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labomi · 4 years

Text

selfish | one (18+)

Summary: You're a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 11.1k+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie, explicit language, attempted sexual assault, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, alcohol

Note: Read on ao3 here! I’ve been on tumblr on and off for about 10 years at this point (yikes), but I recently decided to start a new one as sort of a writing blog with a lot of anime gif reblogging on the side as well haha. Kind of nervous to post my first fic on tumblr for some reason, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

“Nanami? Kento Nanami? Is that you?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It had been years! Was that really him?

---

The night you accidentally ran into Kento Nanami started off like any other night in your life. After an exhausting day of work, you decided to treat yourself to some sweets at a nearby bakery. The small chime on the door signaled your entrance with the lone employee warmly greeting you.

“Welcome!”

There was only one other customer in the small shop. A tall man stood at the cash register.

Hmm.

There was something strangely familiar about the man’s demeanor. Curious, you drifted over to the display case next to the register to try and sneak a peek at his face. While admiring the delicious-looking pastries on the counter, you listened in on the conversation between him and the cashier.

“That will be 2000 yen,” the lady said.

“I’ll pay with card.”

You stiffened slightly, eyes widening in surprise.

That voice!

You recognized that voice!

The man shifted his face towards you as he reached to grab his wallet from his pocket. You were finally able to get a glimpse of his face.

You gasped.

“It is you!” you exclaimed in surprise. “Nanami!”

He looked as prim and proper as ever. The man still wore a suit and tie with his hair neatly parted. The only major difference in his appearance was the sunglasses that now completely shielded his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again! How have you been?” you asked eagerly.

Nanami looked at you silently, trying to recall where he had seen your familiar face before.

Then he remembered.

A flood of memories from a different life overcame him. The man hesitantly said your name, like he couldn’t quite believe your unexpected appearance before him. You nodded enthusiastically while he absentmindedly handed his credit card to the cashier.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, feeling a little giddy. “I haven’t seen you since you quit all those years ago. What are you doing now?”

Nanami seemed to pause for a second, adjusting his sunglasses. “I work at a school.”

“Oh! As a teacher?”

“No, just as staff.”

“That sounds nice. What school?”

“It’s a private religious school in the mountains. It’s not particularly well-known,” the man replied vaguely.

“Oh, I see.”

A loud beep of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. Nanami reached into his other pocket and took out his phone. He frowned, looking at the device. “I apologize, but I have to go immediately.”

“Oh, uh, ok,” you said, feeling slightly disappointed. You barely had any time to catch up with your former coworker. Nanami grabbed the bag from the counter and swiftly exited the store. You watched him walk away with a sigh. What were the chances that you would bump into him again? You pouted, upset that the circumstances hadn’t exactly worked out in your favor.

“Oh no!” the cashier suddenly cried out. “He forgot his card!” She pointed at the blue credit card on the counter.

“Lemme see if I can catch him!” you responded, already running out of the bakery. You pushed open the door and ran in the direction you saw the man leave. “Nanami!” you shouted. Other pedestrians looked at you curiously, but you couldn’t see the tall man anywhere. You walked around a bit further out, continuing to call his name but to no avail. Sighing, you headed back to the bakery.

“No luck,” you said to the cashier. “He’s gone already. I have no idea how he disappeared so quickly.” Crossing your arms against your chest, you looked at the forgotten card in frustration. “What should we do now?” If only you had his number!

“I guess I can keep it here in case he comes back,” the lady reasoned.

Hmm.

An idea popped in your head.

A selfish one.

“Wait! How about I take it and return it to him?” you asked. Then you realized that your request might come off as suspicious. “We used to work together, I promise I’m not trying to steal it or anything.”

The cashier smiled at you softly. “I trust you. You come in here quite a lot and that man did say your name, so I know you’re not lying.”

You sighed in relief.

Thank goodness.

After buying some pastries for yourself, you walked out of the bakery holding Nanami’s credit card in your hand. You carefully stored it in your bag before beginning the walk back to your apartment.

A private religious school in the mountains, huh?

It shouldn’t be too hard to find.

---

You groaned, fighting the urge to pull your hair in frustration.

How hard was it to find this damn school?!

You were sitting at your desk in the dark. The only light in the bedroom came from your laptop screen which was full of search engine results for “tokyo private religious school”. You were on page 15. Not a promising sign.

Recalling your conversation with Nanami, you remembered the man said he worked at a religious school in the mountains. However, none of the private schools you had found so far were located in the mountains. You frowned. Had Nanami been lying?

You shook your head to yourself.

No.

He’s not the type to lie. He did say it wasn’t well-known.

You scrolled further down and clicked on the next page. Quickly skimming the results, you finally found something that caught your eye.

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

Huh. What a strange name for a school.

You clicked on the link. It brought you to a strange forum that looked somewhat sketchy and unreliable, but someone had at least posted an address for the school. You grabbed your phone and immediately plugged the address into the map app.

You punched the air in triumph.

“Yes!” The dot was located in the mountains by some Tokyo suburbs.

This has to be the place!

Luckily, tomorrow was Friday which meant you had no classes, and you weren’t scheduled for a shift at work. You were free to find the school and return the card to Nanami in person.

“Ok!” you said to yourself, rubbing your hands together. “Now to find out how to get there.”

---

You looked at the dot of your current location on your phone and then back at the vast empty woods in front of you.

This can’t be it!

You groaned out loud in frustration, stamping your feet in a little tantrum.

Why is it still so hard to find this damn school?!

Looking at your phone again, you double-checked the map to see that you were in fact at the exact location of the address you inputted, but nothing was here. It was just trees!

You sighed in disappointment but refused to give up right away. Maybe your phone’s GPS was off because you were so high up in the mountains and the signal was bad. You decided to follow the road that led up the mountain with the hope that you might accidentally stumble across the school. If there was a road, it had to lead somewhere! But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen any cars, buildings, or pedestrians since entering the area.

After walking around for almost an hour, you decided to take a break. Sitting in the shade of some trees by the side of the road, you took your water bottle out of your bag for a quick sip. You admired the beautiful, quiet scenery in front of you.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You were currently lost in the mountains of Tokyo looking for a school you weren’t quite sure actually existed. And it was all because you were selfish and wanted to see Nanami again. Your old coworker.

You hadn’t been particularly close to him at work, though he didn’t seem overly friendly with anyone in the office. Nanami was the stoic and serious type. He didn’t talk much with the team, but you could tell he worked hard. He was always one of the last people to leave the office for the night, if he did leave. On many occasions, you found him dozing at his desk in the morning when you arrived early to work before everyone else with the sneaking suspicion that he had spent the entire night in the office.

Unlike most of the other employees and especially your boss, Nanami seemed to still care about the clients instead of just the company’s profits, judging from the small snippets of conversations you overheard from him. You had always wanted to get to know him better, but he didn’t particularly have an approachable demeanor. At the time, you were just a young, newly graduated woman who was afraid of everything and everyone. So you often just kept to yourself.

You sighed, looking down at the ground. Taking Nanami’s credit card hostage was a pathetic way of trying to rekindle a relationship that never existed in the first place. You made up your mind. It was time to head back home and drop off the card at the bakery so he could pick it up himself. Today’s excursion was just a giant waste of time much to your disappointment.

“Excuse me, miss. What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” A man was hovering over you. You swore he hadn’t been there a second ago.

You screamed. “P-please don’t hurt me!” You put your arms out in front of you, shielding yourself from any potential harm. “I don’t have much money, but you can have it all!”

The man burst out laughing. You slowly lowered your arms, hoping that his laughter meant he wasn’t going to attack you.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and I especially don’t want your money.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” No longer afraid, you took a closer look at the stranger. He was tall. Very tall. Wearing a black outfit and a matching blindfold that spiked up his white hair.

What a strange appearance.

“Well, I won’t hurt you as long as you tell me what you’re doing here.” You gulped, hearing the silent threat in his words.

“Umm, umm, well, you see I-I got a bit lost and w-was just taking a rest,” you stuttered nervously, fiddling with your hands. “I heard there’s a private school around here and I’m trying to find it, because I know someone who works there. His name is Kento Nanami and we used to work together many many years ago and I just happened to run into him last night at a bakery but he left his credit card there and I wanted to give it back to him in person, so I thought it was a good idea to deliver it at his workplace but this school is so hard to find I have no idea where I’m going and-and I think I’m just going to leave now actually.” You realized you were rambling, so you forcibly shut your mouth to stop yourself from looking like a complete fool in front of the stranger.

The man hummed in thought for several seconds before suddenly grinning and chuckling to himself. His demeanor no longer felt threatening.

“Kento Nanami, huh,” the man said, still smiling happily.

“Oh, you know him?” You perked up, suddenly hopeful.

Maybe they work together!

“Leave it to me!” the stranger cheered, giving you a thumbs up. “I’ll escort you to the school and make sure you hand-deliver that credit card to Nanami!”

You felt relieved, tears almost prickling your eyes. “Oh thank you so much!”

---

“Satoru.”

“Mm.”

“Can’t you tell there’s a human who has been wandering near the barrier for quite a while now? It looks like they’re trying to find a way in,” Yaga commented.

“Well, they can’t. Isn’t that the whole point of the barrier?”

“I know that!” the principal grunted angrily. “But since you’re just lounging here around doing nothing, go check it out.”

“Fine.” Gojo got off the couch and headed outside, wondering how a human accidentally wandered this close to the school so far up the mountains.

---

It only took several minutes before you and the strange man found a path leading to the school. You blinked in surprise. You felt like you had walked by this part of the road earlier but had seen nothing.

Walking alongside the man quietly, you suddenly realized you had completely forgotten your manners. Quickly bowing to your escort, you introduced yourself and thanked him for taking the time to safely bring you to the school.

“It’s no problem. Any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine. Oh, and I’m Satoru Gojo by the way. I’m the first-year teacher here.”

He was a teacher? This man wearing a blindfold in broad daylight? You swallowed nervously. You wondered what kind of school Nanami was working for exactly.

Once you finally reached the main school grounds, all of your reservations immediately melted away. “Wow!” you breathed. The campus was absolutely gorgeous with beautiful statues, shrines, and gates. You couldn’t help but stop and admire your surroundings. “This school is beautiful.”

Gojo brought you to the teacher’s lounge and gestured for you to sit down. “So, tell me again how you know our dear Nanami?”

---

Nanami had just finished a mission when his phone chimed, signaling a text. He finished wiping his blade clean before grabbing the device. The message was from Gojo.

Gojo: Come back to Jujutsu Tech. Your girlfriend is here ;)

The sorcerer stared at the message.

Nanami: I have no idea what you mean.

Gojo: ( ˘ ³˘)♥

He angrily shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked over to the car where Ijichi was waiting. He entered the back seat before closing the door behind him. “Hurry up. I need to find a certain white-haired idiot and destroy him.”

---

Nanami was walking towards the teacher’s lounge when he heard your bright laughter. He froze for a couple of seconds.

What were you doing here?

He picked up the pace, quickly entering the lounge to see you giggling on the couch next to Gojo. For some reason, it bothered him to see how close the idiot was to you and how happy you looked in his presence.

“Nanami! You’re here!” Gojo exclaimed, immediately noticing the other sorcerer’s presence.

You turned your head quickly towards the doorway with a bright grin. “Oh, Nanami! Hi again!”

Nanami observed the scene, trying to figure out what was going on, but he was drawing a blank.

First of all, you weren’t a sorcerer. How did you enter the school grounds?

Second, did you know Gojo? The two of you seemed quite friendly on the couch together.

Third, was Gojo implying that you were his girlfriend? That was absolutely ridiculous.

“What are you doing here?” Nanami asked you cautiously, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Oh!” You dug around in your bag, pulling out your wallet. You removed a blue credit card. “You left this behind at the bakery yesterday. I tried to chase after you, but you disappeared so quickly. I had the day off today, so I thought I would try to find your workplace and give your card back to you.” You got off the couch, approaching Nanami and handing him the card.

Nanami took the card from you before placing it back in his own wallet. “You didn’t have to do this. How did you even find your way here?”

“I found her wandering nearby!” Gojo jumped in, grinning at the other sorcerer. “Imagine my surprise when she said the two of you used to work together back when you were just a salaryman. I just had to invite her back here. You never mentioned you used to work with such a lovely lady.”

You visibly blushed at Gojo’s words which just bothered Nanami even more. “Thank you for returning my card, but I think it’s about time y—”

“Nanami. Nanami. Namami,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “You’re all work and no fun. It’s been years since the two of you have seen each other, and you’re already trying to get rid of her? Don’t you want to catch up a little bit?”

You played with your hair, a little nervous. “I mean if you’re busy Nanami, I can go. But I was hoping we could talk a little bit.” You looked up at him with bright eyes. “I want to hear how you’ve been doing.”

Nanami took one look at your hopeful face and immediately gave in. “Alright.” He gestured for you to sit back down as he walked over to one of the armchairs. The sorcerer pretended like he didn’t see your little jump of excitement as you hurried back to the couch with Gojo.

Once the three of you were all seated comfortably, you brought up what you had been previously discussing with Gojo. “I didn’t know you’re teaching at the same high school you went to as a student. That’s pretty cool!”

“He was one of the few students who graduated and decided to leave the community,” Gojo pointed out. “Most of us stay here and continue working for the school.” Nanami subtly glared at the white-haired sorcerer, wondering how much he had told you about the jujutsu world.

“Why did you decide to come back then?” you asked curiously.

“I changed my mind,” Nanami simply stated. “I realized I would find my career slightly more rewarding if I worked for the school than that company.”

You nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. I’m glad we eventually both left that job.” You slightly grimaced, just thinking about your past. It didn’t go unnoticed by Nanami.

“When did you leave?” he asked.

You hummed, recalling the past. “It was probably a couple of months after you left. I, uh, messed up something really badly and I got fired.”

Nanami raised his eyebrows in surprise. You didn’t seem like the type to make big mistakes. He remembered you as quite the careful and diligent worker. He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if you were being deceitful.

“It’s ok though,” you continued. “I worked a couple of odd jobs afterward to keep up with the bills until I decided I wanted to become a nurse! So I’m actually back in school now and working part-time to help pay tuition.”

“A nurse, huh,” Gojo remarked. “What a noble career choice.”

“Ahh, I wouldn’t say I’m noble or anything. I just think I would find my life more fulfilling if I was actively helping people,” you explained. “Probably similar to how you felt when you switched careers, Nanami.”

He nodded at your words.

uThe three of you chatted amicably the rest of the day. Gojo and you mostly carried the conversation, but Nanami would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy listening to your voice. After he ran into you at the bakery last night, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was the first time he was confronted with his old life after deciding to become a sorcerer again. Part of Nanami wanted to never look back on that phase of his life again, but perhaps it wasn’t all bad. Sure, he hadn't particularly liked anyone from that office, but he didn’t mind you. You had always been quiet, polite, and hardworking.

Nanami still remembered his last day at the office. You had organized a surprise farewell party just for him with a cake, balloons, and everything. After everyone had their fill of free food and left the conference room, you had shyly wished him luck in the future and said you would miss seeing him in the office. All those memories came rushing back after encountering you in that bakery.

The sun started to set when you finally noticed the time.

“Ah! I should probably go,” you announced, checking your phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“No, no,” Gojo assured. “You are very much welcome here. Like I said earlier, any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine and all my friends are welcome here!”

“How do you plan on getting home?” Nanami asked, mildly concerned.

“Don’t worry!” Gojo said. “I got it handled. Ijichi will drive her back.”

“Huh? No, it’s fine,” you tried to argue. “I can get back by myself. It’s not a problem.”

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn’t ensure you got home safely? Ijichi is our finest chauffeur,” the blindfolded man insisted. “He will take care of you.”

You looked at Nanami who simply nodded at you, encouraging you to accept Gojo’s offer. Sighing, you crossed your arms over your chest with a pout. “Alright. Thank you.”

The two men waved goodbye as you left in Ijichi’s car to head back home.

“Was it really wise to have her on the school grounds?” Nanami asked.

Gojo hummed. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Normal humans aren’t allowed here for a reason.”

The blindfolded sorcerer didn’t reply. Instead, he took out his phone and started tapping on the screen. Nanami’s phone chimed. It was a text from Gojo. Opening it, he saw it was a string of numbers.

A phone number.

“You should call her sometime,” Gojo said. “She likes you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. What kind of woman travels to the mountains on her day off to try and find a publically non-existent school to return a credit card to someone she doesn’t like?”

Nanami remained silent.

“Just because we’re adults and jujutsu sorcerers doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to have some normal fun. It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

How badly Nanami wanted to believe Gojo’s words.

---

You heard the door open and close.

“Hello! How many I help y—Gojo?”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting to see the teacher at your workplace. While taking classes to become a nurse, you worked part-time at a small boba tea shop. You had just finished serving the flurry of college students who needed a midday pick-me-up when Gojo appeared. Several of the seated patrons whispered and pointed at him, wondering why he was wearing a blindfold and how he could see.

“Thought I would drop by and say hi,” he said with an easy grin.

You returned his smile. “Is Nanami with you too?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, not today, unfortunately,” he replied. You tried to ignore the flash of disappointment you felt. “I’ll bring him next time.”

You perked up at Gojo’s promise, nodding eagerly. “Sounds good. So, would you like something to drink?”

The man ordered a large brown sugar milk tea with extra sugar. You looked at him, mildly concerned. “You sure you want 120% sugar? It’s pretty sweet to begin with. Trust me.”

Gojo nodded. “Yup!”

“Alright,” you said with a shrug. You did try to warn him.

You finished preparing Gojo’s drink and handed it to him along with a straw.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow your phone for a second?” the teacher asked.

“Oh, sure,” you said, grabbing your phone from your back pocket.

Gojo took the device and opened the camera app. “Smile!” That was the only warning you got. He had taken a selfie of the two of you together. You weren’t even smiling in the photo, completely caught off guard. But Gojo was at least prepared, grinning happily and showing off his milk tea in one hand. You watched as the man repeatedly tapped on your phone screen.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly.

“Here!” Gojo handed the phone back to you. Looking at the screen, you saw that he had sent the selfie of the two of you to a random number with a text that said “Having fun without you!”

“Um. Who did you send this to Gojo?”

“Nanami, of course!”

“Oh,” you said quietly, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Nanami’s number!

You finally had it!

Gojo chuckled to himself as he saw the way your eyes lit up.

“Oh, by the way,” you said, looking up from the phone. “It’s my birthday next weekend. I’m going out with a couple of friends on Saturday at 8pm at the bar around the corner, and I was wondering if you and Nanami would like to join? You should bring Ijichi too and anyone else from the school! Only if you want though. It’s ok if you don’t want to come or you’re worried about being awkward with my other friends even though they’re super cool and encouraged me to invite you guys and I promise I won’t be upset if you can’t make it because this is kind of last minute and I—”

“Sounds great!” Gojo interrupted your rambling. “I’ll be sure to pass along the information. We'll be there.”

“Really?” You grinned at the teacher. “Awesome! I guess I’ll see you then!”

Gojo waved at you goodbye as you tried to compose yourself before the next wave of customers arrived.

---

“Ahh!! You guys actually came!” you squealed as a group of individuals approached your table in the bar. You stumbled out of the large booth where your other friends were seated, already several shots in for the night. You clumsily hugged Gojo without thinking. Releasing him, you took in his new appearance.

“You look so different!” you commented. “But not in a bad way!” The man had traded in his signature blindfold for a pair of sunglasses that still hid his eye. His hair was lying down flat instead of its usual spiked-up look.

Behind Gojo, you saw Ijichi with a woman you didn’t recognize.

“That’s Shoko Ieiri,” Gojo said, following your gaze. “She’s the doctor at our school.”

You happily greeted both of them, thanking them for coming.

And finally, you saw the person you were looking forward to seeing the most. Nanami looked good as always. He was dressed a little more casually for the night without his signature jacket, tie, and sunglasses. Instead, he wore a crisp, blue button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone. You tried not to stare too much at his revealed skin.

As you approached Nanami, you reached out to hug him but you managed to stop yourself in time. You were worried about coming on too strong and opted for a small wave instead.

“Thanks for coming, Nanami! I’m so glad you came!”

Sitting at the table altogether, your other friends immediately fawned over Gojo. One of them grabbed you and whispered in your ear.

“What the hell? You didn’t tell me one of your friends was incredibly hot?”

You shrugged and ordered another round of shots for the whole table. Gojo ended up passing because he didn’t drink, so you took it upon yourself to finish it for him.

Nanami quietly nursed a beer as he observed the scene. He didn’t typically like crowded, loud bars like this, but he would make an exception for you. Gojo had also been extremely intent on making sure everyone from the school attended your little celebration. He managed to get Ijichi to come along only after getting Shoko to agree by bribing her with free alcohol.

Nanami was currently sitting across the booth from you, watching as you chatted with your friends. You were wearing a dark red dress that perfectly showed off your curves. The left strap of your dress was a little loose and it kept falling down the entire night despite you constantly readjusting it, not that Nanami had noticed.

You looked so carefree and lively in this atmosphere. Every once in a while, you caught Nanami’s gaze and beamed at him happily.

At some point during the night, you left the table to go to the bathroom. It was only once you tried walking back to everyone that you realized how drunk you were. Stumbling a bit in your high heels, you leaned against the wall by the bathrooms for stability.

“Excuse me miss, are you alright?”

A man approached you, but you instantly waved him off. “Mmm, I’m good,” you replied. “Thanks though.” You were determined to make it back to your friends on your own, but as soon as you took a step away from the wall, you tripped. The man caught you before you could hit the ground. He had a tight grip on your waist.

“You don’t seem good,” he chuckled softly. “How about I help you?” You could feel his hands starting to go lower, and you quickly latched onto them and tried to pry them off you.

“I said no,” you said firmly, but the man ignored you and pressed you against the wall. “Get off!” You struggled against him but to no avail.

Suddenly, the weight of the man was lifted and you felt like you could breathe again.

“Are you alright?” a smooth voice asked.

You looked up to see Nanami in front of you. You nodded silently and admired his strong jawline and sharp eyes in the bar’s dark lighting.

“Can you walk?”

You nodded again. Taking a step away from the wall, you immediately staggered again much to your embarrassment. Nanami grabbed your arm and lifted you up until you were half leaning on him for support. Inhibitions suddenly gone from all the alcohol in your system, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and gave him a hug. The man tried to ignore the shiver that went up his spine when he felt your warm, soft body pressed up against him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was quite jealous that you had hugged Gojo when they first arrived. What was so special about that idiot anyway? Nanami slowly wrapped his arms around you, indulging himself for once and returning the hug.

“I’m so glad you came,” you mumbled against his chest. “I was so happy that I ran into you at the bakery that one night. But I was afraid I would never see you again.” You paused. “I really wanted to see you again.”

Nanami didn’t know how to respond to your words, so he gently rubbed your back instead. You leaned into his touch happily.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he said gently. You sighed and reluctantly removed yourself from the embrace. Nanami half-carried you back to the table and carefully deposited you next to your friends. To your disappointment, he didn’t sit down next to you and instead headed towards the front doors.

“Nanami? Where are you going?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be back.”

When Nanami exited the bar, he was greeted by several couples who were taking a smoke break. He walked a bit further away, so he could be alone. The sorcerer leaned against a random building, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down.

Nanami felt quite ashamed of himself. Acting like a hormonal teenage boy just because he briefly held you while you were wearing that damn dress. He tried to ignore the way his cock was straining in his pants. Gritting his teeth, he willed his body to relax. Nanami refused to let you see him so worked like this. He especially couldn’t let Gojo see. He could only imagine the endless teasing he would endure from the blindfolded idiot.

Inside the bar, you watched sadly as Nanami left. You wondered if it was something you did to scare him away.

Gojo sat next to you and handed you a glass of water. “Drink,” he commanded.

You did as you were told, keeping an eye on the doors to see if Nanami had come back in yet. “Does Nanami not like me?” you asked Gojo quietly with a pout.

The man chuckled. “I assure you that’s not the case.”

You turned to look at him. “How do you know?”

Gojo lowered his sunglasses slightly, and you were able to get a glimpse of his gorgeous blue eyes for the first time. “Trust me. I have good eyes.”

---

Nanami ended the call with Ijichi. He leaned against the wall of the bathroom with a grimace. He was still applying pressure to the wound he had received from Mahito. The sorcerer scrolled through the contacts list on his phone. He found himself hovering over your name.

Yes, he did save your number from Gojo’s text. Why wouldn’t he? It would be frivolous to ignore that kind of contact information.

Nanami grabbed another wad of paper towel to replace the one that was already drenched in blood. He grunted in pain.

A nurse, huh.

He wondered what you would do if you saw him right now. If you fuss over him and take care of his injuries yourself. Nanami sighed. He wouldn’t mind that. Would you carefully unbutton his shirt to get a better look at the wound? He could almost imagine the way your fingers would ghost over his stomach.

With a groan, Nanami banged his head against the wall. He couldn’t believe he was fantasizing about you while profusely bleeding in a public restroom.

The sorcerer cleaned up his blood all over the sink and threw out the dirty wads of paper towels. He went outside to wait for Ijichi to bring him back to school for proper treatment.

---

“I’m going to take my break!” you announced to your coworkers as you exited the bubble tea shop. You decided to go outside for a quick breather because it was such a nice, sunny day. Avoiding the crowds, you headed over to the alleyways near the shop to scroll through Twitter in peace.

You were so engrossed by your phone that you didn’t notice the presence of someone next to you. It was only when you heard them clear their throat that you looked next to you to see a man wearing sunglasses and a hat.

“Oh, sorry. Am I in your way? I can move.”

In the blink of an eye, he held a knife to your neck. You felt the cool blade lightly press into your skin. You held your breath, afraid to react in any way.

“Don’t scream. Don’t move,” he hissed.

Your eyes widened in shock.

That voice.

You recognized that voice.

The man grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you in the opposite direction of the busy street where unaware pedestrians were still walking by. He pressed the knife against your side now, digging it into the thin t-shirt you had to wear for work.

“Walk.”

He led you to an abandoned building several minutes away. Once you were inside and the door closed shut, he roughly shoved you to the ground.

You landed in a heap, groaning in pain. Turning around, you finally faced your captor.

“It’s you, isn’t you,” you said evenly. “Boss.”

The man chuckled, removing the hat and sunglasses. It was your former boss from the company where you and Nanami had once worked together. You dug your nails in the palms of your hands. If he was here, you knew you were in trouble.

“You called the cops, didn’t you!” he yelled at you, pointing the knife at you menacingly.

Cops? What was he talking about?

“No, I didn’t,” you replied honestly.

“You BITCH! Don’t lie to me.” He waved the knife closer at you.

“I promise! I didn’t tell anyone!”

With a shout, the man grabbed your hair and held the knife to your neck again. You squeezed your eyes shut and couldn’t help but let a small whimper leave your lips.

The truth was you weren't just fired from your job. You were threatened. When numbers weren’t adding up, you realized that your boss was embezzling money and had been doing so for a long time. He found out that you knew the truth and protected himself by forcibly ousting you from the company. As a young professional, you knew better than to fight against a big shot financial executive. When he warned you to stay quiet or face his wrath, you were wise enough to shut your mouth, clean your desk, and leave the building immediately. True to your word, you had never mentioned your boss’s crimes to anyone. You thought you were safe to move on with the rest of your life but apparently, that was not the case.

The man spat at you before roughly kicking you away. He started pacing as you wiped his spit off your cheek with a disgusted groan.

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I’m about to lose everything. EVERYTHING!”

As he muttered to himself, you tried to survey your surroundings and determine if there was a way you could safely escape. Before you could figure anything out, your old boss approached you again, knife still in hand. He seemed to have made up his mind about what he was going to do.

“You’re going to fix this. Yea. This is your fault. I’ll pin it all on you. You’ll go down for this, not me!”

As the man ranted and raved at you, something appeared in the shadows behind him. There was some movement. You blinked your eyes, wondering if it was just a trick of your imagination. But to your horror, a green creature grew larger and larger in the background. It had three heads, each with multiple eyes and giant drooling mouths with huge teeth. The monster raised its multiple arms, hovering over your boss with all eyes fixed on him like he was a piece of prey.

“Scared, aren’t you?” the man commented with a chuckle. He was misinterpreting the horrified look on your face. “This is what you get for messing with the wrong man.”

You shook your head slowly and lifted a shaky finger to point behind him.

He turned around, dropping the knife in shock.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

Your boss screamed. He immediately tried to run away, but one of the monster’s arms snatched him in a tight grip. The three heads fought with each other as if deciding which one of them would get to swallow the prize. You took that as a cue to start running.

The monster was blocking the way you entered, so you ran towards the only other door you saw, which led to a stairwell. You ran up a couple of floors before hiding in a small closet you found. It was cramped and dusty but you hoped it was enough to hide you from that creature.

Sitting on the ground, you took out your phone shakily and called the police.

“Hello, what is your emergency?”

“I’m trapped in an abandoned building, and there’s a monster here.” You realized it sounded ridiculous, but you didn’t know what else to say in the moment.

The dispatcher groaned. “This is the last time! You kids have to stop with the prank calls. This line is for emergencies only!”

They hung up on you.

You stared at your cell phone in disbelief.

Shit.

Instinctively, you scrolled through your contacts list until you found who you were looking for. You pressed the call button.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

It went to voicemail.

You cursed to yourself again.

“Nanami,” you whispered quietly, voice quivering. “I don’t know when you’ll listen to this, but you have to believe me. I’m in an abandoned building near my job, and I swear there’s a monster here. I-I think it might have killed our old boss. I don’t know what to do, I tri—”

There was a loud bang. You quickly hung up and pressed the phone into your chest while you covered your mouth and nose with your other hand to quiet your harsh breathing. The sounds got closer and closer until it sounded like it was right outside the closet door. Your heart was beating so loudly you were worried the monster would hear it. But luckily, the noises started to become fainter. Eventually, you heard nothing even after a long time of terrified waiting.

Once you were reasonably convinced the coast was clear, you quietly opened the closet door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. Maybe this was your chance to finally escape the building.

You carefully climbed to your feet and tiptoed your way back to the stairwell.

Your phone loudly chimed. The noise echoed throughout the empty building. It was a text message from your coworker asking where you went. You had forgotten to turn your phone on silent.

Almost instantaneously, the monster started roaring from the floor beneath you. You barely caught a glimpse of it before running up the stairs again until you reached the top floor. Exiting the stairway, you ran through the hallways until you reached a dead end.

Back pressed up against the wall, you watched in horror as the monster let out a sharp laugh as it approached you. There was blood dripping out of the mouths of all three heads. You didn’t want to think about where it came from. With no other options left, you weakly held your arms up in front of your face and squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper.

Suddenly, there was an angry shout and a loud splat.

You felt some sort of liquid splash all over you. Lowering your arms, an unexpected sight greeted you. It was the body of the monster all chopped up into pieces. You realized you were covered in its blood.

Behind the monster’s corpse stood Nanami. He had a covered blade in his hand that was also stained with the creature’s purple blood.

“N-Nanami?” you whispered hoarsely.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Did he take down that monster? With a sword?

Nanami wiped the blood off his weapon, putting it away in its holster. He approached you as you shuddered violently, still in shock.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

You shook your head no, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He kneeled down in front of you, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the droplets of blood from your face.

“What was that thing?” you whispered.

Nanami sighed, twisting the handkerchief in his hands once your face was relatively clean.

“A curse.”

You gave him a confused look.

“It’s a long explanation.”

“Yo!”

You flinched as Gojo suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the hallway. You instinctively grabbed onto Nanami’s arm in fear. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer in anger for startling you.

“Oh, you’re already done here? I thought I’d check up on you two to make sure everything’s okay.”

First, your boss had threatened you with a knife. Then, a giant monster, no, curse appeared and attacked both of you. Nanami killed said curse. And now Gojo had appeared out of thin air. Your brain was officially broken. You just wanted to go to sleep. Surely this had to be a dream. You would wake up and everything would be normal again.

“We should probably bring her to Shoko just to make sure she’s fine and clean her up,” Gojo said, observing how your eyes were starting to glaze over.

Nanami nodded in agreement. He lightly touched your shoulder, but you hardly reacted. He said your name quietly. Blinking slowly, you finally turned to acknowledge him. “I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“I know,” Nanami said gently. He picked you up in his arms. “You can go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” With a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

You woke up in a small room, tucked under the covers in a warm bed. Nanami was silently sitting in a chair next to you. You let out a deep breath and turned towards the man. The rustling of the covers alerted him that you were finally awake.

“Why was the boss with you?” Nanami asked suddenly.

So it wasn't a dream.

“Oh. He was trying to threaten me,” you explained. “I didn’t lose my job because I made a mistake. I found out he was embezzling money. He said the cops were starting to question him, so he accused me of reporting him.”

Nanami clenched his fists in anger. That bastard.

“Is he alive?” you asked.

“No.”

“I figured.”

You quietly observed Nanami. He had taken off his sunglasses and blazer. You admired his wide shoulders and the way his tie was slightly loosened.

“Nanami. What do you actually do?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You gripped the covers. “Why not?”

“Because,” Nanami sighed. “It’s a dangerous profession. You don’t need to be dragged into this world for no good reason.”

“What do you mean?” You didn’t understand what he was saying. “I do have a reason. It’s you.”

The man didn’t respond.

You sat up in bed suddenly. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Gojo.” You started to climb out of bed, but Nanami stopped you.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you. Sit back down.” He let out of a deep breath, rubbing his face.

You silently listened as Nanami discussed the existence of curses, the theories behind cursed energy, and the role of jujutsu sorcerers. He explained how the school’s true purpose was to train the next generation of sorcerers and act as the main headquarters for all jujutsu-related activities.

You only asked one question. “Why was I able to see that curse?”

“Regular humans can see them in life or death situations.”

“I see.”

Nanami was surprised at your reaction to learning about cursed spirits thus far. He expected you to ask more questions, to be more doubtful, to laugh and call him an idiot, or to scream and accuse him of being crazy. But you did none of those things. You just listened quietly and accepted everything he said as true.

In your heart, you knew there was no reason to doubt Nanami. You were trying to wrap your brain around the existence of curses you couldn’t see, but you didn’t consider that the sorcerer was lying to you for a single second. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Nanami abruptly stood up. “Ijichi will drive you back home.” He started to walk away from you, but you quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, don’t go,” you pleaded, eyes wide. “I haven’t thanked you for saving me yet. Thank you, Nanami.” You didn't want him to leave you. Not yet. You didn't want to be alone.

The sorcerer refused to look at you. “I think it’s best if you kept your distance from Gojo, me, and this school.”

“What?” you breathed. “What are you saying? I-I won’t tell anyone about curses or that you’re a sorcerer if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise.”

“That’s not it. I already told you. This world is dangerous. You should stay away.” He paused. “Stay away from me.”

You flinched, releasing Nanami’s wrist. The sorcerer walked out of the room without another word. You didn’t call out after him.

As Nanami walked away, he knew he made the right decision. There was no reason for you to get involved with the jujutsu world. He wanted you to live a normal life, not one plagued by constant death and despair. He was doing this for you. For your future and your safety.

“It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

Gojo’s words echoed in his mind.

No. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. It wasn’t right for him to drag you into his world. He should be happy. Happy that you would eventually move on and live a long, successful life.

But why did he feel so sad instead?

---

Numerous opened textbooks and notebooks were scattered around you on your bed. You had an upcoming exam at the end of next week and were in the midst of cramming a semester’s worth of information in your head.

There was a knock on the door.

You frowned, carefully getting off the bed and walking over to the door. You weren’t expecting any visitors or a delivery today. Looking through the peephole, you gasped. You clutched your hands against your chest, trying to calm your frantically beating heart.

What was he doing here?

You hadn’t talked to or seen Nanami since your last conversation with him at Jujutsu Tech. And that hadn't ended well. You respected his request to stay away from him and Gojo, making no attempts to contact either of the two sorcerers. Instead, you had thrown yourself into your schoolwork and picked up some extra shifts at the boba shop. The less free time you had to think about your emotions, the better.

But now the man who still weighed heavily on your heart was at your doorstep. You wondered whether or not to pretend you weren’t home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away. He had clearly come here for a good reason and you wanted to know why, especially because he was the one that told you to keep your distance from him.

You unlocked the door and opened it slightly.

“Nanami.”

He said your name quietly.

The two of you looked at each other in complete silence. You waited for him to say something, but the man just continued to stand there without a word.

“Umm, well, I have an exam I need to study for, so if you have nothing to say I’m just going to g—”

Nanami suddenly pushed the door open wider, shoving you into your apartment. You stood there in shock as the door slammed shut behind the sorcerer. His unusually aggressive behavior had you baffled.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked sharply. The man told you to leave him alone but then showed up at your apartment and invited himself inside without a word. You couldn’t help but feel a little irritated. “What are you do— mmph!”

Nanami had pushed you against the wall and kissed you.

You froze in surprise for a second before immediately kissing him back fervently.

One of his hands had settled on your waist while the other was pressed against the wall by your head. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed him closer to you, unable to get enough of this man. Nanami eventually left your lips, causing you to groan in frustration before he attacked your neck with wet kisses. You panted heavily, brain suddenly fuzzy as you tried to process that this was actually happening.

“W-what happened to staying away?” you breathed as Nanami sucked on a particularly sensitive spot that left you weak.

“I changed my mind,” he muttered against your skin before continuing to attack your neck.

After Itadori had saved him from Mahito’s domain, Nanami realized he had been given a second chance. He didn’t want to live a life without regret, especially as a sorcerer. So he decided to heed Gojo’s advice for once.

He wanted to be a little selfish.

He wanted you.

Nanami pressed his forehead against yours as he rubbed his hands up and down your soft curves. You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath as you got lost in his dark gaze.

“Bedroom,” you whispered. Nanami nodded and quickly released you, so you could guide him to your room.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, you inwardly cursed. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten what you had been doing before Nanami arrived. “Uh, sorry, let me clean up real quick.”

What a way to kill the mood!

Nanami didn’t seem to mind. He looked fairly amused as you swiftly closed all the books on your bed and haphazardly tossed them on the ground. Once the bed was finally cleared, you turned around to face Nanami, but he was already one step ahead of you. He gently pushed you on the bed, so you landed on your back as he hovered over you. Your breath caught in your throat as you admired the man in front of you. He was absolutely perfect.

Nanami played with the hem of your shirt. Taking the hint, you sat up a little and swiftly removed your shirt and bra, throwing them in the corner of your room. Nanami let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you took in your body. You fought the urge to cover yourself, feeling slightly embarrassed at how intensely the man was looking at you.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed as you flushed in response. He reached out with both his hands to start kneading your breasts. You moaned as he began playing with your nipples that were already hard from excitement. Nanami removed his hand from your left breast and replaced it with his mouth. You squirmed underneath him in pleasure as he lapped and sucked on your nipple. Once he was satisfied with his work, the sorcerer switched to your other breast to give it the same treatment. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel electricity run through your body. You only craved his touch more and more.

Nanami started kissing down the valley of your breasts to your stomach. He eventually reached the hem of your shorts. “May I?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice at the moment.

As he started tugging down your shorts, you lifted your hips to assist him. The garment was carelessly tossed to the ground. Immediately, Nanami could see how soaked your underwear was with your own arousal. His dick twitched in his pants. The sight of you so wet and eager from his touch alone only heightened his lust for you.

You practically sighed in relief when Nanami removed your underwear, fully exposing yourself to him. The heat from your core was overwhelming. You needed him to touch you and relieve some of that pressure before you lost your mind. A single finger stroked your folds, already slick with arousal. You gasped while Nanami groaned, enjoying how wet you already were for him.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re like this already,” Nanami teased. You panted, trying to grind yourself on his hand for more friction, more pressure, more anything. He chuckled seeing how desperate you were for his touch. The sorcerer finally reached your swollen nub and rubbed it leisurely. You immediately cried out, arching your hips into man’s touch.

“Fuck,” you cursed as pleasure surged throughout your veins. Your eyes were squeezed tight as Nanami continued to play with your clit. You were so distracted by his fingers that you barely registered the hot breath near your entrance. It was only when a wet tongue began to prod into you that you realized what was happening.

With a gasp, your eyes flew upon to see Nanami’s head comfortably settled between your legs as he licked at your cunt without restraint. The sight of him eating you out only stoked the raging fire inside you. You buried one of your hands in Nanami’s hair as he worked diligently to get you off. The way he lapped at your fluids and sucked at your entrance had you moaning and quivering uncontrollably.

“You taste so good,” he groaned against your folds as you barely registered his words.

A familiar pressure was building in your body. As it got stronger and stronger, you couldn’t stop your legs from thrashing about. With a growl, Nanami locked his arms around your legs to keep them as still. It only took a gentle suck to your swollen clit for the tension in your body to finally snap. Mouth opened wide in a silent scream, you writhed around on the bed as you finally reached your peak.

Your mind was completely emptied while white-hot pleasure overtook your entire body. You swore you could see stars behind your eyes. As you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, Nanami eagerly slurped up your release, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

Once you came down from your high, you released Nanami’s hair and laid back on the bed with a sigh. He removed himself from between your legs. Your fluids still covered his face, and his normally styled hair was a complete mess from your grip. Just the sight of him was enough to cause another spark of desire to flare between your legs. This man was going to be the death of you.

“Holy fuck, Nanami,” you breathed.

“Kento,” he replied, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. “Call me Kento.”

You flushed. Saying his first name felt incredibly intimate.

“Kento.”

He grunted with approval and then began to unbutton his shirt. You licked your lips as his broad shoulders and wide chest were finally revealed to you. He was incredibly well-built with defined muscles and abs, but a number of scars littered his body. Some looked quite fresh while others were old and almost completely faded.

This was the body of a jujutsu sorcerer.

You now understood why Nanami warned you that the jujutsu world was unsafe. You couldn’t imagine the suffering behind all those wounds. Perhaps one day he would be willing to share his pain with you, so you could understand his world.

You wanted to rub your hands up and down Nanami’s bare chest, but he moved out of your reach to start fiddling with his belt. Eyes lowering, you swallowed nervously as you stared at the large bulge that greeted you. Nanami slid down his pants and underwear in one go, erect cock finally released from its confines and bobbing in the air slightly.

The sight of him was both mouthwatering and intimidating. You admired the bulging veins and the bits of pre-cum that were already leaking out from the tip. He wasn’t excessively long, but he was incredibly thick. You nervously wondered if you would be able to handle his impressive girth.

You wanted to touch and taste him, but Nanami wasn’t interested. He gently pushed away your eager hands and instead spread open your legs once again. At the moment, he was more concerned about prepping you than chasing after his own pleasure.

He pressed one finger into your entrance, groaning as your walls greedily sucked him inside. You gasped, clenching around him. With how easily you were able to take one finger, Nanami slipped a second into you. It didn’t hurt, but you could feel your cunt stretching around them as they thrust in and out of you. Nanami’s fingers were so thick and long that you already felt so full.

“You’re so tight,” Nanami hissed as you got lost in pleasure once again. He pushed those two fingers in and out of you, occasionally scissoring them to loosen you up. You could hear how wet you were as he continued prepping you to take his cock. Nanami moved his fingers at just the right angle to hit a spot that had you instantly moaning and clenching around him. But he suddenly removed himself from you which had you whining at the sudden loss of contact, feeling empty. However, you stopped complaining as you watched Nanami stroke his dick, spreading your fluids and his pre-cum all over himself.

“Are you on birth control or do I need a con—”

“I’m on birth control,” you cut him off impatiently. “Hurry up. I want you inside me.”

Nanami didn’t keep you waiting much longer. He lined himself at your entrance and slowly began to push in. It wasn’t painful, but you still gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate his girth. The sorcerer immediately cursed when his tip entered you. You were so hot and tight around his cock that it took all his self-restraint not to immediately ram his full length into you. With slow, shallow strokes, you were able to accommodate more and more until his entire cock was buried inside you.

You felt so incredibly full. Your hand gripped the blanket on your bed to anchor yourself as you tried to get used to the sensation of being stuffed with Nanami’s dick. He tried to remain still above you, waiting for your signal. Eventually, you met his gaze and gave a little nod. He sweetly kissed you on the lips before he started to move.

Nanami started at a slow pace afraid to hurt you at first, but he eventually settled into a rhythm that had you moaning his name over and over again. You were so wet that he slid in and out of you effortlessly, rubbing against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars again. You had wrapped your legs against his waist, allowing him to enter you even deeper.

You were almost babbling nonsense at this point, unaware of exactly what you were saying as your mind was just consumed by pleasure. “Fuck. Kento. You’re so big,” you whined. “Faster. Harder. D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Nanami adjusted the angle of his thrusts until he finally found the spot that had you gasping and clenching down on him again. He groaned, making sure to continue hitting the same exact spot with strong, fast thrusts at just the right tempo. “You’re so perfect. Looking at you, taking my cock so well,” he growled.

The pressure was building again. Everything was so overwhelming. The lewd, wet noises of your bodies moving together. The way Nanami growled praises of you in your ear. The muscles on his back rippling with exertion underneath your wandering hands. You just needed that one final push.

One of your hands sneaked down to rub your clit, but Nanami pushed it away and pressed his thumb against your swollen nub instead. Just a couple of strokes had you reaching your peak again. You clenched down so hard around Nanami that his hips stuttered, groaning loudly in your ear. You were completely consumed by wave after wave of pleasure. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t hear. You couldn’t see. All you could register was the pure bliss that racked your entire body, leaving you gasping and shuddering.

Nanami continued to fuck you through your orgasm, ramming his cock into you over and over again. His thrusts had become more frantic and uneven, chasing his own climax after you started to come down from yours.

“Where should I cum?” he groaned with gritted teeth.

You wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to you.

“Cum inside me,” you panted against his ear.

He groaned. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

With a couple of more thrusts, Nanami completely buried himself inside you when he flooded your cunt with his cum. He remained inside for several more moments to catch his breath before finally removing himself from you. You slightly winced as his cock brushed past your sensitive walls. Nanami couldn’t help but admire the way his cum slowly dribbled out of you.

He laid down next to you as you both began to calm down. No words were needed between the two of you. The silence was comfortable as you cuddled against his chest. Nanami rubbed your back absentmindedly as you hummed in delight.

Eventually, the two of you got out of bed and cleaned up. The textbooks and notebooks haphazardly thrown on your floor were ignored for the rest of the day. You thought you deserved a break anyways. The two of you ate dinner together, cuddled on the couch while watching a movie, and went at it again for another round before settling down to go to sleep.

You were passed out next to Nanami, completely worn out from the day’s activities and normal sleep deprivation you had as a student. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the tiny apartment. It strangely calmed Nanami just listening to you. He turned towards you and stroked your hair affectionately.

A part of Nanami still worried if he had made the right choice with you. He was still concerned about your safety and well-being. Would he only bring you more grief if you constantly agonized over his dangerous missions as a jujutsu sorcerer?

He let out a quiet sigh. He knew he would have regretted it if he continued to push you away. And if he was going to be a sorcerer, he wanted to be a sorcerer with no regrets.

Nanami only hoped that he would never cause you any pain and anguish because of his profession. It was rare for sorcerers and non-sorcerers to find happiness as a couple. But perhaps the two of you would be an exception.

He prayed the two of you would be an exception.

---

“Welcome! How may I help y—oh!” You blinked in surprise as three individuals walked into the small boba shop.

Gojo waved at you with an easy grin. Nanami stood next to him as handsome and stoic as ever, but there was a new face behind them. He looked like a high schooler.

The blindfolded teacher wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulder and pointed at him. “Meet Yuji Itadori! One of our first-year students!”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said introducing yourself.

The boy tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “How do you know Gojo-sensei and Nanamin?”

Nanamin?

You chuckled at the cute nickname.

“I told you to stop calling me that, Itadori,” Nanami replied, clearly bothered.

“Well, I’m…” you hesitated. You didn’t know what to say. A friend? An ex-coworker? A normal person who couldn't see curses but knew about their existence?

“She’s Nanami’s girlfriend!” Gojo exclaimed to your horror. You immediately flushed and looked to Nanami for him to clarify, but he didn’t react. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer as per usual but didn’t refute the statement. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammered. “I guess I am.”

“Nanamin has a girlfriend!?” Itadori gasped. He had even more respect for his mentor now.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Nanami growled much to your amusement.

You took their orders and began to prepare the drinks. Nanami and Idatori were talking in the corner while Gojo hung out at the counter near you. You had just finished sealing the drinks when the teacher explained something to you.

“Oh, by the way, Yuji is supposed to be dead so be sure to not mention his existence to anyone else.”

You almost dropped the drink you were holding. “Um, okay.” You thought it was better not to ask questions.

Gojo thanked you as he took his drink from your hand and grabbed a straw for himself. “Yo! Nanami! Yuji! Grab your drinks and let’s head out!”

Itadori followed Gojo out the door once he had his milk tea, but Nanami stayed behind.

“I meant it.”

“Huh?” you asked, cleaning the counter with a rag.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked, processing his words. A bright smile grew on your face. “Well, according to Gojo, I’m already your girlfriend.”

Nanami let out a rare chuckle and flashed you a small smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye!” You waved as he left the shop.

Your coworker came out of the back room, looking at you suspiciously. “Why are you so smiley?” She looked around the empty shop. “There’s no one here.”

“Oh, no reason," you replied with a hum.

#nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #mine #n/sfw

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

amortentia

↳year six potions class was never particularly exciting to you- as a Slytherin with much more interest in Transfiguration- but alas, it’s required to graduate. You thought the class couldn’t be any more of an inconvenience, but upon being paired with infamous Gryffindor Beomgyu, you find yourself proven wrong.

➤ gryffindor!beomgyu xslytherin!reader, harry potter!au, enemies to lovers, a little slow burn, fluff

Word Count: ~11k

Requested?: kinda? anon requested a Beomgyu oneshot with no specifics and I spit this out of some depraved, Harry Potter obsessed corner of my mind.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, usual e2l arguments, swearing, usual Gryffindor-Slytherin insults and tension

A/N: I hope the anon who asked for a Beomgyu oneshot is happy with this!! I finally felt like I had enough time to write a proper hogwarts au so here it is! Also I purposely avoided using any professor names that are clearly linked with the actual Harry Potter series purely because of timeline continuity! Bonus points if you can guess who Georgiana is related to before I point it out :) ALSO this is so long and I feel so rusty so I hope it’s okay lmao

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The sound of your quill scratching against parchment filled your quiet corner of the common room, allowing you a feeling of solidarity and peace you’d been craving since you arrived back to the castle a few days ago. Of course you’d been excited to be back, sharing the meal in the Great Hall with all of your friends happily as you watched the wide-eyed first years get sorted into their houses. It was hard to believe that 6 years ago that had been you waiting to find your place within the walls of Hogwarts.

As always, the buzz of the beginning of a new year wore on your nerves. Despite your love for your friends, their energy was- in your opinion- completely draining. You much preferred the moments of quiet serenity that the stone laden dungeon common room afforded you. The last few embers of a fire lit hours before winked at you from across the room, tempting you to raise your wand and reignite them. After a moment you decided against the movement, as you were presumably the only one awake at this hour and the light of the cedar scented candle you’d brought down with you from your suitcase provided enough light for you anyway.

The scratch of your quill stilled as you flipped to the next page, careful not to accidentally bend the corners of the book you’d just purchased. Several detailed diagrams detailed the process of transfiguring plants to inanimate objects to animals then back to plants and you felt your heart swell with excitement. Transfiguration was hands down your favorite subject, and you’d been craving to learn this process in particular since it had been mentioned offhandedly in class last year. You scrambled to pick up your quill, happy that you’d splurged for the instantly refilling model as ink flowed flawlessly against the parchment.

A sudden crash from the entrance of the common room popped your comfortable bubble of silence harshly as you clambered for your wand.

“Who’s there?” You yelled, annoyance and surprise mixing to raise your voice considerably. For a moment you heard nothing as you advanced closer to the door, keeping the three wide stone steps between you and who- or what- ever was behind the door. The door shook a few times before finally flying open, revealing three very normal looking boys stumbling through the threshold. They were all hanging on one another, stumbling over their feet as they pushed into the common room. You recognized the one in the middle instantly as Choi Yeonjun, fellow Slytherin and current Head Boy of the house. He was a year older than you but you knew him well for his infectious laughter and notoriously good grades despite never studying. His cheeks were flushed and his feet unsteady, but he held a charming grin through it all. The identity of whoever was supporting him on the left was a mystery to you, but the boy supporting him from the right sent alarm bells off in your head.

“Beomgyu?” Your voice left you before you could rein yourself in, and you would have cringed had it not been for the hatred brewing under your skin. Here he was, the one person you tried to forget existed every single summer. And he had been part of the ruckus that pulled you from your reading. He didn’t say anything as the three boys stumbled past you, dumping Yeonjun onto one of the soft black leather sofas.

“Hello?” You felt like you were in some kind of time warp, somehow totally invisible to the three of them as they sorted themselves out; Beomgyu and the other boy straightening out their clothing and Yeonjun lolling his head back on the cushions with a content sigh.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Beomgyu finally drawled, sticking his hands in the front pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his robes, layered over a sensible gray wool sweater and black uniform slacks. His striped red and gold tie hung off of his neck slightly, obviously having been loosened at some point in the night. He donned the same Head Boy pin Yeonjun did, but in the same colorway as his robes and tie. Loud, obnoxious, attention seeking red and gold.

“Hey? How about instead of “hey” you tell me why the hell you’re barging into my common room at some ungodly hour of the night! Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Head Boy?” The unidentified boy behind him froze as his eyes widened, apparently feeling the sting of your icy words much more than Beomgyu. He just lifted a lazy eyebrow, guiding his annoyingly confident gaze over your body. Fucking Gryffindors and their confidence. It was suffocating.

“Well you see, Y/N. Yeonjun here can’t handle his fire whiskey for shit, and we were all just having a little start of the year party in the Room of Requirement. So me and my friend here,” he motioned vaguely to the cowering boy behind him- who you now noticed looked like he had just entered his fourth year- “decided to be so kind as to bring him back.”

You said nothing for a moment; simply simmering in your hatred for him until he spoke again.

“By the way, what are you even doing up so late? You’re not a prefect...so shouldn’t you be up in bed like the rest of your little friends? What’s so secretive that you have to be up in the middle of the night for it? Are you doing something...evil?” He leaned forward, closing the gap between the two of you and bringing his mouth level with your ear. You cringed at the closeness, clenching your hands into fists until the crescents of your nails indented your skin. His voice had lowered like he was telling a secret, as if Gryffindors even had the capacity for maintaining privacy. “Are you being naughty?”

You huffed indignantly, finally finding the strength to shove his shoulder away harshly. The skin of your cheeks was certainly flamed, but you hoped he would chalk it up to annoyance and not the intoxicating scent of his woody cologne.

“If you must know, I was up studying Transfiguration. I was trying to enjoy some piece and quiet until you came busting in.”

Beomgyu stepped around you and made his way for the table you’d previously been sitting at. To your delight he refrained from touching anything, but he stared at the set up for so excruciatingly long that the mystery boy awkwardly slipped out of the dungeon without a word.

“We start classes in about 5 hours,” he suddenly remarked. His voice made you jump a bit, since you’d become used to the regained quiet. “Why the hell are you already studying? And a subject we’ve all already taken? Any other Transfiguration courses would just be electives, and with how much you care for your class standing I would have assumed you’d be learning ahead on Potions.”

“Well first of all, I’m not exactly studying. I’m just reading. I bought the book myself because I-” you stopped and heaved a sigh at the scrunch of his eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t understanding the concept of reading just for the fun of it. “I’m not studying for Potions because I despite it. Plus, how much is there to study? The book literally spells out every ingredient and procedure. There’s no thinking to be done, and hardly any magic.” Beomgyu’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline comically.

“Hardly any magic? My god, maybe I was right to peg you as the pessimistic type. Must be hard to feel anything akin to hope down here in your-” he glanced around your common room again, eyes catching on the darkened green and black decorations, the window offering a view of the sparkling Black Lake shrouded with pine trees. “In your dungeon.”

His use of the word bothered you greatly. Even though you knew it was geographically true and had even used it yourself; something about him coming in unannounced and uninvited to insult your home inspired fresh anger in your stomach.

“Get out,” you spat, ignoring the way a half-dozed Yeonjun jumped at your voice. With all your might you pushed at Beomgyu’s broad shoulders, willing him out of your sight for at least a few more hours.

“Oof, must have hit a nerve there, huh?” He continued to speak casually as you pushed him, walking backwards up the steps with an annoyingly perfect accuracy. Once he was finally stood in the threshold of the heavy door you heaved a sigh of relief as you swing it closed.

“Bye bye! Don’t ever fucking come back!”

——

You only managed about two hours of sleep after the Beomgyu drama, but luckily for you the three other sixth year girls you were rooming with had been smart enough to buy and stash away some caffeine potions. They had none of the enjoyable taste of coffee but three times the effect, and soon you felt back in top shape to head to class.

Pushing through the masses of clambering students with a practice eased, you caught up to the familiar frame of Georgiana, one of your oldest friends. She was a Ravenclaw, but you’d ridden together on your very first trip on the Hogwarts Express and stayed close friends since then. She greeted you easily, giving you an award winning smile as she pulled you by the arm of the robes to sit on one of the surprisingly empty stone benches lining the halls.

“Let me see your schedule!” She had to yell just to be heard over the mumbling of the crowd, but you heard her well enough to produce a folded piece of parchment that you carried despite having memorized it. Georgiana’s eyes flitted over it carefully, comparing it to her own schedule which laid open on her lap.

“We’ve got...Herbology 3,” she ran her finger down the parchments a few more inches, “Transfiguration of Aquatics...and NEWT prep together!” You groaned loudly, a feeling of anxiety weighing down your bones as you rubbed your fingertips into your temples.

“What’s up with you? Over me already?” She giggled, leaning back against the wall and handing you back your schedule.

“No, it’s just...if you’re the second class for Herb 3, Aquatics and NEWT prep, that means I have to pray that the second house in Potions isn’t Gryffindor.” You leaned back against the cool wall next to her, pouting in self pity until you saw the grim look on her face.

“What?” You sat up straight again as if a fire had been lit under your ass. Georgiana looked as if she was holding in a laugh and a grimace at the same time while you begged her to give up whatever information she was holding back from you. Her hand hovered over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wavering smirk running across her lips.

“Okay, don’t freak out.” She began, placing a hand on your knee.

“Well now I’m definitely going to since you lead with don’t freak out! Should I freak out? What about?”

“I already compared schedules with Soobin,” she said gently.

“Okay, and?” You knew of the sweet Hufflepuff, had sat next to him in a few classes and seen him hanging out with Yeonjun on occasion, but still had no idea why she was bringing him up now.

“And him and I have Potions together.” In the split second it took for the words to process you saw her flinch, clutching at the fabric of her robes over her chest in anticipation for your angry outburst.

“Of course! Of course I have to get stuck with them for Potions class, out of all the other houses. Merlin really has it out for lately you know, I didn’t sleep very much last night, had to pay Melinda 10 galleons for one of her caffeine potions-“

“I can tell,” Georgiana supplied. You grimaced at her and immediately shut your mouth, sensing your rapid talking was quickly becoming over the top.

“Georgie, if I have Potions with him-“ you didn’t even have to specify who you were speaking of before she was rolling her green eyes into her head.

“If you have Potions with Beomgyu, you just need to ignore him. He loves to push your buttons, Y/N. When will you realize that? And you push his back and you both get a good cat-and-mouse feeling that every teenager wants. Maybe if you stop entertaining it, he’ll take it easy on you. Need I remind you of the time you were actually friends with him? Didn’t swear he was the spawn of Satan after every conversation? I even remember in second year when you had a crush on him and made me-“

“Okay!” You replied curtly, gathering your books and parchment back into your arms. “I’m going now! Class starts in,” you pulled back your robe sleeve to look at a watch that clearly was not there, “10 minutes, and I like to be early!” Easily, you slipped into the throngs of students, leaving Georgiana behind with a sly grin on her face.

——

You arrived to the Potions room before any other student, forcing you to idle awkwardly in the small space between the door and the first brewing station. A few of the cauldrons bubbled idly, breaking up the silence of the room with the low hum of white noise. The arched ceilings only amplified the absence of noise- even the never ending buzz of students passing through the hallways was somehow muffled to silence inside the walls.

“Ah!” The professor bellowed, waving at you from the opposite end of the room where he had been straightening out some piles of parchment that you could only assume were homework papers. “Hello there, you must be quite eager to start the day!” You could feel the skin of the back of your neck heating up as the rotund man approached you gleefully.

“Oh, um, yes sir. You could say that...” you mumbled, clutching your stack of books to your chest protectively. The man smiled at you kindly but you could still feel the heavy weight of awkwardness seeping into your bones. He opened his mouth again- making another attempt at small talk to which you cringed. As much as you respected the professor on the basis of his knowledge, your ability for any small talk, especially Potions related, was extremely lacking.

“You must’ve done quite well on your OWLS to be here, yes? Only those with the highest scores can be registered. The class can be quite challenging, but if you’ve got your affairs in order I reckon you’ll fine.” He paused, likely sensing the blankness behind your stare as you nodded politely. “Ah, all things you already know I’m sure. Are you excited to get started with the class?”

You frowned, holding back your natural instinct for brutal honesty. How on earth could you let this gentle old man down gently?

“Of course she’s excited! Aren’t we all?” Beomgyu was in the room now, apparently, approaching you from behind and slinging an arm around your shoulders. The loose fabric of his sleeve collided with the side of your face, blinding you for a second. You stumbled on your feet from the jostle, trying to shrug away from the warmth and overwhelming scent of his cologne. Beomgyu never was aware of his own strength as he held you steadily against his side as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

“Oh my! So nice to see such great friends between different houses! Back in my day, as I’m sure you know, there was so much hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins...never would have seen a pair of friends like the two of you!” The professor seemed genuinely delighted, oblivious to the way you tried to wiggle out of Beomgyu’s hold. You offered the professor a plastic smile as more students filed in. As soon as the portly man was otherwise occupied, you stomped the heel of your sneaker into Beomgyu’s foot with all the might you could gather.

“Merlin, ouch!” He recoiled immediately, withdrawing his arm from around your frame to clutch at the foot you’d hopefully bruised. “I’ve got Quidditch practice after lunch today! How dare you!”

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t need your feet for Quidditch, Choi. Serves you right for violating my personal space. Next time it’ll be worse than your fucking toes.” You hissed the words lowly, just enough that he would be able to hear them but without alerting your nearby classmates.

“You two, there!” The professor suddenly exclaimed, making you jump out of your stupor to see he was pointed an aged finger at you and Beomgyu. “Since you were first in and seem to get along, I’ll have you be partners on Station 1.” A few confused whispers passed through the classmates behind you and your face fell at the implication. Potions partners with Beomgyu? For the whole year?

He seemed similarly stalled, not moving a single inch away from the front of the room until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

“Right, sir, of course,” Beomgyu nodded, rushing over to the furthest of the high-top tables; unsuccessfully trying to hide the pain of his newfound limp. With a satisfied feeling in your chest you followed closely behind, finally unloading the weight of the books in your arms onto the table.

——

“How much worse could it get?” You groaned, laying your head in your arms at the dining table.

“Well, you could be sick, or failing a class, or not have any friends, or have lost your books. Hell, let’s not forget what it must have been like to go to school here at the same time as Harry Potter. I mean, no final exams for a few years, but at what cost? Grandpa Ron always tells me about-”

“Oh, good Merlin, Georgie, that’s not what I meant.” You picked your head up from the table and scanned the bustling hall. A large plate of sandwiches laid in front of you but your appetite was diminished in the presence of your stress. “I mean, how fucked is it that I have to spend every first period for the rest of the year brewing Potions alongside Choi? It’s bad enough that I hate Potions already, and now I’ll have to deal with his stupid, righteous, Slytherin-slandering ass!” You slammed your hand into the wooden table, shaking the plates and glasses near you under the force.

“Careful there,” Georgiana scolded around a mouthful of bread. “Just keep your head down, don’t react to him like you always do,” she paused to gulp down a sip of pumpkin juice, “he’ll give up eventually.” You heaved a heavy sigh, propping your chin onto the palm of your hand and scanning the Great Hall. Masses of students bustled around, sharing meals and laughing or gathering over homework problems. You weren’t quite sure who or what you were looking for, but all you found was a rowdy group of forth year boys sitting atop one of the tables, casting small hexes at one another and their lunches. You rolled your eyes at their antics before resigning to picking at the few fries on your plate.

“And if he doesn’t?” You mumbled, casting a pointed glare at a seemingly distracted Georgiana. It took her a second to shift her gaze back to your face, clearing her throat as she narrowed her eyes towards you.

“Sorry?” She asked, pulling a section of crust off of the third sandwich she’d picked up off of the platter.

“If he doesn’t give up? What am I supposed to do then?” The thought of living out the next two school years with Choi Beomgyu as a constant annoyance settled a pit of rage in your stomach. Georgiana was quiet for a moment, flicking a few locks of curled, fiery hair over her shoulder.

“Then you get back at him.” She shrugged. “You know you get a discount at the joke shop. Just go down there and pick up some puking pastilles or something.” She looked up again suddenly, eyes shimmering and focused intently on something behind you. Out of curiosity you turned on the spot, wondering if there was something of interest outside of the window, only to be met with the sight of Soobin standing mere feet away, hand stalled mid-wave. It didn’t take a genius to notice that the Hufflepuff was staring intently at your best friend, and she was happily returning the sentiment with a goofy grin on her face. You whipped back around to face her, leaning across the table as if the action would provide any secrecy with him so close.

“Are you and Soobin...” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she swatted at your shoulder. Her cheeks blushed rosy as she whispered back, “He asked me if I’d want to hang out when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Her voice shook as she spoke but you frowned instantly. Of course you were happy that he had finally manned up and the two of them were on the way to something akin to a date, but...

“First weekend Hogsmeade is our tradition!” You shouted, abandoning any secrecy you might have thought you’d maintained from Soobin.

“Y/N, please!” Georgiana hissed, glancing up at Soobin with an apologetic smile. “Just once. You can still come along, maybe you can bring someone too?” She offered, trying to placate your irritation. Her eyes continued sliding between you and Soobin as she waited for your response. You sank back onto the bench quietly, arms crossed over your chest.

“Fine.” You sighed. “I guess I can try to think of someone.” Georgiana’s face lit up as she stood from her seat and gathered her books back under her arm. She rounded the end of the table quickly, meeting up with Soobin just behind you. “Don’t think I’m not still irritated, Weasley!” You yelled after her even though she had turned her back to you. She stalled in her lockstep next to Soobin just long enough to turn her head and throw you a middle finger.

——

The day of your Hogsmeade visit came quicker than you anticipated, and of course you’d failed to find someone to fill the empty spot that would prevent you from third wheeling. Everyone you asked had either been otherwise busy, sick, or already going into Hogsmeade with other friends.

Georgiana, being the wonderful friend she was, made sure that you hadn’t felt left out on the walk into the village. Soobin was surprisingly good at keeping conversation despite his shy appearance, and the three of you had managed to share lunch and a few Butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks before Georgiana began giving you pointed glances. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recognize what her hand signals and mouthed words were conveying, but once you did you had excused yourself to wander the shops alone in a bid to give the lovebirds some privacy.

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, and as such the streets were lined with witches and wizards of all ages. Large throngs of students and families passed you by, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit like a fish swimming upstream as everyone pushed by. When you’d first stepped out you felt odd walking the cobbled street alone, considering you’d never made a solo trip to Hogsmeade for as long as you’d lived. Something about it was quite relaxing, though, as you realized you could enter any store and stay for any amount of time.

Once you’d wrestled your way through another group of oncoming students, you spotted an endearing baby blue storefront with deserts on display in the window. Many of them appeared to be muggle creations, and your mouth watered as you caught sight of a tray of fudgy brownies with a thick layer of chocolate icing. Your eyes had always been bigger than your stomach; so despite the fact that you’d just had lunch you find yourself stepping into the sweet smelling shop. An expansion charm helped stretch the store far beyond its dainty storefront, and you were met with the sight of even more display cases and tiered plates full of sweets.

A few other wizards mulled around the store, debating which treats to pick up and pack into the little green pastry boxes which were stacked at the entrance in a never ending supply. You balanced one of your own between your hands as you gathered up treats, sure to grab three of the very brownies that had brought you in to begin with. You packed in a few cookies that you found on a shelf near the back of the store and began to weigh your options between purchasing what appeared to be a type of muggle cake with specs of color floating about the white batter or a more familiar looking pumpkin pastry dusted with powdered sugar. You contemplated the two deserts for an amount of time that would have been embarrassing if you were in the presence of company.

“Wrackspurts on the brain?” A rush of hot breath inches away from the shell of your ear had you reeling, clutching your box of precious deserts to your chest. Of course you’d immediately identified the voice; you were just hoping that you were wrong as you shot daggers into the boy who’d spooked you. Beomgyu looked beyond pleased with himself: a hand cocked on his hip, fake glasses perched at the very end of his nose to perfectly top off the outfit he’d chosen. His robes hung open, one shoulder almost devoid of the fabric as it drooped onto his back. The maroon turtleneck he wore struck a perfect contrast with the golden undertones of his skin and matched impressively well to the emblem on his robes. He had tucked the turtleneck into the waistband of a pair of light wash jeans that made it hard not to marvel at the shape of his waist. The scent of his cologne was faint, overpowered by the sweetness of the shop, but you were picking up overwhelming scents of-

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” He scrunched his nose as he studied you, waving gingerly like you would have at a child.

“Oh! Uh, I’m here, I’m here. What the hell do you want anyway?” You turned your attention back to the two pastries you’d been considering before his sneak attack in an attempt to keep yourself from looking back at his form.

“What’re you doing here alone? Out of friends? Did ya bore them all to death?” He had rounded to the opposite side of the table, forcing you to look at him straight on.

“I walked into Hogsmeade with Georgiana and Soobin, if you must know. They wanted some time alone so here I am.” You glanced up again to see him leaning casually against the table with one arm bracing his weight.

“I just have to point out that you’re also alone, Beomgyu. So I’m not quite sure why so keen on bashing me.” Your eyes skate over the deserts one final time before you decisively package up a slice of the muggle cake. The urge to celebrate the small victory was squashed by Beomgyu’s scoff.

“I’m here alone because I chose to be, not because my best friend is on a date and didn’t want a chaperone. Don’t you find that a little embarrassing?”

To be honest, you hadn’t considered it that way. You knew that finding a person to keep you from third wheeling had been your responsibility. But maybe he had a point. Although he was a constant nagging force, Beomgyu was insightful and intelligent. He’d helped you in class many times back when you were friends. Nervously, you nibbled at your bottom lip and considered his words carefully. Did Georgiana find your presence today embarrassing? She was surely too nice to tell you so, and there was no denying the tension in her face while she waited for you to leave The Three Broomsticks earlier. Your normally stoic face must have betrayed you, conveying that you were starting to feel hurt at the words that suddenly seemed to make so much sense.

“I was joking,” Beomgyu spoke up suddenly, rounding the table to once again be next to you. “Don’t take everything I say so seriously, Y/N. I’m beginning to worry for your sense of humor.” He picked up a couple of cookies with careful dexterity and settled them into the palm of his hand.

“Of course,” you concluded bitterly, taking a step back in a bid to get to the counter and buy your treats. “Must be my broken sense of humor and not just the fact that you’re an ass.” His face twisted unpleasantly as you stepped further away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but you were already pivoting on the balls of your feet to make your way toward the front of the shop.

——

The evidence of the first frost of the season crunched underneath your feet as you hurried to class. As someone who prided themselves on showing up on time for classes every day, you were particularly embarrassed to have woken up with just twenty minutes to spare before the beginning of potions. There was no excuse, either. You had simply stayed up too late studying for the NEWT practice exam and forgot to set your alarm before lying down.

To make matters worse you’d greatly underdressed yourself, underestimating the absolute chill of the morning when you had peeled out from the window. Only now, as you found yourself feet away from the classroom did you feel the icy temperature begin to bite into your exposed skin. Your cheeks were numb with cold, and your hands shook as you pushed them under your arms for some amount of warmth. Luckily the classroom was warmer when you finally got to it. Guiltily, you grinned at your professor as he notably marked your attendance onto the scroll of parchment.

“Rough night?” Beomgyu asked under his breath as the professor launched into the lesson for the day. You kept your back turned to the boy in favor of writing down the list of ingredients that was being provided to you. A firm poke in the middle of your back had you turning on your stool, already silently fuming as you came face to face with Beomgyu.

“What?” You mouthed, trying your best not to alert your professor that neither of you were paying attention to him.

“You look awful,” he mouthed back, pulling the most exaggerated gagging expression you’d ever seen in your life. Your fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab him by his necktie and slap him across his annoyingly perfect face. Instead you threw up your middle finger boldly, practicing a muggle tradition that wizards had become quite fond of. Beomgyu feigned shock, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to faint right there at his stool.

“-so you’ll be using this combination of potions for the group project, due in one weeks time.” Your professor concluded. Wide eyed, you spun back around on your stool only to see the words previously written on the board disappear with a flick of his wand. A group project? Potions, plural? You’d only taken notes on one mixture, and you were sure that Beomgyu hadn’t taken any notes at all. Although maybe the group project wasn’t among your table mate? Your heart fluttered as you prayed for that to be the reality, scanning your classmates to see if anyone got up to switch seats or combine tables.

Not a single soul moved.

“Guess it’s just us.” Beomgyu drawled from behind you.

“Did you take any notes?” You asked, fear running through your veins. If both of you were clueless, you’d have to ask the professor to explain everything to you again, which would only implicate the two of you for not paying attention to begin with.

Beomgyu shook his head and shrugged much too casually for a student who was in the dark about an entire project.

“I’ll just ask someone. Hey, Art-”

“No!” You scrambled for a rolled piece of parchment to hit him on the arm with before he could finish his shout across the classroom. “Please, do not scream across the room that we don’t know what we’re doing.” Your cheeks were flaming, anxiety and exhaustion building to a dangerous level in your bloodstream.

“Awe, are you ashamed to admit you were too busy talking to me to pay attention?” Beomgyu cooed, cradling his chin in his palms.

“No. I’m embarrassed that we’re the only ones not starting the work,” you glanced pointedly to all of the other tables where your classmates were hard at work on...something. Every table housed a slowly bubbling cauldron producing a steady stream of light grey smoke. The cauldron resting on the table between the two of you was alarmingly quiet, your stores of provided potion ingredients remaining untouched.

“Alright, Y/N. How about right now we work on the one you wrote down,” he points a finger at the parchment containing the list of notes you managed to take, “and I’ll talk to someone about the rest. Since you’re too proud to ask for help.” Without waiting for you to process the words he gripped the parchment between his fingers and pulled it toward the middle of the table. He mumbled a simple aguamenti under his breath and the cauldron filled with the perfect level of water. He then scrutinized the words for just a moment before he began to collect ingredients with a practiced ease, barely even glancing at the labels of the hefty glass containers. You’d never seen him quite as focused in a class as he was at the moment, his nimble fingers uncapping lids and measuring precise amounts of lacewing flies with a delicacy you never would have expected to come from the hands of Gryffindor’s star Beater.

One after the other, ingredients fell into the wrought iron cauldron, changing the color of the mixture from clear to an odd, murky green. You scrunched your nose in distaste but Beomgyu was nodding to himself in satisfaction, his fluffy hair bouncing back off of his forehead.

“Stop staring and start taking notes, Y/N.” His voice was casual but his lips were twisted in a smirk as you scrambled for both an excuse and a fresh roll of parchment.

“I wasn’t,” you defended as you begin to scribble out notes against the parchment, refusing to meet his eyes as the shame of being caught red-handed crawled up the back of your throat and stung behind your eyes. He simply hummed in acknowledgment and tossed in a few leaves of a plant you didn’t have time to identify into the bubbling mixture.

——

Impatiently, you tapped your foot against the stone floor. It echoed a sound that would have been satisfying in its consistency if it weren’t for the annoyance running through your veins. Beomgyu had promised to meet you in the west corner of the library today, at a prompt 7pm, in order to finish synthesizing your plan for the Potions project. You checked the clock on the wall again just in case you had somehow misread the hands only to find them confirming your suspicions. Beomgyu was blowing you off. He had suggested the time and place himself, and yet he couldn’t even have the decency to show up.

Anger blossomed in your chest as you stood to gather the things you’d brought along. Your chair scraped on the floor and attracted the stares of a few other students put you paid them no mind as you swore under your breath.

Of course Beomgyu had stood you up in the face of an important project. He was probably laughing away to his friends in the common room, boasting about how he’d left you sitting in the library like a fool. Once again he had proven himself to be an utterly useless and annoying human being that you wished you had never even met. Your teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your bottom lip so hard that blood pooled on your tongue, the bitter tang snapping you into action. The route to the Gryffindor common room was a familiar one, and the hatred brimming inside of you made your legs move even faster than usual, swearing under your breath as you finally came face to face with the portrait keeping you from entering the room.

“I don’t have time for any password- please just let me in. I’m looking for someone.” Your words came rushed, obviously annoyed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Now, you know that isn’t how this works, dear,” the painting asserted, crossing their arms to mimic your own stubborn pose. “I can’t let just anyone into the room. I’ve got,” the portraited stopped dead in its tracks and began counting on its fingers silently. “I’ve got 30 students inside right now, and it’s my job to protect them.” Your fists clenched at your sides over the stubborn portrait, fingers itching to grab your wand and level a badgering curse against the damned painting. It must have read the anger on your face as you fiddled with the fabric of your robes, as it’s booming voice came again;

“Tell me who you’re seeking, and I can tell you if I’ve seen them!” With your fingers still curled around your wand, it took a fair deal of restraint to leave it in your robe pocket. After a deep, steadying breath, you looked back up at the portrait. A beat of silence passed before you slathered on a sweet smile, clearing your throat to quell any remnants of your frustrated growl.

“I’m looking for Choi Beomgyu.”

The portrait took a moment to contemplate your words, squeezing its eyes tightly and tapping its fingers as you assumed it searched the students inside the Gryffindor common room and dorms.

“He’s not here.” It finally concluded, snapping its eyes back open to peer down at you again. Frustration flamed your skin red all the way to your hairline. Hogwarts and it’s grounds were extensive, and searching for him would surely take up your entire night.

“I did happen to see out Quidditch players heading down to the pitch around 5 o’clock, though.” Not needing any further ceremony, you turned on your heels and made your way toward the exit of the castle. The corridors were fairly empty, and the few students still milling around were quick to step out of your way as you hurried through them, robes flowing out behind you. Silently you thanked your lucky stars that no professors had been around to inquire about why you were rushing out of the castle in such a haste.

As soon as you set foot outside, you regretted not stopping by your dorm first to grab your coat and scarf. It had been three days since you woke up to the first frost, and the temperature had only continued to drop into frigid numbers. Even in the limited light provided by the setting sun you could see your breath fogging ahead of you. Cold air curled around your body, seeming to seep underneath your skin with a harsh ferocity. For now you simply tucked your hands deeper into the fabric of your robes, hoping that the heat of them in conjunction with your brisk pace would keep your body warm enough.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch was deceptively far when you traveled alone. Normally you were so distracted by conversation with your friends and the last minute bets between houses that you didn’t have time to mull over how many steps it took you to arrive at the stands; but today you were nothing short of pissed at how far away the compound had been built. Every step you took sent a shock of cold through your feet, your toes completely numb no matter how much you wiggled them inside your sneakers. The trees shuddered with you as you passed them, leaves spiraling to the ground as they finally give in to the pressure of the cold and resign themselves.

Finally you passed through the solid wood of the viewing stands, coming face to face with the expanse of the pitch in front of you. Totally empty. Not a single soul was to be found warming up on the grass or running practice games in the air. Upon listening, you couldn’t even hear any distant chatter that would indicate the team being huddled into the locker room.

“Shit!” A new wave of frustration crashed through your mind. Had you passed them on the way over? It was plausible that they had taken a different route back to the castle and your whole trip had been in vain. Exhausted, you leaned against the wall and listened to the whip of the banners against their metal poles, the clinking of their bindings matching with the steady, loud beat of your pulse. Just as you were about to turn and head back for the castle in your freezing shame, you heard another sound. This one was different, less uniform, almost like a grunt of exhaustion followed by a heavy thud. Your freezing feet moved almost without you to follow the noise. A vicious wind whipped your hair, mussing it up so badly that you had to stop in your tracks to gather it all back into place. You hazarded every step you took, unsure exactly where the source of the noise was coming from other than somewhere behind the stands. On your next step you heard the noise again, much closer this time, and the excitement of being close to solving this mystery had your footsteps speeding up.

Just as you rounded the curving stands, you spotted the culprit, still a little hard to make out due to the distance you had yet to cover, but the colors and shape of a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform were clear. Upon further inspection, it became obvious that the heavy thud you’d been hearing was a the heavy iron Bludger cracking against the magically reinforced bat. There were only two Beaters on the team, and one of them was the very man who’d forced you to walk into the frigid night. You continued your steady approach to the figure, morbidly curious over who it was that was out here pushing themselves to practice alone in the freezing cold.

“Hey!” You yelled as you edged closer, hoping to give whoever it may be a fair warning that you were approaching. Within three feet of the body, there was no mistaking it to be Beomgyu.

“Choi!” You raged, yelling much louder than required for him to hear you. The Bludger was sailing far away from the two of you with a strong hit as you closed the distance almost all the way. “I know you can hear me, asshat.” Beomgyu kept his eyes on the iron ball, effectively ignoring your words. In disbelief you glanced back and forth between his face-seeing the way his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Bludger came closer by the second.

“Is this where you’ve been all night? Playing Quidditch while you were supposed to meet me in the library?” A strong gust of wind knocked the air out of you, shivers running down your spine as you waited for any response from the boy. The Bludger came whistling back toward the two of you, and in the split second you had the foresight to step back he had tensed his shoulders, gripped the end of his bat and took another strong and precise hit against the Bludger, sending it even further away than the last one.

“Lost track of time.” He supplied absentmindedly, turning his head to regard you with lazy eyes.

“What?” You seethed, stepping forward again, placing yourself in front of his frame in hopes of appearing somewhat intimidating. “You lost track of time? Let’s talk about the fact that out project is due in four fucking days, and all we have to show is a single god damn Potion. This was your responsibility,” you pushed your pointed finger into the front of his uniform, the fabric giving way to allow you to feel the firmness of his chest underneath. “I trusted you with the single task of making sure that we could figure out the rest of this project, and you fucked up!” Tears of frustration rimmed your eyes as the worry of failure overwhelmed you. As much as you hated Potions, you’d be damned if Choi Beomgyu became the reason you do poorly.

“Listen, I seriously did just forget,” he pushed at your shoulders forcefully, to which you planted your feet into the ground harder. “Seriously, Y/N, I forgot! Now move!”

“No! You are not,” you grabbed at his forearm and pulled it off of your shoulder, “going to blow me off again! We are going to work on this project right now, even if its the last thing I do!”

“It’s about to be if you don’t fucking move!” He yelled, finally managing to uproot your feet and push you off to the side with so much force that you landed flat on your ass, the cold hardness of the ground knocking the breath out of your lungs. From the ground, you watched helplessly while Beomgyu scrambled to grab his bat in time to hit the whirring Bludger. He was a quick enough thinker to see that there was no way he’d make the move in time, so he simply did the next best thing- turning his back to the ball and ducking his head into his chest, covering the back of his neck with his arms.

With a sickening crack, the Bludger made foul contact with Beomgyu’s back, striking just below his left shoulder blade. The force knocked him forward, his hands barely catching himself as he met the ground harshly. He cried out in pain, the sound bouncing around the stands and piercing your veins. In a hurry, you crawled toward his heaving body and urged him to sit up with the guidance of your hands.

“Are you okay?” The words rushed out of you in a hurry, panic crawling up the back of your throat at the shine of tears streaming down his reddened cheeks.

“Wh-what the hell do you think?” He groaned, body shaking as he struggled to even take a breath.

“Okay, right. Dumb question. Let’s get you to the infirmary, yeah?” His legs shook as he got them under him, something akin to a baby deer taking its first few steps. Instinctively you shot out an arm to steady him, looping your arm behind his back as effectively as you could given the height difference and placement of his injury.

“Merlin, I think I broke my shoulder blade,” he groaned, stumbling across the uneven ground with trepidation.

“You didn’t, I watched. It actually hit right below your shoulder blade, so if anything it’s just bruised, and you probably won’t even need a bone-healing spell, so recovery should be little more than some Devil’s Claw for the pain and-”

“Did someone cast a babbling curse on you? Merlin’s beard. It’s bad enough that you got me hit to begin with, and now I have to listen to you run your mouth!’ His voice was still pinched with pain, an octave lower than normal as he gritted his teeth. The two of you finally reached the threshold of the castle, encapsulated by the warmth of the torches littered all inside.

“I’m trying to help! Did you ever consider the fact that if you had showed up to our scheduled meeting time, you could have avoided being hit. I could have avoided freezing all of my extremities off, and I wouldn’t have to be helping your ass to the infirmary.”

The noise of your bickering outside of the infirmary wing attracted the nurse to the hallway, who furrowed her eyebrow in silent question over the two of you.

“He got hit by a Bludger, ma’am,” you supply as soon as you see her. Her eyes widen instantly as she rushed forward, helping you guide Beomgyu into an empty cot. She shooed you aside as she fretted over him, asking questions about the incident in a low, steady tone before nodding seriously. Without any kind of warning, Beomgyu was pulling the fabric of his uniform over his head, leaving his top half bared to you. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat nervously. The nurse was too busy prodding at the blossoming bruise to have heard your stutter, but Beomgyu was nothing if not aware.

His dark eyes found your form standing just a few paces away, staring unabashedly at the faint hint of his abs that had become visible.

“Somethin’ you like?” He drawled playfully, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Merlin, no.” You sneered, hoping to cover the thickness of your tone as you swallowed hard. “Just trying to decide if I should tell the Quidditch team to get their backup trained for the game tomorrow night.” Beomgyu’s face fell at the implication of your words and a sting of regret struck your heart.

“There will be no need for a backup, dear,” the nurse cooed, shuffling her feet as she gathered up a few healing supplies. She offered a bottle of innocent looking clear liquid to Beomgyu and he drank it instantly, grimacing at what you assumed to be a foul taste. “Now, dear, if you don’t fancy seeing your boyfriend in more pain as I heal him-”

“Please. He is not my boyfriend. I just helped him get here. I’ll be going now, anyway. See you tomorrow?” You asked pointedly, hoping he would understand your incessant need to finish the Potions project. He nodded slightly, and you scanned Beomgyu’s form one more time before excusing yourself to the nurse and scurrying back to your dorm.

——

“I better hear a thank you.” Beomgyu asserted as soon as he slumped in the seat across from you. He had been so quiet in his approach to the table that you hadn’t heard him until now, rocketing your gaze up towards him from the pages of your Transfiguration book.

“Beomgyu,” you breathed, relieved to see that he had been healed and able to return to classes just the morning after the Bludger hit. You schooled your features into cool indifference as soon as you saw his mouth twitch up at the sound of his name. “For what am I thanking you? Withholding information about the project?”

“No,” he shook his head, springing a few carefully parted hairs loose from their spot. “For- number one-” he paused dramatically, drumming his bony fingers against the edge of the high-topped table, “providing you all the information for finishing this project.” Out of seemingly nowhere he produced a thick roll of parchment that unrolled to reveal a step by step explanation. Pages of carefully written instructions went into great detail on every step of the potions that needed to be made. A sense of relief and happiness washed through you, enough to make your hands curl into excited fists as you beamed.

“Turns out our Seeker is good at more than catching a Snitch. She got the highest marks in this class last year, and agreed to share the notes with me.”

“Thank you, Beomgyu. Seriously. I was beginning to worry.”

“I know, I know. It feels good to be your savior, Y/N. Oh, which reminds me of reason number two; the fact that I spared you a Bludger hit last night.”

“I thought we’d already covered this. Most of that encounter was your fault. Plus, your little shove left me with a bruise of my own on my ass.” Pouting, you shifted your weight in an attempt to alleviate the pain against said bruise.

“Just admit it, Y/N,” he leaned forward, his face mere inches from your own so as not to be heard by anyone around. “You’re indebted to me. Two times over.” He was cocky, but you had to admit he had a point. As much grief as he had caused you, he had saved you from both a failing grade and an injury in just under 24 hours.

“You’ve got a point.” Beomgyu shrunk back into his seat, cocking his head to the side as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. It seemed like he was waiting for a witty remark or some kind of argument to his words, but you kept a sure, steady gaze on him instead. Either your eyes were playing tricks on you or there was a slowly building flush of red blooming from under the collar of his cable-knit sweater onto his cheeks. Against your will, your mind reproduced the image of his bared chest from last night.

“What do I owe you?” The question rolled off of your tongue like butter as you took the chance to lean forward to him, balancing carefully on your stool with your elbows planted onto the table.

“I-I just,” Beomgyu frowned at his stutter, apparently upset by his own lack of confidence. His mouth opened and closed again in quick succession and you grinned wider. Another teasing lilt was right at the tip of your tongue, but the booming voice of your professor cracked the tension wide open and had you sitting back on your stool.

——

Two days later, you stand behind your stool in Potions class, wringing your hands together nervously. Your portly professor had spent all morning swirling around the class, leaning over the cauldrons and vials present at every table. He muttered a few things to every pair of students, nodding along as they explained their approach to him. It seemed as if he were grading on the spot, since you caught a glimpse of a quill gliding over a small strip of parchment.

Finally the elder approached your table, bushy eyebrows pinched into one another as he had already begun to scrutinize the potions laid out for him. He said nothing as he approached, quietly appraising your work. One by one, he picked up the vials one by one, peering through the clear bottom and giving them an experimental swirl. He hummed happily to himself and your heart soared. Across the table you noticed Beomgyu looking equally pleased. The professor set down the vials one by one before leveling his gaze onto you.

“How do you think you did?” He questioned, producing the same thin strip of parchment you’d seen him use at other tables. Palms sweating, you stole a glance at Beomgyu who gave you an encouraging wave of his hand.

“I think we did quite well, professor. It took us a bit to get the whole project together, but I feel confident in our end results here.” Nervously, your eyes skated down to his quill, tapping against the parchment rhythmically.

“Well, I think you did quite well, the two of you. These potions are near perfect. Couldn’t make them any better myself.” It felt as if the air had been sucked from your lungs, shocking you beyond belief. Never once in your life did you think you’d be receiving such high marks in Potions- especially with Beomgyu as your partner. Your professor marked a delicate “A+” on the small strip of parchment.

Beomgyu threw a triumphant fist in the air, wiggling in his spot with pure excitement. Your professor let out a belly laugh, spinning around to address the entire class.

“I didn’t want to advertise this since I wanted you all to put in your best, pure efforts to the project. But, now that I’ve reviewed everyone’s work and determined the best,” you swapped a look of confusion with Beomgyu, both assuming that he was referring to you. “I am offering an award to our friends at Station 1!” He motioned to the two of you wildly, robes flailing as you ushered to the front of the room. Your peers glared at the two of you, but you were too far onto cloud nine to care.

“Good thing I got those notes, huh?” Beomgyu muttered to you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Good thing I spent all last night making sure we actually had the potions to present.” Keeping your voice low and level to keep him from sensing just how grateful you were for his efforts. The class murmured lowly, surely trading snide remarks about the two of you until the professor cleared his throat pointedly.

From the pocket of his robes, the professor pulled out two small, clear vials. One was pressed into each of your palms, and you stared up at him with confusion. Maybe this was a sign you should have paid more attention to the types of potions around you.

“Luck potions, please use them carefully” he supplied helpfully, swirling back around to face the entire class. “Now, who’s willing to take a photo of me and our winners?” The professor bellowed, producing an old film camera from somewhere and brandishing until someone shuffled off of their stool.

——

Fresh, fluffy snow floated down in gentle waves outside the window. It was the thick of winter now, and despite your best efforts to bundle up you were still huddling into yourself for warmth as students shuffled into Potions around you. Everyone seemed especially lethargic, yearning for the break from classes that Christmas promised. You laid your head onto your folded arms, feeling just as exhausted as the atmosphere suggested.

Sleep had been evading you lately, annoyingly deceptive as you would lay down in bed tired only to be kept awake by your racing mind for several hours. Somehow settling into your arms in this classroom was the most content you’d felt in days. And then you felt a firm push at the back of your head. There was no mistaking who the perpetrator was, especially as you heard the scrape of a stool directly across from you.

“Good morning to you too, Beomgyu.” He was perched perfectly on his stool, eyes wide and bright. For as long as you’d known him, he had thrived in the cold and the snow. “You are obnoxiously cheerful. God damn Gryffindors.”

“Not my fault you’re such a grouch. But I guess it is true that snakes don’t like the cold.”

“Do you ever let up? Or do you get pleasure out of ruining my mood every single morning?”

A grin cracked his lips as a short laugh bubbled through. “Thinking about my pleasure, are you? Concerned I’m not getting enough? I can assure you that-”

“Okay, gross. Stop. Enough. You know that isn’t what I meant.” Quite honestly, you had no time to endure his usual teasing so you simply turned your body away from him, idly watching the professor gather his things at the desk.

“Right, let’s get going! We need all the time we can manage today!” He seemed more jubilant than usual as he centered his own cauldron onto the middle of his desk. “Today we’ll be making love potions. Amortentia, you may know. If you’ll open to page 104, you can find the procedure. It is important to note that this potion cannot make anyone truly fall in love, but it does create a strong attraction to whomever you make with it in mind. Of course, the full effect doesn’t apply unless it is consumed. Today we will simply be brewing it for practice. If done correctly, the potion will emulate-”

“The scent of what you find most attractive,” you muttered absent mindedly, reading directly off of the page you had open in your lap.

“Exactly, miss Y/N. Your potion today will smell like what you find most appealing.” He nodded proudly. A feeling of anxiety rose in your chest as he rattled on. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t think of the type of scents that would come from the potion. You were quite fond of some scents in candle form, but you wouldn’t classify them as...attractive. Even more worrying was the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to reveal this concoction in front of Beomgyu, who took every chance presented to torment you. Your professor clapped his hands together, marking the beginning of your working period.

The instructions were simple enough, so you took extra care to be sure that the measurements were as perfect as you could get them. The room was shrouded in a hushed silence that indicated everyone was working hard on this. After all, this was the most exciting potion that’d been offered to you all year.

“Can’t wait to see which poor dude you have a crush on,” Beomgyu chuckled as he stirred his pot exactly three times counter-clockwise.

“Could say the same for you! I seriously petty whichever girl you’ve been fancying. Imagine being at the receiving end of your...ick. You’d better tell me who it is so I can send them a warning.” You stirred your pot the same way he had, watching the mixture turn to a stereotypical bright pink. The instructions lead you to allow the mixture to culminate for exactly two minutes before any results could be sought.

The students who happened to work faster than you were already taking a sniff at their potions and recording the scents on their parchment, some pairs gossiping amongst one another about what they smelled. A clank of metal had you whipping your head upwards, locking eyes with Beomgyu as adjusted his small cauldron to bend over his potion. Since it wasn’t your own, there was no scent for you to distinguish, but you watched the way his eyes widened in shock for a second.

Unfortunately you had no time to process his expressions before you had to examine the contents of your own cauldron. Before you could even take a deliberate sniff, your senses were rushed with a mix of sweetened musk, a wood that seemed somewhere between cedar and mahogany, and an addicting citrusy undertone that you eventually recognized as bergamot. You placed it immediately.

“Merlin, Beomgyu. Could you refrain from spraying your cologne right now? Why are you even carrying it with you in the middle of-” The words died in your throat as you realized how incriminating your words had become, seeing as Beomgyu had nothing but his quill in his hands. A feeling of sickness rose in the back of your throat as he let out a hearty laugh.

“My cologne, huh? I actually didn’t even have time to put any on today,” he peered over at your parchment, his height allowing him to easily read the fragrance notes you had scribbled before complaining. “But those are the exact notes of what I wear.”

Your cheeks flamed, the heat radiating so fully through your system that you felt yourself begin to sweat despite how cold you’d been before. There was no worse fate than this, you decided. Amortentia had betrayed you, putting you under the mercy of Beomgyu’s knowing stare. Fuck, did he really have to find out now that the smell of his cologne secretly drove you crazy? That as much as you hated the way he teased and antagonized you, somewhere deep down you’d never quite lost the crush you developed in second year?

“I was beginning to think you might’ve had a crush on me, Y/N. Isn’t that so sweet! The stony little Slytherin finally realizing that she’s attracted to me...this is quite the revelation!” Beomgyu lamented, obviously overjoyed at the new ammo he could load into his teasing.

As much as you searched, you could find no words to defend yourself, as the proof was truly in the potion. A bit defeated, you sunk back into your stool, content to bury your face into your hands until your next class began; but at your new level you could see Beomgyu’s own piece of parchment scrawled with what he had smelled. Reading them upside down was a bit of a challenge, but he was too busy complimenting himself to recognize your analytical stare. Written in a neat list were the scents: sage, some type of berry (juniper?), eucalyptus, something woody (cedar?).

Your heart stuttered, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out and give yourself away. Skillfully you held it back, cursing to any god or deity who might be listening. The notes matched up exactly with the perfume you wore every single day.

——

“You asked him why he sprayed his cologne?” Georgiana gaped at you across the table in the Great Hall. The two of you had joined up for lunch just hours after your Potions class disaster.

“Yes, but that’s not all! Just before I melted into a puddle of my own dispair, I saw his list, and I swear to Merlin it’s the exact notes of my perfume! Look,” you produced the travel-sized bottle from your pocket, flipping it to the back label and listing off the exact ingedients.

“Wow,” Georgiana nodded, sinking her teeth into a piece of pizza. “That’s quite remarkable.”

“Why are you not giving me more of a reaction?” You whined, stomping your foot against the floor petulantly. She raised an eyebrow high, taking a few more chews at her food.

“You want me to be honest? Or nice?” She asked, weighing the invisible options on her hands in front of you.

“Honest, I guess.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d pick that one. You see, my sweet Y/N, the two of you have been dancing around this for years. Even though you renounced him all those years ago, I still talk to him on occasion. Not to mention he’s friends with Soobin, so I’ve been provided with some...insider information. To be honest, Soobin and I have both been waiting for the day the two of you finally stopped bickering and like...made out.”

Your face twisted unpleasantly, shocked at her words. “Insider information?” You croaked, creases forming in your forehead. Georgiana smiled devilishly and you swore you could see red horns rising from her fiery hair.

“Beomgyu talks about you all the time. Apparently, back when he was dating Klara, he would often talk to Soobin about how she never bantered with him like you did. They broke up because he kept comparing her to you. Told Soobin that he’s had a crush on you just as long as you have, but he thought you thoroughly hated him.”

“He has a crush on me?” You sputtered, stomach twisting into knots somewhere between disbelief and excitement. Georgiana full on laughed upon seeing your face, the cackle permeating through the air and turning heads.

“Well, I’m not gonna be the one to bring it up. If he’s got a crush on me, he can bring it up.” You suddenly decide, finally indulging in the pizza that had been waiting for you since you sat down.

“That’s my girl, stubborn to the very end.” Georgiana grinned and offered her hand for a high five that you eagerly returned.

——

The weekend brought you a much needed break from both schoolwork and all things Beomgyu related. Christmas break was fast approaching, and all of your professors had surprisingly laid off on assignments. It seemed as if they were just as tired of grading as you were of doing the work.

Unsurprisingly you found yourself in the library, sitting underneath the twinkling of the fairy lights set up especially for the holidays. Most other students were out socializing, so the room was pleasantly vacant. As a result you were able to settle into one of the plush velvet couches that were usually occupied.

After roaming the aisles you’d found an anthology of wizard poetry that piqued your interest. Settling beteeen the cushions of the couch with a book made you feel the most at home you ever had, cracking open the delicate binding and balancing the book in your stomach as you began to read.

There was no way to tell how long you’d been reading, but by your estimations it was only about 20 minutes before someone was looming above you. Startled, you lifted your gaze over the book to see none other than Beomgyu standing before you. He was decked out in a sage green sweater paired with slightly oversized beige slacks. He had forgone his robes, but his Head Boy pin still shined on the breast of his shirt. Typical.

“Can I help you?” You asked, finally sitting up to regard him.

“I thought you’d be here.” He said simply, shuffling on his feet awkwardly. You blinked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you poked, slipping your book shut dramatically. “Did you want to ask me something?” Beomgyu licked at his lips before rubbing his fingers against his forehead.

“Merlin, why do you make everything so hard?” He groaned and seemingly became so exhausted that he collapsed onto the ornate rug under his feet. Seeing that you’d riled him up so much by doing practically nothing sent excitement through your veins. As much as the bickering annoyed you, there was no denying the thrill you felt when giving him back a taste of his medicine.

“What exactly am I making so hard? I don’t even know what you’re here for. To be honest I’m shocked you managed to find me in the library. I figured you would start to burn at the door and have to find a different way in.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk playing at his pillowy lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here.” He finally began to reveal the award winning smile you’d come to know whenever he teased you. “I know what Georgiana told you.” His voice was low, so quiet that if there had been any other souls in the library you’d have missed it.

Your eyes flew open and he flushed instantly. “You two aren’t exactly quiet at the Great Hall, and I’ve got more than a few friends.” It was your turn to flush red, wondering just how many conversations between you and Georgiana had been overheard by other people.

“So you know that I said...”

“Why do you think I’m here? All it took was me knowing you also...you know,” he picked at the nonexistent loose threads in the carpet. Honestly, you were shocked at how reserved he had become in the face of this confrontation. All traces of his usual confidence seemed to have vanished in the moment.

“I do like you, Beomgyu. I had a massive crush on you in second year, but then we got into that fight and-”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” he countered animatedly. “You just never understood my humor. All this time, I was hoping that you would catch the hints.”

“Hints?” It felt like your eyes were going to fall out of your head with how wide you held them. “You call those hints? I’d call those lackluster clues, at best.”

He was quiet for a moment, examining the smirk on your lips carefully. In a moment of impulse you slid off of the couch to sit opposite him on the floor, knees touching. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping at his thighs nervously. “Didn’t know how else to go about it.”

“That’s okay, me either, obviously.” A rueful laugh escaped your lips, and he returned one just as easily. Up this close, the planes of his face were defined by the delicate light provided from the fairy lights. Shyly you shared glances, neither of you knowing quite how to deal with the charged anticipation in the air.

“Will you...come to the last Quidditch game tomorrow?” He finally spoke, snapping your attention back to him.

“Only if I don’t have to wear one of your ugly jerseies.” Feeling bold, you leaned forward just a few inches, beginning to close the gap between you gradually.

“Fine,” he acquised, leaning forward just the same as you had, his breath fanning hot over your face. “In exchange for not wearing a jersey, how about you...” he tapped at his lips cheekily. A surge of excitement tumbled through you.

“That’s a shit way of asking me to kiss you for the first time, Choi.” Nevertheless you leaned forward further, bumping your nose against his own before you finally pecked him firmly on the lips. You felt ridiculously shy, like you were having your first kiss all over again, but Beomgyu smiled reassuringly, pulling your hands into his own and linking them together. The touch encouraged you both, and your lips collided with more assurance than before.

The faint scent of pumpkin juice lingered on his lips, and you wondered how many bottles he’d drank before finally deciding to come find you. Finally you both sought a new breath, taking a moment to close your eyes and collect yourself. When they fluttered back open you saw Beomgyu staring back at you intently, pupils reflecting the strands of lights strung above you.

He mumbled something so quietly that you couldn’t even hear it at your close distance.

“What was that?” You asked, wondering if you’d caught the end of a charmingly romantic thought.

“I said you’re in need of practice.” He smirked, leaning back of his hands cockily.

“Fuck you, man,” you slapped at his shoulder with a firm clap. He gasped, a hand covering his heart as if he were being sworn into a committee.

“Already? I didn’t take you for such an impure heart!” Another hearty laugh bounced around the library and you ducked your head into your hands, resigning to the fact that you were stuck with him.

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

----------------

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

-------------

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #my writing #day 58 #drunk dialing #love #thanks for the prompt #send me a word and i'll write you a drabble #<3

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mggssocks · 3 years

Text

Followed

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: None just fluff :)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 1,899 words

A/N: This is Season 10 Spencer with Season 13 looks. Also, instead of it being Kate on the team, i put Emily instead because who doesn’t love the season 3-7 team? Also I might make a part 2 depending on how much this blows up. Honestly i’d be happy if i got one like. Anyways.. hope you enjoy!!!

masterlist // part 2 // part 3

It was 8:00 in the morning. Spencer walked in the doors of the bullpen to the bau. He sat his satchel down and began to settle in for a long day of work. It was pretty early so the team wasn’t in yet. Except for Aaron Hotchner who had gotten in an hour prior to Spencer and been in his office ever since. Apparently others had the same ‘get to work early’ mindset as Spencer. Spencer opened a case file but his attention was quickly whipped away due to the sound of the door opening. He sees Penelope Garcia with all her attention focused on her phone. Spencer quirked his eyebrows when she bumped into a fellow coworker and her attention remained on her phone while quickly mumbling a quick “sorry”. As she passed his desk, Spencer decided it would be the great time to speak.

“Hey, Garcia.” Her feet came to a stop and her head snapped up at him.

“Boy wonder! I’m so glad you’re here. I really need someone to talk to because if I don’t I’m going to explode!” She sits in the chair across from his desk.

“Is everything alright?” He leaned back in his chair.

“No… no everything is not alright. If anything.. everything is all wrong. Very very wrong. I-“ she takes in a deep breath “I was stalking Kevin’s page because the other day I seen him at the mall with another girl. And while I was 56 weeks down in his page, I accidentally liked a picture.” She explained, in a huff.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Spencer was even more confused now than before she started.

“I liked a picture that he posted 56 weeks ago!” Her eyes were wide.

“How is that a bad thing?” His lips pouted as he’d never understand social media.

“Ugh! Reid, you really need to get with the program and get you an Instagram. That means his picture was old and now he knows that I was looking at his page. You understand now?” She asked.

“Oh. Yeah I understand. It’s bad that he knows you were looking at his page.” He asked as Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan had walked in.

“Yes. And now I must go into the bat cave and wait for him to call or text me and ask what me lurking on his page was about.” She whined as she stomped her way to her office.

“What was that about?” Prentiss asked, setting her bags down on her desk.

“Uhh- rough morning” Spencer shrugged, still not really understanding the whole social media thing.

“Hey do you guys have an Instagram?” He asked the three.

“Yeah but I’m barely on it.” Prentiss answered.

“Same here” says Morgan as he takes a seat at his desk.

“Yeah but I only get on to post the boys and myself sometimes” answers JJ.

“What about Hotch and Rossi?” He asked.

“Yup! Rossi likes to post about his expensive wine and cigars. Hotch posts Jack every once in a while and a throwback Thursday.” JJ says.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed for what seems to be the 100th time that day.

“He doesn’t know what that is” Prentiss looks over to JJ.

“It’s something you post like an old picture of yourself every Thursday.” Morgan explains.

“Do you guys do that?” Spencer asked.

“I did last Thursday.” JJ pulls out her phone and opened the app. “This was right after Emily, Penelope, and I caught a guy who was trying to pick up Prentiss by pretending to be an FBI agent a few years ago.” She chuckled showing him a picture.

Spencer takes her phone in his hand and examines the post. 142 likes. 57 comments. He clicks on her name which takes it to her page. 302 followers. As he scrolls, he sees a picture the team took a while ago and sees a little person profile thing the corner and clicks on it causing other names tagged to each individual team member. Except him. After he examined all of their profiles, he gives JJ back her phone and gets to work like the rest of them. He felt a little left out but he knew it was because of his own decisions and not his team. He liked that they didn’t press him about having a social media because they new he was more old school than anything. And it was ironic because he wastage youngest member of the team with the more old school habits.

When Spencer got home he decided he wanted the social media app. The idea of being able to share with his friends and only his friends excited him. Being able to post about his favorite things for his friends to see without talking their ears off.

He opened his phone and went to the app store, typing “instagram” into the search bar. He followed the sites instructions as he made his account. Using a snapshot he took of his bookshelf as his profile picture. He sees the option to add the people in his contact list which was only his team, mom, and his mother’s caretaker. But everyone’s profile popped up and he quickly followed each and every one of them. Except for his mom and her caretaker of course.

Soon enough, he got a follow back from Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ in that order. Morgan and Prentiss weren’t lying when they said they weren’t on often.

After two weeks, Spencer hasn’t posted anything yet, not knowing what should go on his profile. Morgan and Prentiss ended up following him back and the app ended up adjusting to his interests. Nothing but accounts about interesting facts, books, and doctor who.

It was Friday night and the team had just got back from a case in Chicago. Spencer opened the door to his apartment and set his satchel down on the couch, exhausted. His mind wonders to get something to eat being that he wonders to get something to eat being that he hasn’t ate since before they caught the unsub. Which was about 5 hours and 7 minutes ago but he still needed to get something into his system. Spencer opened his fridge and sees 3 day old Chinese takeout. He shrugs and pops it into the microwave while looking for a book of his to reread while he eats. After he finishes dinner, he gets on his phone and subconsciously pulls up the app. He clicks onto his explore page to discover something else he likes. While scrolling, he sees a picture of someone reading and clicks on it.

765 likes

Yourfriend’sig whenever people ask me what to give you for your birthday or Christmas, I always tell them to get you a book or something green and it works every single time. Happy Birthday to my best buddy, @yourinstagram !

View all 84 comments

Spencer smiles and clicks the heart button and bookmarks it to look at later. He liked the picture. Both the picture and caption reminded him a lot of his own love for books and the color green (hence his apartment).

Once he got out of the shower, he brushed his teeth. He found himself subconsciously scrolling through his instagram bookmarks to find her post. He doesn’t know what it was but something about the picture brought comfort to him. As he brushed his teeth, he clicked on the post once again.This time, he actually clicked on your account. It was a private account with 186 followers. The bio read:

Y/N... bookworm.

Her profile picture consisted of a black cat surrounded by either a bunch of well taken care of plants or artificial ones. His finger hovered over the blue “follow” button. As he bent down to spit his toothpaste out, his thumb accidentally clicked the follow button. But he didn't realize so until he looked down again to see the “follow” button replaced with “requested”. His heart basically drops out of his ass. He quickly clicks the button again, taking back his follow.

It was now one in the morning, Spencer laid in bed awake staring at his ceiling. Once again, he clicks onto the app. He scrolled down his timeline and saw a picture Penelope posted of one of her new desk animals with the caption “Got her at a thrift shop! Isn’t she cute??”. He saw that Hotch and JJ liked 45 other people. JJ also commented with two red hearts. Spencer likes the post and keeps scrolling. His thoughts wander to the post about the girl again. He’s never thought about a social media post this much since he’s created an account. He wonders what sparked his interest so much about this one. As he makes his way to the post, clicking on her account. Debating if he should follow her. She’s a total stranger. Do the others follow strangers? There’s no way JJ knows 302 people in real life. He mentally shrugs and presses the follow button. Requested. Again.

He swipes out of her account back onto the post now seeing that she commented on it.

yourinstagram thank you, bubs! ily to the moon n back <3333

It was commented thirty six seconds ago. Meaning she’s currently active. Again, Spencer’s heart sinks and he immediately regrets his decision. Going back and unfollowing her. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s a mess. Over a stranger. But he feels like an idiot. Reacting the way that he did just because he saw that she was online. So he goes and follows her.... again.

After clearing out all of his apps, he turns off his phone and lays down trying to get some sleep before work in a few hours. His thoughts wander to her. What she was like. if she was nice or mean. If she was socially awkward or very outgoing. Before his thoughts could get too far into what she was like, he receives a notification from instagram. He opens his phone and clicks on the notification. His heart began to pound when he saw it.

yourinstagram would like to send you a message!

He clicks on it.

yourinstagram You’ve followed and unfollowed me about 5 times in the past 3 hours. Is there something I can help you with?

Spencer completely forgot that other people got notifications and now he felt like some kind of creep.

spencerreid I’m sorry. I came across your friend’s Instagram post wishing you a happy birthday and i guess i got curious and wanted to follow you if that makes any sense.

He felt so dumb.

yourinstagram and following me once wasn’t enough for some reason???

spencerreid Sorry about that. I’m new to this whole social media thing and don’t follow any strangers. You are the first person I’m following that I don’t know in real life. Again, my apologies for the disturbance. I’ll unfollow you’re account If you’re uncomfortable with me.

yourinstagram i just hope that you’re not one of my raging exes, someone trying to catfish me, or a psychopath lol.

Spencer smiled.

spencerreid Nope. Just me.

She leaves him one read. Spencer’s smile fades when he doesn’t see any three loading dots. She wasn’t texting him back. As he’s about to exit the app, he sees two notifications.

yourinstagram has accepted your follow request!

yourinstagram has requested to follow you.

********

I hoped you like this!!! If this blows up,i will do another chapter!

#spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #matt simmons #david rossi #cm #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #penelope gracia #luke alvez #tara lewis #elle greenaway #spencer reid x you #cat adams

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

lost in translation {draco malfoy x reader}

words: 11.8k

summary: draco finds a notebook filled with beautiful, painful words. he keeps it for himself. he promises he’ll give it back to the rightful owner when he eventually finds them.

genre: angst

notes: support my writing or ask about commissions! - masterlist - i literally don’t know what plot is any more okay. also i listened to i love you by billie eilish on loop whilst writing this so feel free to put that on if you want.

---

draco sees the words every time he closes his eyes.

repeated stanzas, never leaving him alone. a mouthful of words no mind should ever be able to conjure. a haunting imagination capable of driving even the sanest people out of sanity.

he found the book on a winters day at hogwarts. christmas time was just round the corner, meaning most of his friends had already fled the castle in favour of homes, somewhere out in the muggle world, where they could spend the holidays with families who cared for them as families often cared for each other.

draco decided to stay at hogwarts.

he didn’t want to - not really. his father was just being difficult, and he wanted to face the man even less than he wanted to spend the holidays with people like potter and teachers who didn’t like him because of his family name.

he is entirely on his own this holiday season, and it depresses him more than he would ever be willing to let on.

because, you see, the thing with draco malfoy is, weakness has been a taboo subject amongst his family for as long as he can remember. his father drilled into his conscience that malfoys always have their heads held high, that they must be able to cope entirely on their own in any circumstance, because that’s what strength is. needing no one. fending only for yourself. living life to get what you want without worrying about anybody else.

this is why draco doesn’t sit with the other students during the christmas feast. instead, he finds himself traipsing through the library, poking at spines of books so old the writing has been smudged and worn, the contents made up of words once spoken in england, now lost to time.

the place smells dusty. it makes him sneeze, and he grimaces when he pulls his finger away from a shelf to see it coated in a thick layer of dust which he hastily wipes on his already gravy-stained robes. his stomach grumbles with the reminder of the christmas feast waiting downstairs for him - all he needs to do is pull a chair up and dig in. none of the teachers will mind. the students might be a bit iffy, but when has draco ever cared about what they think?

instead, he slumps against the wall, pulls a book into his lap and starts to read.

he’s so engrossed in the old text that he doesn’t hear the library door opening. he doesn’t hear peeve’s taunting cackles until they’re right over his head, peeves pointed toes very nearly scraping his slicked back hair.

draco’s head snaps up. above him, the poltergeist laughs, throwing his head back.

“peeves!” draco scrambles to his feet, swatting at the poltergeist. “oh, for christ’s sake, do you ever give it a rest?”

“all alone for christmas, are you, malfoy?” the poltergeist taunts. “surely daddy can afford you a way home with all that money the dark lord’s been shovelling into his pockets!”

draco’s face burns. “go away, you annoying little roach, before i get the hoover!”

peeves only laughs harder. “what a threat that was! wait till i tell the headmaster about that one.” and before draco can say anything else, peeves has grabbed a single, tiny book from the edge of a bookshelf and dropped it on draco’s head.

it crashes against the crown of his skull and bounces to the floor unceremoniously, flipping open upon the carpet. draco makes to yell, his fury bubbling over, but his voice is lost to the sudden emptiness of the room as peeves does what peeves does best and disappears.

draco groans through gritted teeth, rubbing the spot the book bounced from. it aches a little bit, which is surprising considering the size of the book. not a textbook. not really anything any of his teachers would ask him to check out of the library. instead, it’s spiral bound, the words not typed, but handwritten in sloppy scrawl, like the author was in a rush when transferring their thoughts onto paper.

draco frowns; why should a book such as this be in the schools library?

he picks it up by the corner, as if afraid the book might bite him - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. the book, however, makes no strange movements. draco feels no strange, magical pull coming from the pages. in fact, if he were to use his common sense, he would believe the book to be straight from the muggle world.

that alone should have been enough to deter him, but his father isn’t here, so he opens it and starts reading.

the first few pages are awkward poetry. awkward essays, a person’s thoughts and opinions filtered with the fear of someone reading over their shoulder, perhaps. draco can tell the author was holding back, but the further he flips, the looser said author seems to become. they start using words. just words, so beautiful and magical and heartfelt that draco finds himself enraptured with every one. he struggles to put the book down, curling into his tiny corner in the library, enamoured by such language. he wonders for the brief moment he is able to take his eyes off the page if perhaps the book has been cast under a spell, if perhaps there is a spell in this world that puts heaven and hell into words and has transferred it to the very book he holds in his hands.

draco has spent so long getting lost in the talents of wizards that he sometimes forgets muggles have talents and hobbies, too. there are creatives in the world who can create emotions from such small things. there are people outside the world of magic and wizardry who can do magical things, too.

he has the evidence in his hand.

---

he keeps the evidence in his hand all throughout the year.

he comes back to it after particularly stressful classes to remind himself that not all is bad; that’s the magic these poems and essays have on him. he could probably recite each one word for word, but he never does, because they belong to him now. he’s claimed them as a comfort blanket, something he needs to get through the day. he’s found an addiction within these words that he can’t let go of, not just yet, not until he figures out who wrote them.

and that’s really all it boils down to - he wants to put a face to the mind that created the world he so desperately wants to share.

it’s a tuesday afternoon in feburary when blaise asks him about the book.

“are you ever gonna share what’s in that notebook you keep carrying around?”

the question startles draco. he thought he was being so subtle. he hardly ever brings the notebook out to face the light of day, only ever reading it behind the curtains of his poster bed in the dorms.

nonetheless, he doesn’t deny it’s existence. he doesn’t want to sound stupid.

he pokes at the vegetables on his plate and, without looking up, mumbles, “not really any of your business, is it?”

blaise scoffs. “alright, be like that then. you carry that thing around like a little girl and her secret diary.”

“are you trying to tease me, blaise? because you just sound stupid.”

blaise rolls his eyes; he’s one of the few people that don’t get properly offended when malfoy fails to bite his tongue.

“and anyway,” draco continues, “i don’t carry it around. it stays in my bed.”

“oh, really?”

“yes, and that’s where it’s staying.”

“so is it yours, or did you take it from someone?”

draco pauses. “it’s mine.”

“i’ve never seen you write in a notebook before. not even in class.”

draco shrugs; he hasn’t got a very good answer to that, because the statement is true. he tends to get others to write his notes for him when he can get away with it.

blaise sighs. he leans back in his seat, folding his skinny arms across his chest. “so are you a poet now? some kind of shakespeare?”

draco raises a brow. “some kind of what?”

blaise waves a dismissive hand. “it’s a muggle thing. just answer the part you understood.”

“i’m not a poet,” draco grumbles. “the poems in the book aren’t even mine. i found it when i was in the library a few months back, and thought it was interesting.” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like this notebook has always just been a background prop in his everyday life. “it’s stupid, really. muggle stuff.”

“so why are you so obsessed with it?”

“i’m not obsessed!” draco’s grip tightens on the edge of his chair; he’s tired after a long day of quidditch practice, and honestly, he doesn’t want to deal with his friends bullshit any longer than he has to. “now, blaise, can you start minding your own business before we have some issues?”

that shuts blaise right up. together, they eat the remainders of their dinners before draco excuses himself and leaves the table. his mind is reeling, heart thumping both with embarrassment and annoyance; he knows he’s popular amongst the slytherins. in a way, he asked to be centre of attention when he started mouthing off about the importance of the malfoy household all those years back, but it’s frustrating that he can’t even do a bit of light reading without getting asked about it. he thought he was being so subtle, keeping the curtains closed every time he read, never taking the notebook from the confines of the dorms, never uttering a word about it to-

his shoulder crashes into yours.

“shit.”

draco stumbles back, catching himself on the wall. he’s too dazed to say anything, but his anger is rising, and he’s prepared to start yelling-

but then he opens his eyes and sees you there, fumbling with a pile of posters that have spilled across the glossy corridor floor. draco blinks, glancing from you to the posters and back again.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble. “so sorry. i knew the pile was too high, but hermione had to go to-”

“why don’t you just-” draco flicks his wand. immediately, the posters gather in a whirlwind and fly into his outstretched arms, a neat little stack, good as new.

you look up, dazed. your eyes are gorgeous, plagued with evidence of exhaustion, but riveting nonetheless. draco recognises you only vaguely, and the few memories he has of these quick glimpses have never left him dissatisfied.

“oh,” you say after a moment. “right. spells. magic. i forgot about that.”

draco narrows his eyes.

you stumble to your feet, wiping trembling hands on your robes. it leaves a streak of dirt against the black, and that’s when draco sees the red and gold lining of house gryffindor.

“sorry,” you repeat. “i mean, thank you, for - like - helping me. i completely forgot i could just-” you swish your hands in a mock gesture of wand-movement before laughing awkwardly. “weird, right? that i would - uh - forget that in a school of magic. when i’m a wizard. ha ha.”

draco nods, because he really has nothing to say. he can’t keep his eyes off you, your awkward movements, the way you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. most gryffindor’s would be hurling insults at him by now - hell, he would be hurling insults at the gryffindor’s, too, but his words are caught in his throat and he can’t even properly function.

so he looks down at the pile of posters in his arms.

“CREATIVE WRITING 101!”

you snatch the first poster off the pile as if that will stop draco from reading it. “it’s nothing. something stupid, really.”

he looks at you again. “you like creative writing?”

you shrug.

“that’s such a muggle hobby to have. where’s the fun in it?”

and for the first time this entire meeting, you scowl. you hastily snatch the posters out of draco’s arms, struggling to keep them neat and tidy in your own, but when draco raises his wand to help you out a second time, you swat his hand away and say, “i don’t need your help.”

“you’re going to drop them again-”

you’re already backing away. “you don’t need to come, you know. me dropping these in front of you wasn’t a bloody invite.”

draco blinks. “i didn’t mean it like-”

you run a hand through your hair, nearly stumbling over your own shoes yet again. draco lunges forward in his attempts to catch you, but you yell something incoherent in his direction, apologise profusely to a first year you nearly elbow in the nose before you turn on your heel and head back the way you came.

draco stares at your retreating form, unable to fully comprehend what he did wrong. he doesn’t think he said anything offensive, let alone anything that would prompt you to nearly wipe yourself out in your attempts to get away.

but then again, he isn’t really sure why he cares.

----

it’s weird how - after one brief meeting - you suddenly appear at every corner draco takes.

he never noticed you in his potion’s class before, but now he can’t avoid you. you sit at the back, a pen lodged between your teeth, brows furrowed together; despite your eventful meeting with draco only a few days prior, you don’t seem to have nearly as much interest in his sudden presence as he has with yours. he keeps glancing at you, not-so-subtly turning in his chair every now and then just to make sure you’re not some kind of illusion. nobody in the classroom is acting like anything is out of place, so maybe you have been his classmate for a while, and he just never noticed.

he finds that a little hard to believe, but he has to take reality as it comes to him, or else he’ll go insane.

he doesn’t talk to you for nearly a week, because he’s a little afraid of what you’ll have to say. he’s a little afraid you’ll say nothing at all, that you might have forgotten who he is entirely.

it’s you who makes the first move.

it startles draco nearly out of his skin. he’s packing up his stuff, ignoring goyle’s ramblings to his left, when you slip your hand in his robe pocket. he jumps, spinning around just enough to dislodge your grappling fingers, and he’s seconds away from whipping out his wand to hex you when he freezes, eyes meeting your own, heart immediately plummeting into his stomach.

you smile, wide and polite. “hello, old friend.”

“can you get out of my pockets?” draco hisses, swatting your hand away when you make another attempt to dive into his robes. “what do you want?”

“a pen,” you reply. “i broke mine.”

“i don’t have a pen.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his quill. “i have a quill.”

“aaaah, my bad.” you snatch the instrument from him before grabbing his hand. he yelps, stumbling a little bit. he beams bright red when the noise he just made actually registers in his head, and he makes a mental note to scold goyle for snickering behind him.

“what are you doing?” draco demands. he tries not to get too flustered at the height difference between you - your head could very easily rest in the crook of his neck, and he hates that he kind of wants to experience what that feels like.

you scribble words into his palm. “this is the time and place for the creative writing clubs first meeting.”

draco blinks. “what?”

“time and place for the-”

“why do you want me to go?”

you scowl, not once looking up from the jagged lines of draco’s palm. “i don’t, but hermione’s asked me to gather as many people as i can find, and i think you kind of owe me one after being so rude the other day in the hallway.”

draco falters; so you remember.

“i wasn’t being rude at all,” he grumbles. “you’re just sensitive.”

“maybe.” you drop his palm and shove his quill back in his pocket. “if you want to come, be my guest; it’s going to be a lot of fun. lots of - uh - writing and stuff, i can assure you.”

draco scowls. “i won’t be going.”

“okay.”

“so this entire conversation was pointless.”

you fold your arms over your chest, as if challenging him. “okay, draco. i’m not forcing you to come if you don’t want to, but - you know - i’ll save you a seat or whatever.”

and draco doesn’t understand why that is the promise that tears him down, why that is the thing that makes his mind up for him. even as he gives you no solid answer, he knows he now has plans automatically built into his schedule to see you again, no matter how much he dreads the thought of it.

he looks down at the writing on his palm, and his heart stops.

just for a second. a brief moment of death, before life is pushed back into him when his brain kicks into overdrive and he’s certain he’s going to pass away for real with how fast his heart is suddenly beating.

he blinks rapidly. goyle is saying something, and the students are filtering out, but draco is lost, lost, spiralling as he recognises the messy scrawl, smudged even though it shouldn’t be, messy but coherent, familiar and amazing.

he’s read heaven written in this exact same handwriting. he’s read heaven, and hell, and earth, and space, and the moon, and the stars, and he’s experienced an entire new existence written in this very handwriting. it’s the same handwriting that covers every single page of his sacred notebook, hidden in his pillow case back at the dorms. it’s the same handwriting that gives a form to the aches and pains and anxieties of the person who has just walked away from him, the person who’s brain draco has lived in since christmas.

----

“you’re actually going?”

“it’s the least i can do.” draco fixes the collar of his robes, ruffles his hair a little bit. “i did nearly wipe them out in the hallway a few days ago.”

“that was an accident.” pansy throws herself across draco’s bed, as she often does when she wants the attention he has never given her. he simply glares at her reflection through the mirror, silently willing her to get up and leave so he can set off for the history of magic classroom in which the creative writing club is meeting tonight.

pansy, however, doesn’t take the hint.

“i just think this y/n person is trying to get in your head,” she continues. “your head, your bed, all of the above...”

draco’s face warms. “you can think whatever you want, pansy, but i’m going whether you like it or not. in case you’ve forgotten, you have absolutely no say in the way i live my life.”

pansy rolls onto her stomach, tugs on the back of draco’s robes. “oh, you’ve made that very clear, malfoy. don’t come running back to me when you show up to this stupid muggle club and get ostracised for being who you are.”

draco clenches his jaw, stepping out of pansy’s reach all without turning round. he knows she’s right, of course - there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to show up tonight, only to be met by the usual hostile glares he gets from everybody outside the slytherin house. he brought it upon himself, and he knows that - but he’s trying to fix it. he’s trying to prove himself as a good person to you.

to the world. not just you.

he swallows and turns. pansy stares up at him, hands curled beneath her chin, that sleezy little smile on her face. draco grimaces, points to the door and says, “the girls dorms are up the other staircase.”

pansy’s smile falls. she scowls, stands up and leaves without another word. draco doesn’t care that he’s pissed her off - pansy, in recent months, has become a little bit too much. he’s given her the most wiggle room he can provide, and she has done nothing but bombard him further.

he shakes the thought of his friend from his mind as he walks over to his bed and digs around in his pillow case. inside, he finds the poetry book he so desperately cares for, flicking to a page he has marked; he’s highlighted a few passages, and he reads them over as he steadies his breathing. this is such new territory for him. if his father finds out what he’s up to right now, he’ll be getting a very stern speaking to, possibly even a back-hand to the face if his father is in a particularly bad mood.

but then draco remembers your expression, your hand digging around in his pocket, your stumbled words that somehow manage to pull together so beautifully when you want to express yourself.

he has to see you tonight, whether it’s in a creative writing club or not. he’ll take just running into you in the hallway again, but to reach that point, he has to actually leave the dorms.

he stuffs the book back into his pillow case, flattens a particularly frustrating strand of hair, and walks out the door.

---

the history of magic classroom is dimly lit.

draco has seen pictures of muggle poetry readings before; they kind of remind him a little bit of exorcisms, and the set-up he’s currently walking into is no exception.

there’s candles lit upon every desk, the lights dimmed to create some kind of ambience that draco doesn’t understand. people are sat in a circle - people in every colour of robe, though draco is the only slytherin, it seems. this makes him a little nervous, and he hovers in the doorway, eyes tracing the scene in desperate search of you.

he spots you in a matter of seconds. you’re leaning over a candle, frowning into the flame like you can’t quite understand why it’s flickering like that.

draco makes a b-line for you.

you look up only when he’s by your side, and immediately your expression brightens. those eyes of yours widen a little bit, a smile adorning your face. you straighten up, grab draco’s arm, and he’s certain he’s going to explode.

“you made it!” you exclaim. “i can’t believe you actually came, mate; full of surprises, you are.”

draco frowns, feigning frustration, like this is something he went out of his way to attend. “why are you staring at the flame so intensely?”

“i’m staring at the flame so intensely-” you put on a pompous british accent, just to tease him, and draco doesn’t mind, “-because apparently you can turn the flames a different colour with the right spell, but it’s not working for me. watch.”

you elbow draco in the side, prompting him to shuffle over and give you more room. draco folds his arms over his chest, watching as you kneel down until your cheek is very nearly pressed against the desk. you point your wand at the flames and wave it, just once, but nothing happens. the flames barely even flicker.

you blow it out in frustration. “fuck that.”

draco laughs. he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s bursting out of him at the sight of your furrowed brows, and your pouting lips. you scowl at him, and it startles him how unsurprised you are to hear such a noise escape a man like draco malfoy.

draco shakes his head and nudges you to the side. “watch.”

you grab his wrist. “no. nope. absolutely not.”

“what? i’m gonna-”

“you’re gonna show me up, is what you’re gonna do, and i didn’t ask for it.” you pluck his wand from his fingers and stuff it back in his robes. draco has to fight the urge to shudder, your fingertips tracing across his ribcage as you fumble for his inside pocket.

you pull away then, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even matter, anyway; you show me up in every other class we have together.”

draco scoffs. “and i can assume you’re going to show me up tonight, so we’re even.”

you grin, because draco is right, and you both know he is right.

you make a bit more idle chat before the final people make an appearance, and you’re finally asked to sit down. draco is confused to see hermione granger being the leader of this group of creatives, as he’s almost certain he’s never read anything more beautiful than your work; surely you should be up at the front, guiding people through the craft of writing, a craft you have so brilliantly perfected.

draco sits beside you and says nothing. he fiddles with his fingers, coughing into his fist, rolling his eyes anytime someone makes a stupid suggestion. honestly, granger can talk forever, and draco is starting to get bored within the first ten minutes. all he wants is to hear you recite something, or for you to just. . . say anything about any of your pieces; draco could probably do it for you if that didn’t look creepy and uncalled for. he could stand at the front of this group and recite whatever piece of poetry he wanted from the notebook he took so long ago, and then maybe you’d get the recognition you deserve. maybe then you’d be able to share your potential instead of just sitting by draco’s side in a circle of poet-wanna-be’s.

finally, hermione turns her attention on you, however.

“y/n,” granger chirps. you jump, fumble with your wand, let it drop on the floor to roll beneath draco’s chair. he rolls his eyes and picks it up for you as you struggle to respond to hermione’s summons.

“uh, y-yeah? yes? did you ask me something?”

hermione’s brows furrow. “do you ever pay attention to anything i’m saying?”

“sometimes,” you reply, sheepishly. “definitely sometimes.”

hermione rolls her eyes. “anyway - i was just wondering if you’ve done any writing recently that you’d like to share.”

draco tenses. he flicks his eyes to his left to see you awkwardly ringing your hands in your lap, biting your lower lip.

“uh....”

“none?” hermione demands, eyes popping. “but i thought-”

“i’ve been a bit busy,” you grumble. “it’s not that big of a bloody deal, hermione, goodness me.”

“well, yes, i - i know that, but-” hermione gestures vaguely. “this is a creative writing club. i asked all of you to bring something with you. do you not even have an old piece of writing you could share with us?”

“nope.”

draco’s heart leaps. “what?”

and suddenly, all eyes are on him.

he slouches in his seat, but keeps his gaze on you. you stare back at him, eyes wide, clearly shocked at his contribution.

“you’ve got nothing?” he prompts.

you can’t even reply. you just stare, and draco knows he’s being confusing, is aware that maybe he should just shut his mouth. or, better yet, do everyone a favour and walk out before he says any more stupid things that will do nothing but embarrass both you and him.

“okay,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “okay, fine. that’s fine.” he looks up, meets hermione’s eyes. “you know what, granger, i don’t think this little club is my cup of tea. i’m going to head back to bed.”

hermione blinks. no one says anything when draco stands and walks out, but he expected nothing less. he wasn’t welcome there in the first place. he should never have even made an appearance. he should have stayed in bed and let his feelings fester until he fell asleep.

feelings are stupid anyway.

----

he ignores you.

in fact, he starts treating you how he treats everybody else - like they’re beneath him. a habit he once wanted to escape from has yet again become his comfort blanket, the thing shielding him from talking to you. every time you try making conversation, he sneers and walks off, barely even giving you the time of day.

in truth, he knows what happened is no big deal. everyone probably forgot about it as soon as he left the room, getting absorbed in their own works of poetry. however, draco knows you want to discuss it, that you probably want answers he is far too afraid to give you. if he starts explaining why he said what he said, he’ll have to talk about the notebook, and then you might ask for it back, and draco is selfish because he doesn’t think he can give it back just yet. it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

and so, he just ignores you.

he sits in potions and pretends you don’t exist. he walks past you at lunch and doesn’t even give you a smile. he looks over your head every time you stand to wave at him. he doesn’t want to risk any inkling of conversation trickling in between you.

pansy notices this, of course, but draco isn’t surprised. with how closely pansy has taken to watching over you and him, it would be more surprising to think she hadn’t caught on to the situation.

she sits beside him at lunch, slamming her tray of greens down just loud enough that a few heads turn - including your own. draco quickly snaps his eyes down to his plate, trying to pretend he wasn’t just staring at the back of your head.

“so,” pansy begins.

draco licks the stuffing from his fork.

pansy leans in, elbow hitting against his. “so. how did it go?”

“how did what go?”

“your little date with y/n! you never updated me on it!”

draco scowls. “that was days ago, pansy.”

“exactly. so now that i’ve got you trapped, you can fill me in on all the details.” she leans even closer, if that is possible. draco can smell the old woman’s perfume wafting from her robes and has to take a glass of water to quell the itch it summons to his throat. “y/n doesn’t look too happy with you, i’ll say that much. i sit behind them in care of magical creatures, and they’ve been awfully quiet since the club meeting; care to explain?”

“why is it any of your business?”

pansy grins. “because i told you someone like y/n wasn’t worth the trouble; a gryffindor, draco, really? were the robes not a big enough red flag for you?”

draco scowls. “first of all, pansy, y/n and i are just friends, and have always been just friends. i’m not doing anything to impress them.”

pansy scoffs, finally moving away to start spearing at her dinner with her fork. “how stupid do you think i am? how stupid do you think we all are? goyle doesn’t keep your little infatuation a secret, you know. he told us all about how close you and y/n get in potions together.”

draco’s grip tightens on his fork. “close isn’t really the right word.”

“the bickering? the way they make you laugh? the way you help them with their potions when they’re struggling so snape won’t tell them off? that sounds awful close to me, draco.”

he has no answer to that. his chest aches, memories of such delightful times flooding his mind and making him crave it all again. he remembers those times when he would glance over his shoulder to see you running your hands through your hair, struggling to comprehend what on earth snape has just ordered you to do; if it was anyone else, draco wouldn’t have given them the light of day, but seeing the fear in your eyes every time snape gave you even the briefest flicker of attention saw draco abandoning goyle to come save the day at your desk.

“so what went wrong?” pansy continues. “a lovers tiff?”

draco closes his eyes. “it was nothing, pansy; just me being an idiot again.”

pansy gasps, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “you? being an idiot? and you’re openly admitting to it! goodness me, y/n must be a lot more skilled at magic than they let on, huh?”

“i don’t know what to do.”

it’s a plea. draco knows it’s a plea. in his heart, the cracks are beginning to form, and he can’t pretend any longer. he watches the back of your head - has been watching the back of your head since the meeting, because that’s the only glimpse of you he will let himself have. it hurts to see you laughing, smiling, slapping ron weasley on the arm. it shows you’re healing, moving on from your attempts to get draco to listen.

he’s ruined everything.

pansy leans forward. her voice is softer now, surprisingly kind. “draco, are you serious about this? i know i’ve been teasing, but do you actually like y/n in that way?”

draco bites the inside of his cheek. he remembers the times he had with you, how he used to laugh so freely with little care as to who heard. you teased him and made him feel normal, and he isn’t sure when his appreciation for you went past the poetry you wrote and emerged into you as a human being, but it’s happened, and he’s nodding to pansy’s question before he can think better of it.

pansy draws back, letting out a shaky breath. “wow, okay. . . this is definitely new territory for me. for you. i’m not sure how to go about it.”

“i took their notebook from them,” he mumbles.

pansy raises a brow. “their - their notebook?”

“y/n writes,” he explains. “beautiful things. addictive things, and i found their notebook in the library over christmas and i kept it for myself. i only found out it was theirs a few days ago, but. . . i never told them i have it. i got scared to.”

pansy pauses. draco’s never used that word in a sentence before. it sounds fake, like he’s made it up and just thrown it at the end of his sentence for the fun of it.

“well, that would be a good place to start, i think.”

his eyes snap up. “what?”

“give them their notebook back.” she says this like it’s obvious, raising her brows. “it’s a good way to start a conversation, and once the conversation’s been breached, you can go on to explain everything else - it’s pretty simple when you get your head around it, draco.”

he blinks. it does make sense, but again, there comes that burning protectiveness he can’t seem to shake.

selfish, selfish, selfish.

he glances over at the gryffindor table. you’ve got your head thrown back again, laughing so loudly and so carefree that draco’s heart trembles because he isn’t the one making you laugh like that. it’s ron. it’s harry. it’s everyone who thinks he’s an awful human being, bringing joy to the one person who’s ever seen him as decent. they’ve probably told you a joke about how draco’s scum, how he’ll never amount of anything, how he claimed his spot at the top purely because of his father.

fury pools in the pit of draco’s stomach. he spears his food with his fork, pushes away from the table and walks out of the dining hall before giving pansy an answer as to whether he simple plan is one he’ll actually take into consideration.

but now that he’s storming through the halls towards the slytherin common room, he knows it’s not something he can just consider. he can never move on with you with your notebook stuffed in his pillow case. he needs to be honest, and he needs to apologise, and these are all things he struggles with greatly, but all things he needs to learn before he loses you for good.

---

the notebook hasn’t seen the light of day past draco’s dorm since christmas.

it feels weird carrying it so freely now, slowly making his way through the halls with it pressed against his chest, the spirals digging into his lower arm. people look at him, but nobody bats an eye at the notebook, and why would they? it’s not suspicious. most of them probably think it’s nothing more than a school notebook, used for taking notes in classes.

still, his anxiety runs at a million miles per hour. he wants to yell at anyone who even glimpses the tiny square peeking from over his arms. he wants to tell them it’s none of their business.

but he doesn’t. he keeps walking until he’s reached the gryffindor common room.

it’s just his luck that ron weasley is the one stood outside. the ginger lad spots draco immediately, and it’s reflex when draco scowls and says, “got nothing better to do, weasley?”

ron glares. “what are you doing here, malfoy? the slytherin common room is back the way you came.”

“good thing i’m not going to the slytherin common room.” he nods towards the portrait hole. “is y/n in there?”

ron pauses. “what do you want with y/n?”

“i need to talk to them.” he swallows before gently unravelling the notebook from his arms. “i accidentally grabbed this in potions - i need to give it to them.”

“right, give it here then.” ron reaches for it, and draco stumbles back. he stumbles, not even bothering to swat ron’s hand away as pure panic seizes him. ron pulls back hastily, eyes widening at draco’s response.

draco, through gritted teeth, says, “just go get y/n for me, will you?”

ron stares at him a second longer before turning on his heel and walking back into the gryffindor common room. draco tries calming himself down in the minutes it takes for ron to reappear with you at his side.

the attempts are futile.

the minute he lays eyes on you, his heart starts thundering in a way that confuses him to no ends; he shouldn’t feel like this over someone so ordinary, and in truth, that’s what you are. you’re a student, just like him, struggling through school life, just like him. you go about your day in almost the exact same way as he does, and yet he’s never before felt so intrigued by another individual.

when your eyes meet his, you don’t smile. you don’t even look surprised. you grip the front of your night gown, glaring at him, not saying a word in greeting; draco’s mouth has gone dry, however, and saying anything is the absolute last thing on his mind when you’re standing in front of him, hair a mess, more beautiful and casual than he’s ever seen you.

ron is the one who has to break the silence. “he said he’s got a notebook for you.”

draco inhales sharply, suddenly remembering the artefact clutched in his hands. your eyes drift to it, and for a moment, you look puzzled. your eyebrows scrunch together, head tilting a little before you say, “that’s mine?”

draco thrusts it in your direction. “please take it.” he turns to ron. “and you - please leave.”

ron looks offended, looking at you for back-up, but your eyes are peeled on the notebook, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to ron. in the end, the weasley man rolls his eyes and stalks back into the gryffindor common room, leaving the corridor empty besides you and draco.

and draco feels every sliver of tension like it’s been injected into his bone marrow. flashes of his behaviour play on loop in his brain, the way he ignored you, the amount of times he scowled at you every time you tried speaking to him; he never meant any of it, of course, considering you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever come across, but he did it anyway, and that’s what he has to patch up.

somehow, he has to patch this up.

he looks to the floor, tucking the notebook back against his chest when you don’t take it from his hands. the silence is crushing, but draco has absolutely no idea what to say to fill it in - pansy made this all sound so easy; he would hand you the notebook, and a conversation would immediately stem from that.

but no. draco’s mind has gone completely blank, and you still look furious, and neither of you are doing anything to resolve the mess he has made.

finally, however, draco can’t take it any more. “i found your notebook.”

“yeah. ron said.” you pluck it out of his arms. “where did you even find this? it’s so old.”

“in the library.”

“the library? what was it doing there?”

draco shrugs. “how would i know that?”

“considering you’re the one who stole it-”

“i didn’t steal it. i just didn’t know who it belonged to.” a lie. he shouldn’t be lying. that’s a bad way to go about things. “i mean, i took it back to my dorm with me, kept it safe, but - like - i was of course going to give it back once i figured out who the owner was.”

you hum. “i’m sure you were.” you flick open the pages, immediately spotting a passage draco has highlighted in bright orange pen. “you tabbed it?”

he shrugs. “sometimes i read it when i got bored.”

“i should be angry at you for that, you know - that’s a big invasion of privacy.”

“yeah. you should be.” he looks up sheepishly. “are you?”

you pause, eyes continuing to drift over the pages of your own work, work you haven’t seen or reread since at least christmas time. you don’t look impressed, or angry, or anything at all, really. you just read the lines and nod, as if taking inventory.

then, you look up and say, “i’m more angry at the way you’ve been treating me this past week.”

draco wilts. he knew it was coming, that this was the main source of hostility for the both of you, but he really thought the presence of the notebook would somehow buy him some time, maybe make this conversation a bit easier.

you snap the notebook closed, shoving it into the pocket of your night gown. “you didn’t even tell me what i did wrong!”

“you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“then why were you acting like that? why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

draco squeezes his eyes closed, trails his hands through his hair, tries to calm down before he says something he’ll immediately regret. “you know, it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

you pull back, puzzled. “how is it complicated? you’re nearly eighteen years old, draco! it shouldn’t be complicated to talk to someone when you’re mad at them!”

“ i wasn’t mad at you! i thought you were mad at me!”

you throw your head back and laugh, and this is the very noise draco has been craving for days, but he doesn’t want to hear it now, not here, not in this context. you’re not taking him seriously. you’re not listening.

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard,” you cackle. “is this about the fucking club meeting? you think i gave a shit about what you said?”

draco shakes his head. “again, love, it’s not as simple as that.”

“then explain it to me. explain to me what the hell was going through your head to make that switch flip so suddenly.”

something inside draco snaps, a string he didn’t even realise was being pulled so taut.

“do you wanna know what’s been going through my head recently?” his voice drops, your expression faltering. “it’s that fucking notebook of yours. it’s been all i can think about for weeks, because i can’t wrap my head around the idea of you being the author of those poems.”

you blink. “w-what?”

“you’re so carefree. you’re so. . . so you, y/n, and it seems impossible to me - unfathomable! - that you could be thinking such harrowing thoughts and not a single person has picked up on it besides me - and i’ve only done so by complete accident.” he inhales, runs a hand through his hair. “i’ve read your poems a thousand times over, and even though i know they came from you, i still can’t put your face to the words. i still can’t figure out how on earth you and that notebook are related in any way, and it’s been driving me insane. i want to help you, and it’s driving me insane.”

again, you blink. the corridor goes quiet. draco’s breathing slows, stabilises, and he has no idea what he’s just said, or if any of it makes sense, but there is a weight off his chest that provides such a great amount of relief he wants to cry.

finally, you swallow. your knuckles protrude from your hand with how tight your grip on the notebook is. your eyes stray to the ground, throat bobbing, mouth opening for just a second before you seem to think better of it and go silent again.

draco takes a step back. “look, you can have it back,” he says. “i don’t want it any more. i don’t - i don’t need it any more. but i just want you to know i’m sorry, and i never wanted to hurt your feelings. i was just. . . feeling things, and it wasn’t normal for me, and i got scared.” he raises his hands in mock surrender, taking another step back. “feel free to never talk to me again. i’ll understand.”

he waits for another second. hope springs to his chest, hope that you will tell him not to go, that you’ll forgive him on the spot and the two of you can live happily ever after, but it doesn’t work that way. you meet his eyes and nod, before turning on your heel and heading back into the gryffindor common room.

---

“how did you mess that up again?”

draco presses his knuckles into his eyes, as if pushing goyle’s words out of his brain. he should never have told the other slytherin about his encounter with you, but goyle was the first person on the scene, and malfoy just lost control; he needed to rant to someone. he needed to get it off his chest.

and it seems now goyle has suddenly developed a perfect memory, as two days after the meeting in the corridor, he has not let the subject drop.

the two sit together in defence against the dark arts; their teacher has long since left the classroom in search of some more work sheets for them to get cracking with, and the class has erupted into an expected chorus of conversations. draco wants nothing more than to put his head on the table and ignore the world, take this break as a chance to catch up on some of the sleep he has been robbed of these past few weeks, but goyle doesn’t let him go that easily.

the bigger boy leans over and taps draco on the back of the head. “come on, man, talk to me. there’s got to be something we can do.”

“there is nothing,” draco barks through gritted teeth. “and i’m sick of repeating myself, goyle, so shut your trap before i shut it for you.”

goyle sighs, leaning back in his seat. “so y/n just. . . didn’t even say anything? they just walked off without a word?”

“they did, which i took as a clear sign they never want to see me again.”

“do you not think you might be looking too deeply into that reaction?”

draco glares, eyes bloodshot, probably more terrifying than they have ever been. “tell me where on earth i could have looked too deeply.”

goyle shrugs. “well, you did admit to spilling this massive, emotional speech over them in the middle of the night - maybe they just didn’t know what to say at the time. i bet if you go up to them now and ask for a follow-up conversation, they’d be more than willing to sit down and discuss everything.”

“there’s nothing to discuss. i said everything i wanted to say, and y/n rejected me - i’m man enough to take it at face value and move on.”

a lie, of course, but draco just wants goyle to shut up. he wants to continue sulking on his own, because that’s what he does best. he doesn’t need friends patting him on the back, trying to cheer him up. he knows he’s messed up, and he’s willing to suffer in solitude for his stupidity.

“i’ve just never seen you act like this around anyone.”

draco’s head snaps up. “what do you mean?”

but he knows exactly what goyle means, because goyle is telling the truth. nobody has ever made draco this stupid. nobody has ever plagued his mind like this, and it’s driving him insane.

goyle folds his beefy arms across his chest. “i’m not saying it’s a bad thing, draco; sometimes it’s nice to see you unravel a little bit. god knows you’ve had a stick rammed up your ass for long enough.”

draco rolls his eyes. “well, there’s no point in dwelling on it; nothing is going to happen. whatever friendship y/n and i had is gone, and i’m just gonna have to accept it.”

goyle scowls, but draco pays him no attention. instead, he goes back to idly tapping his pen against his bottom lip, trying desperately to put his own words into play. he just needs to get over you. he needs to go back to the cold hearted, uncaring wizard he was raised to be, because that was the only version of himself that never got hurt. he never let himself get hurt. it’s strange how you walk into his life, and suddenly that entire side of him is being stripped away, replaced by this oversensitive, overthinking, annoying piece of shit who suddenly relies on someone else to get them through the day.

draco hates it, but he hates the idea of not having that even more.

----

“so are you going to tell me why y/n won’t talk about you?”

draco looks up, his scowl a reflex when he makes eye contact with ron weasley. he stands over him, arms folded over his chest, wearing a set of school robes with little burn marks pecked into the material; draco has half a mind to tease him for it, before finding he has absolutely no energy to do such a thing right now.

instead, he leans back against the tree he has been sat under, gazing at the sky as mountains of homework piles up in his dormitory - piles of homework he has yet to touch, because every time he tries focusing his mind on a single task, it veers off and he can’t do anything.

ron raises a brow at draco’s silence. “no? you’re both gonna keep your mouths shut?”

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“no, of course you don’t.” and then, ron does the most surprising thing - he slumps down next to draco, their shoulders clicking. “i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you fucked things up again.”

draco swallows, closing his eyes. “again, none of your business, weasley.”

“good answer. it makes perfect sense now.” ron nudges his arm. “what happened?”

and draco knows it’s out of character. of all the people he could rant to, ron weasley should - and always has been - the absolute last on his list, but he looks at ron and he’s reminded that he is your friend, that ron makes you laugh, and he’s probably cheered you on during this uncomfortable time with draco. with that knowledge comes a sense of warmth, a gratefulness he’s never felt before, one he doesn’t completely understand.

but he leans into it, because he’s too tired to fight it off. with his cheek pressed against his knees, he tells ron the whole story, from start to finish. he goes back as far as christmas, that god-forsaken day in the library when he wanted nothing more than to enjoy a nice bit of light reading whilst he ignored the rest of the students downstairs, how peeves had dropped that notebook on his head, and he’d grown attached to it, rereading the poems every day until the day he had to surrender it back to you.

“sounds quite stalkerish,” ron comments.

draco scoffs. “it does, doesn’t it?”

ron sighs, shifting slightly. in the distance, a group of first years run screaming away from the whomping willow. a stone gargoyle shakes its winds atop the astronomy tower. such beautiful sights, and yet draco can’t feel a thing.

“okay, look,” ron says. “don’t get any of this twisted, alright? i still hate you. more than i thought humanly possible.”

“cheers.”

“but, i care about y/n. a whole lot. they’re like family to me. they’ve been miserable these past few days, and it’s starting to take a toll on me. so, i’m here to give you a bit of advice.” he turns, leans in, lowers his voice. “don’t give up so easily.”

draco jerks away. ron snickers, leaning back against the tree, gazing out at the green grass without a care in the world; draco, however, is stunned, heart racing though he doesn’t even know why. those words just hold so much hope, a hope he hasn’t let himself feel since it happened. he was slowly coming to terms with the idea of never talking to you again, and here ron weasley walks into the scene, ruining everything - like always.

draco splutters, swallows, pulls himself together. “w-why do you say that?”

“i thought it was obvious, mate,” ron replies. “y/n clearly has a soft spot for you. god only knows why, but that’s neither here nor there. all i care about right now is the fact they’ve been moping around for days, not even laughing at my jokes or anything. it’s getting exhausting when all you need to do is talk, and this entire thing could be resolved.”

“it’s not as easy as that.”

ron raises a brow. “oh? and why not?”

draco opens his mouth to respond, because he’s certain he has one. however, when he thinks about it, there really isn’t a decent answer to that question; he’s young, dumb, embarrassed. he stole your notebook, gave it back, confessed his feelings and then fled the scene - the only reason he hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day is because he doesn’t want to bring up his own embarrassing gestures ever again. the quicker he buries them, the better.

but at the cost of you? maybe he should rethink it.

ron laughs. he stares at the side of draco’s face, pure amusement dancing across his features. draco scowls, because that’s what draco always does when he sees even the slightest flicker of joy on the weasley boys face; it’s become routine by now, even if he doesn’t feel the same contempt he’s so used to.

“it’s bizarre, isn’t it, that i’d be the one giving you relationship advice,” he says.

“it’s bizarre you’re helping me out at all, to be honest.”

“i’m not as heartless as you like to think i am, malfoy.” he stands, wiping his hands down his robes, smearing muck on the already dirty cloth. “if anyone asks, we were arguing and i won.”

draco blinks. “thank you, weasley. i mean it.”

ron rolls his eyes. “i’m sure you do. now never speak to me again.” he turns on his heel and strolls back down the hill without a second glance in draco’s direction.

----

draco’s heart is going to burst from his chest.

he’s been in this state far too often these past few weeks. he wants it to stop. he wants to go back to a life where he didn’t have a care in the world, where he owned this school, where he had the confidence that has carried his family name for decades.

the only way he’s going to reach that point again is by sorting things out with you.

or at least letting you know how he feels, because he can’t deny any of it any more. he can’t go around pretending you mean nothing to him. no, he still can’t explain where these feelings came from, if they started with the poetry and grew, or if they started that very day he laid eyes on you in first year and thought you were the prettiest one of his lousy classmates. he can’t explain any of it, but he doesn’t need to try. he doesn’t need to go as far back at that. all he needs to do is talk to you, let you know that you have changed him in very scary ways, and then he can move on. no matter your reaction, he can move on.

at least, that’s what he tells himself as he walks through the school corridors in search of you. it’s already getting dark, the january days lasting what seems like only a handful of minutes. students are flooding from their last classes of the day, and it’s only when draco spots a gryffindor bustling through the crowd does he stop.

he grabs the unsuspecting student by the arm, not even surprised nor offended by his look of pure disgust. draco simply grins, because that’s reflex for him, before saying, “have you seen y/n l/n anywhere?”

the boy furrows his brows. “i saw them talking to filch when i was walking to class. what do you want with them?”

draco raises a brow; talking to filch? what could you possibly want with argus filch of all people?

draco shoves the gryffindor away, thanking him with a nod before he turns and starts towards the caretakers office. he’s never been there before, mainly because he’s never wasted his time trying to hold a decent conversation with the caretaker, but he finds it in good enough time - an ordinary brown door, decorated only with the name ‘argus filch’ written across it in what looks like normal, muggle sharpie pen.

draco racks his knuckles against it, uncertain if he’s doing any of this right. in all his years at hogwarts, he’s seen filch in his office only a handful of times, and even if he just happens to be in his office now, what will draco even ask him? what he was talking to you about? if he somehow knows where you went after the conversation was over?

he waits there, however, because he has no other leads, and he needs to talk to you. he needs to get this over with, or else he won’t be able to sleep, and he can’t afford to be groggy during quiddith practice; he’s been performing bad enough these past few weeks, and if he can just get this off his chest-

the door swings open.

it isn’t filch.

“argus, i promise i’ll be done in-”

you pause. your eyes widen. your mouth snaps closed, grip tightening on the door frame, and draco is certain he’s going to explode at any moment.

“y/n.”

your name is a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing heartbeat. he doesn’t even know if he said it, or maybe it was just a thought. at this moment in time, the two things are interchangeable.

“draco.” you swallow, shuffle awkwardly, look to the floor in a rare look of timidity. “w-what are you doing here?”

“i was looking for you.” he speaks fast, like he’s running out of time, and maybe he is. maybe you’re only giving him a few seconds before the memories flood back and you slam the door on his face, ruining his chances once and for all. maybe you think his attempts are idiotic, embarrassing, and you’re only letting him talk out of pity.

but you don’t slam the door on his face. not at all. you stand there, looking more beautiful than draco has ever seen you, even though nothing has really changed.

draco swallows, curling his fingers into fists. “someone told me you - you were in here.”

your eyes snap up. “i didn’t tell anyone where i was. that was kind of the whole point.”

draco nods like he understands, because part of him kind of does - hiding away, pretending you are the only person to exist. it’s a comfort sometimes.

“what do you want, draco?”

and just like that, everything he wanted to say is swept from his brain.

you fold your arms over your chest, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor. “d-did you have anything to say to me?”

you almost sound hopeful.

“ron told me not to give up so easily.”

you pause.

draco rushes on, because he knows he hasn’t done this right. he’s gone so far off script, and he hasn’t even got to the main point of his argument.

“i don’t listen to weasley - ever. quite frankly, his advice is usually more detrimental than helpful, but - but he told me earlier to come find you. he told me you weren’t doing so good-”

“ron-”

“and i don’t know if that��s true on your end, but it’s true for me.”

you blink.

draco exhales shakily, running a ringed hand through his hair. “i’m not doing so good, y/n. i don’t like the way we left things. i don’t like the fact that we left things at all. i should have explained myself a bit better, or come to you sooner, but you know how i am. god, you know how i am better than anyone else in the world, so please, please understand that i’m trying so hard to put my dignity aside to let you know how much i care about you.”

there is a silence. a silence so heavy that draco feels crippled beneath it, unable to do anything but wait in anticipation for a response he might not even deserve. he’s done so many things wrong - not just with you, but with life in general. he is a bad person, and he knows this, and he’s trying to change, because you don’t deserve a bad person.

you swallow. he watches your throat bob.

“i don’t know if i believe you.”

your words are a whisper, but they shatter everything around him like they were screamed at the top of your lungs.

he shakes his head dumbly, like that is answer enough. he wants to say something to argue his case, but his tongue feels heavy and a cloud has passed over his brain.

“draco, i don’t know if i believe you,” you correct, sounding almost desperate. “y-you treated me like shit for no reason. you took my notebook and didn’t give it back. you’re a dick to my friends-”

“i know,” he bursts through gritted teeth, like he is in physical pain. “y/n, i know. i know, and i’ve been beating myself up over it for weeks. but that’s what i do - that’s what i’ve always done. i play the victim card and blame everybody else for my wrongdoings, and it’s childish. i’m trying to stop. i’m really, really trying.”

you open your mouth to respond, but draco takes one look at the tears in your eyes and barrels on, suddenly desperate to dig himself further into the dirt.

“you know what? i don’t even know why i’m here. i’m sorry. i should just - i should just leave you alone and let you get on with your life. you and i were never meant to be together, and i just need to accept that and move on.” he can’t stop talking. he can’t stop hating himself. “i’m sorry, though. for everything i did to upset you. for every stupid thing i said or did - know i didn’t mean it. from the bottom of my heart, y/n, i would never hurt you. never. so that’s why i’m gonna go. i’m gonna leave you alone. i’m g-gonna support you in whatever you want to do in the future. as long as you’re happy.”

he tries for a smile, because that’s the way you’re meant to end these things, isn’t it? you smile, and you shake their hand or something, but draco can’t bring himself to do that, so he turns on his heel instead. he turns away from you, knowing this will be the last time, that there is absolutely no going back, no matter what horrible advice ron weasley gives him. he needs to get over you. he needs to let you go once and-

“draco.”

you grab his wrist and he stumbles. he stumbles because of your grip, but he stumbles, too, because his name on your lips will never get old. it’s music to him, music he never listens to because his father always said it was a waste of time. he basks in it, spinning around to meet your eyes, and his heart crumbles at the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

his own eyes widen. “y/n-”

“you’re so stupid,” you sob. “so fucking stupid, do you know that?” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a desperate hug. you sob into his shoulder, and draco is frozen, hands hovering over the small of your back, unsure how to take this reaction. “you’re literally the most idiotic person i’ve ever met in my life. how is it you? how is it always you?”

draco blinks. “how is what always me?”

“everything!” you wail, hugging him tighter. “it’s just always you, draco. always.”

and draco still has no idea what you mean, but he’s learning to understand that maybe he doesn’t need to know what you mean all the time. maybe he just needs to be there for you to yell and cry and make no sense, and that will be enough.

he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. he’s never been any good at hugs, but he’s melting into this one.

“idiot,” you whisper into his neck. “thinking i’m just gonna let you leave like that. . . thinking i don’t like you back. . . thinking i’ve stopped thinking about you for even a second these past few days. . .”

draco holds you tighter.

you pull away after a moment, quickly swiping your hand beneath your eyes. they are puffy now, red-rimmed, and draco knows he will have to explain this to ron in some way or the other without giving ron the benefit of knowing his advice might have actually been beneficial for once.

“i think we both messed up a little bit,” you mumble through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “my reaction wasn’t exactly very helpful, was it?”

“well. . . no, but-” draco exhales. “i meant what i said, y/n; i never meant to hurt you. i would never do that.”

your smile trembles. draco has only a second to smile back before you’re throwing your arms around him again, pulling him in for a hug that he is getting strangely fond of.

----

your pen scratches against the paper. draco can’t sleep; he doesn’t really want to sleep, despite the hours of classes and quiddith practice he has to endure in a few hours time.

you never sleep. not really. draco is convinced you live entirely off caffeine and words, staying up into the early hours of the morning with that notebook of yours, your muggle pen darting back and forth over the pages. he scolds you for it sometimes, but he’s always smiling, and you always roll your eyes in response.

now, however, he has one arm thrown over your shoulders, watching you work. it’s already three in the morning, but he’s too enamoured to bother falling asleep; he’d rather stay up and watch you work.

“bic,” he says out of nowhere, shattering the hours of silence the two of you had collected.

you pause, looking up. your eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. draco smiles.

“what?”

“bic.” he nods at the pen in your hand. “that’s the name of your fancy muggle quill, isn’t it?”

you frown, taking another second to catch onto what he means, despite the clear explanation he has just given. however, it eventually dawns on you, and you frown even more.

“oh, right. yeah. bic. that’s the brand name.” you place it in draco’s hand. he holds it close to his face, squinting to read the tiny letters written in the plastic. “the best pens in the world, i’d say; much more practical than those bloody quills we have to use in class.”

“nothing wrong with our quills,” draco says, tilting the pen back and forth, examining every inch of it. “mine cost me a good lot of money.”

you scoff, snatching the pen back. “i’m sure it did. waste of a good lot of money, too, when you could have just bought a pack of twelve bic pens for a fiver.”

draco furrows his brows. “a fiver? what’s that in real money?”

you roll your eyes, smiling fondly, and it’s that very smile that has draco leaning forward to peck you on the lips. it takes you out of your work, which he knows will frustrate you in the morning when you wake up to see you didn’t get as much done as you might have liked, but for now, he doesn’t really care. not when you’re melting against him, dropping your dumb bic pen into the crease of your notebook so you can cling to him with both hands.

there are some days when draco thinks you love him only out of pity. he was the boy who lost himself to his feelings for you. he was the boy who came crawling back, the boy who was lost when he didn’t have you by his side. some days, draco has to ask you if you really want to be part of this relationship.

but then you go and kiss him like this, and he is left with no doubt that you’ve meant every single “i love you.” then you go and hold his hand at the gryffindor table, smile fondly at him as he bickers with your friends, and he knows this relationship is not a chore for you. maybe, if he lets himself hope, he can convince himself that you love him as much as he loves you.

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sencire · 3 years

Text

To turn a blank page

“I don’t do cuddles in the morning” – that is all Lexa is prepared to give her latest conquest before bailing. But there's something about this blonde that tells her it won't be so easy this time.

Featuring failed womanizer Lexa with a lot of baggage and Clarke with very little baggage ...

Chapter 1

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The tickle of sunlight on the tip of her nose wakes her. Lexa wiggles her nose but the tickle doesn’t go away. Cracking one eye open, she finds it way too bright and turns onto her stomach, rubbing her nose into the pillow. The soft fabric smells clean but unfamiliar. She groans, her limbs too heavy to move yet. Carefully, she opens the other eye. The covers are a plain, somewhat sterile white. The kind you find in a hotel room.

Another tired groan escapes her, a little louder this time, and she pulls at the sheets to hide under them. Blurred images flash before her closed eyes. She has no idea how late it is but her body tells her it wants to stay underneath the cozy blankets a little longer. Just a few minutes, then she’ll get going.

“Hey, leave some for me!”

Lexa’s eyes fly open at the sound of the sleepy voice. The mattress tilts slightly, then an arm slides around her and a warm body snuggles up to her back.

Oh.

Right.

The hot blonde. Carol. Claire. Carly? Shit. Lexa can’t remember. Her tired mind manages to piece a few fragments together though.

She had picked a club with good music last night and not too many people and had planned on letting the thumping base mute out all other sounds in her head. She had been enjoying herself. Trying to flirt with the cute barkeeper and actually aiming to go home with her.

But before she could make a real move, she had been distracted by a loud female voice. Amazed at how anyone’s voice could carry above the music, Lexa had turned to see what the commotion was about. She saw a blonde woman arguing with a guy. Lexa slid off her chair right away. It hadn’t looked like the blonde needed help though. She moved into the guy’s space to get him to back off. Probably some idiot who didn’t understand what ‘no’ meant. Staggering backwards, he held out his hands as if to apologize and at the same time hold off an attack. It made Lexa chuckle. Clearly, the blonde was winning. She climbed back into her chair and resumed trying to catch the barkeeper’s attention but found her chatting to another customer at the other end of the bar.

She had almost forgotten about the incident again when a little while later someone bumped rather roughly into her. Lexa was about to tell the person off when she noticed it was the blonde fury from before, leaning onto the bar with a huff. Lexa nodded at her with a wink.

It was like the sun smiled back at her. Lexa was instantly mesmerized and she felt a broad smile tug at her lips as a response. The barkeeper was forgotten. She liked how the blonde’s blue eyes widened as they took in her face. Lexa knew about her effect on women, it always worked in her favor. So then she had turned her attention fully to her new challenge – only to find that the doors were already wide open.

“So, I see you can stand up for yourself.”

The woman looked at her from underneath her make-up heavy lashes, giving her another bright smile. She looked like an angel and Lexa was unable to tear her eyes away from her. Something about the way her gaze never seemed to falter when Lexa looked into her eyes. When the woman finally spoke, her voice was low and very telling.

“You noticed. And I noticed you.”

A drink later, Lexa hadn’t been all that surprised at the feeling of a hand on her thigh, moving up slowly, spreading warmth right into Lexa’s core. The deep gazes and the rosy tongue darting out to run along very kissable lips. And that low cut shirt and its contents. A low growl crawling up Lexa’s throat in approval. It had been instant and mutual. So it hadn’t taken them long to make up their minds and leave. Stumbling through the night, giggling, kissing (yeah, she remembers that well), making out in the elevator on the ride up, fumbling with the key card in the lock and … well … waking up in a hotel room.

Way to go, Lexa, she scolds herself. Aren’t you getting too old for this? Her mouth feels like she has chewed on a dirty rag. She untangles her legs from the sheets, sticking out her knee to hold her position. She moves her tongue inside her mouth to unstick it from her gums.

The hand on her stomach slowly moves up to her chest and stops there, growing limp. Lexa realizes she’s not wearing a shirt. She’s not wearing anything at all.

Right. She frantically tries to jumpstart her brain. This is fine. It’s not the first time she has woken up next to a stranger. Lexa rubs her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. And turns around slowly.

The first thing she notices is the mop of wavy blonde hair sticking out from underneath the covers. A careful tug at the white sheets reveals a smooth forehead, then a set of eyes, closed with remains of kohl, a very cute nose and, oh, those lips. Lexa looks at them for a moment, her eyes being drawn to the small beauty mark just above upper lip. This is a very pretty girl. At least her taste is still impeccable.

“Hello, gorgeous.” The same husky voice she had last night, only now it’s also heavy from sleep. And now the woman’s blue eyes are fixed on Lexa while her lips curl into a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” A hand comes up from underneath the covers and reaches for Lexa. Before the blonde’s fingertips can touch her, Lexa snaps her head back and grabs the hand. She makes an effort not to grab too tightly. She just needs to hold it away from her face.

“I need to get going.”

She throws off the covers and rolls out of bed. Her clothes are scattered all across the floor around the bed. She starts looking for her underwear.

“So this is … what … fuck and leave?”

Lexa stops walking around for a moment to look at the woman who is shifting to sit up against the headrest.

“I’m sorry, I don’t do cuddles in the morning.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, then lets out a humorless laugh.

“I wasn’t going to marry you so there’s no need to treat me like I have an infectious disease all of sudden. You could still be nice. We had a nice time, didn’t we?”

Lexa inhales deeply and takes her time to exhale, sitting down on the bed to put on her socks. She hangs her head and nods. Ah, there are her panties sticking out from under the sheets at the foot end. She pulls them out and wriggles into them.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I just … I don’t like getting too close.”

The other woman studies her for a moment, pursing her lips. “That’s not the impression I got last night. You were pretty desperate to get really close.”

“Look,” Lexa pauses, still unable to remember the name and decides to take a chance because the situation is ruined anyway, “Claire, I need to get going. I had a really nice time with you, thank you for that, but I have to go.”

She gets up and reaches for the pair of jeans sitting on the armchair by the window. She peaks outside, squinting at the sun that seems to be up too high already.

“Clarke.”

“Huh?”

“Name’s Clarke. And you’re welcome. Lexa.” Her voice is cold as ice, her blue eyes shooting arrows.

“Or maybe I should just call you asshole.”

That actually hurts. Lexa pulls on the jeans, almost losing her balance when her foot gets stuck. But when she closes the button, there’s too much room. This pair of jeans is for hips wider than hers. She pulls them off again and finds another pair on the floor on Clarke’s side of the bed. Those must be hers. She reaches down to pick them up and spots her black t-shirt crumbled between the bed and the bedside table.

She pulls it out and flaps it to remove the worst creases but doesn’t put it on yet. She’s pretty sure she also wore a bra. But she can’t see it anywhere.

Clarke has propped herself up on her elbow, quietly watching her get dressed. Now she purses her lips, letting her eyes wander across Lexa’s bare upper body.

“You really are hot,” she says with an approving click of her tongue. “Sure you don’t want to stay? It might help you to remember my name if you’d repeat it a few times. Preferably while you’re coming.”

Lexa’s face turns a bright red and she drops her head to hide a grin. What kind of a woman has she picked up there?

“I can’t.”

“Got to be somewhere? It’s Sunday.”

“Clarke –“

“Alright, I got it. Mystery woman.”

Lexa pulls the shirt over her head. She has no idea where her bra is and this is getting weird.

“Didn’t you forget something?”

Lexa turns her head to find her bra dangling from Clarke’s index finger. She crooks her finger and it drops onto the mattress.

“Found it under my pillow. Not mine.”

“Ah, great, thanks.” Lexa leans down to take the bra. She twists it in her hands and then decides to sit down on the bed. When she looks at Clarke again, a blank face meets her. Searching eyes are scanning her face. She knows that look. She’s seen it before. Every time she gets caught before she can make an escape while they’re still asleep. Clarke is wondering what went wrong and can’t decide whether she wants to be angry or disappointed. She’s probably both.

“Clarke,” Lexa starts, trying a smile. “I’m really sorry. You seem like a nice girl.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yes. And if we had met under different circumstances, I would stay.”

“Oh, would you?”

“Yes!”

Would she really?

“No, I wouldn’t. I just don’t do close. Although you are tempting,” Lexa adds, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Clarke sits up higher and with her abrupt movement, the sheets slide down. Lexa’s eyes drop onto the full breast that is revealed before she can stop them. When Clarke notices, she pulls the sheets up again to cover herself, hiding a grin.

“You don’t get to see that anymore. You know, you were polite and gentle last night, I really thought you were different.”

“You don’t know me. Maybe I am just an asshole.”

Lexa squirms a little under the scrutinizing look that Clarke gives her. She narrows her eyes and keeps them fixed on Lexa’s face. Lexa can almost hear an electric fizzle in the air between them. The same that had been there last night.

“No, I don’t think you are. Come here.” Clarke holds out her hand. “I’m not going to let you go like that.”

Lexa wonders why she doesn’t just go. What’s the point in prolonging this awkward situation? It’s just impossible to tear herself away though. There’s something about Clarke that makes her want to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep in her arms. Like last night, when one smile had made her feel like she could trust her.

She looks at Clarke again now, her outstretched hand within reach and decides to take it. Clarke pulls gently and Lexa suddenly doesn’t want to fight it anymore. She leans in, allowing herself to sink against Clarke’s lips and into the softest of kisses. It makes Lexa’s heart ache. She whimpers quietly which encourages Clarke to wrap her arms around her and without thinking Lexa snuggles closer. If Clarke is surprised, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she starts to gently run her fingers through Lexa’s hair.

“That’s enough now, I don’t do cuddling, remember?”

“Mhm, I know,” Clarke whispers and kisses her forehead. “Shame though, I’m the best cuddler.”

Oh, this is … she needs to get going. Lexa pushes herself up and feels Clarke’s arms slide away.

Lexa gets up and pushes her cell phone into her pocket, crumpling a few loose bills in the process. She crosses the room towards the door and puts her hand on the doorknob. Pretending to study the escape plan that hangs there, she closes her eyes briefly, still feeling the softness of Clarke’s lips on her skin. What is happening here? She straightens up and opens the door.

“I’m really sorry. Don’t think too badly of me.”

“I won’t, tiger.”

Lexa stops in the doorway to look back over her shoulder.

“Goodbye, Clarke, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

It’s a lame joke but it’s all Lexa can think of. She steps out and pulls the door shut behind her to Clarke’s hearty laugh. Her shoulders sag and she takes a couple of hesitant steps down the corridor. This just doesn’t feel right. She never feels regret like this when she leaves her one night stands. Digging around in her pocket, she pulls out a box of mints and pops one in her mouth. She wishes she had been able to take a shower and brush her teeth but that can’t be changed now.

When she reaches the elevator, she hesitates again before pushing the button. Part of her wants to go back. The other wants to run. The elevator announces its arrival and the doors slide open. Relieved to see that there’s nobody else inside, she enters and pushes the button for the lobby. Waiting for the doors to close, she looks back down the corridor, still wondering what it is about this woman that makes her heart so heavy.

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket and she pulls it out. She has a new message from an unknown number.

“I think I like you, tiger.”

Continue with chapter 2 on ao3

#clexa fic #clexa fanfiction #clexa #my fic

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angelharness · 4 years

Text

ns/fw tag is junkbox, blacklist that tag if needed

somehow this evolved into. frank getting railed. was just thinking about how there’s virtually no sub frank content and then this happened. gender neutral reader, could be interpreted as a strap-on or otherwise.

WARNINGS: smoking, brief descriptions of blood

FRANK MORRISON / THE LEGION

When Frank picks you up for your typical Friday routine, he’s tense. More so than usual, enough that you can notice it, despite being so acquainted with his usual taut air. You’ve just come from dinner with Susie and Julie at the only karaoke bar in the area, still a ways from Ormond, cheeks bitten by the cold and the crescents of ice caught on your lashes.

Stuffed on crisp fries and more than one refill of Shirley Temples, you’re a little groggy and just want to get to his house to pass out in bed, but through your coma-esque fogginess you see Frank’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. His eyes are almost unfocused, and you feel his dad’s old Ford Mustang begin to veer slightly as he begins down the route to his place.

You’re staring at the highway in front of you, but as the car inches over the dotted white line of the road and reaches well into the next lane over, you grab for Frank; a bad idea, he snaps to reality with a jerk in his shoulders, and the wheels screech and whine when he tears the steering wheel suddenly to the side. You gasp for a moment.

Frank swallows, readjusts his grip, and redraws into the proper lane. You look over at him, worried, and though he glances back fleetingly, his focus still resides elsewhere.

“Frank, do we need to pull over?” you suggest, somewhat meekly. Frank was never a good driver, liable to concerning cases of road rage, but it’s out of character for him to be so out of focus. As you expected, he takes offense to your comment, as well meaning as it was intended.

“Fuck, I’m fine, okay? Can you just—” His grip tightens further, you can hear the stiff creak of the worn leather furrowing intensely between his fingers.

He twitches when you reach a hand to rub his shoulders. As you graze down his side with a gradually increasing pressure, he jolts beneath his heavy denim jacket. He careens inward, retreating from your touch, but in the moments after, falls back into the space between you two.

You rub his hip comfortingly; Frank begins to loosen up, though his hands remain rigid, defined by furrowed veins across his straining knuckles. Your hand rests on his thigh, where you rub gentle circles. He tightens up again once more, then finally relaxes, and though there is no audible indication you can feel an exhale of relief as his limbs unstrain.

He slouches back into the driver’s seat chair, but you still see him spare you glances, less frantic but still with meaning.

It’s been a period of fluctuating silence now. Only taking his eyes off the road to struggle open the center console, retrieving a suspiciously brown box of his favorite Classic Filter Kings cigarettes, he rummages further for his lighter but resigns his attempts, the unlit cigar fixed between his fingers as he returns to the wheel.

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” you push. Your hand moves inward on his thigh. You can’t tell if it’s a gasp, but his mouth snaps open then shuts just as quickly, eyelids fluttering in fluster.

“Can we talk about it when we get back to my place?” he replies. His voice comes out smaller.

When you pull up in front of his foster parents house, the sprawling display of Christmas lights across neighbor’s lawns projects in smears of color down the windows of the Ford Mustang. His house is dark, an unfitting, unwelcoming silhouette between the neighborhood's jolly spectacles. Its windows stare back like dark, unfeeling eyes.

Frank draws into the empty driveway. His parents are always out at night, though you never borrowed to ask, thankful for its convenience. He alluded to them being out of town this weekend, though.

As Frank is now newly-nineteen, they don’t especially care much for whatever pursuits he undergoes in the privacy of his room, as long as that means he isn’t out late and getting into trouble with the law (which still makes up all of his time otherwise). You’d barely talked to them at all, actually—when Frank first brought you home, of course with the intention of sex, they hadn’t said anything at all, despite his foster mom spotting you as he rushed you up the stairs to his room.

He practically kicked you out afterward, just in time for dinner, which you guess had saved you from any uncomfortable introductions. You would rather not spend an awkward evening at the dinner table, shifting under the judgemental, wordless glares of his parents.

The car doors slam and the two of you trudge up the driveway to the door. Despite his parents' evident indifference, he’d always insist on entering from the back door closest to the stairs when they were home to ensure as minimal confrontation as possible. It’s in their absence that he hurries inside, eagerly pulling you along, breath heavier in cold plumes of crisp winter air.

The door shuts, he flips on the living room lights, a sad Christmas tree blinking to life wearily in the corner by the front window.

“The usual?” you start with a slight smile. Sex was never routine, actually, but you can tell when he needs to destress. Your relationship, never technically made official but by all other means definite, started with a teen-aged, carnal fiercoity. These escapades mellowed out and became sparser in your months together, now your time is spent in a more intimate, personal affection. To an outsider (such as Joey), they might think that that flame has lessened, but in fact you prefer the genuine romance that has developed in sex’s absence.

He’s rolling the cigarette anxiously between his fingers, gaze fixed elsewhere.

Frank is not shy. He feels so rawly and with a strengthness that wards off those who have not developed the acquired taste of his intensity.

Here, though, in the doorway of his house, breathing deep first, then shallow, he is small.

“In the car,” Frank mutters. His brows lower, frustration forming between his eyes. It’s an incomplete sentence but said with finality. He wants you to figure it out.

In the car.

You step forward and slide your hand down his arm.

“Frankie?” you say, and while it is said with understanding it comes out teasing. He parts his lips. He grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a vigorous kiss. Parting for desperate breaths but still so fervent. It’s not the intensity you are familiar with. It is, in some aspect, resigned, from a place of surrender. He’s warm, despite the December night you’ve entered from.

You’re starting up the stairs even as his hands clench at the fabric of your shirt. There’s the cold slide of zippers as you shed your jackets and stumble into his room. Blind, preoccupied with heavy kisses, he swats at the doorway to his room, finding the end of his door and slamming it shut after you.

The lights come on next. His room is as messy as usual; what clothes he couldn’t manage to cram into his drawers he’s instead kicked under the bed. It smells of old weed, never a smell you would get used to. His collection of army and pocket knives remain perhaps the most organized aspect of his room, mounted on his bedroom wall in a thick frame. Torn magazine pages are plastered about on the wall; various models in bikinis, and though a joke (he claims), it’s still the subject of teasing from Julie.

Frank tugs you along, falling back into his bed, guiding you to straddle him. His face is so red. He looks away, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Please,” he manages.

It’s the first time you’ve heard that from him, in any context. It’s so bizarre you nearly laugh, but this is also just so rare of an experience you don’t want to risk embarrassing him, in which case surely this occurrence would never present itself again.

He’d always been the one in control. Perhaps steered by his own collecting frustration, he fucks roughly and uncaringly. That is not to say he’s ever hurt you, but he’s never entirely there in the moment. He’s there for the feeling, but his mind is so many places at once you’ve never felt so alone in an inherently mutual act. His intensity carries over into his hands and touches, strokes which barely pass as such. Bruises and scratches are expected, though they heal fine enough on their own. Biting, too, wherever on your neck he can sink his teeth into it while fucking you.

Your hands must be cold, or he’s just nervous (both, you decide), as the muscles in his chest twitch when you run your fingers firmly down his bare chest. There are plenty of scars, varying in color, in recency. Old, faded scars juxtaposed by those more recent and a painful red. There are dark bruises up his forearms where he scratches subconsciously when anxious. You kiss up the bruises there, caring, sweet, but intensifying when you rise to meet his lips.

Frank was never treated kindly. Beyond that, he never opened himself up to kindness; paranoid by a history ridden so distinctly with hurt and mistreatment from those expected to care for him.

In your time with him you’ve slowly introduced intimacy. Genuine intimacy, loving kisses and compassionate touches. You like to think he’s calmed down over the years. You see that in your time alone, where he’s come to allow himself to relax and trust you, your intentions, your love for him, but you never see it otherwise. With others, he’s still Frank, still ambitious and self-destructive, careless perhaps in the desire for hurt, for what he thinks is punishment. You wonder how much of it is an act. He keeps it all hidden well behind unyielding eyes.

You run your fingers through his short hair, moving your kisses to his neck. Instinctively, his hands claw at your back, nails sinking in bare skin for security. If he’s so jumpy at just this, you’re not sure if he’d be able to handle much more.

“It’s okay,” you promise, murmuring into the crook of his neck. Somehow, it’s hot, even as snow gathers on the outside ledge of his bedroom window. Your skin is pricked with goosebumps but your neck burns up to your cheeks.

He says your name, eyes squeezed shut, a shy request for more. The kisses on his neck escalate, and you graze your teeth on the sensitive flesh experimentally. He pulls you closer. More. You sink your teeth in. Dark blood beads around the marks, and when you retract you gently dab away the red. More bites, he yelps shortly but his breath becomes distinguished and desperate. He’s still pulling at you.

“Is this ok?” you pause to ask. He nods his head and moves impatiently beneath you.

He usually is relatively silent when you do get around to fucking, and in the times when he’s not he rambles on and on, names, some degrading and others loving and some both. Teasing, too, the most relentless teasing.

Seeing him so oddly vulnerable, your hands clasping his wrists to the bedsheets, that almost drunk blush bright across his cheeks. It’s weird, so weird, but it feels incredible, too.

Pants come off, his boxers you pull down. He’s making the faintest whining, but you can’t tell if it’s out of anticipation or anxiety. You check in again and he responds a little annoyed, urging you on with rising impatience.

“Fucking christ, come on,” he finally spits, grinding pointlessly against nothing, and yet there’s immediate regret in his eyes when you grip his thigh in warning. His foggy eyes lurch to look down at the hand inching up his inner thigh. Frank is taken aback, but still you feel him move against you, pushing into your touch to ease the burning want even if slightly. You let him go.

He shoves the cigarette on his cluttered dresser, sitting up to stretch past his nightstand, but when he turns back to you you guide him to lay back down. He lays expectantly and swallows his nervousness. You take his cock in your hand. Another taut intake of air and dizzy mumbling.

“Yeah,” he urges in response to your inaction.

You start at a steady pace but quicken soon enough to meet his impatience. Hearty strokes, he pushes into your touch, needy and hot, the whimpering now very much audible. He jerks his head back across his pillow and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, a twitch to his lips. You stop to admire the piercings on the underside of his shaft. He snarls, you jerk him sharply and he shuts his mouth with a surprised sound. Faster now, his mumblings evolve into barely restrained moans.

“Good boy,” you say encouragingly, “Such a good boy.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” His hands slide from your back, marked with the red imprint of fingers, and instead he tangles the sheets tightly in his fists, twisting them. He’s panting.

“Oh,” you muse. He groans shakily. “Do you like that? Being called ‘good boy’?”

He can only make a sound in reply. Possibly above admitting it, but when your strokes slow, he nods. You stroke faster.

Internally, you store this revelation in your head to tease him about later. Right now, you find yourself oddly warm at this nickname.

Again, “Good boy, what a sweet boy.”

He ruts into your palm and you see the glint of what might be tears stinging his eyes. He’s burning, so flushed, so needy. He relents and falls back into himself. It’s an entirely new intimacy to see him like this.

He releases with an audible shutter, chest heaving an extraordinary amount for such an act. You’ve jerked him off before without a fuss, though again in those moment’s he was still demonstrating complete control, usually with a hand knotted in your hair. Exploring that loss of control you just find so exciting, though. You’re incredibly turned on and possibly more embarrassed than he is.

You both take a moment, his breathing evening out again. You cup his cheek and run a thumb along the frame of his face, rough with scars and bruises. You kiss the light scar that runs through his lip, humming sweetly. He exhales hotly, eyes heavy and half-lidded, murky with lust.

“Fuck me,” he says suddenly. You think for a moment he’s regained his signature brashness, maybe previously lost to emotional exhaustion—no, though. He grinds against your thigh, searching so urgently for relief. You like withholding it, like watching him squirm and sputter for words, to flounder in this new sensation, flustered and aching but also groggy in his own befuddlement. But lost to an overwhelming yearning, he severs contact with the shame he’s constructed to keep him from intimacy and vulnerability, concepts still very new and scary.

Funny how new emotions manage to be Frank’s greatest, most incapacitating fear; you’d more readily believe he would kill a man before he would ever let himself be emotionally vulnerable.

“How do you want me to?” you ask. You are incredibly nervous but manage to function with the rush of acute longing thrumming sweetly in your veins.

“I—I dunno,” he mumbles hotly to the side. The unpatterned fabric of his bed sheets furrows in his clenched fingers. He glares needles at the wall, far too embarrassed to look at you as you move above him.

“What if you just relax and I’ll take control this time?” you offer, dropping the teasing note in your voice. You gently rub his shoulders, unwinding the muscle there, coaxing him into relief, the unclenching of self where he had not realized he had been tensed. He releases a breath, closing his eyes, and says with it, “yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you remind him. He stares at you almost timidly, eyes angled through his blond eyelashes.

Shifting to a fitting angle, you lean in to kiss along his jawline, then taking his face in your hands, kissing up the bridge of his nose, at his chin, at his cheek, at his lips once more.

He makes a sound beneath you.

“Mmph.” Though short and exhaled almost bluntly, it’s content. A moan comes after but he silences it, drawing in his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Properly pushing into him, rocking up against him. He squirms briefly and resituates himself before unclenching again and following your slowly building thrusts.

He brings an arm up over himself, to shield the bedroom lights or to avert the further embarrassment of seeing you stare. Frank tucks his face into the junction in his elbow.

“You don’t have to be so gentle.”

He manages a glance your way. It’s not a dare, not said to badger you or push buttons he knows all too well.

You sink in further and watch his chest hitch, testing broader thrusts. When his breathing normalizes, you push the remaining width deeper, now comfortably situated snug in his hips. You let the both of you adjust, then return thrusting with newly-realized confidence. Moaning, his fingers seize the sheets again and twist them.

Mumbling incoherently as you fuck into him, he shakes, jerking. You lose yourself in the feeling, tight pleasure in your belly. He encourages you even as his face burns red ear to ear.

“More,” he asks, and more you give him. It’s almost too much. Like winding up a chain with a crank, the ecstasy tightening his core wrenches him suddenly into undoing; pleasure, striking and raw, racking his body in release.

If he could have been any redder his face might have well been solid crimson, already stained with pink and a few stray tears. You catch your breath with him, staring at him, beautiful and unraveled.

You lay down beside him and somewhat hesitantly ask, “Did I do ok?”

“Yeah,” he says with the mildest smile. He still glances away, scrambling to recover his composure before looking at you again.

Frank cleans up and retrieves a new set of boxers and his discarded pants. From his nightstand he withdraws another pack of cigarettes, this one nearly empty. You give him a look when he reaches for his blocklike lighter, cups his hand carefully around it, and lights the cigarette, taking a long drag. He returns to your side, laying next to you and shifting to allow you to rest your head on his chest.

“Your room’s a fire hazard, Frankie,” you joke. He pinches the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a gray-white ribbon of smoke.

He stares at the undecorated bedroom wall across from the bed, the only wall in his room not graffitied in some manner. He seems to contemplate speaking, turning the words over in his mouth with his tongue.

“It—it felt good,” he admits, and the dark flush reappears at his ears and cheeks.

“Oh?” You scoot closer. “You looked really cute,” you tease, “I wish I could’ve taken a picture.”

You throw an obvious glance over at the clunky camera that he tossed uncaringly onto his desk. It looks virtually unused, but now certain thoughts start a smile across your face.

He shoves you but is smiling. He presses the cigarette into the ashtray behind his bed-side lamp, the smoke eaten suddenly away.

You take the moment to kiss up his neck again. Squirming, he bites back a laugh. You cradle his face with a loving hand, guiding him to look back at you.

“I love you, Frank,” you remark, suddenly serious. Frank, for a second, looks worried, but is reassured by more kisses on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he replies—returning the gesture in his own manner. His lips meet yours, though a moment later you part and laugh, nose wrinkled. "What?” he shoots back, seeming confused. You only shake your head. Smoke just really isn’t a palatable taste.

Eventually, you pull away and maneuver over him on the bed to stand, snagging your own clothes.

“You leaving?” he asks, and it might be disappointment. You shake your head as you ball up your shirt and pants. “No,” you reply. You push your hair from your face; “I need to wash up.”

“Unless, ah, you want me to leave,” you say, too nervous to turn around and look at him. You were completely prepared for him to kick you out after the fact, an expected conclusion but never one you looked forward to.

There’s no response, despite the shuffling of sheets, then he speaks.

“You can stay if you want to.”

It would sound displeased to anyone else, but you, fluent in his terminology, know it’s a genuine invitation.

“Can I take a shower first?” you ask with a well-meaning laugh. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he replies. You doubt he meant it, but it came out as an insult, and you cackle back at him. Confused at first, he realizes, opening his mouth to clarify, but you’re the one to speak first.

“So that’s what you think of me, got it,” you joke further. He grabs a pillow out from under him and launches it your way. You retreat from it and take cover in the hallway, still giggling to yourself, and almost prance to the upstairs bathroom.

You look away from your own reflection in the mirror, flustered again, suddenly, by the image of him beneath you still recent in your thoughts.

God.

#junkbox #frank x reader #frank morrison x reader #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd frank #dbd legion #legion x reader #reader insert #x reader #horror x reader #slasher #slashers #dbd imagine #harpy writes

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yolkyeomie · 4 years

Text

Lost Zephyrs | Bang Chan

summary — you’ve got the worst luck in the history of the world, but it seems as though a miracle has finally been bestowed upon you

word count — 2.4k words

pairing — chan x gender neutral!reader

genre — genshin impact au, fluff, reader is not the smartest person in the world

disclaimer — !! Small mentions of death/injuries !! I’ve been obsessed with genshin impact for the entire week and it stopped me writing. so I decided do make an au out of it to get me out of the slump, please enjoy !! (I explain most of the genshin content for readers who aren’t players :D !!)

tags — @fluffyskzclub

You knew you had the worst luck of them all. You've been constantly reminded of the fact that things didn't go your way no matter how hard you tried, so you think you would have learned your lesson by now right?

Somehow, you were wrong. Excruciatingly wrong in fact. It didn't matter who you told you— your friends, strangers, anyone —you always seem to think that maybe one day something would go your way. If it never did then you'd simply force the world to bend to your knees and allow you to proceed on with life like any other normal person. Most of the time that didn't happen and today was one of those days.

You should have known that traveling across the nations of Teyvat would be a dangerous journey, alone at that. So many monsters, so many evil people, would be out to cause trouble to anyone whose fate crossed their path. But you thought you were fine! After easily skipping across the land of Mondstadt without any help from strangers, slinking past monsters, and quietly napping any interesting treasures along the way, you had gotten too cocky.

Eventually, along your travels you had gotten your map of the world completely blown away in the middle of terrible weather after entering the nation of Liyue, finding yourself somewhere near Wuwang Hill. Then just when you had saved yourself from monsters near the bridge to Wangshu Inn, your sword completely snapped in half. The blade getting cut clean off after a Cryo slime froze it and broke it.

You were lucky enough that you had been able to rush into Wangshu Inn but now you were stuck without a weapon and a map of the landscape ahead of you.

Any sane person would stop their journey to stock back up on everything they've lost, but you didn't want to. You were a rather restless person and desperately wanted to reach the capitol, Liyue Harbor, as quickly as you could so you set off anyways, severely underestimated the distance between Wangshu Inn and the capitol.

That's how you ended up where you are, desperately running in the storming weather as fast as your legs would take you away from the hilichurl camp you had accidentally stumbled upon. It was never easy seeing those masked, primitive creatures armed with clubs and bows and ready for the attack but usually you were unphased. You were a traveler! You saw them all the time in Mondstadt and they are a common monster found throughout Teyvet.

But right now you were an unarmed, feeble traveler with no map and no strength to fight them off. They'd pounce on you the moment you stopped running.

"Why won't they give up!" You yell over the pounding rain, nearly tumbling over your own two feet with a strike of lightning hit the ground somewhere not too far off. You didn't even bother trying to check and see where the lightning was with the thunder roaring across the land and the hilichurl's arrows being aimlessly shot at you. It would be a death sentence trying to take a moment to look at your surroundings at this point.

You would have tried to use your elemental powers to fight back but you couldn't. You spent all that time trying to perfect the element of Ameno back in Mondstadt since it was known as the city of freedom and for its god of the winds, Barbatos, but you had used up all your energy trying to fight to save your life after you lost your sword. Truly, you were in the worst situation and it didn't feel like your luck was going to get any better from here.

Once you finally had a moment to rest, even for a second, you might be able to muster up the strength and energy to send a blast of wind toward the hilichurls. One little gust of your Anemo would send them flying and you'd finally be safe.

Rest, rest. You needed rest, but where? Where could you possibly find rest out away from the rain and hilichurls in this long stretch of land?

"You know what," you told yourself, still struggling to hear yourself as another lightning bolt strikes the ground and thunder rumbles through the air. "I should just try, if I ran fast enough they'll be long behind me and it'll give me enough time to regain my strength and blast them away."

You had to psych yourself up for it, not confident in your strength and not confident in your odds against the world, but you had to try. If the world decided you had enough karma now, maybe you'd be okay by the end of it.

Though it seemed like it wasn't enough, as you were quickly approaching an awfully large cliff that cut off your path to safety. You could climb but in this condition? In this weather? You'd probably fall straight to your doom.

With nowhere else to run, you forced yourself to pick up the page before turning on your heel and facing your opponents. Your eyes grew wide and a scream threatened to fly out your mouth at the sight of the hilichurls running towards you, their clubs swinging wildly through the air and their bows pointing straight at your chest. You were lucky that not a singular mitachurl was following you though, you would have been dead long ago.

"Here goes nothing," you mumble as you hold out your hand, desperately summoning the wind around you to be focused into the palm of your hand. Just when your body felt like it was going to collapse, a blast of wind exploded from your hands and slammed straight into the hilichurls that followed you. The rain was sucked up into your wind vertex and splattered against the already drenched hilichurls, sending them flying through the air defenseless.

You wanted to cheer for your small victory, but there was no chance to do it when the hilichurls that hadn't been blown away were still standing. "Oh, come on!" You yelped, falling to your knees from the strain you had placed on your body, unable to fight against the crossbows that were pointed at you. You shielded yourself as best as you could to save yourself from the oncoming attacks, opting that you'd rather go out seeing nothing and hearing everything instead of the opposite.

Yet inside of hearing the screeching arrows being shot and stung into your flesh, instead of hearing the hilichurls growl and cackle at their victory over another frail traveler, you hear something different. Their yelps of pain echoed through the air as the rain began to let up, their bows crashing to the ground and their cackles going panicked at their sudden change of plans.

Curious over the turn of events, you peered around your arms to catch a glimpse of the fairytale-like scene before you. A boy stood in the middle of the hilichurls with a victorious dimpled smile, soaking wet in the now light rain and swinging a large red and black greatsword like it was the lightest object in the world. His movements were messy and slow but his sword dealt enough damage to frighten the hilichurls into a tactical retreat.

The boy tried to get in an extra hit by taunting the monsters for their cowardice before he slammed his greatsword into the ground, rocks flying away from the heavy sword's collision. After a moment to himself, laughing at whatever words that had come out of his mouth, he turned to you. His brown eyes flashed from fiery excitement to immediate worry at your condition, quickly giving you a one over before rushing to your side.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, falling to his knees and grabbing your hands. Around his wrist jingled a bracelet of some sort, charmed with different and unique trinkets. Though the most notable one being the large, glowing yellow crystal hanging in the center of the trinkets, a swirling symbol of earth inside of the crystal. You knew exactly what that symbol was, the symbol of Geo, the earth element famously found throughout Liyue. "I couldn't help but barge in, it seemed like you needed help."

"I am," you quickly tell him, awkwardly snatching your hands away from him after realizing he was checking to see if you suffered any wounds. "I mean, I'm fine. I definitely needed help though, thank you for saving me."

"No problem," he nodded, his smile stretching across his face and his dimples growing even deeper. "I saw you from over there after you sent that gust of wind toward the hilichurls. Had you not done that, I wouldn't even have noticed you through that thick downpour." The boy told you, pointing across the way towards the cliffs not too far from you.

He must have climbed down from there to reach you, but that would have been a rather tedious process. Maybe he jumped instead?

"Ah, you saw that?" You quietly asked, embarrassed to be caught weak and defenseless by what seemed to be a fellow traveler. When he innocently nodded his head, you let your head fall to your hands. "Gosh... that's so embarrassing... that means you saw me running away from those hilichurl and everything didn't you?"

The boy shrugged, "as I said, I didn't see you until the gust of wind." He explained.

"Did I just out myself on running away?" You cringed, mentally slamming your head with one of the hilichurl clubs. You were just letting anything fall out of your mouth now, huh? And to a total stranger at that! "This is even more embarrassing! I'm sorry, forget I ever said that, erase that from your memory."

He laughed at your words, slicking back his drenched purple hair as the rain finally stopped. "Don't worry! It's like that sometimes, even I've run away from a hilichurl or two once in my life. Especially those samachurls, creepy little things they are, especially with the fact that they can control elements."

"You too?" You gasped, jumping up to attention at your shared fears. "I hate those devils! Hydro samachurls that heal the other hilichurls, they make everything else so... so difficult."

"So you have fought hilichurls before," he teased, tapping the glowing light teal crystal that dangled down your neck in a pendant. Like the boy, you too had a symbol that displayed the element you had been gifted, giving away the fact that you could control Anemo as if the gust of wind from your hands wasn't enough of a dead giveaway. "With the way your knees buckled from sending one meek blast at them, I would have thought this was your first time seeing them."

"It is not!" You defended, jumping up to your feet and feeling energy course through your body once more. All you needed was one quick rest and you were back to your normal self. "I'm a full blown traveler! I had just been running from those hilichurls for a while now, I didn't have enough strength to create a whole tornado or something to save myself."

"What full blown traveler walks across Liyue without a weapon in tow?" The boy pointed out, gesturing toward your empty scabbards hanging around your waist. "Liyue, while very beautiful, is a very dangerous place to go on your own, especially without a weapon or two to project yourself."

You bit your lip, fidgeting with the pendant around your neck as you tried to sugarcoat your situation. "Well... I did have a sword when I first came here from Mondstadt but things... happened... and by the time I reached Wangshu Inn I had no sword."

"Wangshu Inn?" He gasped, "but that's so far away from here, how'd you even make it this far?"

"Barbatos was on my side, I guess," you shrugged, not knowing the answer to his question. It's a literal miracle that you hadn't died. "I was going to try and make my way as close to Liyue Harbor as possible since that was my original destination but I lost my map before I even got into the nation so... I'm kinda... all over the place right now."

"You sure are, you're nowhere near Liyue Harbor right now. In fact, I'd say you're closer to Wangshu Inn than the city." The boy explained, completely catching you off guard. Not even close to your destination? You spent all this time running and fighting through the terrain of Liyue and ended up almost exactly where you started."

"What? But I thought I had been following a clear path before the hilichurls attacked. So if I'm not near Liyue...," you began, twisting and turning in every direction as you tried to make sense of your location. "Then where am I?"

"If you climbed up the cliffs? You'd be standing in Jueyun Kurst, and mere mortals can't just walk into Jueyun Kurst." The boy explained, pointing to a path you could have taken had you not been chased by monsters. "It's going to take a while for you to even reach Guili Plains now, this place only gets more secluded the deeper you head into the mountains."

Had you survived the attack from the hilichurls, you would have gotten lost within Jueyun Kurst. Your luck was absolutely horrendous at the moment, the mere fact that the Geo boy had come and saved you was a miracle.

"If you want, I can take you to Liyue?" He offered, both of you catching each other's eyes almost immediately. After a moment of pure silence, he let out a nervous laugh and anxiously ran his hands through his hair. "I mean, I have friends who live in Liyue! They can help you get a new sword and a map... and I'm also sorta heading towards Liyue Harbor in a sense? So I think it'll just benefit the both of us! Yeah..."

You couldn't help but giggle at his actions, taking note of the evident flushing of his cheek that even the boy didn't seem to notice. "I'd like that very much. I feel a lot safer running around Liyue with a partner instead of on my own. Thank you...?"

"Chan," he informed you, his smile shining as he finally properly introduced himself. "I'm Bang Chan, but usually I just get called Chan... it doesn't matter which one you use though. I'm fine with anything."

"Chan," you repeated, making sure his name and face were permanently engraved in your mind. "I'm Y/N. Thank you, Chan, for being my guide around Liyue. Now shall we get going? It was raining a few minutes ago and we're soaking wet, don't want to catch a cold while we're on the road, do we?"

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digitalworldbound · 3 years

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koukari 24 or kenkari 30? sorry for the challenge :p but if you're not comfortable with the pairings, go ahead with takari! :3

Pairing: ken x hikari

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 from the prompt list)

Author’s Notes: I was revisiting my old fanfiction from when I was thirteen, and it reignited my love for cheesy AUs. So, I present to you my first ever KenKari content (I apologize if it is bad, but I've tried my best!)

on the corner of thompson rd. and fifth street stood a quaint structure with walls that appeared to sag and well-worn stairs. a seemingly hand-painted sign hung above the door way read : ♡ book 'n' brew ♡

in full honestly, the crooked hearts would of been enough to draw ken in completely had he not been on a search for a new coffee joint. earlier that september morning, a bug placed strategically in his starbucks cup stirred up the motivation to search for a more tasteful choice in brew.

mindless trotting about lead him to the worn, brick steps. many customers were slightly deterred by the haggard appearance of the building, but ken thought otherwise.

it was charming and smelled of home. plus, the little pink hearts were hard to dismiss.

pulling the smooth handle and trapping the chilly air behind him, ken opened the door and stepped in.

the store was quite small, as expected, but seemingly transported him away. warm fairy lights hung on the edges of tall, oak bookcases. the lights made ken’s dark cerulean eyes dance with wonder. while the oak cases were aging, they were sturdy. books lined the shelves in every way imaginable. when the books filled up the shelves vertically, the left-overs were placed haphazardly in the spaces between, whether that be on top of, in front of, or behind other books. the smell of well-loved pages filtered through the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed something.

the coffee! ken reminded himself.

humming a mindless tune under his breath, he made is way to the countered that was nestled in between two bookcases. plants, napkins and even more books littered the counter top. the owner, however, was nowhere to be found.

"hello?" ken’s crystalline voice called out.

"how may i help you?"

ken made a noise of surprise, not expecting the light, feminine voice to come from behind him.

a girl emerged from behind one of the bookcases, her hair swept to the side and held in place with a barrette. she looked ethereal in her loose dress, the extra fabric making her look like a bird ready for flight. she coughed quietly, her amber eyes drilling into his own with curiosity.

blush erupted like wildfire across ken’s cheeks. the tips of his ears burned in embarrassment. he was caught staring, but the stranger’s beauty was disarming.

"so?" the owner lightly suggested, a gentle reminder that ken still had yet to respond to her initial question.

"oh, yes! i was wondering if you had any coffee?" he finally spoke up. all too late, he realized his mistake. a flush rose to his neck, and ken had half the mind to run out of the store and never return.

raising an arched eyebrow, the stranger purposely flitted her eyes over to the obviously placed coffee pots, before turning her attention back to ken.

"hm, i would say that i do." she chuckled. her dress gently swayed behind her as she slipped behind the counter. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled in his direction.

"obviously." the boy muttered under his breath, embarrassment consuming him alive.

"pick your poison."

ken pretended to ponder his options. on a normal day - which this wasn't - he could always go for a medium roast coffee with creamer and two sugars, but today felt inexplicably different.

"i think i might go with some oolong tea today, if it isn't any trouble."

"of course not, silly. it's one of my personal favorites." the barista smiled. she turned around, completely engrossing herself in the task at hand while ken decided to explore the shop.

his fingers danced on the spines of novels and novellas, enjoying the way they felt beneath his fingertips. as a child, ken never had the attention span for reading. he was always distracted by the butterflies or colorful markers or dandelions. these things were real, and for him, the words in the books weren't.

consumed by his thoughts and the texture of the spines, ken drowned out the shop owner's declaration of warm drinks.

when the surprisingly small hand cupped the boy's shoulder, he jumped, knocking several books from their perch.

"oh no, i'm so sorry. usually, i'm not this clumsy." he offered, quickly picking up the fallen objects and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf. anxiety swirled in stomach; he felt like an absolute fool.

the owner simply smiled and pushed the small mug into ken's cold fingers. how long had it been since he stumbled into the shop? ten minutes? an hour? the thoughts were washed away with the first sip of tea, as the warm, comforting flavor washed away the flush on his cheeks.

"my name's hikari," the mystery barista offered, turning towards the door behind the cluttered counter space, "yell for me if you need anything else." she smiled, then disappeared.

"i'm ken ichijouji!" he called after hikari, but it was too late. her delicate frame had already slipped away, disappearing into further into the shelves.

with a barely distinguishable pout on his pink lips, ken sipped his oolong tea languidly and perched himself in recliner nestled into a dusty corner. the cloth on the seat had once been beautiful, ken was sure. years of patrons had worn away the bright red velvet into a thread-bare pink. it was s comfy, so ken snuggled himself deeper into the chair.

glancing around, he browsed the titles nearest to him.

viva by e.e cummings

pride and prejudice by jane austen

star girl by jerry spinelli

the hobbit by j.r.r. tolkien

hikari apparently had an interest in most things, not unlike ken. they just had interests in different places.

losing interest in the books quickly, ken demolished the luke-warm beverage and placed his dirty mug (that he now realized adorned the same little pink hearts as the sign that hung above the entrance way) next to the coffee pot and hurriedly yelled out his goodbyes.

he closed the old, wooden door, walked down the brick steps, and turned onto thompson rd. his stride was strong and his gaze was fixed onto some imaginative point on the horizon.

ken was on a mission.

the rest of his week was rough, even by ken's standards. book 'n' brew had been closed for the past five days, much to his dismay. ken had inherited the ability to burn water and couldn't be trusted to make his own tea. with the name-brand fix no longer being an option, five whole days without caffeine had put ken on edge.

it was a rather dreary sunday. the rain fell in sheets and drenched the ken down too his sock-less toes. inky black hair plastered to his forehead; his eyelashes had already clumped together. his wet sneakers lead him down the familiar cement of thompson rd. and his heart leap into his throat when he saw the lights on in the infamous bookstore.

the warm atmosphere was once again barren of any patrons (besides ken, of course). hikari was much easier to spot, given that she was directly behind the counter. ken’s heart-rate picked up; he was almost giddy.

hikari's hair was swept to the side again, the ends barely dancing across her shoulders. her billowy dress had been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt. an apron hung loosely off her thin frame. she wore the tea stains like accessories. his heart gave another weird flutter.

however, before he could question his reaction, ken became far too preoccupied with the smells of the quaint shop. cinnamon wafted around his ears while cocoa assaulted his nostrils.

the owner physically perked up when the wind chimes above the door sang a song, signaling the first customer of the day.

rain dripped from his clothes as ken walked towards the delicious aromas while mulling over the half-baked plan that he attempted to conceive a week prior.

it wasn't much. he just thought that hikari was impossibly cute and wanted an excuse to strike up a seemingly casual conversation. the only problem that presented itself was the fact that ken absolutely despised reading.

so, during his caffeine withdrawal, ken invested a part of his meager wages into a hoard of "spark notes" books. these were easier to understand and got straight to the point, anyways. every morning of his coffee-less week began with a literary classic. much to his dismay, the plots bored him to tears. lovers would fight and makeup, enemies would always become friends. books were too predictable.

nevertheless, when the shop was finally reopened, ken had the basic knowledge of not one, but five(ish) novels to use as conversation starters. he wanted to be prepared to keep her interest, no matter how small his understanding of the material.

"hello, hikari!" ken chirped, a bright smile spreading across his wind-nipped cheeks.

"good morning, ken ichijouji, how have you been?" though she was talking to him, her eyes never left the countertop she was cleaning. the shadows under her eyes did not go unnoticed, but ken decided against bringing it up.

" i'm great! i've been put off, though, as your shop hasn't been open in nearly a week."

hikari chuckled darkly, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. "don't worry about that. i'm here now. would you like anything to sip on or any novels to escape into today?"

ken was slightly confused by the unusual turn hikari's behavior. her voice was no longer sweet, but laden with exhaustion. however, he let none of this deter him from his mission.

"yes, please. i would like a coffee with creamer and two and a half sugars, please."

the blue-eyed boy watched intently as hikari made his drink. In an effort to bring a smile to her face, ken joked that his preferred his coffee the color of his sun-kissed skin. despite how stupid it sounded, her cheeks warmed as she giggled. looking like an idiot was worth it if it meant that hikari would laugh like that.

"so," ken began as the silence settled in, "have you read any good books lately?" he took a quick sip of his coffee and let the warmth sink to his icy toes. september was almost over, but the chill of october was already creeping around the corner.

the corner of hikari's mouth twitched, and ken’s heart soared when he knew he made the correct choice.

"hm," the young woman started, her body relaxed against the cluttered surface of the counter., "i had you pegged as more of a 'movies-are-better-than-books' type of guy." her elbow grazed a stack of books that were balanced precariously on the edge.

"ah, well, of course not! i have loved reading since primary school." ken stuttered out. his face was a shade of deep red, resembling the worn-out velvet of the chair he was sat in. the lie sat uneasily at the pit of his stomach, but ken pushed it aside.

"well, to answer your question, i just finished the book thief by markus zusak." by now, a smile had warmed up hikari’s amber eyes, brightening the mood. rain still splattered against the shop windows, but the pair paid little mind.

"what was it about?" inquired ken. while he had no interest in reading, he certainly had an interest in whatever hikari was talking about. her slow, languid voice soothed him.

hikari eagerly rambled on and on about the characters and plot, being careful to only tease at the spoilers. ken stared intently into her eyes. he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but he loved every minute of her voice ringing in his ears.

the coffee sat abandoned in his lap, warm long gone and chilly. the raven-haired boy took a drawn out sip, absentminded. furrowed eyebrows and a quirk of the month made hikari giggle in the midst of her story-telling.

once hikari’s story lulled to an end, ken began to talk about the books he didn't really read. he steered away from specifics and danced around with the big ideas. though her attention was divided behind between making herself a cup of tea and ken’s pride and prejudice synopsis, she seemed at ease.

"you remind me of Lydia Bennet, actually.” hikari’s hair whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. ken was too preoccupied with the speech he prepared, one that he was sure would enthrall her. “you have that aura about you.”

“i have the aura of girl that would run away with a grown man at the age of fifteen?” the incredulousness in her voice snapped ken from his coffee-induced stupor. He hands shook. oh god, i should have read the book.

“the sparks notes didn’t mention that part.” his mouth reveals him before his brain can put a stop to it. “oh, god, i’ve ruined everything. i can’t talk to cute people, okay? i don’t know how to flirt!” his absolute, all-consuming panic must have been obvious from the way the warmth crept across his face.

her giggle caught him off guard. “how can you laugh at a time like this? i just compared you to a mother’s worse nightmare.” ken was miserable, doing his best to disappear into the cushion of the recliner.

“because it was endearing to watch you pretend to know what you’re talking about.” hikari said simply, her cheeks pink.

ken only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to respond. Instead, he basked in the warm atmosphere and tried to gain the inertia to take himself to work. while they sat in comfortable silence, mulling in the conversation, hikari leaned down and pried the empty ceramic mug from ken’s now-cold fingertips.

the contact sent a shiver down his spine, his heartrate skipping sporadically in his chest. he was on fire.

and ken knew.

he knew by the blush that rose in the girl’s cheeks, and the look of confusion still in her eyes. ken knew that coffee was good, but it had never tasted better than when he was with her. he had never tried so hard to gain the attentions of the girl, never expecting himself to be willing to do research on a subject that didn't interest him just for the sake of conversation.

the realization shook him to his core.

ken knew that he was falling for her.

so he did what he was best at.

he ran.

"oh my, look at the time. i am going to be late for my shift. it's been good. thanks for the coffee." he slammed a wad of money on the counter and rushed to the door, wind chimes tinkling after him.

hikari's goodbyes were caught in her throat.

#kenkari #ken ichijouji #hikari yagami #digimon

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