even annoyed. It was merely an inconvenience to his initial train of thought, “Whatever,” he huffed, figuring that was the cue to move on. He stopped fucking you, pulling out and leaving you trembling on the bed as he took a break. Getting up on his feet, he walked around the bed towards Jimin’s sitting form on the edge, “Short break. I’m gonna get water, you soothe our doll for the next phase of playtime.”

“Okay,” Jimin wiped the sheen of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, watching Tae leave the room. He looked down at you, eyes softened at the sight. You’re catching your breath, lungs burning slightly from doing so well without any air, and body trembling slightly from being fucked hard and deep. Marks were left on your waist and hips in the shape of Tae’s fingers and nails. He always had a thing with marking you in various ways, “Kitten.”

“Jimin.” You breathed out quietly when you heard his soothing voice, rolling on your back to rest. You felt the warmth of his body as he laid down next to you, a gentle hand soothing up your stomach, between your breasts, and in the end, softly wrapping around your neck in a subtle possessive reminder. It wasn’t hard, but that didn’t mean his fingers didn’t speak for him when he grazed his nails against your flushed skin. You belong to us.

“You’re doing well, I promise.” Jimin kissed your shoulder, avoiding to touch your cum-stained face. He knew that although Tae didn’t say it, he enjoyed it when you look like a total mess.

“W-where did he go?”

“Just getting some water.” He withdrew, smiling when you whined at the loss of his warmth. “I need to prepare you now.”

“How?”

“We don’t need these chains anymore, I know that much.” Jimin muttered, moreso to himself than to you. He clicked open the locks around your wrists, and didn’t do much more than that. Your confusion was evident even through a blindfold.

Before you were able to say much else, Taehyung’s powerful presence reemerged.. Footsteps echoed outside the room, door closing behind him with the heel of his foot. Two bottles in his hands, he threw one to Jimin, who caught it effortlessly. He was about to drink it, but Tae’s stern expression told him otherwise.

“It’s for her. You just take a few sips. It’ll calm her down.”

Jimin looked at the bottle, shaking the clear plastic to notice the small particles floating in it. It’s spiked. Probably something to make you even more compliant, and less likely to struggle if things were too much. But you were already so well trained for them, willingly doing anything they wanted. The blonde was confused, looking back at Tae with a crooked brow, shaking the bottle further to bring the attention back to the drugs.

“Is it really necessary?” Jimin asked, opening the cap nonetheless to bring it to your parched lips as you sit up, “For me as well?”

“Yes.” Taehyung's answer was simple, straight to the point. And Jimin didn’t feel like pressing the matter nor argue any further, especially not after already using up Tae’s patience by cumming all over your face without being instructed to. Jimin knew he could only misbehave so many times before it would bring him consequences. So, he simply fed you the bottle, almost the entire thing in one go. The muscles in your throat danced alluringly with every swallow, some spilling down your chin when you couldn’t keep up with the speed of which you were given. When there was only a small amount left, Jimin withdrew the bottle from your lips and brought it to his own. His eyes met Taehyung’s, maintaining fixed eye contact while he chugged down the last drops.

The way I trust you, Jimin mused to himself as he threw the bottle aside. He didn’t even know what exactly Tae had contaminated the water with, but blindly drank it because he was told to. Even gave a large amount to you… but Jimin was confident in doing so, aware that Tae would never, ever give you something that wouldn’t be beneficial for them in the end.

“She seems content.” Tae muttered while he circled the bed, bottle pressed to his lips occasionally for a hydrating sip.

“Gave her some care. She immediately wondered where you’d gone.” Jimin touched your thigh, stroking it soothingly as he watched your chest slow down, as if you were calmed down immediately. “Is she gonna fall asleep? That’s no fun…”

“If she’s just gonna lay there, she will.” Tae leaned over the bed to spank your thigh, the sudden contact jolting your body to life. “She deserved a short rest, but now I’m getting impatient.” He turned to look Jimin in the eye, his dark pupils resembled that of a hungry predator. “Okay?”

“Okay, hm… Hyung?” Jimin used the title coyly, knowing it always worked on Taehyung. While he still had his attention, he asked, “Why did you want me to drink it as well? Even if it was just a little.”

“Makes you feel good. Doesn’t it?” Taehyung’s lips tugged into a small smile, one that of mischief. “You’ll need it.”

Jimin nodded, not questioning further. He was right, it did feel good as he felt the hint of the drugs in his system, as if it calmed him down and made him feel lighter. Tipsy, unhinged.. and then some. He could only imagine how good you must be feeling right now.

“Let’s continue.” Taehyung placed his half emptied water on the bedside table, reaching down the bag on the floor to rustle out some tools-- his toys, if you please.

He pulled out a small razor, angling it back and forth to stare right into his own dark, sharp gaze. He smiled, testing the efficiency of the blade by grazing it against his palm without a flinch as it split his skin delicately. Red seeped out the small slit, causing the man to bite his lower lip. It excited him, and he had no shame displaying just how thrilled he is by the way his cock twitched back to life.

“Bring her over,” he spoke cooly, still staring at the micro cut across his palm rather than at the two of them. He sat on the bed with his legs spread and patted his lap. “Right here.”

Jimin knew better than anyone what Tae had in store for their doll. There’s a part of himself that finds excitement in observing it happen. Not having a hand in the destruction, but watching you break apart, only for him to mend later. He lifted you by the waist and smiled when your arms flopped like a ragdoll to steady yourself, clumsily. “We have to hold her. I might have given her too much.”

“Good.” A wolfish grin spread across Tae’s face as he gave himself one more shallow cut across the palm before smacking it across your ass to hold you firmly in his lap. A bright red stain coats the welt--hot, pulsating. It’s just a taste of what’s to come.

Jimin braced your back as you found a comfortable seat, straddling Taehyung’s lap, playfully flopping your arms around the back of his neck.

“Baby, why are you bleeding?” Your voice was soft and angelic. You gave him a caring kiss at the corner of his lips, completely oblivious to the blade as it reached the crook of your neck. It split the skin delicately, almost unnoticeable, until a small droplet of blood slid down and rested in the dip of your collarbone like the pretty pendant of a necklace.

“Pretty,” Jimin hummed, noticing the way Tae’s eyes widened, mesmerized by the bright red that reflects in his dark, swirling irises.

Pretty, indeed. You’re gorgeous, ever since they first laid eyes on you, you were bound to be their favorite. Whether you’re dressed up prettily, or a sleepy fucked out mess in their bed, your beauty knew no bounds. ...Taehyung is pretty as well, the way his eyes seem to see nothing but the blood seeping out your wounds. It’s you. It came from your body, and therefore, his enamored expression only spurred his greed to see more.

“My own little doll.” Taehyung gently brushed down the strap of your thin lingerie, giving him more skin to indulge in, but not quite exposing your chest for him to see just yet. He leaned in to press his plush lips into the small pool of blood in the dip of your collarbones, staining his lips in red. He looked up at you, smiling sweetly at your sleepy expression. You automatically smiled back, lazily reaching to swipe the pad of your finger across his lower lip.

“Red suits you.” You mumbled, blinking slowly as you inspected the blood. Realizing what it was, your eyebrows furrowed. “Is your lip bleeding?”

“Red suits you more,” Taehyung responded quickly. He took the opportunity to suck your fingertip clean of your blood, leaning in to kiss your lips, stealing your breath away. His tongue demanded yours, tasting it while feeding you your own sweet essence. It was like iron, watered down by saliva and quickly forgotten when all you could focus on was the passion in his kiss. He indulged, before breaking apart gently, lips still connected through the thick, red tainted strings of saliva, “My lips ache for you. No.. Everything in me aches for you.”

“Everything..” You repeated, moving your hips in response to his words, grinding against his exposed cock. It slid effortlessly between your soppy folds, feeling him twitch against you only made you feel pride swell in your chest because you did something he liked. “Want you.. please..”

“Oh, she’s still able to beg.” Taehyung smiled, eyes searching for Jimin’s. The blonde stayed behind you, ensuring your balance is intact as he watches the scene unfold. He nods at Tae, tongue poking out to wet his plump lips. He likes it too.

“She’s really wet.” Jimin muttered when he glanced down, every little rut making Tae’s length shine more and more until the slick sound can practically be heard.

Taehyung soothed his warm palm over your ass, up to your waist beneath the short dress of your lingerie, before bringing it back down to hold you firmly. His other hand dropped the razor, freeing it for him to be able to use both grips on your behind, lifting you slightly to line himself up with your warm flesh. He didn’t have any patience left to tease himself, and instead began to act upon his urges as they came to him. He lowered you on top of his length, watching your expression morph into a mixture of discomfort, relief, and in the end, pleasure.

“And still responsive, her pretty pussy is still squeezing me tight..” Taehyung licked his lips, looking back at Jimin, who also pays great attention to what’s happening, “Just a bit disoriented..” Although he didn’t audibly say it, it’s obvious that he enjoyed your current state. You were compliant, just his kind of submissive to allow him to use you as he wishes-- yet aware enough to give him the satisfaction of your physical responses and pleading whimpers.

With greedy snaps of his hips, Taehyung began to move beneath you. His steady grip on your ass aided in lifting you up, only to flop you back down onto his length. The light smacks of your ass against his thighs were subtle, but loud enough for him to feel every blood cell in his body awaken-- warm and spreading throughout his system like a wildfire.

“I can’t get enough of her.” Taehyung grunted into your neck, licking up the residue of seeping blood. The fine wound had stopped bleeding, and it irked him-- spurred him to want to make another. His teeth itched to sink into your soft skin.

“Ghh-- ahh..” Your body twitched in response, the sudden stinging pain scared you, not realizing Taehyung was biting your shoulder until your eyelashes fluttered open. He withdrew, only to repeat the action, biting up towards your neck, leaving possessive marks in the shape of his teeth that just barely broke the skin. It stung more with every second, warm welts forming around the small prickles of blood that seeped out from the thin marks. “Taee..”

“Take it off,” Taehyung growls against your skin, not ceasing the way he moves your body on top of himself. When he heard your voice break further, he knew your pretty eyes must be welling up with tears, “Jimin, take her blindfold off now.”

Jimin obliged to the man’s wishes, swiftly reaching to undo the blindfold and tossed it aside. He leaned closer to you, pressing a kiss against your temple while soothing his warm palms up your waist, aiding your body to keep steady as it was thrusted into from below.

“You’re doing so well, kitten. Looking so pretty, Taehyung can barely contain himself.” Jimin voiced out loud, eyes fixed on Taehyung, who seemed to barely notice the blonde’s presence now that he’d gone back to staring at your face. He searched your eyes, finding the hazy stare that had become glossy with a layer of tears. Tae was in awe, eyebrows furrowed in focus. Your expressions had his cock throbbing in excitement, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from cumming.

“Fuck, it feels good…” Taehyung’s hands trembled, nails digging deeper into the flesh of your ass. He moved your body harder, grinding you down on his length to bury himself as deep as physically possible. A breathy moan followed, low and drawn out as his grip readjusts, snaking his arms around your lower back to hold you down on top of him. Fully sheathed, he buried his face in your cleavage, biting through the fabrics that covered your chest. His thighs began to shake, hips twitching as his cock pulsated, feeding your pussy with his release.

Your strained moans were quiet, breathy like a soft sigh. You could feel him throb inside of you, so you did your best to clench around him to ensure he felt his best during his orgasm. Even when you were feeling like you were floating on clouds, nothing could numb out the feeling of Taehyung..

“She likes it.” Jimin kept his hands on your back, soothing circles with his palms.

“Such a good girl to me… Always.” Taehyung huffed, letting your body flop over his as he sat up straight, holding your body in a hug. He looked up at Jimin with a content smile. He smiled more and more the further they went, but… There’s something in his eyes that tells Jimin he’s far from done. He’s not sated yet. No, there was a fire in Taehyung’s eyes that still burned passionately.

Taehyung laid you down on your back, ensuring you were comfortable on the soft duvet. Your eyes fluttered closed before opening again, looking back and forth between the men you loved more than life itself.

“My pretty little doll, isn’t it such a shame that your skin is unblemished...when it should be marked with my love?” Taehyung asked while reaching for the razorblade that he’d discarded on the sheets earlier, now bringing it back. He displays it next to his face with a smirk, the shiny metal piece reflecting your lewd body like a miniature mirror.

“Hyung..?” Jimin looked momentarily confused. He knew Taehyung wanted to inflict marks of possession, hence the biting and light cutting earlier. But this seemed different, and they’d both already had their fill for the night. Nonetheless, despite the confusion, the blonde was also intrigued. Your skin had remained unmarked from any scars, always previous inflictions had been ones that heal and fade with time.

Taehyung wet his lips in anticipation, giving Jimin a wicked smile before he positioned himself between your legs, giving him full access to your torso. He used the sharp blade of his razor to cut a slit into your dress, then proceeded to rip it apart at the front to expose your skin. He exhales in awe, fingers trembling as they held the metal object tighter.

“More.” Taehyung whispered, eyes dark as he drank in your curves. He brought the pads of his fingers to your stomach, soothing over it to test your reflexes. You barely react, so he began to gently dig the corner of his blade into your skin. Jimin could see how Tae’s lip twitched at the feeling of carving into your flesh, seeing as the warm, red blood seeped out from the clean wound.

“More.” Taehyung repeated, littering your stomach and ribs in cuts, watching as if in a trance as the blood paints red streaks down your body into the sheets. You begin to whine when you feel the burning sensation of your paper thin gashes, “You look so much prettier.”

Jimin didn’t intervene, even when you began to squirm and whine more frequently. He clamped his lower lip between his teeth tightly, sitting next to you. He didn’t want to stop it, and even if he wanted to-- he couldn’t. Not when Taehyung had already decided what needed to happen. Jimin stayed close, brushing your hair away from your face, even the damp strands that had stuck to your cheek. It’s all he could do.. All he would do.

“Stay still.” Taehyung muttered when you moved too much. He cursed between breaths when you twitched too harshly from a cut, resulting in him cutting deeper than intended into your upper thigh. He smacked the wound with an open palm, as if to silently punish you for not doing as he instructed, “See what happened now? I told you to stay still..”

However, the smile on his lips began to resemble that of a subtle version of a cheshire cat when he saw your deepened gash pulse out more blood for him. He admired the view, and he could feel the growing desire itch in his hands-- it’s not enough.

Jimin recognized that crazed look in Tae’s eye, and it made him doubt the man for the first time all night.

“Taehyung.” He stated his name plainly, but clear. He needed the man to hear him through the bloodthirsty quiver of his irises as he drank you in. “It’s time. She’s done.”

“She’s done when I say she’s done.”

“Tae…”

The color drained from your face. Without pressure, the gash across your thigh billowed with blood, cascading down your silken skin like a freepour canvas. Their canvas. So beautiful, flowing over Taehyung's hands as he cupped them to gather what he could.

“She’s only just begun.” He whispered. Hands came up to cup your bare breasts, smearing the blood messily, painting you with your own essence.

Jimin doesn’t say a word. All he could do is cradle you in his arms and watch his partner indulge in your last moments of life. He pressed sweet kisses to your temple and whispered praise as your eyelids fluttered shut. You were like a porcelain doll as the color left your cheeks completely, and for a moment, he wished he could keep you that way forever.

Tae crawled over the sullied sheets and rested behind Jimin, looking fondly at his doll sleeping safe and sound. The best nights never go as planned. It’s more than either of them anticipated, but beautiful, like a sunset.

“Come here,” he said in a low tone, placing his hand on Jimin’s jaw and smearing it with your cold blood. Their metallic lips melded together in a finishing kiss. Gentle sighs and pecks in memory of their long lost love.

Their favorite, forever.

#fic: flesh #sombreboy #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #taehyung smut #jimin smut #taehyung x female reader #jimin x female reader #vmin x reader #yandere bts #noncon smut #taehyung x yn #jimin x yn #dubcon smut #bts dubcon smut

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lrissa · 5 years ago

Text

Part 2 Of ‘I Promise To Marry You’

requested by @seltoir and @melonva so i did best of both worlds.

summary: levi had forgotten his dear promise to you, costing your life against the female titan

warnings: violence, swearing

first part here

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

The breeze tickled your silky exposed skin and made your tiny hairs stand on end. Your hands went to your arms and held tightly onto them like a hug, the night breeze whisking it’s way under your skin. Exiting the door to the stables you gazed up at the bright stars reflected by the shining moonlight, lighting up the greeny surroundings.

Walking along the gravel path as your steps made faint sounds amongst the silence of the night. Finding the patch of grass you had always found comfort in when it was the night before an expedition. You sat quietly, staring up the stars with soft eyes

From beside you you felt the presence of someone sit down in the grass, their hand finding a place on yours in a gentle manner, tangling your hands together.

“Levi.”

“I missed you, brat.” He spoke blandly, his gaze finding themselves in the sky above him. You let out a light sigh. Turning to look at the man who was seated by you, squeezing his hand.

“I missed you too.”

It had been a few days since you two had seen eachother. Levi was caught up in his paperwork that flooded his desk as you worked extra hours to train the cadets for the next expedition that was tomorrow.

You rubbed his tough hand with your thumb gingerly. Up until now the two of you still remained close friends, although you two had considered dating but Levi was afraid of the distraction. As if you weren’t one already. There had been little exchanges of kisses between the two of you, especially after the death of your two other best friends, Isabel and Farlan. You and Levi seeked companionship in eachother deeply after their casualties.

Gradually you set your head on his shoulder, he had stiffened a bit from the gesture but let it be. His eyes peered down at you carefully, a faint gentleness glossing his eyes.

A memory struck your mind as you thought back to the underground.

“I’ll even wear a pretty dress.” You concluded and gazed at your fingers, extending them out infront of you, “And a pretty ring!”

“Shut up, marriage isn’t even close.” He stated as you pouted, kicking his leg with your foot. “Well.. since it’s far away,” You took your head off his shoulder and turned to face him.

The memories whizzed by until a certain one came.

“Fine. I promise to marry you.”

A soft gasp left your lips as you snapped your head off Levi’s shoulder, your mouth agape in shock. The raven head turned to watch you, arching his brow in confusion.

“Levi,” You turned to him, reaching your hand out as they went for his collar. Tugging away the accessories whilst he stared at you with an annoyed expression. Your fingers caught metal as you slowly pulled, revealing the dirty, faded jewelry you had given him that day. Your letter still attached to the chain.

A delicate smile creased your lips as you held it, fingers barely trembling. Pulling your own out you held them, finally looking up into Levi’s eyes. His face had a little scowl, you invaded his personal bubble but he’d let it slide because it was you.

“Do you remember these?”

“Of course, idiot.”

Slowly you lowered his, whilst Levi’s eyes gazed at your necklace. The faint remembrance of that wishful day, you two were so stupid and young at that time. The corner of his lips hardly turning up as he reached his hand out, setting it over the one holding yours.

“I remember how pissed off you made me.” He retorted, you laughed.

Clutching his hand tightly in yours you held in a breath, before asking,

“Do you remember what you promised?”

Levi paused for a moment, his brain racking the fading memories but to no avail he answered with,

“No.”

Your grip loosened on his and you gave a gentle frown, turning your head away and looking up at the sky. Tears stung in the back of your eyes, your heart beating wilding against your chest. Why would he need to remember such a promise, why were you so upset?

“Was it important.” He asked while he watched your faltering smile.

Biting back tears you bit the inside of your cheek, heart pinging in your chest like hundreds of needles stabbing you again and again. Softly, you lifted your finger and rubbed the escaping tear away. Looking back at Levi with a pained smile, squeezing his hand weakly.

“No.”

──────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────────

“Hey, don’t spoil him, Petra.” Spoke Oluo from as he caught your attention back onto the conversation, “What did he do anyway? He was pathetic. He just kept whining. Well, coming back alive on your first excursion is pretty good. But it doesn’t count until the missions over.” You just rolled your eyes, ever since Eren has joined the Scouts everyone has been giving him nothing but shit.

“Jeez, I know that!” Eren spoke with a shaky voice as he stared up at Oluo towering over him before grappling away.

“Just ignore that runt.” You commented and followed after Oluo, with the rest trailing behind shortly. The squad grappled through the trees as Eld turned to look back, “Oluo, Petra! You guys pissed your pants and cried on your first mission. You’re all grown up now!” Petra looked horrified before she screamed, shaking her head as you let out a snort, “Dont say that!” The girl shouted, “What if he stops respecting me!?”

“It’s true?” Eren asked

“It sure is. And I didn’t, by the way, Eren.” Eld spoke with a cocky grin, confidence oozing off his words.

“Idiot!” Yelled Oluo, you shook your head and toned out the conversation. Eyes scanning through the trees as you narrowed your eyelids, something felt wrong within the deep rooted forest. Suddenly green smoke cut through the leaves into the breezy air.

“That might be Captain Levi, everyone stayed alarmed! Something is wrong with this forest.” You commanded as they all went silent, honing in the towering trees.

Gunther landed on a branch, raising the smoke gun above his head while his other plugged his ear before shooting it off into the sky and joining the squad again.

Moments passed before you heard ODM to the far left of you, head turning behind your shoulder as you stared at the emerging cadet. Was it Levi? It couldnt have been, he doesn’t move like that.

“Who are you!” Gunther yelled, your eyes widening as you shot farther. Letting off gas to reach him, “Gunther no—“ You shouted until the attacked unsheathed their blades sliced right through the poor young man.

His body toppled over as he hung from his last grapple, hanging in the air by his ODM gear, “Gunther!” Eren shouted and looked to check on him, his eyes widening in fear as he surveyed Gunther was very much dead.

“Keep moving! Don’t let them get you!” You screamed and continued your pursuit further, head snapping to look behind you as the striker fell back. Gasping you realized, was this the female titan? Were they going to transform?

“Shit! She’s transforming, everyone—“ Your words were cut short as a massive lightning strike shook the ground fiercely, wind richoeting against the trees as it blew your hair away from your face.

“The Female Titan!” Eld screamed, the squads eyes widening in sheer panic before turning around. Flying forwards with their ODM gear.

“Damn you. This time, I will defeat it!” Eren shouted, Eld’s eyes snapping to the boy, “No, dont! The four of us will kill the Female Titan. You will continue to head straight for HQ at top speed!” You looked back at the titan, it was sprinting straight towards you, “I’ll fight too!” Eren argued, “No! This is the best move.. Your power is too risky!”

Eren blinked in fear, you turned your eyes to him. “Do you doubt us, Eren?” Your unusually calm voice even under these circumstances, maybe you had known Levi too long. “Do you find it hard to trust us?” Eren shot his gaze to you, scowling before spinning and taking off infront of him.

“I believe my squad will be victorious!” Eren shouted, “Goodluck!”

You smirked, releasing your grapple and spinning around, grappling at the Female Titan as your squad followed in pursuit. Eld went to strike her, her hand reaching out to grab him before Petra and Oluo came forwards and grappled her eyes, slicing through them to make her blind. You came from behind, aiming at her nape before her hand made it first, hardening just as quickly as you sliced.

Metal snapping broke through your ears as your eyes gradually widened, fear had finally creeped up to you then. Jumping off her hand you grappled to a tree whilst getting new blades. The Female Titan had backed into her tree, her underarms exposed as she used her hands to protect her nape.

Petra and Oluo swung around before slicing through above her armpits and fleeting, the squad continuing this tactic till her arms would fall so you could strike her nape. Eventually her arms fell limp beside her sides but her neck was still pressed against the tree.

“Now strike her neck!” Eld shouted as he began to plummet at her, the titan suddenly opening its one eye and turning its head, mouth slamming down on Eld’s as his lower half hung from her lips. You gasped in terror, eyes turning hazy for a moment as you watched her chomp down, his body falling through the air and onto the lovely ground beneath.

“Eldo!” Petra screamed from beside you, her falling figure barely catching itself before she grappled. Staring wide eyed as the Female Titan sprinted towards her, towering over her in an instant. You reacted and grappled her nape, screaming as you went to slice down. Her nape had hardened, your new blades cracked and snapped in half again as you slowly slid off her icy nape. Falling, watching as she raised her foot and stomped Petra into a tree. Tears pricked your eyes, shutting them furiously before opening them again with a new found rage.

You shot the ODM around her, watching from the corner of your eye as you saw Oluo attempt to slice at her nape, the same fate happening to him before she whipped her arm back. Sending Oluo plummeting into a tree, blood splattering everywhere.

“No!” You screamed in pain, tears freely falling from your eyes as you rounded around to face her. Grasping new blades as you stared at her head on. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” You shouted and shot to a nearby branch, she had anticipated this and swung a hand out. Your face turned to see your welcoming doom. Of course she had foreseen this.

Pain exploded through your abdomen as you flew backwards, swinging around the branch a few times as your grapple sticked to it. Blood oozed from your stomach, a large gash in your side with two broken legs. Limply you fell backwards, your legs in the air with your head facing the ground. Your vision went blurry quickly, everything felt painful and all you could think about was sleep, sleeping eternally sounded better than this hell.

The last thing you saw was blazing yellow lightning and your cape whipping violently in the wind as you found peace.

From afar Levi was soaring through the trees, he had heard two titans transformed and assumed the worst. A shiny object on the ground caught his attention, releasing the grapple he gradually fell the ground and walked towards it, picking it off from the grass.

Time stopped as his eyes stretched open in fright. His heart squeezing into nothing as his fingers lightly wiped the blood from it. What he was clutching onto dearly was your necklace, it had fallen off during your chase and was coated in thick layers of blood and dirt.

Tears stung at the back of his head, his chest throbbed in heartache. Finally be shot the ODM forwards, finding blood droplets on the trees. As he neared the death zone he was met with Eld’s half eaten corpse, Oluo’s mutilated body, and lastly Petra’s body slammed into a tree as blood streeked down the bark.

Fear was coursing through his veins, where the fuck were you? Until finally he pushed forwards and saw the body hanging from the tree, faltering he frowned. Grappling to the body.

He hung beside the body from the branch as he gradually moved the cape from the face, meeting your shut eyes. Levi flinched back violently, his heart dropping down to his stomach.

“No..” He whimpered softly to himself, grabbing your front half he flipped you over right, rubbing the dirt and blood away from your face. A cough sputtered from your lips weakly, blood landing on his cheek as he froze. His hand still wiping away the grime away.

Levi felt tears prick his eyes, gently, he’d speak

“Y/N... Brat, speak to me.” Levi commands, his fingers trembling against your cheek. Slowly you’d open your eyes to see his relief flood face. A tear streamed down his cheek and he let out a shaky breath, caressing your scratched cheeks.

“Please.. You can’t go yet.” He whispered, gripping onto you tighter as you smiled weakly. Feverishly, you stretched a hand out infront of you, your middle and pointer finger absent. He tightly gripped your hand, new tears flowing without his command.

“I remember.... We were going to get married.” He’d say weakly, his grip tightening on you. Tears found themselves in your eyes before streaming down your already dirty cheeks.

“I’m sorry..” You croaked delicately, coughing up a new round of blood as it stained his Survey Corps coat. “Levi..”

“No goddamnit, brat. You stay alive! I command you to.” He grabbed your collar, his fist clumping your blood stained shirt. “I..” He lost his words, a lump forming in his throat. Never had he experienced such heartbreak before in his life, it was tearing him to shreds and leaving no crumbs.

“We will... get married, above..” You smiled at crumbling man in front of you, his world slipping away in his fingertips. Never until now had he wished nothing more than to still be living the underground by your side. You pointed to the clouds, using your last ounce of strength before it fell limply to your side.

Levi brought his hand to yours, picking it up he held it upright. Slowly with trembling fingers he’d wrap his pinky around yours once last time, kissing the intertwined fingers softly.

“I promise Y/N, I will marry you.” He’d sob out finally. A fragile smile on your lips before your eyes shut and the world fell silent.

sorry for any spelling mistakes i posted it right away

mentionables: @pizzarollsfordayz, @fluffyleviackerman

#aot fanfiction #aot imagines #aot x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi x y/n #snk #snk anime #levi angst #ansgt #im cryinf #captain levi #levi ackerman x reader #aot #levi attack on titan

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linasofia · 4 years ago

Text

Penance

Part 3

Warnings: ⚠️ Please don’t read this if the thought of a priest breaking his vow of celibacy might offend you. Smut, unprotected intercourse, slight asphyxiation & angst.

Relationship: Father Quart x Female reader

Summary: You need to see Father Quart one more time to know if he feels the same as you, but things only become more confusing when he gives in to your sinful seduction and his own urges before letting his true feelings become known.

A/N: This is the final part. You can read the previous parts here. This fic doesn’t follow book canon.

@laurfilijames & @lathalea Thank you so much for all your support and feedback.💙💙

“This is the point of no return.” He had said those words while his emotions still raged inside him and fought a battle for his soul. On one side stood everything he up to this point believed in and never questioned; his faith, his vows and his calling.

On the other; the woman with the sparkling eyes and alluring lips and in her hands she held out all the things he had forsaken; the comforting warmth of another body, pure lust and maybe even a chance to fall in love. Like a devastating hurricane she had torn down his defenses and he had eventually allowed himself to touch her. No, punish her, he corrected himself. But she had touched him. Like the people he met every day in church, he too had fallen into the darkness and committed a sin. On her knees in front of him, her eyes had taken a pleading shape and the trust she so willingly gave him, was indeed irresistible.

He shook his head. Even now during this late hour that vixen haunted him and when he closed his eyes he could still perceive her scent. She smelled like flowers during summer evenings, innocent but yet seductive, and it had gone straight to his head. The memories of her scent woke his body with a longing roar and in a desperate attempt to take control, he made a promise to himself. He was not going to succumb to the feeling. Instead he would pass the test given him in the loneliness of his bedchamber. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

For three days I lasted. Buried myself in work, focused on everything else I could come up with to keep the memories at bay. But on the fourth day, my body and brain joined forces and betrayed me in the early morning light. Somewhere in the land between sleep and wakefulness he came to me, vivid as in pure daylight and in his presence I was helpless. Still panting and very confused by my own dream I made a pact with my fragile heart. I needed to speak to him one last time.

The sun sets early in November, but on a clear day like this the sky shifts in all the colors of a fire. Not a single cloud prevents the sky from burning bright in the west and as I marvel at its beauty I think of my own burning desire for a man that I know I can’t have but nevertheless desire. Something is in motion in my body and I can’t seem to stop it. He is like the sun, reviving and essential, but I feel like Icarus every time I think of him.

When the sun comes to rest and darkness wraps the city in its cold and silent grip, I still stand outside and cast longing looks over the square. The Cathedral seems less friendly in the dark and, illuminated by cold spotlights, its beautiful stone walls reflect all the light and give the church an even more unapproachable look than usual. Clear weather brought a cold night along and soon the brisk wind finds its way under my jacket, leaving my skin chilled and exposed. After an eternity I muster the courage to walk over the square but stop at the bottom of the stairs. My feet feel heavy and the merciless beating of my heart tries ferociously to stop me. Invisible hands grab my wrists and hold me back while the doubt in my chest grows, the voice of reason trying to be heard.

”Don’t do it. He’ll break your heart.”

Suddenly the door opens and the steps bathe in light. I’m blinded by the sharp contrast between dark and light and the face of the tall figure in front of me is temporarily hidden. But I don’t need my eyes for this, my senses are telling me everything I need to know. It’s him. No one can look like that. No one can make me feel like that. When he closes the door behind him, my eyes just need a short moment to adjust again. For a few seconds I wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. His eyes lock with mine and in that second I understand that the power he holds over me might be too much.

”What are you doing out here in the cold?” His voice is concerned but his tone holds a slight accusing hint. A strong blow of the wind makes my hair dance in the dark and Padre pulls the collar of his coat up for protection against the cold. I try not to shiver but his eyes register my body's involuntary movement.

”You look cold. How long have you been standing here for?” The power he exudes as a man of God makes it impossible to resist an answer.

”A while, Father.”

We stare at each other while the cold November night penetrates deeper into my body. In an attempt to get some blood flowing in my system, I bite my lip until it hurts and his gaze drops to where my teeth sink into my flesh.

”Don’t do that. Don’t hurt yourself.”

I fold my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly.

”I’m on my way home. I live just around the block.” He hesitates and casts a glance around us. Then he mumbles, ”I could make you some tea. I don’t like seeing you freezing like that.”

”Wouldn’t that be highly unseemly?” I ask while trying to hide the effect his very tempting but also frightening suggestion has on me.

”I think we passed unseemly the first time we met, don’t you agree?”

I simply nod, offering no other answer to his question but somehow he also picks up my silent agreement to his invitation.

We walk over the square in silence, respectfully distanced but on the inside my feelings are raging.

Thankfully we don’t meet anyone who could recognize Padre well enough to stop him for a small talk and within minutes we stand in his hallway. He offers to take my jacket and when he takes off his own coat an involuntary sigh slips from me. He’s wearing the same sort of outfit as last I saw him. When he turns from me, I glance at his upper arms and shoulders. Surely there must be some rule that prevents servants of the church from looking like this?

”Come, let’s get you warm.” He says with a nod towards what I assume is his kitchen. Whatever I had pictured a priest’s home like, it’s nothing compared to this. Tasteful design and hidden technology meets warm, earthy colours and the whole place breathes relaxation. He puts on the kettle, takes two cups and places them on the counter. Then he turns to me again and looks at me with concern in his expressive blue eyes.

”Your home is beautiful,” I say honestly.

”You sound surprised?”

”Maybe a little. I thought… I don’t know.” My voice trails off, leaving me embarrassed by my own assumptions.

”I wasn’t born a priest, you know. I was over 30 when I took the oath. I had time to develop a taste for…nice things.” The way his voice drops at nice things makes me weak in my knees and I can’t help but shiver again when he takes a step closer to me. This time it’s not from the cold, but he seems to interpret it so and closes the distance between us. He’s standing so close I can feel the slightly spicy fragrance of his cologne and it blends with the comforting unique smell that is only his. My senses remember him and his scent wakes the caged fire I try so hard to control inside me.

”Are you alright?” Warm hands softly caress my upper arms and it feels so wonderful and tender that my skin tickles. I swallow hard and resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck. The clerical collar glares back at me and I avert my gaze.

”Yes,” I breathe, unsure if it’s the truth. He continues to gently rub my arms, following his own movements with his eyes. A deep sigh leaves his chest.

“I can’t do this. I shouldn't be doing this. And yet for some reason I can’t stop doing it.” Then he looks me in the eyes again and in that precious moment I see a glimpse of the torment he suffers in silence.

Slowly he places a brief kiss on my chin. His stubble softly scratches my skin and my heart almost stops as he moves his lips and gently presses them against mine. One of his hands trails my arm up to my neck and follows the line of my blouse. His delicate thumb caresses my chin longingly and then he leans in and rests his forehead against mine.

”I can’t,” he whispers. ”I can’t resist you.”

Unable to move or say anything, I just wait for him to either continue or back away from me. I can sense the conflict in him. It’s visible in his handsome face and it makes my heart ache, but suddenly both of his hands cup my face and his mouth covers mine. His lips are soft and warm and when I let out a pleased sigh, he advances and intensifies the kiss. Seductively his tongue seeks mine and together we dance a sensual dance, leaving us both out of breath. He folds his arms around me, pulling me close and finally I feel like I’m allowed to wrap my arms around him and let my hand run over his neck.

When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are filled with the glowing darkness of lust. He runs his hand through my hair and when I tilt my head just slightly to the side, he gets the message and lets his lips form a pattern down my neck.

”Oh Lord,” I sigh without control over my words.

”Don’t use His name now, use mine… Lorenzo.” He purrs against my skin and the vibrations make me crumble.

”Lorenzo,” I taste his name expectantly and it rolls on my tongue like a fine piece of chocolate. ”I like your name.”

”I like yours,” he murmurs with his lips still on my neck. I am stiffed by his words, rather certain I never told him my name and as if he can read my mind he adds; ”When you stopped coming to mass, I noticed. So I asked around. Your name is beautiful, Y/N.”

He nibbles at my sensitive skin and when I reward him with a moan he hums approvingly. Then he takes my hand in his and like I’m floating on my own stream of passion I let him lead me to his bedroom. I’m feeling just a bit insecure when I enter this private space of his. The bed is neatly made, the lights are dim and in front of the large window, long beautiful thin curtains partly block the city light. He pulls me close again and in his touch an eagerness that I haven’t felt before sparks my skin. Exploring fingers finds their way under my blouse, smoothing the skin on my back, tracing my body's curves and when he reaches the cup of my bra, he strokes the fabric softy.

Too impatient to wait for his next move, I release him and take a small step back, creating just a tiny gap between us. Holding his gaze I start to unbutton my blouse. I feel a small tremble of excitement in my hands and when it’s done, I let the blouse fall off my shoulders. The thin emerald lace covering my breasts seems to enchant him temporarily and then, with an unnoticeable move, he opens the clasp and soon a moan slips from me as he cups his hand over my bare skin. He smiles at me, a warm heated smile and if he wasn't holding me I would probably fall to my knees right there.

I tug at his shirt and pull it out of his trousers just enough so I can slip my hand underneath and touch his bare skin. He sighs longingly as my palm caresses the smooth skin covering the ribs on his side. Hesitatingly, I finger at the hidden buttons on his shirt, but he stops me with a small shake of his head and one of his hands catches my wrist in a firm grip.

”I need to do this myself.” His husky voice holds determination and a warning shifts in his fiery eyes. So I watch him as he slowly opens his shirt and when he snaps off his collar I stop breathing. The way he places the collar gently on the dresser and hangs his shirt over a chair looks almost like rituals. With the visible evidence of his status removed, he turns to me again. I have never seen a more exposed man, in the deepest meaning of that word. Not even during my darkest fantasies did he look like this. His chest is broad and generously graced with soft dark hair with grey strands. On his forearms, the veins form a pattern and my fingers long to trace them. His intense blue eyes, now roaming my body and taking in the sight of me, are dark and lusty and I’m simply drowning in them.

With a groan his lips crash against mine and the force of his body makes me almost lose balance but he secures me with a strong arm around my back. While kissing me eagerly he pushes me towards the wall, capturing me with his body and when I groan into his mouth he places his hand over my throat. He strokes the delicate skin affectionately and rasps ”I love the sounds you make. Do you trust me?”

”Yes,” I pant honestly, feeling his fingers adding just enough pressure to keep me still.

”Good girl.” His praise sets deep in my core and the heat bubbles under my skin. His warm chest presses against mine and when he releases me I take a deep breath allowing his scent to knock me over. Dizzy and wanting, I feel him unbutton my pants and pull them off me. His large hands spread on my behind, kneading my flesh as he whispers more words of praise. I melt under his touch, and when he slips his fingers under the lace of my panties to seek the hidden treasure of my body, I give away a throaty moan. My slickness makes him groan with lust, a wonderful sound that sends shivers down my spine. Using his foot he gently kicks my feet further apart, making me more accessible to him, allowing him to cover his fingers with my sweet nectar and as he gently starts rubbing my sensitive peak I grab his shoulder. Working with skilled fingers he quickly has me whining and meeting his hand with my own movements. His face is so near mine and with fascinated eyes he watches me coming closer to my release.

”I can smell your arousal, Y/N. It’s the most alluring scent I’ve felt in a very long time.” His voice is thick with lust and the words push me right over the edge, letting me fall into the bottomless pool of my sins. Panting, I rest my head against the wall trying to control the stream of emotions overwhelming me. As he can sense my emotional state he pulls me in for a warm embrace.

His heated body sparks my gleaming passion and I guide my hands to his belt. With my eyes I silently ask for permission and he grants it to me with a single nod. Slowly I undress the rest of him and when I pull his trousers down together with the boxers, it’s clear to me that the biggest salvation is yet to come. A glittering drop of arousal greets me and it makes the muscles deep inside me clench.

With a firm grip of my waist, he pulls me with him and we fall down together on his bed. When he rises above me with his hands on either side of my head I spread my thighs for him. I want him, need him. His eyes are blazing with desire as he lowers himself on me, pinning me down with his weight and I gasp hoarsely. His girth stretches me in a heavenly way and I feel every inch of him when he moves.

”I’ve dreamt of this every night since I heard your confession. To have you like this.” He thrusts deeper inside me, drawing another moan from me. The pace and intensity of his movements increase and my body tenses in anticipation.

“You’re such a temptress,” he hisses and restrained whimpers fall from my lips as his fingers carefully clasp around my throat. The heat of his naked body against mine, the ferocious but precise maneuvers of his hips mixed with the rough feeling around my neck makes me tremble under him. Finally stars explode all over my skin, creating an avalanche of pleasure that rolls over me and drags him with me into another blissful relief. His name leaves my mouth with a cry as I shatter around him.

Heavily panting, I look into his eyes and find tenderness. As he collapses beside me, a wave of guilt washes over him, I see it clearly reflected in his honest eyes. I lift my hand and softly caress his cheek and let the gentle touch say the things I don’t dare to say. He places his large hand over mine and holds it still. I wait for him to speak, to bring his feelings into the light, to let me know and understand what he’s thinking of. But he does not.

”I promised you tea,” he murmurs.

”I am warm now.” I smile softly. ”But I’d love some tea.” When he doesn't reply the insecurity stirs inside me. He looks troubled and all I want to do is to hug him and tell him it’s alright. But I don’t. Instead I watch him rise from the bed and pick up my clothes. He hands them to me with a weak smile.

As soon as we are dressed, the little knot of doubt in my stomach expands. Something just changed between us. It’s like the clothes on his body shields him off, protects him, makes him more remote and unattainable. He’s silent like the cold stone wall, distanced in both body and mind and in my heart I start to understand. Regret. The word punches me in the chest so hard I almost lose my breath. The impenetrable wall he rapidly builds around him prevents me from reaching out and touching him. I swallow hard. I need to know. Need to ask. I stare at the window where the silhouette of the Cathedral’s towers can be seen through the thin curtain. I can almost feel the judging looks it gives me.

”What happens now?” The words fall quietly from my lips as I turn my gaze to him. He looks at his bed where his sheets bear the clear marks of our sins. ”I'd like to see you again,” I try hesitantly.

”I can’t see you again. Not like this.” His words smack me right in the face. ”This,” he motions at his bed, ”was never meant to happen.”

”But it did.”

”Yes,” he sighs. ”You have too much of an effect on me. I can’t allow myself to feel this way.”

This is what I feared the most. Rejection. It hurts more than I ever expected.

”I can give you time.” Desperately I search his face for any sign of hope. My treacherous tears burn in my eyes and threaten to spill over my cheeks when I recall my own warning. ”He’ll break your heart.”

My voice sounds hollow when I continue.

”I understand you can’t have both worlds. For you it’s about a choice. A calling. Vows you’ve made.” My throat closes harshly, making it difficult to speak. ”For me it’s easy. I want more.” The last words come out only as a whisper.

I feel the tears on my cheeks and I wipe them off with the back of my fingers, taking a deep breath and bracing myself.

”If you need time, I’ll wait for you. Weeks, months. Maybe even a year. But I will not wait a lifetime.”

And with those words, I leave him. Ignoring the devastated expression in his eyes.

On the street, the dark November evening surrounds me with it’s cold and unwanted embrace. But I can’t feel it anymore, I only feel an emptiness.

I have lost.

~~~THE END~~~

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kohanayaki · 4 years ago

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.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them?

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

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

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi

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