#i failed two different classes with this professor and barely passed another with several embarrassing moments

[ace-fandom-dumbass]

You know your professor really knows their stuff when you google them and their picture shows up in the search bar autofill.

Unfortunately that does not help when said professor is the scary one. It just makes them more intimidating

[illustraice]

lead me out (on the moonlight floor) 

rating:  T word count: 7526 multiple chapters: 1/?

[ read on AO3 <3 ]

Chloe Bourgeois’ Capri Sun has a sheen to it. It probably reflects light on some poor freshman kid trying to navigate the hallways filtered with the fall breeze and the faint scent of student panic. She stays seated between the legs of the unbothered figure behind her and thinks that getting to class in time is, like, overrated and Alya Cesaire’s arms have to be comfortably occupied, thank you very much. If she had any time, Marinette would think it was moderately cute and a true testament to battling against The Wall of Heterosexuality, but because she doesn’t have any time between pushing her way through The Wave of Student Flesh and desperately clinging to her multiple binders, she starts to think it’s a bit of an inconvenience.

The Cesaire-Bourgeois Package Deal block a generous portion of the stair path; if the freshmen had any opposition to Françoise Dupont University’s ‘It’ Couple’s (of 5 months and 16 days, Chloe had announced in a lecture once) location of choice, they didn’t comment. Marinette scans the frantic narrow hallway and appraises her options; she’d very much like to get to Economics on time but there’s probably bad, weirdly homophobic, undertones to telling the Package Deal to please, get off the stairs and get to class. The two are glued to their spot, class time a weak thing to nudge their unwavering dedication to listen to whatever pop-indie playlist Cesaire has curated on her phone as they share the singular string of earpods. Marinette shuts her eyes for a few seconds, wishing Nino were here to pick up her courage off the ground to hand back to her so she can say something to the two about not blocking the stair path and making out in the next 5--or maybe 2?--minutes.

A trio of younger students scampers to the stairs, too careful to not bother the couple like if they were to make contact with even an inch of Cesaire’s varsity jacket, they would suffer a force of an electrical shock or something equally dangerous to the medical bill. Marinette wills herself to roll her eyes, hopes that whatever exasperation she has rolled with it. She’s near the duo enough to share a few words (maybe testimonies from other students about how much they want to get to class on time?), and slowly inhales preparing to speak when a smooth voice calls out behind her.

“Can you two get any more cliche?”

Somehow, through the blaring indie mess of a song--Hozier? A band Marinette doesn’t know?--Alya acknowledges the comment and offers a smile in the direction of the voice.

“Relaxation is key, Agreste.” she hums lazily. Between the confines of Alya’s arms, her girlfriend grunts intelligently.

By the time Marinette realises her conversational sacrifice is better off unrealised and makes her way farther up the stairs hurriedly, Chloe has put her earbud to the side and points a meticulously manicured finger accusingly.

“Find true love before you judge true love.” she preaches.

“What is that? Aristotle?” Adrien quips. “I think true love can find a way to stop blocking the stairs and scaring the freshmen.”

Chloe scrunches her nose. “Find true love on your own first to prove it.”

Adrien sighs and for the short time being, curses his previous determination 5 months ago to force his best friends on a date. Instead of resulting in moderate disaster material he’d hoped would happen to use as some kind of funny leverage they could all laugh at one day, they’d turn out to be ridiculously compatible despite their exteriors and made out after a mere 45 minutes of the date. They’d laugh in the face of his ulterior motives, howling at him when he’d found them in each other's arms sickeningly in love later. He’d yelled profanities that it wasn’t fair that it actually worked (“It was supposed to be a joke! God, come on!”) as they snickered, all three clustered on his bedroom floor drinking his dad’s whiskey from the inviting and playfully restricted liquor cabinet (they’d been careful to pick an unenticing bottle stored all the way back). But truthfully he was happy for them, earnestly and annoyingly so.

Even so, their habits needed to die; like getting caught in embarrassing places making out or purposefully making out in front of teachers with Homophobic Tendencies (Adrien was more than supportive of that one but he’d also run several arguments on why it may risk them not graduating. Alya had just shrugged and said yolo) and now, blocking crucial stairways in their ferocious display of PDA. He quickly glances up above the stairs and thinks about telepathically apologizing to everyone who has had to wade their way through the duo. A figure with pitch black hair almost stumbles up in a hurry. Adrien wonders how he could send along the message that he grants them a pass to yell at his friends as a sincere apology.

“Can you two just get up and go to class.” he finalises. He looks down at Chloe’s cheer uniform and muses to himself that the near neon yellow in it is the colour of Chloe’s life.

Students still scatter around the area but they’re beginning to disappear to their classes. He makes way for a row of students running to the stairs and they thank him, eyes wild communicating some kind of cryptic message he thinks he can decipher as ‘save us’. He takes several steps up and flicks at Alya’s bun, strays of her hair bouncing. She doesn’t protest and instead takes some form of an effort to take his advice but it’s quickly halted by a suave kiss to her lips.

‘5 more minutes.’ Alya’s lips barely mutter against her girlfriend’s. The proposed time frame seems to be unnegotiated.

Adrien jerks his head up to the ceiling and groans.

-

When three chattering students noisily stumble their way through her Economics class, Marinette takes no note of it. She’s a little too caught up in what pretentious shade of red the bodice of the dress she desperately trying--failing?--to design in her Studio Arts class is supposed to be so that it passes off as something Dior would create. A deep, lusting flame colour or perhaps, maroon? Maybe? Frighteningly so? She flicks her head up momentarily to glance at a wave of varsity jackets and a singular cheer uniform. The chatter of the room increases exponentially. Alya Cesaire makes a joke or two to the professor that somehow saves her and her friends’ asses. The professor rolls their eyes but they turn kind and indifferently forgiving like they always are to Cesaire’s charm. A row of girls in front of Marinette swoon a little and it takes a moment for her to realise it’s directed at Adrien Agreste’s smooth greeting, the smile on his face so easy it reminds Marinette of toothpaste commercials. Chloe takes a claim beside Alya’s seat, a Capri Sun in hand and a look of undiluted boredom in another. She crosses her legs, pouts a little at her girlfriend, a form of formally beckoning her over to sit down already.

Seats are taken. Because Marinette has a brain and two whole eyes, it has always registered to her that the three are easy--a pleasure perhaps--to look at. Agreste’s a model even; his status of that is as clear as day as it is as cemented on the school’s Wikipedia and his flashy Instagram bio. But the force of all three was indeed a ridiculously attractive sight and Marinette would take her time to appreciate it all (really, she would!) if the stress of completing her portfolio hadn’t kept her occupied every ticking minute of her time in school.

She sighs and eases her eyes on Adrien Agreste who practically swaggers his way to his seat, playfully bickering with Chloe the whole time without either caring for volume much to the class’ entertainment. His soft, somewhat curled, bundle of hair practically bounces like it just has its own individualistic way with gravity. A hand tucked in his varsity jacket pocket and another loosely on the strap of his bag, he laughs at one thing or another said by Alya and Marinette thinks it’s a nice sound. A casually beautiful entity, she concludes.

Marinette’s eyes wander aimlessly at the board but she feels a pair of eyes on her anyway. Adrien’s eyebrows furrow for a moment, a hint of recognition on his eyes as he takes the steps above like he’s willing a vision to be painted in his head. Before she can look to him, his head turns away and he quips at whatever incoming remark from Chloe he had his way. Huh.

By the time the chatter dies down enough, Marinette has already decided the brief moment had been a mere daydream, a wander of aimless eyes at her in coincidence just like her own. She picks up her pen and writes her notes, stifling a yawn. Maroon, she thinks, is an easier colour.

-

Chloe’s bedroom floor looks a little like what Adrien envisions as an entire Sephora store. He’s not all that sure what that actually looks like but between Chloe yelling out to find fifteen different shades of lipstick and Alya lazily stacking more than forty eyeshadows on each other in some cosmetic version of Jenga, he thinks he’s right. His wooden chopsticks point to the takeaway stir fry in his hand and he’s debating whether to try out that powder thing, see if it does something or other. The view beyond Chloe’s perfectly oversized balcony is easy to look at, sunset views and all, and he thinks he’d like it a lot if he could stay there instead of the proposed agenda of the upcoming night.

Alya is sprawled out in her girlfriend’s bed, amusing herself with a meme or two on her phone. That doesn’t really satisfy Chloe who whines a little when she steps out of her closet, a yellow high neck dress tight on her waist. Adrien scrunches his nose and thinks the other dress--whatever he remembers of it--was probably better.

“Why don’t I look hot?” Chloe mourns. She slumps on a chair nearby, glum and decidedly not hot.

“I liked the other dress better.” Adrien offers, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t think he likes the stir fry either. God, they should’ve just gotten pizza but Adrien’s stomach had made some last minute ditch to stir fry just as they entered the pizza shop and he should’ve listened to Alya saying his stomach is probably making a mistake but it just seemed so good of an idea at the time.

Alya glances up from her phone and makes some kind of protesting sound. “You always look hot babe!”

“Yes, true.” Chloe agrees momentarily, ‘But I don’t look hot in any dresses tonight.”

“Just don’t wear a dress.” Adrien offers again. They should really be taking his advice, he thinks. He knows he’s not paying that much attention but they should!

“Adrien, get up,” Chloe says.

“No.”

Alya looks at him from the bed, targets his face to throw a pillow. It lands on the desired location perfectly and he thinks it’s probably a warning. “What are you not hungry for?” he hears Alya ask.

He shoves the pillow away, eyes still greeting the ceiling. “The stir fry is not good.”

“You know, where was this energy an hour ego before you dragged us to an extra twenty minute walk to get it?”

“I’d really like my stomach’s intuition not be insulted during these trying times.”

Chloe scoffs, “Yeah, yeah. But really, what’s wrong?”

Her voice had shifted to the softer tone Adrien knows she categorises as the tone only given when Chloe’s actually worried. Adrien almost thinks about lying, then thinks better of it. Chloe and Alya could probably perfectly retrace every single step he's taken in his life. It’s useless and his stir fry has probably gone cold. He sits up this time, the warmth of the carpet off his back. He contemplates first and realises he does not want to ruin the night, not even for himself.

“Don’t worry,” he says finally, quietly. Quiet enough for it to be a clear lie.

Alya and Chloe exchange looks. A brief silence passes, the type Adrien knows is a mutual agreement between all three to wait. It doesn’t have to be said now, the silence says. A beat later, Chloe continues mourning her temporary lack of hotness, whining to herself again as she re-enters the closet. Alya maintains her lazy protests against the statement, grabbing the stir fry away from Adrien for herself (“God, it doesn’t even taste that bad.”). Adrien grins, wills himself to look forward to his own party, thinking it’s better that way.

-

Marinette stares almost menacingly at the computer screen. Photoshop and her design glare back at her like it’s a contest that it’s winning. It’s only a sketch but Marinette starting to think that if she stares at it long enough, the dress itself will appear magically before her, having chosen for itself confidently what colour it’d like its own bodice to be.

Instead, it only leads to her wondering if her eyes are actually threatening to bulge out.

“Why are you having a staring contest with your own computer?”

Marinette doesn’t turn around. Nino’s voice is not enough to keep her from trying this whole make-the-dress-magically-appear concept she’s got going on. He will not distract her from this goal. He places a plate with pepperoni pizza on her desk, a likely and tempting distraction. She takes it anyway.

“Is maroon, like, a good colour?” she asks, taking a bite. Nino lands himself on her bed, his headphones dangling on his neck the way it’s practically glued to him. He chews a bit of his pizza in some kind of contemplation before he answers.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“The bodice of my design is asking.”

“Then no,” he answers.

Marinette does not like this answer. But she’s pretty sure she doesn’t like any of the answers. She’s also sure Nino’s just talking out of his ass, but she appreciates the input.

“Man, have you even went out of your room since school?” he asks. It’s a genuine question, Marinette knows there’s no trace of judgement on his lips. But she’s also feeling a little jaded from the hours she’s spent on the design like it’s her lifeline enough that she musters some kind of look of feigned offense.

“I take that as a no,” he says.

Instead of answering, Marinette dumps her face flat softly against the desk. She realises all too quickly that this action in of itself is an answer.

“Okay.” Nino pulls himself up swiftly, hands clasped together the way it always is when he has a plan, “You look like you’re in the middle of a mid-life crisis at 21 and it’s just way too early for that. Get up, get dressed, put your hair up or whatever. We’re going to a party.”

Marinette grumbles. The idea, like every Nino idea, is perfectly acceptable, logical and has more than enough, the right intentions. It’s the execution, Marinette knows, that falters. Like how in kindergarten, he’d tell his best friend as their mothers shopped in IKEA that it was cool--yes, very cool!--to play hide and seek beyond the safety of the children’s play area, hiding away from the watch of the employees. It was practically genius to 6-year-old Marinette. Running away from boring IKEA-themed adults? Acceptable! Hide-and-Seek, the most thrilling game of century in a big area with lots of spaces to hide? Logical! Marinette and Nino had been bored out of their minds, un-enticed by the disgrace of a ball pit? The right intentions! It had been 15 IKEA employees yelling out the two children’s names for an hour later as they giggled away that had caused the fiasco to turn out to seem like Not Such a Genius Idea. The aftermath of their mothers’ disapproving faces had been another reminder.

‘Nino.” Marinette begins, “There’s a pros and cons list already made for that idea and I hate to tell you this, but there’s not a lot of pros.”

Nino considers this for a moment like he hasn’t already made up his mind. “There’s not a lot of cons either.”

The list is empty, Marinette says in their comfortable silence. Just like my head right now.

“Stop this.” Nino urges, “You need to get out. My best friend needs to come to this stupid rich kid party with me, eat a bunch of rich kid snacks and drink rich kids’ booze and live in the moment instead of looking like she’s about to go MMA on her computer”

Marinette doesn’t hate the idea of a party. She isn’t even opposed to them at all. Even art kids like her need their fair share of big gulps of gross alcohol and badly executed dances. But she also knows the only party of actual prominence tonight is Adrien Agreste’s, the golden boy of the Golden Trio. She thinks she might not like to throw up in his mansion or take up any form of social interaction when the exciting topic of Maroon vs. Not Maroon is the only thing on her mind.

In the time she took to contemplate this, Nina had dug out a pair of her black jeans and a halter top. He throws the clothing at her and she knows he has hit his target when she feels the material on the back of her head.

Marinette sighs the heaviest of sighs and Nino rolls his eyes. “Mari, you’re not dying.”

“Sure am.”

Like some kind of protest, he blasts some random 90s hit over the speakers from his phone. Marinette looks up, eyes already hazy and takes another bite of the pizza. Sixpence None the Richer blares like it’s trying to actually etch itself to Marinette’s ears. Nino joins in the verse but he’s kind of shrieking the way Marinette knows he does when he’s purposely trying to piss off the Choir teachers. Marinette stifles a laugh, then immediately groans.

God, rich booze really better be good.

-

His party is Very Good, Adrien intelligently evaluates this to himself. He’s in the middle of the dancefloor that’s really just his oversized living room, red solo cup to his lips. He’s not exactly sure what he’s drinking but he is sure it’s primarily responsible for the bubble of misplaced happiness to his body. He’s just a little hazy and deliriously warm and what the fuck is he drinking again? He dances between great friends, good friends, friends and not-friends-but-will-be-friends. Many eyes light up to his face in recognition, he happily recalls. The joys of being the host, he sighs in what he hopes is content.

The mansion is packed the way Adrien likes it when it’s a party--his party. It’s to blare out the loneliness inside these walls, the thought trespasses his mind. He frowns at it and systematically tucks it away in the space of gulping down all of his whatever-it-is drink and chatting to whoever is on his right. The wide-eyed girl smiles at him, polite and yet eager. He recognises her as part of Chloe’s cheer squad and she looks quite pretty tucking her hair behind her ears. Yes, very pretty! Is that pink eyeshadow on her? Adrien thinks it might be purple. They talk for a spare few minutes, slowing their movements a little. Adrien’s not entirely following whatever it is they’re supposed to be talking about it, but he knows he’s flashing his Good Smile and she’s flashing her Good Smile. And they look very nice, even! Yes! Wait, he halts, wait what?

“Agreste, you dumbass.” Adrien registers the voice as one Alya Cesaire but he’s not as quick to register the pull from the back of his jacket.

He’s dragged without grace across the other side of the room where the bar is set up, the crowd had parted like the knowing red sea with people laughing at his demise. Adrien’s arms flail in some kind of attempt to pull away from Alya’s force but he quickly becomes aware it makes him look like he’s drowning horizontally on dry land.

“Hang on there Adrien!” he hears Rose squeak but he can tell she’s grinning.

When Alya arrives at her destination, he finds Chloe perched on the barstool, chuckling at him. “What are you doing flirting with one of my girls?”

He feels a little caught in some kind of invisible lie. “Am not!”

Unfortunately, his voice squeaks the way it always does when he’s in a (drunk!) childish fit of defense. His knees wobble and Adrien wonders when jelly became a substitute for his knees? Did he authorise that? Alya and Chloe’s laughs almost thunder throughout the room, probably threatening to break walls.

“You sound like a 3-year-old caught in a lie.” Chloe snorts. Almost as if embracing this proposed age, Adrien pouts and sticks out his tongue. It’s stained red from his whatever-it-is drink. Has he been drinking wine? God, what is he? Above thirty?

“Yeah, yeah. Not all of us wanna make out with our true love every 5 minutes.” he places his cup to the bar, motioning for the bartender to refill a drink. The man raises an eyebrow, asking what he’d like before Adrien says whatever is alright. In fact, he has been drinking whatever the whole night so he might as well continue. “Not all of us have found it either.”

“Don’t be so poetic in your own party.” Alya feigns disgust, “Call Aristotle or whatever. Make him do the labour. Your stuff is terrible.

“My stuff,” Adrien tries not to slur, “is very, very, very good.”

“He sounds very convincing.” Juleka nods as she approaches. She takes a sip of her drink and in an act Adrien can only recall as an angelic move, she places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from the very bad consequences of his Knee Wobbling Fiasco. “Hold on there, buddy. The night has barely started.”

“You’d think Adrien would make it as a good act for the Debate Club?” Rose giggles beside her.

Chloe smirks, ‘You should register him now whilst he thinks his material is very, very, very good.”

The warm round of laughter from the circle erupts from this and Adrien delivers several glares to Chloe that they both know are just empty threats. He likes that everyone is having a good time, likes the obnoxious blare of music over the speakers and the familiar touch of everyone around the room he’s known.

“Adrien!” a voice bellows from the crowd. Adrien’s reflexes are painfully slow thanks to his whatever booze but he turns his head to spot the familiar figure, headphones on his neck. Nino always makes it easy to recognise Nino that way.

“My man!” Adrien drunkenly skips towards Nino, lunges his body weight at him. Nino somehow manages to handle the force of his bear hug and laughs, his body vibrating with it.

“How have you been?”

Adrien does not answer this question. Instead, he cries, “Nino, what the hell! Where have you been, man! It’s been, like, days! Without you, man! Without you!”

The group behind them laugh at Adrien’s speech, but Adrien is having trouble comprehending why. It’s been 2 days without his good friend! 2 whole days! He hopes the misery seeps out of him so they can understand his pain. 2 whole days!

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re drinking but it’s either that good, or you’ve overestimated how much you can handle. Again.” Nino grins, tries to position Adrien to stand. Adrien falls back to his arms like his body is lifeless. Was it? It sorta felt like it was.

“I am very good.” Adrien announces. He’s not sure who at.

“Don’t listen to his dumb ass.” Chloe laughs, “Have a seat with us, Lahiffe.”

She motions at an open seat near the bar. Nino smiles but his eyes flicker back to the crowd. He glances to Adrien, pulls a look like he’s going to say something mildly serious.

Nino slows his speech as if to consider Adrien’s quickly deteriorating brain cells. Adrien’s honestly grateful for it. ‘Hey, I’ve actually got a friend I’ve dragged along I’d like you guys to meet. Hope you don’t mind the plus-one, Adrien.”

No, Adrien doesn’t mind at all! Absolutely not! He wishes he could say something intelligent like ‘Of course I don’t mind! I’m happy for my huge ass hollow mansion to be filled up to suppress a bad ache of my loneliness!’. Or maybe he shouldn’t. So Adrien just shakes his head violently.

Nino smiles as if it completes his resolve. He leans Adrien’s body back to Juleka’s sturdy arms.

“Great. I’ll be back!” he wades his way into the crowd, the heap of bodies like some kind of transcendent disco-themed sea. Adrien takes a sip of his new--and hopefully improved?--whatever-it-is drink, hates it, then takes another sip.

-

Marinette remembers the order. Stay here for a sec, Nino had said, I need to talk to someone. What she’s not as diligent about is following through with it. Like a bad juxtaposition, she thinks, sipping through this party’s Rich Beer in her hand. It’s warm and fuzzy despite the unorthodox taste it leaves, maybe that’s the intended effect of Rich Kid Expensive Beer? But anyway, this bad juxtaposition weighs in on her. She’s hit with a weird pang of guilt over Not Following through with Nino’s orders. It’s not Acceptable (she’s broken an order), nor Logical (why is she wandering around in the gigantic space of this mansion where she can easily get lost amongst its weird sea of too many bathrooms?), nor does it have good intentions (she’s only helplessly so interested in the paintings surrounding the quieter hallways in this half drunken state).

Well, it’s not bad intentions, she debates, but it’s not Great Intentions. Marinette settles to herself that it’s Marinette Intentions, like that’ll help her explain this very reason of wandering around so clearly tomorrow. Nino will probably say something like what the fuck and then he’ll Not Get Mad at her because he knows pretty paintings are pretty paintings and anyway, why the fuck does Adrien Agreste have so many paintings? He doesn’t even paint! Never even been to a Studio Arts class! Never even suffered over Colour Theory or Composition or bad oil paint stains that go on perfectly good shirts that never come off even after, like, years of the laundry! Never even contemplated the deep distinction between maroon and not maroon! Marinette huffs and she thinks it’s one of her angry huffs.

Marinette thinks she’s okay with maybe swimming back into the sea of bodies, finding a pretty thing to flirt with and make out with for no particular reason for the night before she’ll slink back home. She’ll call an Uber and drunkenly recall the events to an indifferent and kind therapist of an Uber driver. She thinks it’s okay, yes it’s okay. She looks sufficient tonight, her lips are very glossy, very kissable, very capable of speaking to her future Uber driver. Her eyelids are heaped with a mauve shade, and Nino’s choice combination of clothing turned out well because he’s spent 19 years enough with her to recall whatever she says is ugly and not ugly.

But Marinette stares a little listlessly at the near blank hallways of the mansion. It nearly amazes her that despite it feeling like the world’s population was at Agreste’ front door, his mansion still seemed to have room. She waits for the wave of resolution to settle to her body, ending at the tips of her toes as to signal her feet to start moving in the desired direction. But it never does. Marinette sips the weird beer and takes this as a sign to stay in the dim of the hallways. Her eyes linger back on the painting in front of her, encased in a golden frame like it was a cliche. The acrylic sea stares back at her like the challenge her computer screen had once presented only a few hours ago.

Okay, Adrien Agreste’s house paintings, two can play that game.

-

Adrien’s footsteps carry the weight of the world. He’s pretty sure that’s not how gravity is supposed to feel like but in this state, he doesn’t really think physics is a concept he can grasp altogether. He had thought mindless dancing would ease his mind, make his body feel light as he tiptoes through the crowd. He sways along with the heat of bodies and he thinks maybe next time he’d like to hire a live weatherman in one of these parties to announce the approximate amount of degrees which he thinks right about now is nearing a million?

He’s dizzy, blissed-out like it hasn’t only been two hours into the party. His mouth feels like it’s on fire and drier than a desert at the same time. He’d chat to anyone who’d even so much as give him half a second of eye contact. He compliments something of anyone’s outfit and they’d say something like great party or Adrien get some damn water and then he’d flash his big megawatt smile reserved for nights like this or in daylight walking in the halls of the university like he’s shooting a never-ending commercial. If Chloe and Alya were concerned, they’d decided to voice their concerns for a later date and let him have his drunken fun.

For some ungodly reason, his mind rewinds to today’s events. Find true love to judge true love. Chloe’s voice strikes thunders in the thick of his cluttered haze. He grimaces, a little fondly. It’s one of those lines Chloe says without any real depth to it but he’s pretty sure the true love part has some weight on her part. Adrien sweats a little (or a lot?), thinks about Kagami for what feels like only a quarter of a second and then suddenly, several million years. He hadn’t let the ground beneath them turn solid, she hadn’t done the same either. So they’d just float in midair, aware they had nothing to land back on just like how he wants to feel weightless in this bulk of a crowd.

He’d kiss her once, in something like one of these parties. She’d return the favour back and it’d seem like such a comfortable tangle of lips at the time. His hand on her hip seemed fair, chivalrous, one of those moments of obvious destiny like how princes in Disney movies had no hesitation once they’d found their princesses. Once their lips parted, it was only then that he could hear the good-natured rumble of cheers surrounding them. Chloe had rolled her eyes, muttered something like I can’t believe you took that long, Adrien and Adrien had agreed on the statement. He’d grin so wide, the muscles on his mouth were a little tired of him. But Kagami’s eyes had been wide and curious and her teeth showed in her loosened smile so Adrien concluded that it had been so very worth it.

But then Kagami had sat down on his couch weeks later, shifting like she was not so sure of the space. As if the air inside was slightly suffocating despite the huge expanse of his second living room. Before her lips had open to speak, her eyes had already performed flutters of apology. Adrien thinks its almost pity but he’d shoved that feeling deep into the back of his mind before it could pose itself as a hazard to his psyche. She says what Adrien recalls as a blur of words. Sentences Adrien had heard loud and clear because Kagami’s voice was fit for presidential speeches or whatever, but were awfully disjointed like an awkward farrago. She hadn’t been sure, hadn’t thought it out, didn’t think it could work out in the midst of their schedules and oh Adrien, it’s not your fault but mine.

Adrien hadn’t processed anything, instead, he’d just theorised that the walls inside had somehow shrunk to the size of his body, squeezing the air out of his lungs. But he’d say things like it’s okay (it wasn’t), he’d thought the same (he hadn’t) and that he hopes they’d remain good friends. They did, in fact, remain good friends. Threateningly so. Then before he could blink twice, she’d jetted off to some lucrative fencing championship for the next 6 months like her life had been strictly scheduled to break his heart for one minute and be whisked away the next. The news of the breakup had circled ruthlessly throughout the entire student body within a matter of hours and Chloe had taken it upon herself to act as his publicist, telling everyone to leave him alone and yes, he’s going through a breakup-themed Spotify playlist, yes, he’d really like his privacy respected at the moment and no Nathaniel, he can’t share his Spotify playlist publicly go make your own

Alya, Chloe and him had raided the liquor cabinet that night like they would die the next day. Alya had ordered an obscene amount of pizza and Chinese takeaway. He wasn’t sure what the end goal was but between giant gulps of noodles, ice cream and diet coke (kind of disgusting), he concluded his friends had hoped he could also gulp away the sadness along with it. Well, he succeeded nonetheless. The next day he’d skipped along a path after classes, looked up to fervour of the orange-tinted sky and hadn’t thought back to Kagami’s eyes like he had been doing for weeks.

Kagami had been stored in the attic of Adrien’s mind, dusted and intentionally forgotten for some nice 4 months. But now she’s being unceremoniously summoned from the attic, in the midst of his dance floor and onto the pits of his mind’s living room. He holds a breath, a little more than worried that if he thinks about her any longer, she might also physically manifest in his actual living room which he honestly doesn’t think is a very good idea at the moment because he might involuntarily throw up on her.

Adrien thinks he can hear Alya’s voice faintly calling his name which is a miracle amongst the thunder of Ariana Grande over the speakers and fifty billion voices all at once. Without much thought to it, his lips linger back to his drink. The liquid burns down his throat like its matching the heat of the room. Ah yes, a billion degrees and perhaps more. He’d like to not think about Kagami at the moment, or any moments really. But once she’s out Adrien’s psychological attic, he finds it hard to stuff her back somewhere else. So he ignores Alya’s siren calls, twists his body the opposite direction and allows his feet to lead him to the better comforts of his bedroom. He stumbles on his way and knows he looks a bit like an idiot but he thinks his destination will make it worth it. Yes, well, it has to.

-

This room was too big. Much, much too big. Marinette doesn’t like being all too judgemental of anything. She likes to think that’s a result of her and Nino’s friendship and how Nino's face doesn’t really alter to the news of Marinette not sleeping for 48 hours doing designs. Instead, he’ll do something like quietly pull a blanket to her soulless body sprawled on her couch and confiscate the coffee away for three days. She likes to return the favour of understanding, not just to Nino but everyone else. But this room, she thinks, is far beyond the reach of her understanding. Marinette stares at the glass chandelier perched along with the high ceiling and doesn’t think she’d like to calculate if it alone could pay her entire school tuition.

She’d wandered aimlessly throughout the endless hallways, the voices of the crowd echoing behind her now mere whispers in the face of her indifference. She blames the alcohol but then again, she always does and really that wasn’t fair to the paintings which were the real cause of her spiralling away. If Marinette were sober, she thinks she might not enter strangers’ bedroom and judge them for their ridiculous size. But she wasn’t and now she freely saunters around like this room and her are more than familiar with each other. The king-sized bed, she notes, looks like something straight from a home decor magazine. Office space is set up opposite to the bed and it must undeniably have been occupying someone’s stress because papers cover the whole of the area without arrangement. Marinette can hear the faint boom of Top 40 music from outside and she thinks the sound resonates with the thunder of ocean tides crashing and falling much like the rise and fall of her own breath when she spots the easel perched near the bedroom balcony. Curious, Marinette strides like her body is actually co-operating with her. Placing her bottle on a table nearby, she inspects like she’s meant to be doing it.

The canvas is blank but the supplies were neatly arranged along the table. The space feels frozen in time, like someone had paused just as they were to begin and never quite gotten to resume. Clumsily left on the paint tray are different shades of oil paints, untouched and lonely. Cleaned brushes are nearby like they’re new and upon closer inspection, Marinette realises they are. Marinette inhales, breaths in the familiar scent of turpentine she’d recognised from years of sitting in a Studio Arts classroom next to Nathaniel. She’s no painter, not like she was before, but she’s more than proficient in traditional painting because of the required classes. Marinette sits on the stool and feels invited in it despite the clear lack of welcome of the entire room.

And because of the sudden invitation, in some swift movement she doesn’t at all recall, she picks up a brush, ruthlessly dabs it into the bright flush of a red and smears it across it the innocent canvas without regal.

“Fuck.” she says out loud as soon as the paint meets the canvas. Oh shit.

Oh shit, shit, shit. The mournful scarlet streak is right in front of her, bright as day in evidence and though its a colour, Marinette can’t help but think it’s screaming. The panic bubbles like champagne in her stomach but suddenly, just as champagne does, it settles into a fuzzy ease. Marinette laughs loud to herself. Fuck it.

Marinette ditches her reflex to set the brush down and instead dabs a little of the red back into the canvas, marks the colour again in another direction like it has a purpose. The more the hair of the brush streaks the colour along, the more the colour sings to Marinette’s face instead of its shrill screech. Over time, the colours bloom until Marinette hears the canvas perform a complete melody enough that it rivals the roar of waves outside.

- 

The thud is enough to knock Marinette out of her paint splatter of a state, she turns her head to the direction of the door and hears a muffle or two of a deep voice. The panic settles back into her body and unfortunately, she realises, it’s panic alone and there’s no champagne mixed in. Several thuds ensue by the time Marinette has scrambled to her feet; brush, paint and melody are long forgotten as she drops it to the table.

An escape route, yes, she needs an escape route. Yes, now. What about her drink? Oh God, her booze. Marinette furrows an eyebrow, seizes her bottle from the table and mindlessly gulps down the rest of the bottle’s content. Yes! Beer! Alcohol! Wait? No! She doesn’t have time for this shit! Marinette looks again to the enormous chandelier, sincerely wishing the billion carat diamond form of it all would just fall on her head, knocking her out. Instead, she scans the ground, grimaces as she ducks down low undignified and crawls to the bottom of the Instyle-looking king-sized bed. She’s thinking if the chandelier does actually plan on killing her, the bed might just be her salvation.

The door opens wide and the volume from outside adjusts to something loud and obnoxious. Marinette spots the Nike shoes thudding its way across the room and simultaneously calculates the price of the medical bill she’ll have to face if her heart doesn’t stop drumming violently against her chest. The figure paces around the room like it’s just as curious as she once was. A moment passes before the sound of the creak from the bottom of the bed rings in Marinette’s ears as the person lands on top. Her throat threatens to squeak out a sound in surprise before she suppresses it.

Marinette thinks if she wasn’t the one in her position, she might find all of this awfully funny. But because she’s the one in her position, Marinette eyes the opened door. She wonders if maybe, just maybe, she could just crawl, go into some kind of lizard mode that her 3-year-old self had prepared her for anyway. The fact that she’s drunk is making the plan sound a lot like a Nino Plan and the fact that it sounds like a Nino Plan has Marinette itching to execute it as not badly as possible. She waits for a prolonged five minutes before she dares to move a muscle. Four minutes later, she hears the faint sound of snoring and is fucking grateful for it.

She executes the plan, wills herself to crawl her way through the spotless carpet in silence. Arms extending out as she slithers her way, the noise outside gets louder with every inch closer to the door. By the time she reaches it, her body moves at the pace of a ghost as she heaves herself up in excruciating slow motion. Marinette doesn’t take a chance, doesn’t turn her head in the case she might make some unintended noise. Instead, she takes a slow breath in, treads lightly back outside and hears the echo of the waves from the narrow hallways.

- 

Nino reprimands her in the Uber. He also kind of does it in the dancefloor when he’d found her and nearly knocked several bottles over as he trudged his way over her drunken ass screaming the lyrics to Selena Gomez. He’d said something like what the fuck Marinette and she’d wailed out the second verse of Selena Gomez’ song in response. It’s a bad Selena Gomez themed haze from then on and Marinette does not remember anything beyond the audible thump of her own body in the back of the Uber whilst she makes out Nino apologising profusely to the driver. She bawls a little at this.

“No!” she hiccups, once or twice, “Wheeeere are we goiiiing?”

Nino turns his head from the passenger seat and Marinette thinks he’s going to say something disapproving again but he just chuckles. “We’re going home.”

Marinette thinks she does not like to be laughed at. “Nooooooo.”

God! She hadn’t even been kissed! Hadn’t even made out with anyone! Marinette places a light finger to her lips and mourns the lack of a kiss to her lips. That was so illegal! “I am very kissable!”

Nino just laughs again, “Find anyone to be very kissable with?”

Marinette narrows her eyebrows. Huh. Did she? She doesn’t recall a single kissable lip on her. A goddamned shame. God, what had she been doing? She was very kissable, damnit! What the hell was she doing not being kissed?

Marinette’s mind wanders to important things like puff pastries and croissants. She was over this night, she hadn’t been kissed and if she had been, it must've have been so bland her mind just threw the damn memory away. So Marinette hums a tune in blissful peace, wonders what she might do tomorrow about her maroon vs. re-

“Stop the car, I’m going to throw up.” Marinette chokes out. From the rearview mirror, the Uber driver just sort of sighs like he might throw up too.

The flash of red lingers its way back into Marinette’s mind at the speed of lightning or thunder or motorcycles or something dangerous and clearly over the speed limit. A Lamborghini probably. The blank canvas and how not very blank it was in its state in Adrien Agreste’s house. In the midst of her alcohol scented mist, the image of the painting taunts her. The hour of painting had seemed so far away like it was months ago and oh God, Marinette was going to go to prison for trespassing or something. She’ll go to prison and wear a bad shade of orange like it’s some kind of sick punishment for the array of colours she’d slashed mercilessly across the canvas.

“Oh my god.” she whispers to herself. “Shit.”

The car reluctantly stops near the side of the road. Marinette yanks open the car door, ducks her head down low and does, indeed, throw up.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

White Crest 101 || Morgan & Margot

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @g0t-ri5h & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Margot gets a crash course in class from her new professor, and what it means to be a transplant White Crestian

The class had started several minutes ago and Margot had just barely rolled out of bed. She changed quickly into a pair of pants, not bothering to change the sweatshirt that she had slept in. There was no time. Margot had a habit of being late, a trait she had inherited from her mother. While her mother thought it was a fashionable faux pas, Margot was simply disorganised. By the time she busted through the back entrance of the room, the professor was halfway through her lecture. The nearest free chair was close to the front, one that would attract a great amount of unwanted attention. Margot trudged down to it, annoying a handful of students that had to stand to let her past. She sat down, listened to the remainder of the lesson, not following any of it. An advisor had called her over the weekend, told her that she didn’t have enough credits for the semester. To her chagrin, this class was one of the few that still had availability. English, a subject she had always struggled to comprehend, starting later would only make it more difficult. The lecture came to an end and Margot began to pack her things. “She’s a great teacher when she’s actually here.” One student said to another. Margot listened intently. “My roommate was telling me she was gone for like a month last semester. No explanation, just poof.” The other gossiped back. The two of them left, and Margot was just about to follow them out when she heard her name be called.

“Do your reflection responses! Do the reading! Make good choices! Remember you have agency in your life!” Morgan shouted her end of class reminders in one breath, waving goodbye to each of them as the filed out. Most waved back with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. They made faces, because they were still young and had too much pride, but no one was above a little personal attention or affirmation. “Ooh, not you, straggler! Yes, you, Margot!” She smiled smugly, waving the roster in front of her. It wasn’t magic powers that gave her the student’s name, just some really attentive refreshing of the faculty center page. “You know…” She eyed the girl and gave a wry smile, “If you only stay for half the class, you’re only getting half your money’s worth. Also, technically, no participation credit. Which is an extra bummer, since it’s the easiest thing to get. But since you’re new, I guess I can let the first day slide. You got some free time, Margot? I’d love to know what brought you to my class this late in the game while we go over make-up work?”

Margot let out a quiet and frustrated sigh. She was so looking forward to going back to her bed. Instead she turned to face the professor. “I’m sorry I was late. I overslept.” Margot knew this was not an adequate excuse by any means, but she had no patience or energy to think of something more creative or reasonable. Margot began to walk towards the lectern in the front of the room, towards Morgan. “It was a great lecture though, the parts I was here for. Very, uh, informative.” She offered this as a consolation. Margot glanced at her watch, as if she had someplace else to be. “Yes, I suppose I can stay for a bit.” She took off her backpack and sat it on the floor where she stood. Margot imagined this could take a while. “I thought I had enough credits for the semester, but apparently I didn’t. Yours was one of the only classes I could join so late. Is there much to catch up on?” Margot dreaded to think of all the homework she had missed, it would only add to the growing stack of overdue work on her desk.

Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course she had only come here for the credit. She had maybe even heard that it was an easy class to pass, which...wasn’t wrong either. Morgan didn’t think that being a hardass with grades was the way to students’ hearts, or to teaching them anything effective. She tossed Margot a syllabus and gathered the rest of her materials, leading her out of the room and off to the long series of halls and stairs it would take to get to her office. “No, there won’t be too much work. Just the introductory assignment, so I know some useful things about you. And you’ll have to grab the books and catch up on the book we’re finishing up next week. But, it’s really not much. I’m not interested in competing with your other courses for ‘Most Demanding Homework.’ I’m here to help you figure out how to think differently and express yourself more effectively. But--” She paused on the stairs to look over at the girl. “Maybe you have some questions for me? I’m not sure how long you’ve been at the school, but I know it can be a lot sometimes no matter what.”

Morgan’s sigh sounded nearly as pained as her own. If Margot was more empathetic, she may have even apologised for being so flippant and insulting the woman’s career. But, alas, she was not so perceptive. Margot caught the syllabus between her palms and began flipping through the first few pages as she followed Morgan out of the room. As she spoke, Margot made a mental note to source an online copy of this week’s reading material. It would be cheaper that way. “Introductory assignment?” Margot hoped it would be a simple questionnaire; name, age, perhaps favourite pets name. Hopefully it wouldn’t ask her about her lifelong hopes and dreams. She would most definitely fail. “I transferred in this year, so I’m still becoming acquainted with everything here.” Margot explained, “I do have one question, since you asked. Your absences,” Margot prefaced before continuing, “I overheard some students say you disappeared without warning last semester. I was just wondering, will attendance still be required if that occurs again?” Her question was admittedly influenced most by laziness and her wish to stay in bed as late as possible. But, Margot was also just curious, and rather nosey. It was probably an inappropriate question, but it was too late to rescind it.

“Oh, just a short reflection on how you feel about reading and writing about stories and what you want to learn this semester. Learning doesn’t happen by accident, and being clear with yourself on what your intentions are can go a long way to getting the most out of the semester!” Morgan explained. She jogged up the next flight of stairs and turned on the landing, bright with encouragement. She nodded along as she walked, commenting that asking questions were how everyone learned. And then Margot asked. Morgan’s foot slipped on the next set of stairs and she stumbled down to one knee. “Uh, my--a-atendance?” She understood that her students flourished better with consistency and she knew that even though none of last semester’s students had the nerve to ask her what had happened or express how it had made them feel, she knew they had their opinions on it. What Morgan did not know was that Margot was the kind of student to cut to the chase, no matter how sharp she needed to be. She straightened herself up and smiled again, scrambling to recover. “Uh, well, it is possible that I may cancel class for unforeseen reasons, in which case there won’t be any reason to take attendance, but if there is class, then there will be someone to teach you, even if for some reason it isn’t me. And if there is someone to teach you, then they will be taking attendance and passing on the roster to me.” Her voice was growing tighter, breathier. She was forgetting to breathe. Morgan hissed through her teeth for breath and forced herself to meet Margot’s eyes. “Is there something else that you wanted to ask me about my absences, Margot?”

Margot’s hand reached out to grab Morgan’s elbow as she stumbled. “Oh, shit!” Margot cursed under her breath. She had clearly taken her professor by surprise. But, as quickly as Morgan’s pleasant smile had faltered, it was back in it’s rightful place. “Very well.” Margot responded to the thorough explanation, “I only ask because my course load is already so full. My programming classes are very time consuming, and I just want to ensure I can keep my schedule intact.” A lie, Margot thrived in disorganisation. Her ‘unplanned routine’, she liked to think. “I’m glad to know that the class would be unaffected in such an event.” Margot smiled in a disingenuous, thin line, hoping to settle the sharpness of Morgan’s breath. She was being her most polite self now, the facade she reserved only for her mother and father. It seemed she had distressed the teacher, Margot wondered why. To her it was such a straightforward question. “No, your absences, and reasons for them are entirely your personal business.” For now anyways. Margot’s mind was already in front of her computer, researching. Her question had tugged at a nerve. Margot liked to know what made people tick, their darkest secrets and how best to exploit them to her advantage. “Did you still want to go over the make-up work?” They were still frozen on the staircase, and Margot wondered whether Morgan would still be willing to help her cause despite the hostility in her tone and posture.

Maybe all the mushroom stress was getting to Morgan too much. She’d been so sure a second ago that this girl was trying to get under her skin, needling about her ‘personal emergency’ last year. But Margot stayed on that line of courtesy, and Morgan wondered whether she made other people feel this way when she asked about their kids or their losses or their dates. Maybe people with their sanity just barely intact didn’t like surprise personal questions. Who knew? Morgan tried to smile again, better this time. “Thank you. I uh, appreciate that. And, yes, of course. I want you to succeed. There’s copies of all the handouts on the class website, since I know half of you guys live your life on your computer.” She climbed up the rest of the way and started down the dimly lit hall, ignoring its off-center doors and the soft give of the floor that was just too much on the wrong side of uncanny to bear contemplating for long. “I know I can’t promise a lot for you, Margot, especially in a place like White Crest, but I can say I’ll try my best for you.”

Margot was glad that she had somewhat diffused the situation, having Morgan dislike her would only make passing this class harder. Once more, they were on route to her office. Margot detested this university, most of all it’s appearance, it was as if it had never had a renovation or even been repainted. She visibly cringed as they continued on their path. She had never been in such a lacklustre environment before, having been born and bred in quiet luxury. She hadn’t acknowledged the privilege while she had it, but since leaving MIT, it’s all she could think about. What she had lost. What had been taken from her. “I appreciate the help. I need it.” It seemed that Morgan was one of the more passionate professors at UMWC, most would not give a student this much assistance. “I’m trying my best to fit in here. It’s just,” Margot paused, considering her words, “such a strange place.” Strange didn’t even scratch the surface. “Have you always lived here? In White Crest?”

Morgan’s office was all the way at the end of the hall, through a communal office supply room stocked with paper the wrong size for the printer and coffee that was perpetually burnt. Morgan’s office was through a sticky door off the corner, one desk in five crammed together. Today, only Karl and Kirk were nursing whiskeys in coffee mugs since Kyle (or his body rather) still hadn’t been found. “Sorry, boys. Official business. Come back in fifteen minutes?” Her voice was bittersweet, sharpening an invisible knife under its surface. Karl and Kirk put their mugs down so fast, whiskey spilled over the sides. They folded their laptops under their arms and shuffled away. Kirk clumsily dropped a mint tea bag on her desk before mumbling an apology and shutting the door behind him.

Morgan turned to her student, smile tight with awkwardness. “Don’t mind the Medieval Bros. They’re mostly harmless. Now, anyways. And I’m a transplant from Texas. Strange is probably...the gentlest word for how things are here. Which, just some unofficial wisdom? Don’t be out after dark alone, especially on the full moon. Stay away from the cosplay bars, the crowds there are more dangerous than they look. Don’t go off trail if you’re a hiker, ever. And keep some bleach on hand in case your bathroom starts sprouting blood, eyeballs, or fish.”

Margot restrained her laughter as the two bumbling men were ushered out of the room. She knew the smell of whiskey well enough to know that wasn’t coffee seeping from their pores. Normally such unprofessionalism would surprise her, but this was the new normal. “Yum, mint tea.” Margot picked the bag up, twirled it between her fingers a few times before dropping it into one of the mugs. She had a sly smile on her face, the result of witnessing something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Texas, wow. I never would have guessed. You don’t even have the signature accent.” Margot made herself comfortable, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs that had become vacant by Karl and Kirk. At Morgan’s advice, Margot’s mouth opened, then closed, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t know what to make of all of these random warnings; skeledogs, mimes, now full moons and the dark. “Why does everyone keep telling me to be careful?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Morgan reached into her desk and took out some things from her cache of school supplies, the paper handouts, a journal to be graded, the first assignment, and a spare copy of the first book. “Oh, that,” she said, laughing at the teabag. “They’re just trying to...well, make up for their existence. I think they’re really coming along when it comes to respecting women, though they should probably figure out how to do it without being induced by fear.” She handed Margot the stack of assignments. “Maybe at your old school that was true, but things are different here in ways they don’t tell you in the brochures. So, take these, follow the instructions carefully, and have them in by next week, and I’ll waive the rest of what you’ve missed. And, seriously, be careful. Don’t die!”

[alsolfu]

Pink Skies (Part Two)

(Part One) (AO3)

Unlike Rhea’s promise to Lorenz, Seteth didn’t offer tea when Byleth took a seat in front of his desk. Seteth didn’t so much as offer a smile. Or take his own seat. Or do anything beyond stand next to his desk, cross his arms, and stare at her. Typical.

“You can’t ask me to marry one of my former students.” There, she thought. Start off strong. It was a valid point, and he knew that.

Seteth arched an eyebrow. “Your student, sure. For a single term, half a decade ago. He is far from that child, don’t you think?”

Byleth resisted a heavy sigh. Lorenz had never been a child, not for as long as she’d known him. That wasn’t the argument she was trying to make at all. This was already verging on frustrating, and she’d only just sat down.

“All right,” she said, tilting her chin up. “As a person, Lorenz is a good friend. But that doesn’t mean we should marry each other.”

“You’re purposely ignoring the obvious,” he was quick to reply. “In considering him as not just a person, but as a man.”

Byleth blinked, then looked down at her hands, which tangled in her lap just like they had in the advisory room. For a moment, she thought he made a good point. Lorenz was certainly a man, but it didn’t really make sense. Because Lorenz was a man, she should’ve considered marrying him? For the good of Unified Fodlan?

Stretching out her fingers, she skimmed her hands over her knees and straightened her back. “I know what he is. A man, a noble, and a soldier.”

“Soon to be a king.”

Byleth’s expression flattened. “Right, how forgetful of me.”

Seteth uncrossed his arms, but it didn’t make him any less imposing, looking down at her that way. “The king of a newly formed kingdom needs a strong partner at his side.”

She bristled. “So marry him yourself.”

Closing his eyes, Seteth let out a long sigh. She waited while he rested a hand on his desk, as if the conversation was physically tiring him. He’d wanted this, to talk privately in apparent hope to persuade her, and he looked ready to end despite how they’d only begun.

Good. This wouldn’t take long.

He opened his eyes, his frown evening out into a flat line. Then he rounded his desk and took a seat. Byleth didn’t like the look of that, of him settling in and resting his forearms on the desktop.

“I fail to understand your adamant rejection of our proposal,” he finally said. “By all appearances, you and Lorenz make a formidable match. You fought side by side throughout the war—”

“Which only just ended.”

“Hence the need to combine your strengths.”

“Or to focus on rebuilding.”

Seteth’s lips pinched, likely fighting another sigh. “Alright, professor. I see this won’t be easily accomplished.”

“Or at all,” she cut in.

He lifted a hand to pinch the arch of his nose between his eyes. “All I ask is your reason as to why.”

Oh, it was that simple now? He needed reasons for why she wouldn’t marry Lorenz, and he’d let it go? She had more than one reason, most of which had nothing to do with Lorenz himself. Marriage wasn’t something she’d ever given a thought. With anyone. Romance, maybe in passing. Once or twice. Physical attraction was an unrelated subject entirely.

She’d always had too many more important things than marriage to worry about. The end of the war had shoveled even more onto her plate. Every bit of this was asinine, and she had no doubt that Lorenz probably found it just as insulting.

Taking a deep breath, Byleth sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Lorenz is unbearably arrogant.”

⁂

She’d barely gotten a word in since arriving to Garreg Mach Monastery. It was fine; she’d always been a woman of few words. But to be met with question after question, introduction after introduction, only to be moved along to the next person in another part of the academy without reprieve, was exhausting.

Now, standing in front of one of the students Rhea had sent her to talk to, she felt like screaming. Which was something that she tended not to do unless delivering a death blow. The guy in front of her had a hand on his hip and a wide grin. What could be so amusing, Byleth wanted to know.

She nodded when he seemed to be done speaking, and he arched his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah? Who did you want to hear about?”

Her eyes fluttered, partially in embarrassment, mostly in confusion. “Ah.”

She looked around, taken by surprise at the sudden chance to speak. Her gaze stopped on a tall figure standing across the courtyard. It was the rose at his lapel, deep red and hard to miss, that made her pause. He spoke with another student, a girl by the look of the uniform, who crossed her arms and shook her head at whatever he was saying.

Eyes snapping back to the student in front of her—his name was Claude, she reminded herself—Byleth hoped the tall, flowered boy was in his class. “Him.”

Claude glanced in that direction, his smile unwavering. “Lorenz? He’s the heir of Gloucester territory. If you haven’t already picked up on it, he’s a bit arrogant and fancies himself a ladies man.”

Was that right? She looked at the student again, just in time to catch the girl storming away from him. Lorenz the Ladies Man, huh? He scoffed, then looked at his fingernails with pursed lips. It didn’t dawn on Byleth that she was staring until his head tilted a moment later, his short hair bobbing as he looked in her direction. 

Not driven to avoid eye contact for any reason, she maintained it and bore the growing curiosity on his face. His eyes were as purple as his hair, the angles of his face just as sharp. In a slow drop to his side, his fingers curled and uncurled.

“Anyone else?” Claude spoke up, regaining her attention.

She tore her gaze from Lorenz to another student who seemed awfully close to the Golden Deer classroom. “How about them?”

⁂

“My name is Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. You would do well to remember it.”

Byleth was certain she wouldn’t forget an introduction like that, although she could try. As his new professor, she wasn’t sure if she should’ve expected him to behave differently, but the attitude remained. She wouldn’t quite call it haughty. She knew haughty. The nobles who would sometimes give Geralt’s mercenaries work, looking down their noses at others, no kindnesses to spare for those less fortunate— they were haughty. Lorenz was prideful, but he’d never been disrespectful insofar as asking too many questions in class.

For the most part, she couldn’t take him seriously enough to consider him with the amount of contempt that others—the commoners and young women of the monastery, in particular—seemed to hold for the young nobleman.

Seteth held a seminar halfway through the first month of her stay. She was in awe throughout, new battle tactics being brought to her attention in a way they’d never been before. Typically, it would be firsthand accounts, either from the other men led by her father, or from facing enemies herself. Mostly from the latter, if she were honest. The seminar was a first for her; an appreciated reprieve.

She was deep in thought when leaving the classroom. She’d known next to nothing about fighting with a lance before Seteth had drawn several, potentially unnecessary diagrams onto the chalkboard. She had ideas for lance fighting styles that she couldn’t wait to put into practice.

The day was warm, half over now with the sun sitting high in the cloudy sky. A deep breath in, and she felt like she could work on her next lesson plan at one of the tea tables until dinner.

“I merely meant to bring to attention how striking you are from this angle.”

Byleth stopped mid-step at the voice and looked around. Just beyond a pillar, she noticed Lorenz standing in front of another student. Wearing the usual displeased expression, the girl huffed. Byleth could laugh. Almost.

She smiled and watched as Lorenz failed to win the girl over. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed his decimation, and it wouldn’t be the last. Awful professor that it made her, her amusement over it only deeped each time. His tenacity was to be admired, but she thought it would be better put to use elsewhere. Such as the classroom, if not the battlefield.

Byleth’s smile faded when the girl stormed past her. Holding her notes and text close to her side, Byleth rounded the pillar. As much as she wasn’t actively attempting to, she met eyes with Lorenz on her way toward the gazebos.

His expression was pinched, eyes narrowed and lips in a tight frown. Already an entire head over her, he looked down on her without trying.

“Lorenz,” she greeted in passing.

He nodded promptly. “Professor.”

Byleth traversed the walkways and crossed through a gate that led to the gazebos before letting herself smile again. She was probably going to need to talk to him about this behavior eventually. Until it became necessary to put a stop to his misfortune, she’d keep finding humor in it.

⁂

Pleasant wasn’t a word Byleth used for many things. The quaint village just outside of Garreg Mach, though, fit the bill. She didn’t have to find reasons to walk the cobblestone streets. She’d yet to make friends, had stocked up in the market that morning, and had no seminars to look forward to.

So she wandered the village, taking in its… pleasantness.

“Why, just look at these soft, delicate fingertips you have.”

Oh. Oh, no. That voice.

Byleth approached the end of an alley that opened into a wider street and considered turning around. With the number of times she’d experienced the second-hand embarrassment on Lorenz’ behalf in the single month she’s lived in the monastery, she couldn’t guarantee she’d remain calm, even in passing.

“It’s as though they could blossom into flagrant lillies before my very eyes.”

Oh, no. Byleth closed her eyes and fought a smile. Terrible. He needed to be stopped, and as much as she wished it weren’t true, she knew she’d have to be the one to do it. Opening her eyes, she rolled her shoulders and left the alleyway just in time to hear the response of the woman he was so artlessly flirting with.

“If you’re so wild about flowers, why don’t you try a flower shop?!” The woman walked away, leaving Lorenz in a wide-eyed state of disbelief.

Byleth watched his expression smooth over within seconds, his eyes rolling as a twinge of pink began to mottle his cheeks. She stopped in front of him, not exactly but close enough to where the woman had been moments before. Lorenz, to his credit, didn’t look surprised to see her beyond the arch of an eyebrow.

“That was rough,” Byleth said plainly. “Are you going to be okay?”

Lorenz blushed slightly deeper, and she realized then that she shouldn’t have opened her mouth. He cleared his throat, his hands coming to his chest to smooth down his shirt and fix the rose on his lapel unnecessarily. Byleth couldn’t explain why this made her smile, but for the first time since meeting him, she let him see it.

He was actually a messy bit of chaos, wasn’t he? It was hidden behind poorly constructed compliments and perfectly placed roses, but it was there, urging him to say the most insane things with a straight face. Lorenz the ladies man, approaching all aspects of life with a heightened sense of importance of which Byleth was certain he could never retain on his own. Not in the face of any woman on this side of Fodlan, at least. The longer she looked at him, the harder it was to keep the smile tame, and he ruined it by speaking up.

“I’m all right, professor.” Chin up, he looked assured but did little to keep the blush from his face. “Any woman who is taken in by such simple flattery is ill-suited to my noble disposition.”

Byleth pinched her lips between her front teeth and arched her brows. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t  not  laugh at him if he didn’t stop. Giving herself a moment to swallow down the amusement, she forced a frown at him.

“Lorenz, I strongly suggest you work on your courting lines until you’ve perfected them before you approach another woman.” She lifted a hand to hush him before he could interrupt. This was difficult; she was going to miss witnessing his silliness, but it shouldn’t have to come at the expense of every woman he came into contact with. “There have been complaints around the monastery, and now I see you’re approaching people in the village, as well?”

She tried for her best disapproving look, which she felt was working until his face grew a deeper shade of red.

“Ah, you’re misunderstanding, Professor—”

“I’m not. You need to stop.”

“Finding a suitable wife is one of my greatest duties—”

A snort escaped Byleth. “Lorenz, I’m serious.”

“You don’t seem it.” His brow furrowed, but she couldn’t be made to feel bad.

“I am,” she said through a growing smile. She was the worst professor in existence. If he weren’t her student, she would’ve flayed him like she had so many of her peers when they failed to land dates. “I’m so serious, Lorenz.”

“Repeating it doesn’t make it true.”

Bubbling up from deep in her chest, a laugh tumbled out of her. She put a hand over her mouth, her stomach clenching to keep it in fruitlessly. The laugh spilled through, right into her palm.

Lorenz crossed his arms. “What could be so amusing?”

Faced with his ire, she laughed harder. It felt good to finally let this out, and to do it right in front of him was cathartic. She was, without a doubt, the worst professor, and for the moment, as laughter shook her shoulders, she didn’t care.

“Professor, are you  all right?”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and inhaled deeply to calm her amusement. “You’re very funny, Lorenz.”

He blinked, as if startled by what she’d said. “Me?”

Finally free of the intensity of her amusement, Byleth cleared her throat and nodded. “Hysterical. Now, remember what I said. No more romantic advances on unsuspecting women.”

He didn’t appear impressed. “You say I have to improve, but how is that possible when I’m obliged to reign myself in? I’m not one to talk to myself.”

She considered him, then said. “If you have to, practice on me.”

“I can’t possibly do that.” His precious face grew red all over again. “You’re my professor.”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m here for.” She rounded him, ready to end the conversation. It was the longest one she’d had with him yet, and she hadn’t been as solidly put off by his prolonged presence as she’d expected. “See you in class, Lorenz.”

⁂

Seteth lifted a hand from his desk to rest his chin in his palm. “That’s a telling anecdote, but I’m afraid it doesn’t convince me of your argument.”

Byleth sighed through her nose. “You’re not convinced that I just don’t want to marry him?”

“You find him hysterical.” Seteth was becoming flippant now, as if goading her. “You said so yourself. You went so far as to invite him to practice romantic advances on you.”

“Better it was me than let him continue harassing every female student in sight.”

“Perhaps.” Seteth said this, but it was clear he wasn’t accepting anything she’d said so far.

Byleth once again felt like yelling. She had things to do. Actual things that mattered. “You should make tea.”

Seteth’s chin lifted from his hand, his eyebrows arching. “Oh? You’re going to share something of value, then?”

She rolled a shrug over her shoulders. “I’ll give every reason I have, if that’s what it’ll take for you to see what a bad idea this is.”

He pursed his lips, then came to a stand. “Just a moment.”

While Seteth prepared tea, Byleth wondered how Lorenz was faring back in the advisory room. He must’ve been much more insulted, all things considered. She could picture him talking about finding a wife being his personal burden and honor. Someone he chose, he was probably saying to Rhea now. A partner he’d find on his own merit, without the added confusion of past transgressions.

Byleth sighed into the empty room. This was going to be a long day.

(Part Three)

[sweetheartjeongguk]

tough luck

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: harry potter au, fluff, crack

rating: pg-13 (cursing)

warning(s): brief mentions of vomiting, jungkook making a fool of himself

word count: 5.1k+

summary: rule number one: always check the expiration date of potions. rule number two: never trust kim seokjin with anything. 

masterlist

Since his arrival at the age of 11 to the illustrious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Jungkook’s made quite the name for himself.

At the tender (and awkward) age of fifteen, he became the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He’s excelling in nearly of all of his classes except Potions – in his defense, Slughorn really has it out for him. With bright doe eyes and a cute bunny smile, Jungkook could get out of anything faster than you can say “Dumbledore!”. Thanks to his tightknit group of friends, Hogwarts has really become his second home.

But there are two things that Jungkook could never get right, no matter how hard he tries – passing Potions class and talking to you.

He despises Potions with his entire being. His strengths lie on the more physical classes like Defense Against the Dark Arts or Quidditch. Hell, he even prefers learning about tea leaves in Divination than brewing random concoctions with the one man that can’t stand his presence. His philosophy is that he could always purchase some readymade potions during his visits to Diagon Alley – no need to complicate his life further by forcing his mediocre hand at a skill he’s severely lacking in. Slughorn even said so himself – he and Jungkook, like water and oil, will never mix.

You, on the other hand, are a different story.

Unlike Jungkook, you aren’t known to be in the spotlight. While you have a nice cluster of friends who you could count on for moral support during OWLs and cheap firewhiskey at end-of-the-year parties, you’re usually always alone with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds. Even your parents have had to remind you to get out of bed and be productive instead of staying in bed with a new novel nestled between the pillows. Unlike Jungkook who lives and breathes Quidditch, you prefer activities that require both feet on the ground. While most of it has to do with the fact that you had a near-death experience at a Quidditch match when you were 7 years old, it also stems from your ordinary distaste for physical activity. Why risk your life hundreds of feet up in the air on a flimsy broomstick when you can have just as much as fun at ground level?

Almost all of your friends disagree with you.

You’re also Professor Slughorn’s unofficial protege, his very own teacher’s pet. You suspect that it’s mainly because he found your endless lineage of wealthy and famous pureblooded Slytherins a rather attractive feat, but he also sheds credit on your seemingly effortless potion making. The skill was passed down to you from your mother and her mother before her, and it just made sense that you would be the one to carry the metaphorical torch.  

To him and many other admirers (Jungkook’s definitely not jealous about that), you’re the pride and joy of Slytherin House, and rightfully so. You have the attitude, the drive, and the intelligence, checking all the boxes of not only a model Slytherin but a respectable Hogwarts student. Jungkook should have disliked you – after all, you’re a Slytherin, the infamous rival of Gryffindor House. While the stereotypes and mutual hatred has drastically declined over the years, there’s still residual competitiveness between the two houses.

If only it wasn’t for his massive, not-so subtle crush on you since first year.

“I still don’t understand how she hasn’t noticed your obnoxious staring yet.” Taehyung snorts as he practically inhales the plate of rice and meat. “You’ve got to learn to be subtle. I can only take so much secondhand embarrassment from you before it just turns into pity.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook frowns, his lips drooping into a pitiful pout. “I’m just blanking out about something, that’s all.”

“Dude, you’ve been staring at her at the Slytherin table for the past twenty minutes, and I’m 99.9% sure you haven’t even blinked.”

At this, Jungkook forces his eyes to close, not even noticing how dry and sore they feel. Was he really looking at you for that long?

“Whatever.” Jungkook mutters as he turns to his own meal, pushing his vegetables around with his fork. “She probably doesn’t even notice me anyway...”

“It’s not really a question of her noticing you, but more a question of her even liking you.” Jimin laughs, rolling up the sleeves of his emerald green robes as he reaches across the table for two more bread rolls and a hefty serving of mashed potatoes.

Taehyung shoots the blonde Slytherin a sharp glare, but the latter’s too preoccupied with shoveling potatoes into his cheeks that he fails to notice the looming darkness over Jungkook’s face. With a sigh, Taehyung attempts at an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry kiddo, she’s probably just shy herself.” Taehyung shrugs. “Once you go up and talk to her, I’m sure that—”

“H-Hyung, I can’t just do that!” Jungkook blanches white.

“Why not?” Jimin raises an eyebrow, cheeks still puffy with food. “It’s easy. All you got to do is t—”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whines in a borderline childish tone.  

How pathetic would he sound if he explains to his two best friends, who are both equally outgoing and unafraid to go out of their way to get what they want, that he feels as though his whole world would collapse into a giant abyss at the thought of sharing a conversation with you? That the only words you’ve ever exchanged with him were “Hey, can you pass me that?” and “Y-Yeah, sure”? That since then, he’s been afraid to utter another word to you in fear of looking like a complete fool?

“Kook, you good?” Jimin asks, mild concern in his voice. “You don’t have, I was just s—”

“Nothing!” Jungkook squeaks in panic. “Nothing! I’m fine, I’ll…find a way, I guess.”

Fortunately for Jungkook, Jimin got the hint, and the conversation about you becomes a thing of the past as they all fall into a deep debate about who is going to beat who in the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Jungkook forces himself to stop glancing at your table, but he still can’t help but catch a glimpse every so often when Jimin and Taehyung weren’t looking. His blood rushes a little faster in his ears when he catches sight of you, face shoved close towards the pages of your textbook and your hand scribbling across a blank piece of parchment. He smiles to himself, you must have been cramming for one of your classes and couldn’t find time outside of lunch to do it.  

Around you, your friends are engaged in an intense gossip and laughing at the top of their lungs, but you barely pay them any attention. You’re completely ignorant to your surroundings as you delve deeper in the chapters and the practically incomprehensive material. There’s a tingle at the back of your neck, as if someone’s watching you closely, but you ignore it.

It’s probably nothing, like always.

“You know, it’s getting kinda sad seeing you mope over a girl like this, especially a Slytherin. What’s holding you back?”

Jungkook ignores the frustrated tone of his older friend Namjoon as he shuffles around the bedroom in search of his Quidditch padding. Namjoon lives in another section of the dormitory where the upperclassmen stay in since he’s a year away from graduating while Jungkook rooms with other underclassmen who still have a couple more years left in their Hogwarts education. He’s laid on his side on top of Jungkook’s bed, smushing his side of his face against the horde of pillows the younger boy keeps stacked against the headboard.

“Time’s ticking, Kookie…” Namjoon says mockingly. “Tick tock, tick tock, tick—”

“Are you done?” Jungkook grumbles in annoyance. He finally finds the missing padding and shoves it deep inside his training bag. “The opportunity just hasn’t…arisen yet. That’s all, no big deal.”

“Oh no, I can keep going with this.” Namjoon smirks, pulling a pillow against his chest. “I’ll keep asking for as long as I’m here if it’ll get you to untangle your asshairs and talk to her, for crying out loud. I can’t keep being seen with you if you keep disappointing me like this.”

Jungkook grimaces at the mental image flashing across his vision. “You and Seokjin hyung are literally one and the same. Also, how is it any of your business who I talk to?”

“First of all, hyung and I practically raised you. Second of all, I have every right to know who you’re potentially going to spend the rest of your life with.” Namjoon pauses to beam up at Jungkook in equal parts sarcasm and genuineness. “If I don’t make it my business, who will?”

“Literally everyone else. You all share one brain cell, remember?” Jungkook sighs exasperatedly. “I’ve finally got Jimin off my back last night, I don’t need him to be reminded again.”

“Be careful with what you say, Kook.” Namjoon points out cockily. “Who knows, maybe one of us will shoot their shot and snatch your witch from you.”

“Do that and I will make sure you never graduate, hyung!”

“Aw, how romantic. I’ll be sure to mention it in my best man speech at your wedding!”

Weeks go by, and still no progress on Jungkook’s part. He still watches you from afar, albeit less often now that he knows his entire friend group has their eye on him, hoping that he’ll finally grow the balls to ask you out. Namjoon even contacted Seokjin and their other friend Yoongi at their jobs in the Ministry about the situation which ended up in the two aurors-in-training sending Jungkook a Howler with the booming message of “Ask her out already, dick head!”

Since then, the Gryffindor has been on edge. He doesn’t want to force himself into speaking to you because for all he knows, he’s just going to choke on his words or worse, vomit all over you just as he did to an entire row of parents at his kindergarten play about planting more trees. The traumatic memory of his classmates’ laughter and the acidic aftertaste lingers in both the back of his mind and the back of his mouth.

Shivering under the frigid draft inside the library, Jungkook forces himself to concentrate as he continues writing down notes on his parchment. His essay on the usefulness of memory potions is due the following class period, and all of the intensive Quidditch practices and constant afterparties inside Gryffindor Tower prevented him from completing it earlier in the month. Slughorn already despises him enough, so adding fuel to the fire isn’t going to help – even if he does share a mutual hatred for the professor and could care less about his opinion towards him at this point.

Who knows, maybe if he whips out an incredible essay that reaches the masses and inspires all of the wizarding community, you’ll be so impressed and agree to go out on a date with him which would eventually lead to getting married and buying a house and—

Jungkook shakes himself loose from his thoughts before he could fall back into an embarrassing daydream about you (again). Flipping through the pages of the Potions textbook, his eyes trace over the chapter titles in the table of contents in search for the Memory section when one header catches his eye.

Luck Potions.

His curiosity is instantly peaked. After making note of the page number, he flips through the middle of the book until he lands on the page he’s looking for. Squinting at the tiny print, Jungkook runs the subsection below the title.

The most common form of luck potion is felix felicis, also known as liquid luck! When brewed correctly, it increases the luck of the drinker. A little help from this potion, and a bad day turns into a great day!

His index finger taps the paper in contemplation as he skims through the rest of the section, making note of the history, ingredients, and wand movements for brewing. The ingredients would definitely be hard to come by, considering that he’s still at school and he doubts that Slughorn would lend him ingredients like Murtlap tentacle and Ashwinder egg so easily.

His heart sinks even lower when he reads the brewing time for the potion.

Brewing time: 6 months.

“I don’t have time for that.” He whispers in anguish. “What to do, what to do…”

The girl across the table from him shoots him a weird look, lifting her textbook closer to her face and shoving two earbuds inside as Jungkook continues muttering inaudible words under his breath.

At this point, Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if he finds out that life’s rigged itself against him on purpose. He’s ready to give up, turn the page, and get back to work on the assignment he was meant to be writing for the past two hours, but for some reason, he stops himself. The fancy golden script at the top of the page is almost too tempting to shy away from, its ornate glow enticing him to continue reading. He can hear his friends’ voices now, pleading with him to rethink his plan of brewing a high-level potion with his mediocre skills.

But how hard could it be, really? Besides, it’s not like he has to complete the potion by himself.  

In fact, he knows just the person to ask.

After slamming his textbook closed and alarming the same girl at his table into a full-bodied flinch, he dashes out of the library and in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the calls of “Hey, Jungkook!” and “Hey Cap, when’s the next practice?”. When he’s finally safe and sound in his bedroom, albeit struggling to catch his breath, Jungkook rips a jagged piece of paper from his notebook with a quill already in hand.

Dear Seokjin hyung, I have a HUGE favor to ask, but don’t tell Namjoon and the others…

“Y/N, how delightful to see you, my dear! Have you met my colleague, Archimedes? He’s one of my old friends from Hogwarts, he works at the Ministry now as their Head Auror.”

Once again, you find yourself plucked from the comfort of your dormitory bed and into the uncomfortable atmosphere of a Slughorn dinner party. He had invited you a few days ago, claiming that you just had to join him and the rest of your classmates for his holiday dinner. This was his slyly obvious way of slipping your accomplishments towards his peers while also capitalizing on your success as if he was the reason for it all.

While you know the man has good intentions, it wouldn’t kill him to back off just a tad – just enough for you to breathe, at least.

“Professor Slughorn, always a pleasure indeed. And no, I have not, but it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” You twist your lips into what you hope looks like a polite smile. “How can I be of your assistance tonight, sir?”

“Oh, darling, no need to be so formal!” His large pot belly jiggles as he laughs wholeheartedly. “Tonight’s all about celebration! Just relax, enjoy the night! Oh look, there’s a few of my colleagues I wish for you to meet, if you don’t mind.”

“O-Oh, that sounds—”

“Horace!” A voice calls out from the other end of the room, successfully pulling Slughorn’s attention away from you.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to bolt, sneaking behind a gaggle of students in stuffy wizard robes as you make your way towards your friends who have been leaning against the backwall the entire time with looks of intense boredom plastered on their face.

“There you are, I thought Slughorn successfully kidnapped you this time.” Sooyoung smirks jokingly, both hands occupied with a champagne flute filled with cider and a tiny plate of hors d’oeuvres. “It’s nice to see that you’re still in one piece.”

“Barely.” You sigh tiredly as you reach to grab a cool glass of Butterbeer from your friend Sana. “Please hide me for the rest of the night, I’ll pay you five galleons.”

“Lies, you don’t have five galleons.” Sooyoung scoffs. “I should know, I was the one dusting off the cobwebs from your piggy bank the other night.”

You pout in defeat. “I’ll look over your dog for the weekend!”

Sooyoung sends you a strange grimace. “I don’t even have a dog, we’re not even allowed dog—”

“Please?”

“Maybe you should ask Jeon for some assistance. He looks more than willing.” Sana interjects with a giggle.

Your two friends beam in amusement at the redness blossoming across your skin. It’s a known fact in your friend group that you horde a small (ginormous) crush on Jeon Jungkook, the infamous Quidditch captain and golden boy of Gryffindor.

Growing up in a Slytherin household means that your parents hold extremely high expectations of you. Under their eyes, you’re to marry into another Slytherin household, continuing your legacy with your future generations. While they’ve become lax with their views on your non-Slytherin, non-pureblooded friends as well as with your plans of traveling the world after graduation instead of deciding on an arranged marriage like they had hoped, you’re not sure how they would react towards your attraction to a Gryffindor half-blood.  

“You’re not funny, Sana.” You hiss in response, brows furrowed into an embarrassed frown.

“This time, I’m not even joking.” Sana hums knowingly. “If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.”

Eventually, your stubbornness forces you to break from your hesitation and shoot your gaze to where Sana was looking. You first notice Jungkook’s Gryffindor friend Taehyung who’s too preoccupied in making a fool of himself by the punch bowl with his weird dance moves. The other friend and a fellow Slytherin, Jimin, cheers him on, falling back against Jungkook in full-bodied laughter. Shifting your stare to the left of him, your breath hitches in your throat when you meet two wide eyes.

“Told you so.” Sana smirks as she takes a sip of her Butterbeer. “Now, that will be five galleons.”

You definitely noticed him staring at you, and now you’re the one doing the staring. Jungkook’s eyes dart back and forth between you and his friends, the panic rising in his chest. The others are too distracted in their dancing to notice his dilemma. While he’s somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with his friends going into an entire teasing session, a little help would still be nice.

A little help.

As if a lightbulb dings to life above his head, Jungkook instantly reaches into his pocket inside his blue dress robes and tugs out the small vial of a glittery golden liquid. Seokjin had sent him the potion via owl that morning, along with a note with the message “Use wisely”. He sighs in relief when he notices that it was still filled to the brim, no sign of leakage or contamination whatsoever.  

After Jungkook had sent him the letter detailing his you-related anxieties, Seokjin had quickly written Jungkook back with his plan. In exchange for Jungkook’s undying devotion (or his soul, in Jungkook’s opinion), Seokjin would contact one of his friends for a vial, making sure to send it over as soon as possible. Instead of risking expulsion by stealing from Slughorn’s store and potentially creating a faulty and dangerous potion, Seokjin would rely on the help from one of his trusted associates.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ve been buying from him for years, and he hasn’t let me down since!”

There’s no more time left to waste.

With a quick pop of the cap, he discreetly chugs the potion down, its gilded warmth running smoothly down his throat before spreading across his chest and settling inside his stomach. At first, nothing happens. In fact, it’s nearly so anticlimactic that Jungkook feels a frustrated flood of tears in his eyes. What if the potion Seokjin gave him turns out to be a placebo, and his true plan was all a means for Jungkook to learn his lesson about being more confident in himself?

Then, like a brick to the face, it hits him.

“Woah!”

Jimin and Taehyung snap out of their loud laughter at the sudden outburst. Their expressions grow more inquisitive when they notice Jungkook standing motionless and staring at his palms as if they were about to catch on fire at any moment.

“You okay there, Kook?” Taehyung asks warily.  

Their concern grows exponentially when slowly, Jungkook’s mouth twitches into a large grin. A grin too toothy and too stretched out across his face, an image not unlike a clown or a creepy doll. The sight sends uncomfortable shivers up Jimin’s spine.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jungkook sighs airily. “Everything is just so swell!”

“Um…okay?” Taehyung shares a look with Jimin. “Do…you need us to get you anything? Some water?”

“Nope!” Jungkook smiles cheerily, his arms swaying from side to side while lifting up and down on his heels. “Thank you for asking, you two are truly the greatest friends a guy like me could ever ask for.”

“Okay, this is weird.” Jimin whispers into Taehyung’s ear. “He was literally panicking a second ago. Also, he’d never say that about us. He’s too much a little shit.”

“Did you sneak some firewhiskey into his goblet or something?” Taehyung mutters back, receiving a brisk shake of the head. “Someone must have spiked his goblet or something, but it wasn’t me.”

Jungkook’s entire body feels alight with fireworks, the anxiety that once riddles his chest and floods his thoughts dissipating like a thinning fog. He takes a moment to absorb his surroundings, humming at the intricate holiday decorations strung about the room and at every passing person. He’s completely immune to their weird sneers and not-so quiet whispering, his mind traveling back to his only purpose of the night.

There’s nothing much left to lose anyway.

With a quick deep breath in and out, Jungkook strides towards the other side of the room, ignorant towards his older friends’ panicked exclaims as the distance between you and him closes dramatically. His eyes glitter with excitement when you finally notice him approaching, the glass of Butterbeer in your hand slowly dropping from your peach-stained lips. Your friends nearly burst at the seams when Jungkook stops a mere foot away from you, the obnoxiously wide smile tightening his flushed cheeks.

Inside, your heart is beating at a thousand miles per minute. Never in your life did you ever think Jeon Jungkook would ever have the desire to come up to have a conversation. At first, you brushed it off as a trick of the light, but now with him standing in front of you with an expectant glint, it’s almost good to be true.

“Why, hello Jungkook, it’s wonderful to see you here.” You don’t miss the double meaning behind Sooyoung’s words. “I’m surprised you were even invited, considering the fact that Slughorn hates your guts.”

“Oh, that!” Sooyoung flinches at Jungkook’s loud tone. “Yeah, he didn’t invite me. I just tagged along with Taehyung since he got an invitation.”

“Oh, like a date?” You mutter teasingly, instantly flooding with regret when your voice comes off as bland. Also…

What kind of stupid comment is that?!

Thankfully, Jungkook catches onto your joke and gleams back at you. “He wishes, but I just so happen to have my eye on someone else.”

“Is that so?” You nearly choke on your own tongue. A quick gulp of Butterbeer is enough to soothe your dry throat. “They’re a lucky one.”

“If anything, I’m the lucky one.” Jungkook sighs dreamily, crossing his arms behind his back and swaying from side to side. You freeze when you feel his body tilt closer to yours. “They’re one of a kind, and I hope that tonight I can finally—”

Jungkook squawks to a stop. Literally.

You recoil at the unexpected noise, watching warily as Jungkook holds his throat in embarrassment.

What was that?

“Are…you okay?” You ask. Your hand twitches as if it wants to lift up and grasp Jungkook’s shoulder, but your other hand comes around to hold it in place, forcing it by your side.  

“Yes, I’ll be fi—” Another squawk. “What the fu—” Squawk. “Hyung! Help—” The birdlike screech is never-ending, but slowly a feeling of dread washes over Jungkook.

A majority of the party is already watching the mess of a situation from the corner of their eyes, whispering to each other and giggling snootily to themselves. Jungkook barely hears you shouting his name alongside Jimin and Taehyung as he turns to make a run for the exit, his focus only on getting far away from the party and you as possible.

His hands clench into angry fists as he slows down into a tired stroll in the school’s courtyard. It’s completely barren, the grass topped with a thick layer of frost and the hanging torches illuminating each pathway. The snow crunches underneath Jungkook’s boots as he stomps away to a bench, brushing off the frozen excess before sitting down with a thud. He regrets not bringing a warmer robe, but he also didn’t expect to have to run out in the middle of the party after making a total fool of himself in front of not just you but everyone in attendance.

“Why, why, why?” Jungkook shoves his chilly face into his palms. “I’m such an idiot.”

The potion was supposed to be a success! Seokjin said so, even going out by saying that he completely trusted the guy and that Jungkook had nothing to worry about. At least Jungkook knows what’s next on his to-do list tomorrow.

Number one: Kick the shit out of Seokjin hyung for selling me bogus luck potions.

Rubbing at his temples, he lets out another sigh.

“Why is it always me?”

“Why, indeed…”

His head shoots up at the voice beside him, shocking him out of his pitiful mumblings. His throat swells up and his chest seizes in panic at the sight of you in your thin cardigan and strapless dress, seated next to him on the tiny, frost-bitten bench with your arms crossed over your chest.

“O-Oh, h-hi.” Jungkook spits nervously.

Still afraid that the screeching sounds would start again, he keeps his words to a minimum.

“Any reason why you ran out on me back there?” Your voice subtly wavers, but thankfully Jungkook would just think it’s from the cold. “Gave us a little scare, especially your friends. They asked me to go check on you.”

Jungkook slightly crumbles. So, you were forced to talk to him.

“I also kinda feel like it was partially my fault, so if there’s anything that I did…” You trail off awkwardly.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh, no, no!” He clears his throat as he feels the familiar build of a squawk in his throat. “It’s not you, it’s—”

“Me?” You scoff jokingly. “I’m not a half-blood or Muggle-born, but I know my fair share of Muggle rejections.”

“U-Uh, I didn’t mean it like that!” Jungkook stammers fretfully. “It’s just that…”

“It’s just…what?” You frown.

How does one explain to the girl that he likes that the only way he could speak to her was through a luck potion that gave him just enough confidence to mutter two coherent words? You’d just look at him like he’s a complete fool – rightfully so. Then, you’d walk right back to the party, cackle about the situation to your friends, and never speak to him again.

Yup, sounds about right to him.

He’s sick of it, sick of having to watch from a distance because he’s too much of a coward to tell you that you’re beautiful to your face. Too much of a coward to reach out to hold your hand, feeling its softness in his own rough, calloused palm. Too much of a coward to tell you how he truly feels.

Suddenly, like a dam bursting under pressure, his rambling thoughts spill out of his mouth.

“I’m so, so, so, so into you and I think that you’re such an amazing person, but I’ve never talked to you before and it’d be weird to just go up to you and ask if you could be my girlfriend because hey, weirdo! So, I thought it would be a good idea to make a luck potion but I’m completely shite at potions, everybody knows this, so I wrote to my friend Seokjin hyung about it and—”

As Jungkook babbles on at lightspeed, he barely registers the growing happiness on your face, the rosy tint in your cheeks not caused by the chilly winter air, and the twitching of your fingers towards his own.

“—But I’m pretty sure that he sold me a wonky potion anyway which means there’s just going to be a huge lawsuit on his hands because what if I died, you know?! Even though I don’t want Seokjin hyung to be responsible for it because hey, I’m still just a kid—”

Jungkook is frozen stiff when he feels supple lips against his, effectively muffling his words and drawing him back into reality. Suddenly, he feels the breeze against his face, the scent of your flowery perfume in his nose, your frigid fingers seeking warmth with his, and more importantly – your lips against his.

Slowly, he melts into your touch, eyelids fluttering closed and mouth moving in tandem with yours. After a couple minutes of soft kisses and gentle hand caresses, you let go, wet lips smacking together as you pull away. You giggle when you see that Jungkook still has his eyes closed, lips puckered, and hand stretched outwards to grab yours.

“You’re cute, but you talk too much.” You land a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. “Also, I’m pretty sure your friend either gave you a badly expired potion or sent you a babbling potion on purpose.”

“Hyung.” Jungkook growls as the possibilities settle in. It’s not unlike Seokjin to do that, especially when it came to someone like Jungkook who he personally enjoyed watching crash and burn. “I’ll be writing him a very detailed letter.”

“Or…” You lean over to intertwine your hands. “We can send him a horde of Howlers, one for each day of the week until he caves.”

Jungkook falls into a mischievous smirk. “You really are a Slytherin, are you?”

“Go on a date with me next weekend, I’ll show you how much of a Slytherin I can be.”

[neotaech]

01 | watch me

genre �� angst, fluff, smut | fuckboy!au pairing ▸ jungkook | reader | taehyung words ▸ 7,779

─

⟫ Dodging Jungkook’s annoying horny texts was easy but what happens when another boy accidentally joins in on the fun?

Your ringtone kept blasting in your ear as you tried to sleep before a big presentation. You groaned, cursing yourself for not turning off the volume as you reached for the glowing device knowing exactly who it was. You denied the call thinking,”Why is he so fucking desperate?” You began closing your eyes again until a loud ding woke you up again.

JK (1:57 AM):  Why didn’t you answer babe? I want to talk to you :(

You rolled your eyes and turned off your phone, getting back to your much needed sleep.

It was almost a routine with Jeongguk, calling you at 2 in the morning expecting you to be down for some sexting. That boy didn’t know when to quit and you should have already blocked his number considering he’s been like this for 4 months straight. But you’ll be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like the attention he was giving you.

Not that you were the only girl, of course, because being the all-star soccer player he had half the school population begging for him. Hell not just him but the rest of the soccer team and you weren’t one to judge because your eyes would wander over to their table every once in awhile just like the rest of them.

And that’s how you ruined your sleeping schedule because of your wondering eyes that happen to fall on a big round chocolate eyes that were staring just as intently as your’s. You still remember how embarrassed you felt for getting caught staring and you were about to ditch your friends and book it but a hand landed on your shoulder before you could even take a breath.

You shook your head and closed your eyes tightly groaning into your pillow. Why didn’t you just give him a random number? Maybe then he wouldn’t be consuming your thoughts all night long. Worst of all you knew all too well how this will end up if you actually cave in. You’ll just be another screw for Jeongguk and you didn’t want to be that. You didn’t want to be anyone’s one night stand for that matter.

You let out a drawn sigh as you tossed yourself on your stomach and brought your phone in your face. “You won’t turn on this phone,”you told yourself out loud. You rolled your eyes dropping your phone beside you as you shook your head. You have a presentation to do and no boy will stop you from getting that perfect score. With that you turned away from your phone and shut your eyes closed, concentrating on your breathing as you slowly drifted to sleep.

You woke up feeling refreshed and with a smile on your face. It was unusual for you to be in such a happy mood, especially on a Thursday. That mood didn’t last for long until you looked at your clock that marked, 11:37 am. Your eyes widened remembering you had turned off your phone meaning your alarm clock didn’t go off. You were already late for your class all thanks to Jeon Jeongguk.

There was no time for breakfast as you collected your things and dashed to your car. “Please let there be no traffic,”you repeated to yourself as you pulled out off your driveway. Of course things never go your way and you were stuck in the packed highway. You wanted to slam your head onto the steering wheel at this point why go to class?

You let out a deep breath and slouched on your seat. “No. You know what let me text this shit head,”you muttered grabbing your phone.

You {9:48 AM}:

I have a presentation due today and I’m stuck in traffic. You could’ve texted your other girls instead of me. If I fail it’s all thanks to you.

You set your phone down hoping to take the next exit in order to go back home but some asshole didn’t let you pass. “This day is just going to get worse and worse,”you thought to yourself as you gripped the steering wheel. It’ll probably take another 10 minutes to reach the other exit. Ding. Your head instantly turned to your phone.

JK {10:01 AM}:

Why is it my fault when you didn’t even respond babe :( 

JK {10:05 AM}:

Lucky for you our professor had to leave early so don’t stress. Even though you didn’t get to see my sexy face today.

You rolled your eyes at the last text, he sounds just like a freshman in high school. At least you weren’t going to fail the class, well at least not yet. For now your worry is how the hell you were going to get out of this traffic. 

Two more dings filled your silent car and you wondered what else Jungkook had texted you. “I’ll just read them when I get home,”you thought as you managed to get onto the third to last lane. Two more to go.

─

“I hope I never get to go through that again,”you said as you shut your door. You grabbed a glass and poured yourself water as you set your phone on your counter. “Oh right Jungkook,”you thought, turning it on.

JK {10:09 AM}: I’ve got a great idea.

How about you come over tonight?

You chuckled, shaking your head,”I don’t think so.”

You {11:13 AM}: How about no?

Today wouldn’t be a good day to cave in; school work before dick, right? You put your phone back in your pocket and made your way to your room. Did you really want to start reading three chapters about a boring subject just to be ahead of the class? Ding!

JK {11:15 AM}: Will this change your mind?

The picture he sent wasn’t a nude, thankfully. Did that mean you weren’t drooling over his perfectly toned chest? Of course not, how could you not want to run your fingers down his chest. But you can’t just give in that quickly and you took your time to reply back. Not the brightest idea because he texted you again.

JK {11:19 AM}: I see that you’re enjoying the picture.

I can send another one if you want babe

You were sure he had a stock full of pictures. For one he had several people to entertain. Even if he didn’t, he was such a narcissistic brat you wouldn’t put it past him.

You {11:20 AM}: It still won’t change my mind. I have better things to do than go over to your house.

He chuckled at your reply,”Then you don’t have to come over.”

JK {11:21 AM}: Fine

You waited a couple of minutes expecting him to text you something else but the one word message was the only one. “Well that’s surprising,”you thought to yourself as you got out your book. You stared blankly at the words in front of you and your eyes soon began to drift over to your phone.

You {11:49 AM}: Wow you actually gave up Jeon that’s a first.

A grin spread across his face,”Not that easy darling.” He dialed your number biting his lip waiting for you to pick up.

“I knew it was to good to be true,”the annoyance in your voice made him chuckle.

He enjoyed getting under your skin but he knew this was all an act you were trying to put up. "Ah, darling you don’t sound too happy. Were you impatiently waiting for another picture?”he asked with a smirk.

You responded with a dry laugh,”As if. You can keep all those recycled dick pics for another girl.”

“You can see the real thing right now without having to leave your house. The beautiful wonders of technology,”he said. Oh no. “Even though it would be so much better having you here,”he added lowering his voice.

You gulped, trying to keep yourself together. Just at the thought of what Jungkook was bound to do while video chatting with you had your cheeks ablaze.

"Why are you so quiet babe? Are you debating on coming over?”he asked. You quickly said no and he’d kill to see your flustered face. “So you much rather do this over video chat?”he teased.

You wanted to scold him but then a smirk formed on your lips,”Maybe I do.”

“I’m just saying since... Wait did you just say yes?”he asked surprised. You heard someone call out his name and he groaned,”We’ll continue our little chat later on tonight. Don’t miss me too much.”

You rolled your eyes,”Bye.” You thanked the heavens that the call ended quickly. If it would have lasted any longer you wouldn’t hear the last from Jungkook. You turned back to your book but all you could think about all the things he would’ve said to get you worked up. What if he does call you back tonight?

It was ten past 1 at night and still no call from Jungkook. Maybe playing hard to get finally backfired on you or maybe he was out with one of his girls. It’s barely Tuesday though. “Then again it’s Jungkook,”you thought to yourself. You stared at the shirtless picture he had sent you hours ago. You gnawed at your bottom lip, your ego was screaming at you to stop typing. You listened, of course, your pride was too big now to finally let yourself another one of Jeongguk’s flings.

Yet after so many months you were tired of keeping up this act. It wasn’t like he was going to stick around for much longer so might as well screw him and get it over with.  You always wondered if he was actually good in bed if he had that many girls lined up to be with him. Sleep is what you needed not thinking about how good he was in bed. Yet it kept crossing your mind and as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat.

To make decision so late at night would obviously lead to regret and you wanted to smash your head against the counter as you reread the message you sent Jungkook.

You {1:21 AM}: Something did change my mind... Let’s play a game.

He still hadn’t read it and you didn’t know if to be relieved or not. This is what you wanted after all because you were done trying to pretend you weren’t interested in him. You exited out your messages and clicked on the camera. Your cheeks were blazing hot suddenly becoming nervous as you pulled your sweater up revealing your bare chest.

One. Click. You moved the camera a different angle (did it even make a difference?). Two. Click.

Not wanting to look them over you quickly closed the app and started to get dressed for school. If he doesn’t answer by the time you arrived at the parking lot he wasn’t going to get these pictures. You got your keys and looked around for your bag until you remembered you left it inside your car. You took a deep breath as you walked out of your house. This is going to be interesting.

He really left you on read and it pissed you off. Was he trying to get back at you for the times you rejected him? You rolled your eyes and made your way to the library since you had an hour to spare. You sat an empty table and slumped down and laid your head on your bag.

“It’s his lost,”you muttered. You took your earphones out and plugged them in your phone, closing your eyes. A few minutes later there was a buzz and you groaned. If it’s him...

JK {2:37PM}: What do you have in mind darling?

I’m in class but I’ll gladly skip it just for you

“How sweet,”you thought with a smirk until you realized. He’s in class you’re not about to send him a nude when he’s around so many people. It’s not like any of the two pictures showed your face anyway. You looked around your area before you opened your pictures, selecting the two pictures you took earlier. You quickly typed in a message before taking another look around you before typing in k and selecting Jungkook’s contact.

“Miss could you-”

You panicked trying to slide down to your notifications in order to cover your screen. You looked up at the young girl who was trying to get to the computers and you scooted up in order to let her pass, muttering sorry trying to hide your embarrassed face. You sighed, removing your notifications and going back to the messaging app quickly pressing send before anyone passed by. Now you wait.

It surprised Jeongguk that you were finally flirting back and he wondered what you had planned so late at night. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly took it out. His eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he saw the pictures of your breast.

Y/N {2:44 PM}: Come find me in the library.

He bit down his lip ready to leave class when he saw he wasn’t the only one who received your pictures. He lifted an eyebrow and he looked around the class until his eyes met with Taehyung’s. They both had the same expression on their faces and with Jeongguk’s signal to the door they both walked out of the classroom.

He didn’t know you were interested in Taehyung, let alone even knew him personally. “Since when were you trying to get at (Y/N)?”he asked.

“I don’t even talk to her like that but I’m not going to pass up on this opportunity,”Taehyung said with a smirk. To say Jeongguk was pissed was an understatement. “Wait this is your girl isn’t it?”he asked with a smug expression.

“Oh wipe that look off your face if I find her first she’s mine,”he warned.

“I’m pretty sure she wants us both. Think of it like good old times,”Tae said patting him on the back. He groaned as he texted you back wanting to find you as soon as possible.

You wanted to disappear from this universe as you saw the name besides Jeongguk’s. If you would’ve simply checked your contacts again you could’ve easily avoided this but of course things had to turn on you. All you wanted was to tease Jungkook and now this had to happen. What would Taehyung think of you? He was your partner two months ago to work on a lab and you never deleted his number.

The buzz from your phone made you jump and you were too scared to see who it was from. “Please let it be Jungkook,”you repeated to yourself as looked at your screen.

JK {2:53 PM}: I didn’t think you were going to add another player to the game.

But I’m not complaining and neither is he.

Your heart completely stopped as you read the last text. Neither is he. So Taehyung already saw the message. You gulped feeling your throat dry up. What were you going to say now? Another buzz and it sent chills down your spine.

Kim Taehyung {2:56 PM}: I hope you can keep quiet.

You rubbed your palms against your exposed thighs feeling them become clammy. What you were wearing wasn’t helping either; wearing a quite short maroon dress with lace tights. You suddenly started to panic as you saw more and more students sat at your table leaving only one seat left. Fuck fuck fuck. Just as you were about to get up from your seat a hand stopped you. Your eyes widened as you turned to see Taehyung smiling at you behind him was Jeongguk with a smirk.

“Where were you going babe?”Jeongguk asked.

You cleared your throat trying to come up with an excuse as Taehyung’s hand was still on trailing around your back slowly moving up and down. He sat down next to you with a warm smile,”Seems like you don’t have a seat Kook.”

The girl on your left quickly offered it to him but he declined,”I’m sure you won’t mind sitting on my lap. Right (Y/N)?”he asked with a raised brow. You slowly nodded as you got up, your legs felt like jelly and Jeongguk adjusted the seat so you both could face Taehyung. Thankfully the girl left saying her goodbyes to the two boys. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and you avoided all eye contact with him as you sat on Jeongguk’s lap.

Taehyung chuckled at your embarrassed expression,”You weren’t so shy when you sent that picture.”

“You see about that,”you trailed off as Jeongguk’s lips pressed at the crock of your neck. You gulped trying to continue to talk to Taehyung but he had other things in mind.

His hand started to travel along your thighs making your breath hitch at the contact. You were too scared to see if anyone was paying attention to your direction because you are more than sure you looked like a complete mess. He looked up at you with a smirk as he continued to slowly travel the bottom of your dress,”You were saying?”

You couldn’t find words to say and Jeongguk nibbling at your shoulder wasn’t helping you keep a clear mind. You rubbed your thighs together feeling your lace underwear dampen. Someone got up from the table almost making you jump out of his lap. “Why are you so tense? This was your idea after all. You even wore a pretty dress for the occasion,”he muttered in your ear.

He pushed Taehyung’s hand away and replacing it with his making Taehyung tsk,”You were never one to share.”

Jeongguk lifted you closer to him causing your dress to raise up and you could also feel how hard he was. He parted your legs slightly open,”I’ve been waiting for this more than you have.”

Taehyung licked his lips seeing what you had underneath. “You were never one to be patient isn’t that right (Y/N)?”he asked as he scooted his chair closer.

“Taehyung,”Jeongguk warned.

He ignored the younger boy and pressed his hand lightly on your poorly clothed wet lips as he mouthed,”Be quiet.” He pushed aside your underwear and inserted his two fingers into you making you gasp. He smirked at how you bit your bottom lip to keep your moans from being heard. You were in complete bliss as he kept moving his fingers in circular motions and you almost forgot you had another boy to please.

He kept quiet as he watched the faces you made with every thrust of Taehyung’s fingers and that in itself gave him more pleasure than he’d like to admit. He looked around to see if anyone was looking in your direction but everyone was too busy finishing their projects. You began to slowly rock your hips in hopes to relieve some stress off of Jeongguk. All three of you began to regret even starting this here, in a public area, in the first place.

“We should really go,”you stuttered out as Taehyung pressed down on your clit. It caused you to grind a bit too hard on Jungkook making him hiss.

“Yea we really need to go,”Jeongguk’s voice sounded out of breath.

Taehyung nodded as he pulled his fingers out of you and shamelessly licked them with a grin. You licked your bottom lip, eyes wide as you watched him not hearing Jeongguk telling you to get up. You had trouble getting up quickly and Jungkook pinched in your ass whispering,”Just you wait,”wasn’t helping at all.

The three of you started to make your way out the library when your friend called out to you. “(Y/N) are you heading to class?”she asked. Shit.

“Yea! I’ll walk with you,”you said leaving the two boys with wide eyes.

“What about us?”Taehyung asked.

“I’ll hang out with you guys later. I’m not going to miss class,”you said as you walked past them.

Jeongguk chuckled at Taehyung’s annoyed expression as he patted his back. “How do you manage?”he asked in disbelief.

The younger boy just patted his back as he watched you leave,”I honestly don’t know but you better get used to it. We aren’t going to be her main priority if it means skipping class.” Jeongguk grew to accept that fact and he turned towards the bathroom,”Now I’m going to use this picture to good use she’s not out in another three hours.”

─

Truthfully you had forgotten about meeting up with Jeongguk and Taehyung after class. Even though you could barely concentrate throughout half the lecture because of the dampness of your underwear. Despite the eventful event that happened at the library, you were still embarrassed about sending Taehyung that picture. Making you push it deep within your brain to forget about it. That’s how you drove back home leaving the two boys impatiently waiting for your text.

They weren’t too happy when you answered their video call and you had laughed it off telling them maybe tomorrow you’ll give them what they wanted. You knew Jeongguk would wait and he was already agreeing but Taehyung cut him off.

“I don’t think that’s fair Y/N after you said you’d hang out with us later. You should keep your promises,”Taehyung tsked.

You simply sighed walking to your room, setting your laptop on your desk already hovering over the exit button when you heard them whispering. It made you curious as to what they had in mind and judging by the wide smile on their faces it wasn’t going to be good. “What?”you said crossing your arm.

Jeongguk came into view with a smirk,”Let’s continue playing your little game but this time we’re the one’s in charge.”

You hummed, setting your hand on your chin,”What if I don’t want to play?”

“You seemed more than eager back at the library or are we going to forget how soaking wet you were?”Taehyung taunted. Your face burned with embarrassment, you cleared your throat trying to think of a comeback. He chuckled,”How fucked out you were with just my fingers. I bet you’d cum in seconds if I was able to use my mouth. Wouldn’t you like that?”

To emphasize he licked his bottom lip while his sharp gaze pierced through the screen. Your mouth felt dry and your heart was beating rapidly against your chest. His words lit a small flame and if he was actually right there with you, you’d probably turn into a putty in his hands. Hell, his lustful gaze turned you on and had you rubbing your thighs together.

You had forgotten Jeongguk was also right there besides him and you turned your attention to him. He was watching you the whole time and he saw how your expression had darken with pleasure with every word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth. It should be pissing him off more than anything right now but seeing you so weak back at the library, just the thought of it had his dick twitching in his pants.

“Why so quiet Jeongguk?”you asked trying to distract the ache in between your legs.

Mistake number one.

You saw Taehyung’s hand lower over to Jeongguk’s lap making your eyes go wide. Jeongguk hissed throwing his head back followed by the sound of a zipper being undone. You leaned closer to the screen, eyes completely locked on Jeongguk. He bit down his lip as his eyes fluttered shut trying to contain his moan.

Taehyung leaned in whispering something in his ear making him look straight at you. His eyes were blown out and you were sure you had the same look on your face. He jerked his hip up while still holding your gaze,”We should let her see.”

The sight before you made a small groan escape and you bit down your lip trying to remain indifferent. Jeongguk’s red hot dick was in Taehyung’s fist, already leaking beads of precum. You licked your lip imaging the taste and your hand was already traveling down your dress.

Mistake number two.

“So you are interested in playing,”Jeongguk mused. His smirk faltered when Taehyung gripped him harder making him grab onto his chair. There was no use in denying it because you were sure they saw you try to get some friction in between your thighs. You nodded watching as Taehyung brought his hand to his lips making you moan as pushed your underwear to the side.

“Just don’t touch yourself baby girl,”Taehyung warned. He went back to stroking Jeongguk but this time he leaned closer to him. The smirk that spread on Jeongguk’s lips as he stole a glance from you had you gripping onto your seat. You watched the two of them making out feverishly, it was a sight you never knew would make you so horny.

You moved in your seat trying to cool down the heat that was building within you. Jeongguk’s hand trailed down Taehyung’s chest and palmed his growing erection making the older one groan. “Fuck,”you breathed out.

Jeongguk looked over at you with a sly smile,”Do you want to see how hard he is?” The small dignity you still had, crumpled down with lust pumping in your veins. You nodded rapidly and once you were back to your senses you’d hide away from society, but for now it didn’t matter. “Use your words babe,”he coaxed.

“I want to see his-”you hesitated feeling your face grow hot,”cock.” You couldn’t meet either of their gazes so your eyes remained on Taehyung’s bulge.

Jeongguk loved this side of you, how easily you were following what he said. It was almost like a dream come true, the only downfall was that you weren’t physically there with them. He’d probably lose his self-control and tick off Taehyung, which really wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“Kook,”Taehyung whined to get his attention back to his throbbing cock that wanted to be let out. He undid his pants and grabbed onto Taehyung’s cock slowly pumping him.

“Y/N,”Jeongguk called out getting your attention back to him. “Do you want me to suck him off?”he asked.

It took both you and Taehyung by surprise and you nodded embarrassingly quick,”Yes.”

Jeongguk looked at Taehyung, who gave him a small nod, before he taking in his cock. The whiney moans of Taehyung mixed in with dirty praises had your breath caught at your throat as you watched attentively. You gulped trying to keep your hands from trailing down, remembering that you had one rule to obey.

“Are you watching?”Taehyung asked looking right in your eyes. You nodded while licking your lips earning a smirk from him. “Don’t you wish you hadn’t left us waiting?”he said as he gripped onto Jeongguk’s hair thrusting into his mouth.

“Yes. Oh god, yes,”you whispered. There was nothing more than wanting to be in between them. For them to do anything they’d want to do with you. You wanted them to jump out of the screen and fuck you senseless and you regretted not skipping class for them.

A muffled moan could be heard from Jeongguk and you saw a bit of cum dripping down his chin as he looked up at Taehyung. Seeing him in such a submissive way had your knees weak and you felt your clit pulse. “Hyung, why don’t we have her come over here? Please,”he pleaded.

“We’ll have to wait till tomorrow baby boy,”Taehyung cooed. The way he called him baby boy had you grabbing the bottom of your dress.

“No I can come right now,”you said getting up from your chair.

Taehyung chuckled,”Nope.” You began to complain and whine, hoping that he’ll agree. “That’s what you get for not coming over here in the first place. Now watch us have all the fun without you,”he smirked turning his attention back to Jeongguk.

He pulled him into a kiss, running his tongue through his lips licking up his cum. You moaned grinding onto your seat feeling your damp underwear stick onto you. “Can I please touch myself?”you asked. Despite all of this, saying all these words out loud made you shy.

“Can you?”he retorted.

“Please. I’ll be so good tomorrow,”you pleaded.

Jeongguk groaned seeing how desperate you’ve become,”Fuck. Hyung look how hot she sounds begging.” He’d had many girls beg for him in the past but you, you were completely different and it had him tugging at his own cock. “Why don’t you show us how wet you are first,”he suggested.

You looked over at Taehyung before position yourself in front of your computer. You took off your dress leaving you in just your cream bra and black laced underwear. Without making any eye contact you pulled down your underwear exposing yourself to them.

“You have such a pretty cunt,”Jeongguk moaned. His words only fueled your ever growing lust. Your eyes flickered at them for a split second and you saw both of them jerking themselves off. You threw your head back trying to keep it together.

“Y/N you have to look at us,”Taehyung warned in between grunts.

“I can’t. Please let me touch myself,”you whined as you took off your bra. Your hand cupped one of your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple. You were growing impatient and you felt like you were about to explode if you don’t do anything to calm your aching heat.

“Go on but you’ll regret it tomorrow,”he said before continuing to pleasure himself. Jeongguk, on the other hand, remained still watching your expressions as you watched Taehyung. Your lips were in between your teeth and your hand was still massaging your breasts. The quiet moans that came out of you had his cock aching but he tried his best to ignore it.

Your fingers slowly traveled down your soaking wet pussy. Your fingers instantly become drenched in your arousal as you begin to insert them in and out of you. Watching them watch you had your thighs shaking and you hated how sensitive you are right now. Every touch had you closer to your orgasm. “Jeongguk,”you moaned out wanting to see him jerk off to the sight of you.

“Fuck I want to taste you so bad babe,”he muttered licking his lips. He was completely fucked out and all he could imagine right now was you clenching onto his cock while riding him. “I want to fuck you so badly. You’d look so good on top of me,”he began to pump himself again faster as you inserted another finger.

“No. She’d look better when I’m fucking her from behind. Wouldn’t you like that baby girl?”Taehyung asked earning a moan. His movements were beginning to become sloppy as his high was approaching. He remembered how you clenched around his fingers and he groaned trying to keep his balance. “Tomorrow you’re going to get punished that little ass of yours better be ready,”he warned.

His eyes were screwed shut now and his breathing started to become irregular. You curled your fingers, remembering how it felt when Taehyung did it. You began to thrust into your hands imaging the scene of what tomorrow might look like with both guys taking turns to fuck you. “Please fuck me,”you moaned rubbing your clit.

“God you’re dripping onto your chair. Taste yourself for me,”Jungkook instructed. You did as you were told sucking on your fingers while staring at them intensely before dipping your hand back in your pussy. The sound of your wet sex filled the room with each thrust.

“You felt so good Y/N,”Taehyung muttered out before a loud, prolonged moan erupted from him. His hand was filled with cum as he continued to thrust into it muttering out sweet nothings.

You quickened your pace staring at Jeongguk, who had beads of sweat on the side of his head. He kept repeating your name, eyes shut tightly, and his forehead scrunched together as his release started to near. “Why can’t you be here? Ah- I wanted to fuck you so bad ever since I met you,”he whispered.

“I want your dick Jeongguk,”you whined. Your fingers weren’t enough and you wanted something to fill you up.

“What about mine?”Taehyung asked, recovering from his orgasm.

“Fuck. I want your-rs too. I want the two of you to fuck me,”you breathed out rubbing your clit wanting to reach your high. You heard Jeongguk’s whiney moans as he came all over to what you presumed was his bed.

You imagined how he’d look like in person, how hot and dirty it must look with the mess he just made. The pleasure was overtaking you and your whole body felt weightless as you tried to keep yourself upright. It was by far the most intense one you’ve ever had, your heart was hammering in your chest as you looked back the boys.

“Y/N?”Taehyung asked. You hummed in response barely able to keep your eyes open. “Not to be cheesy or anything but you look fucking beautiful,”he laughed.

You managed to smile and throw your dress at the screen,”Shut up.”

“So tomorrow... At around what time?”Jeongguk asked as he wiped himself off.

“Nine in the morning,”you teased. He began to whine about having to wake up so early. “Hey, it’ll be a great morning exercise,”you laughed.

“You’re so lucky,”he muttered not finishing his sentence.

“What was that?”you asked with a raised brow.

“You’re so lucky he likes-”Taehyung started but Jeongguk threw a pillow at him.

“Are you even free tomorrow? Don’t you have other girls to entertain?”you asked Jeongguk. Taehyung looked over at him with a raised brow.

He looked over at Taehyung as he scratched the back of his neck pretending like he was thinking about his schedule. “If he’s busy we can always have fun without him,”Taehyung winked.

“I’m not busy. Don’t you have a meet with the softball team tomorrow?”Jeongguk asked pinching his arm.

Taehyung only chuckled at the young boy,”I don’t know. Do I?”

“Listen we’ll settle this later on tonight. I’m going to take a shower you two can continue bickering at one another,”you said getting off the chat. Your legs felt sore from being propped on your desk for so long. “It’ll be worse tomorrow,”you thought as ran a bath.

─

It was around eleven when you received a text from Jeongguk.

JK {11:07 PM}: Tae tried to get out of his meet but his coach wouldn’t budge

You frowned, typing your response when Taehyung’s name popped up indicating that he was typing.

Taehyung {11:09PM}: Sorry Y/N :(

You {11:10PM}: We can always hang out when we’re all free.

It was frustrating for Jeongguk to see that you’d want to make him wait even more. All he could hear was the way you moaned for him, whiney for his cock and just recalling it had him feeling hot.

JK {11:11PM}: Or... We could hang out tomorrow. I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t mind

You bit your bottom lip waiting for Taehyung’s reply. You were anticipating in being with the both of them and wished that Taehyung would decline Jeongguk’s offer.

Taehyung {11:15PM}: What do you say Y/N?

You frowned, again you were beginning to regret going to class and not finishing what had happened back at the library. Then an idea sparked as you messaged Jeongguk out of the chat.

You {11:19PM}: Could you come over right now?

You saw his car pull up in your driveway twenty minutes later and you looked at your attire in the mirror before heading towards the front door. Before you could even utter a hello, his mouth crashed against yours. His hands feverishly grabbed onto your waist, grinding against you as he pinned you against the wall.

“You’re such a dirty girl,”he muttered as he sucked on your neck. You moaned gripping on his shoulders. “Taehyung won’t be so happy after he sees what we’re doing,”his words only spiked up the fire that was building inside of you.

“Oh he won’t?”you said with a raised brow. You grabbed his hand leading him to your room. “Who said we were going to let him know?”you asked. You had vowed to never have Jeongguk step foot inside this room yet here you are practically dragging him to lay on your bed.

His basketball shorts weren’t doing him any good hiding his already hard cock. “Already worked up?”you teased as you startled his lap. He never imagined being in this situation with you, it seemed almost surreal to him to have you like this.

He started to undo your shirt, gasping quietly as he grabbed your breast. “Who wouldn’t be worked up after watching you fingering yourself? That pretty cunt of yours was dripping, didn’t it feel good babe?”he asked putting his lips on one of your nipples, gently rolling it.

“You looked so good under Taehyung’s touch and when he called you baby boy,”you moaned moving your hips against his clothed cock.

“I’ll be your baby boy too,”he whispered pulling you into another kiss. “I’ll do anything you want,”he grunted as you continued to roll your hips. You were becoming a whimpering mess as he gripped your sides harder. “I can already feel how wet you are. Can I have a taste?”he asked.

You nodded, looking over his shoulders to see Taehyung’s hand moving rapidly against his cock. His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched the scene unfold before him. Jeongguk laid you on your back and quickly flung your underwear to other side of the bed.

He took his time peppering kisses alongside your thighs before paying full attention to your dripping sex. He hummed in delight as you moaned out his name, back arched wanting to feel more of his tongue. You tried to keep your eyes trained on Jeongguk but you continued to look over at your computer.

Taehyung was getting more worked up than he’d like and he pinched the tip of cock to prevent himself from reaching his high. Seeing Jeongguk please someone else other than him was probably the hottest thing. He tried to keep quiet not wanting Jeongguk to notice that he’s watching, not yet at least.

It was annoying because to you it seemed as though Taehyung was looking nonchalant.  Almost like he was getting bored. Now it was becoming more of trying to get a response from him instead of enjoying your own pleasure.

Jungkook lifted himself up licking his lips that were covered in your arousal. “Mm you taste even better that what I’d imagine,”he hummed as he leaned down to suck on one of your breast. You whined wanting him to continue in eating you out and before you could voice your complaint his fingers sunk in your entrance.

“Ah-Jeongguk,”you let a breathless moan gripping on your sheets. His fingers curled inside of you hitting your g-spot ever so often causing you arch yourself even more towards him. You could faintly hear the sounds of Taehyung’s grunt making you smile slyly but that smile soon faltered as Jeongguk started to quicken his thrust, adding another finger.

“Look how you’re clenching against my fingers babe. Do you want my cock instead of my fingers?”he asked. His voice was filled with glee to see that you were so ready for him.

You had been so engulfed in your own ecstasy that you hadn’t notice he was still fully dressed. You stopped him from pulling down his shorts,”Wait let me.”

He smirked,”Next time babe.” You frowned but let go off his shorts as he pulled them down and aligning himself to your entrance. He hummed, pausing his action,”Why don’t you move this way babe.” You moved your whole body to where he was a bit confused. “On all fours babe and face the screen so Taehyung has a view of your face when I make you cum,”he purred into your ear, leaving a sloppy kiss on the side of your jaw.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at Taehyung who had the same expression on his face. Jeongguk chuckled before his hand slapped your ass harshly making you yelp. “J-Jeongguk,”you clutched your hand into a fist.

Another spank making you hiss,”I-”

He entered you without warning and you clenched around him. “Fuck,”he groaned, moving his hips slowly. The slow pace was torturing you and you wanted to speak but another slap was earned.

“How good does she feel around your cock baby boy?”Taehyung breathed out. You whimpered at the nickname and tried to move your hips more quickly.

“So fucking wet and ready for my cock,”Jungkook muttered out. He grabbed onto your hair pulling your head up,”Do you want me to go faster?”

“Yes,”you could barely managed from the torment. He slammed into you, hand rubbing against your swollen bud. You gasped out, mouth hung open as you tried to keep yourself upright.

“Y/N how good does it feel to have Jungkook’s cock in you?”Taehyung asked and from the shaky voice you knew he was reaching his high.

“So, so good,”you practically screamed. Your legs were starting to give out and your vision started to blur from the few tears that were falling from your eyes. His thrust were harsh and hitting you in all the right places. “Jeongguk I’m close,”you whimpered as his hand left your clit. “Make me cum please,”you pleaded.

He groaned at your words, whispering sweet nothings in your ear with each harsh thrust. Something in your stomach felt like it snapped and you clenched around him. His name spilled out of your lips continuously as he pounded into you, reaching his own high as well. You tried catching your breath as you laid on your back once Jeongguk pulled out of you.

“God that was so fucking hot. So eager to please me, fuck,”Taehyung moaned out. You smiled lazily unable to look up at the computer screen. You turned to Jeongguk who had the same amused look on his face.

“You better get some sleep Taehyung. You have to wake up in like 5 hours,”Jungkook chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m going to feel like shit. Seriously, both of you are going to get punished once I’m back from my meet,”Taehyung warned.

“Have fun tomorrow,”you said in amusement. You couldn’t quiet catch what he muttered in response before ending the video chat. It left you and Jeongguk in silence along with the unasked question of ‘would you like to stay over?’ up in the air.

Jeongguk cleared his throat getting up,”Well I should-”

“You could stay if you’d like,”you didn’t know why everything felt so―awkward. You looked around the floor for your shirt but Jeongguk already had it in his hands and gave it to you. “T-Thank you,”you blushed as you put it on.

Neither of your eyes met as you put on your undergarments and you walked over your computer turning it off. “Are you always this quiet afterwards?”he asked when you finally meet his eyes.

You laughed trying to lighten the mood,”No, just tired you know.” He raised his eyebrow with a cocky look in his eyes. You rolled your eyes,”Jeongguk for one second can you not.”

“Ok. Ok,”he laughed pulling you into the covers. “I’ll just bring it up once in awhile about how whine you are in bed,”he said earning a slap on his arm.

“Oh shut up like you aren’t,”you muttered hiding your face against his chest.

He chuckled rubbing circles against your back,”Night Y/N.”

It was oddly comforting to rest your head against his chest. “Night Jeongguk,”you said closing your eyes, falling peacefully asleep.

Sleep didn’t come to Jeongguk though, he looked at you with the biggest smile on his face. His heart hammered against his chest as you snuggled closer to him making him hesitate. Could he wrap his arms around you? Would that maybe make things too obvious? He knew how to act around others but with you it was a whole other story.

You were always someone that made him hesitate in what he does when he’s around you. His cool facade falters when he makes eye contact with you and he’s back to being a nerdy kid in grade 9, who stuttered when the ‘pretty’ girl talked to him. The chase was frustrating at first, but later he actually found himself dropping all his other girls just to have a simple phone call with you.

This feeling of utter joy wasn’t because he got to sleep with you, though it was fucking incredible. It was the fact that he was sleeping here, in your bed as you laid sound asleep next to him. Something that seemed unattainable a few months ago, hell even a few days ago. Before he knew it the sun was already rising and he put his arm around you, loosely to make it seem as though he he was trying to hold you. He inched himself closer to you and kissed your cheek before closing his eyes with the same big smile on his face.

─

Sneaking out of your house wasn't easy. He kept debating if it was worth leaving your cosy warm bed. For one, it was the right thing to do because he had no business staying longer than need be. By now if it was any other hook up he would have left the instance they closed their eyes. He wouldn't even have laid in bed next to them for that matter. With you he watched you sleep as though he was head over heels for you.

He wasn't. That is what he keeps telling himself for so long because when all of this started it was supposed to be the other way around. No one could make him, Jeon Jeongguk, lose at his own game. As he watched you again, mouth agape snoring a bit too loudly to be considered adorable, he wouldn't have it any other way. It was worth losing and he would do it over again any other day.

Just... Now isn't the right time for you to know all of this. He believed you already know and just wanted to play hard to get. It isn't like he was great at hiding it. Maybe you were trying to make him say it out loud. It was something that would definitely amuse you.

Though there was a small percent chance that the feelings weren’t mutual at all. With that in mind he crawled out of bed and took one last look at you before exiting your room.

author's note | uploading this old classic for the 10000th time. I added a bit more because I remember with the original I didn’t make it obvious that Jeongguk has the fattest crush on the OC ever since he met her.

chapters | 01 ▸ 02

All rights reserved ©️ neotaech. No translations, reposting, and/or modification of the material is allowed.

[noona-clock]

Popcorn and Candy

As requested by a lovely anon! Let me know if you like it!

Genre: College!AU/Fluff

Pairing: Kihyun x You

By Admin B

“I’ll tell you this first and foremost,” Kihyun said just after you sat down next to him. “I’m not doing all the work. I know everyone wants to be partnered with me because I’m the smartest in the class, but I’m not a pushover. And I’m not afraid to get a lower grade if my partner doesn’t pull her weight.”

...Wow, okay. What a nice way to start class.

Your psychology professor had told you just a minute ago you would be partnering up for a project. Instead of letting his students pick who they worked with, however, he randomly drew names out of a hat. When your name had been picked, then Kihyun’s right after, you had to admit... you’d been a little excited. As he just mentioned, he was the smartest in the class. But had you been planning on putting all the work on him? Of course not. You were a hard working student, too, but apparently Kihyun had just assumed you weren’t.

“I wasn’t planning on making you do all the work,” you told him with a slight scoff. You were a little offended by his words, and he deserved to know how you felt. “I’m going to work just as hard you, okay?”

Kihyun simply nodded, pressing his lips together and looking somewhat ashamed. Good.

You spent the rest of class deciding what to do for your project, ultimately settling on researching whether or not certain types of movies made people eat more popcorn and candy. You were convinced the tension of action and suspense movies subconsciously made people more stressed and, therefore, more likely to fidget or eat. Kihyun found this a little ridiculous, so he was very interested to get started and prove you wrong.

“Let’s meet at the campus movie theater at 1pm so we can gather some statistics, okay?” Kihyun suggested after the professor had dismissed everyone for the day.

“Sounds good to me,” you replied, slipping your notebook into your bag before heading out. You wouldn’t say you were excited to work on this project, but you weren’t absolutely dreading it, either. Kihyun just seemed a little... intense. But you would most likely get a good grade, so you couldn’t quite complain.

Over the course of about two months, you and Kihyun visited the movie theater about five different times, the first being the day the project was assigned. On that occasion, you had spoken with the manager to collect some spreadsheets on concession sales over the past six months. You had compared the sales and number of refills to which movies had been released, and while there wasn’t a glaringly obvious correlation between action movie launches and the number of popcorn buckets purchased, you could still see a trend. Kihyun was reluctant to admit it, but he did say “There’s a possibility.”

You then saw several different movies there together, though you were more focused on observing the other moviegoers’ eating habits than the movies themselves. You saw two actions movies, one animated film, and a romantic comedy to see if there was any observable difference among the audiences and how quickly they ate their popcorn.

It was during the second action movie when Kihyun started acting a little... strange. Well, not strange, exactly. Just different. He had been leaning a little close toward you, jotting down when a person had gone to get a popcorn refill, and he’d murmured softly, “You smell really nice.”

“...Oh,” you had whispered, a bit confused. “Thanks.” I mean, you had worn your new perfume today, but you’d had no thought Kihyun would even notice, let alone comment on it.

And then he had started texting you. And... not even about the project. The day after that movie, you had received a message from him asking ‘Hey what’s up?’ Up until then, he’d only messaged you to make sure you’d completed your assignments. You had replied, of course, not wanting to be rude, and it had turned into an almost all day conversation.

It was weird, but... you kind of liked it.

Then, during the animated movie, you had seen a completely different side of Kihyun. He kept losing focus and getting distracted by the movie, laughing at the funny parts. You would snicker to yourself and elbow him gently, reminding him you were there to watch the popcorn eaters, not the movie. But it was really cute how much he enjoyed a children’s cartoon film.

You continued your back and forth texting, sometimes talking about the project, but mostly just talking about life. You came to understand he was so serious about schoolwork because his dad had passed away a couple of years ago, so he felt he was responsible for taking care of his mom and little sister. He wanted to graduate with the best grades he could and find a high quality job so he could provide for them.

Once you learned this, you had to admit to yourself that you had developed a crush on him. He was nice (once you got past the cold, serious exterior), funny (once he was comfortable enough to make jokes), and really cute on top of being extremely smart and hard-working. 

During the final movie of your project, the romantic comedy, your crush had only grown stronger, and you found it rather difficult to sit next to Kihyun while two characters on screen were falling in love (in a funny way, of course). 

Kihyun kept asking you if you were alright, and you kept assuring him you were. You were honestly trying to ignore him because if you didn’t... he would definitely figure out you had feelings for him.

After the credits finished and everyone had thrown away their popcorn, you grabbed your jacket and headed to the exit without really saying anything to Kihyun. You had gotten pretty uncomfortable sitting next to him, especially when the main characters had kissed near the end, so you just really needed to leave. Kihyun, however, had followed after you, putting a hand on your arm to stop you before you could reach the parking lot.

“What’s going on?” he’d asked, his brow furrowed.

“Nothing,” you’d replied, barely looking at him.

“Then why did you barely look at me during the whole movie? You basically ignored me. And I feel like you’re ignoring me now.”

“I’m not. I was just trying to work on the project.”

“But... I mean, I thought... we were getting to be... friends.”

You’d let out a sigh, closing your eyes momentarily and feeling your heart sink at the word ‘friends.’

“What? What’s that sigh?” Kihyun had asked, taking a step closer to you. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong!” you’d cried, a bit louder than intended. You had lowered your voice and assured him again. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why do you seem so annoyed? Did I do something?”

“No, you didn’t -- you didn’t do anything.”

“Then tell me what’s going on, why you’re acting so weird.”

“I’m acting weird because I like you, okay?” you’d blurted out before you could stop yourself. But saying it had actually felt really, really good. “I like you.”

Kihyun had frozen for a second, but then he’d taken another step toward you. “Well, why didn’t you say anything?”

Your heart had sped up as you’d watched a soft smile pull at his lips. Was he... Did he...?

“Because... Like you said, I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but...” He’d reached out to take one of your hands, running his thumb gently over the back of it. “I like you, too.”

Obviously, everything had changed after that. You’d spent the next two weeks finishing up your project and turning your study sessions into dates. You’d actually watched movies together, although sometimes you still didn’t actually watch the movie, but for a different reason altogether. Kihyun had even finally admitted you’d been right about people eating more popcorn and candy during action movies, and you’d considered that to be your first victory in your relationship.

“I guess I’d better get used to this since you’ll always be right,” Kihyun had smirked before leaning in to kiss you.

The time finally came to present your project to your class, and let me tell you - it was just bordering on torture having to stand in front of everyone with Kihyun and act professional. Since your relationship was still new, you wanted nothing more than to put your feelings on display and let everyone know he was your boyfriend. 

The slideshow seemed to go by painfully slow, but you finally reached the conclusion, even throwing in a little joke about how you’d been right in your hypothesis and Kihyun hadn’t been. He shot you a playfully evil look, and you knew you’d pay for that comment later. But you didn’t care.

The class clapped in appreciation, and your professor congratulated you on a job well done. You and Kihyun high fived each other before going back to your seats and getting ready to watch the next presentation. He secretly took your hand underneath the table, drawing lazy circles on your palm with his finger and subsequently driving you crazy. You thought back to when he used to drive you crazy in an annoying way, and you almost laughed at how things had turned out.

When your grades were released a week later, you and Kihyun were more than delighted to find you’d received full marks. Neither of you were surprised, of course, since you’d both worked hard and done tons of research, but it was still satisfying.

Kihyun took your hand as you both left the classroom, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. “You know something?”

“What?”

“Even if we’d failed... I don’t think I would’ve cared.”

“Oh, yeah right.”

“I’m serious!”

“And why wouldn’t you have cared, huh?” you asked teasingly.

“Because... I couldn’t have failed. I found you.”

You held back an embarrassed smirk, nudging his side before quickly kissing his shoulder. “Shut up,” you murmured, blushing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kihyun replied, smiling at you before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Master list //  RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

[puppetwritings]

It’s Okay || Chan || Oneshot

Word Count: 1910

Genre: oneshot, fluff

Summary:  Chan was very firm in his dislikes but meeting you may have swayed his opinion a little. 

If someone asked him what statement he hated the most, Lee Chan would answer, without hesitation, “It’s okay”. It was a simple phrase; a conjunction and then a word. But Chan despised it beyond belief.

It was one of those trivial things that brought a copious amount of frustration; like the way chip bags seemed to crinkle when you try to open them or the way shoes squeak on the slippery tile ground. He hated when people told him “it’s okay” when he knew it wasn’t. Failed a test? “It’s okay”. Forgot an important part of the project? “It’s okay”. Didn’t fulfill an important promise? “It’s okay”. Refusal to do a favor? “It’s okay”. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. At all.

More than the phrase, Chan hated the way it’s said. When it’s sincere, it just nibbles at him, sending him slightly uncomfortable jitters up and down his spine, but when it’s used in the right way (or the wrong way, he supposes), it’s complete torture. It’s the anger and frustration or disappointment that’s pushed into each syllable, accentuating how not okay it was. It was the passive-aggressiveness behind each sound that came out of the person’s mouth. What was the point of even using a simple phrase like “It’s okay” like that? Why couldn’t the person just tell Chan, outright, that it isn’t okay? That they aren’t pleased with his response or his performance? Why did he have to sit there and suffer through the torture of the unspoken “Actually, it isn’t okay”?

That is why Chan tries his best to stay away from those two words. When it is okay, he’ll use them, but when it isn’t, he tries his best to find a way around those words. Maybe he’ll express his frustration. Maybe he’ll use a different roundabout way to say that it is okay but that doesn’t mean he’s happy. No matter what the situation, Chan has always found a way around the phrase and he never understood why other people couldn’t do it. Was it because they didn’t care and they didn’t want to? Either way, Chan felt that if people ditched the phrase, the world would be a better place.

It was his first year of college when he found himself using the phrase more. First, he was hanging out with a couple of his friends, joking around before he was pushed backwards, his back hitting something soft. He heard a yelp and then a thump and he had a horrible sinking feeling as he turned around.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” you said, obviously flustered, as you tried to grab your textbooks and gather the scattered paper.

“No, no, it’s okay! That was my fault. Or,” Chan hesitated a second as he handed you the stack he collected with a bright smile, “My friends’ faults, I guess.”

You returned his smile sheepishly, a fleeting thought crossing your mind about how he had a pretty smile. You took your belongings back, dipped your head as you mumbled a quick “thanks”, before scurrying off to your class.

Chan felt an arm over his shoulder and when he glanced over his friend nudged him with his hip, “She’s a cutie.”

“Sure is,” Chan agreed, pulling away from his friend’s grip as he headed back to his spot on the table.

“I think she likes you,” another offered.

“We literally just met,” Chan rolled his eyes. “And in that time, I ran into her, so I think it’s highly unlikely that she would have developed a crush on me.”

“Her face was red.”

“From embarrassment,” Chan reasoned.

His friends glanced at each other but they resigned, hands held up in surrender as they continued their conversation that had been interrupted previously but Chan stayed on the topic of the girl. He thought about your pink cheeks and shy smile and the way you fumbled for your things. It was cute. And Chan found himself smiling at the thought of you.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see you again until much later; at least several months. It was time for exams so, like any college student trying to stay sane, Chan was in line at the coffee shop right down the street. He was tired, having stayed up last night to finish the paper that was already overdue (he had to beg his professor to let him turn it in), and today he had a big test that was worth more than he thought it deserved.

Once he played his order, he stepped off to the side and waited, his eyes concentrated on his phone. Minutes passed before his name was called and when it was, he didn’t bother to look up from his phone before he turned to walk towards the counter and a moment later, he felt ran into someone, their iced-coffee spilling all down the front of his shirt.

“Oh my gosh,” your voice reached his ears in a pitched squeak, “I am so sorry!”

Chan looked up at you, his hands raised away from his chest as you rushed to grab napkins to fruitlessly dab at his shirt. Your cheeks were flushed red again and your lower lip was caught between your teeth. You glanced up at him and looked back down, becoming more flustered.

“Ah…no, it’s okay!” Chan said, good naturedly even though it was obviously not. “I was…gonna go back to the dorms after this anyway.”

“But this is going to stain,” you mumbled, pulling out more napkins from the dispenser as an employee came over with a mop.

Chan gently pulled you away from the spot as you chanted sheepish apologies, to which the employee dismissed with a gruff “It’s okay”. Chan’s face convulsed for a second before you turned back to look at him.

“I’ll compensate you for your shirt,” you said awkwardly, holding the wet ball of napkins in your hands.

Chan laughed, the sound sending a shock through your system and making your heart flutter. “It’s okay, really! I mean it. Think of this as…payback for when I bumped into you.”

“But you didn’t spill coffee all over me…”

“Hey, at least it’s iced.”

That was true. But still, it didn’t stop the guilt from settling in your chest.

“Um,” Chan pursed his lips and held out his phone. You raised an eyebrow questioningly. “How about instead of you buying me a new shirt, you give me your number?”

“What?”

Chan grinned shyly, “If you don’t want to then that’s okay too.”

“O-oh, no! I’ll do it,” you took his phone and eagerly entered your number.

“And your name is…?” Chan asked, raising an eyebrow as he took his phone back. His eyes looked at your contact.

“Y/N,” you announced, holding out your hand.

“I’m Chan,” he took your hand and gave it a firm shake.

You glanced at the front of his shirt, “I really am sorry about—“

“It’s okay!” Chan laughed.

You frowned and then your eyes lit up, “How about I take you out for coffee sometime? Or…something else, I don’t know. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Chan looked at you, the heart fluttering smile blooming on his face again as he nodded. “Alright, I’d like that. I’ll text you later so you can have my number.”

You nodded, “Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

“So…”

“I should go. I have to change out of this before I go to class,” Chan said as he started backing away.

“Right,” you let out another guilty laugh, “Sorry.”

Chan shook his head, accompanied by a scrunch of his nose before he waved to you, “I’ll text you later, Y/N! And see you around soon!”

You nodded, waving back a little as you watched Chan turn around and sprint out of the coffee shop.

You and Chan did meet up; not just once, but several times. The first one wasn’t planned. You two happened to bump into each other (not literally this time) after class and decided to hang out. But soon, you called Chan out more often and he asked if you were free as well. The little exchanges went from friendly conversations in the coffee shop across from your school, to meeting up for a movie, to going to the bowling alley, and to a simple lunch on campus (or around campus).

Chan found that you two had a lot in common. You liked dancing and he did as well. You had joined a school when you were younger and Chan was surprised to find that it was the same school he was in. You two, Chan said, could have been classmates if you had joined at the same time. With this key similarity, Chan found himself growing more attached to you. He learned about your quirks and your likes and dislikes and you found out more about him as well. He wasn’t just the boy with the dazzling smile and you weren’t just the girl with the cute, flushed cheeks anymore.

Neither of you confessed your feelings for each other though. Not until that bright sunny day that turned into a shrouded, rainy one.

You and Chan had been walking back to the dorms after a dinner meeting when it began pouring out of nowhere. Chan had rushed you over to shelter nearby, using his jacket as a bit of a shield. This sent you into a fit of giggles once you two were safe from the rain and Chan turned to you with a teasing frown.

“Why are you laughing? I just heroically saved you from getting rained on! You’re barely wet!”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’m barely wet because we managed to run out of the rain in time, not because of your wonky makeshift umbrella.”

Chan puffed out his chest indignantly, “Well, I think my wonky makeshift umbrella helped.”

“Oh,” you giggled again, “I’m sure.”

“It did.”

“Okay.”

Chan smiled at you as you looked back out and frowned a little, mumbling about how it seems like you guys might be stuck here for a bit.

“We should have brought an umbrella,” you mumbled.

“It was clear skies all day, how could we have known? Besides, do you hate being stuck here with me so much?” Chan teased.

“No, I actually like it,” the confession came out of your mouth before you could filter it. Your eyes widened and your smile slipped from your face as your cheeks began to turn pink again. You looked at him and spluttered, “No that’s not—well, I guess that is what I meant—but that came out a little strange. What I meant to say was—I mean—well—“

Chan looked at you, slightly dazed as he smiled a little, “It’s…okay.”

“No, it’s just—what?”

“It’s okay…that’s fine,” Chan said. “I like being stuck here with you too.”

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, slowly turning away from him. “Okay…”

Chan nodded, pursing his lips as he turned away as well. “Um, actually…”

“Yeah?”

“I…like spending time with you in general. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“I feel comfortable around you,” Chan continued. “And I think it’s cute when you get flustered…and…I sort of, might have, gotten a crush on you…if that’s okay.”

Chan glanced over at you nervously and he felt relief wash over him when he found you were biting back a smile. You glanced over at him too, meeting his questioning gaze. You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “It’s okay.”