-The metronome keeps going, at its eternal, pulsing speed. You turned it off 3 days ago. It slowly drives you mad.
-You hear quiet sobbing from beyond the wall of your practice room. You go to check on your comrade, but the room beside you is empty. You realize it was you that was sobbing.
-The tuner is set to A = 460. You are unsure how, as your tuner does not have a setting that high.
-Your professor hands you your math midterm. You are in music theory. You do not understand.
-How long have you been in this practice room? You are uncertain. There are no windows and time doesn’t seem to pass here. You emerge to discover that it’s 2AM and you missed your graduation.
-Your private instructor tells you to buy a piece. You scour the internet, but you cannot find it. You find one copy, for $600, in “poor” condition. There are no recordings of it. It is not on imslp.
-The practice room clock has never worked in your years here, but it somehow always reads a different time.
-You suddenly forget how to play your instrument. Your fingers fumble on the foreign object. You’ve never played this piece before. Juries are tomorrow.
-The practice rooms are all full. You wait for hours, but no one comes out. You knock on the door, you just want to practice. Something hisses at you. You do not try again.
-There are intruders in the music building. They are unwelcome. They know this, and hurry quickly in and out of their music appreciation gen ed class. They do not make eye contact. You hate them, but you do not understand why.
-You see a familiar face in the hallway. You do not remember their name, but you do remember what instrument they play. They’ve been attending this school for seven years and you’re certain they graduated…..twice
-Your instrument whispers to you while you sleep. You haven’t been practicing enough. The voice is threatening, demanding. You’ve lost 2 roommates because of it. They never informed you of this. Your 3rd one trembles.
-You reach for a pencil during class only to discover that you have none left. You’ve lost the last one. Classes started three days ago. You weep softly.
-Your ensemble director keeps conducting. He never speaks. You sneak out when the class ends. He doesn’t stop. What is he conducting, anyway? It’s syllabus day.
Shoutout to the klance shippers that don’t spread hate or discourse.
Shoutout to the klance shippers that don’t create drama.
Shoutout to the klance shippers who make fanart and write fanfiction and keep being creative no matter who bashes them.
Shoutout to the the klance shippers who ignore anti blogs and anon hate.
Shoutout to the klance shippers who don’t have anti blogs or send anon hate.
Shout out to the klance shippers who don’t threaten producers, animators and voice actors.
Shoutout to the klance shippers that are here purely through the genuine enjoyment they get from voltron.
Shoutout to the klance shippers who are here, not to bring other ships down, but to bring light to their own.
Because even though many people, klance shippers or not, bring a negative light to the ship, a very large majority if us do not. And we don’t deserve the backlash that those “fans” cause.
I demand an eggos commercial with Millie Bobby Brown wearing her Eleven costume and someone takes her eggos and she takes them back with her telekinesis and says “leggo my eggo” in this really threatening voice
Summary: Ever since your fateful first encounter with Jungkook, it’s been radio silence in your mind. You’re trying your best to move on. But no matter how hard you try to forget him, life finds away to throw the two of you back together.
Word count: 2.2k
A few weeks later, and any tension between you and Jieun was gone. Currently, she sat in front of her vanity, applying makeup in preparation for the music department’s showcase. Behind her, you stood, curling iron in hand, ready to help.
Jieun glanced back to look at you. “You can go ahead,” she said, nodding towards the tool in your hand. “I’ll just do my makeup at the same time–it’s fine.”
You nodded and got started, making quick work of Jieun’s thick, black hair. Soon, her hair fell in glistening loose waves.
“You look good,” you smiled, kneeling down to unplug the curler from her bedroom wall. “We should get going soon. You know, it would probably be faster if you got ready backstage.”
“Like hell,” Jieun snorted, standing up and smoothing out her small, black dress. “It’s a fight for mirrors. I made the mistake of going backstage in freshman year…never again.”
You laughed as you followed Jieun out of the room. As you passed through your small apartment, you grabbed your bomber jacket from where you had flung it over the couch earlier.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Jieun asked, raising an eyebrow critically as she scanned you from head to toe. Self consciously, you squirmed under her gaze. You were wearing a pair of jeans, a graphic tee, and a bomber–it was acceptable! “Seriously?”
“What?” you demanded, zipping your jacket up. “This fine. I’m keeping it casual. I’m not the one performing, so it doesn’t matter.”
Jieun just rolled her eyes. She threw on a jacket, too, and together you exited the apartment.
Outside, the air was beginning to cool. The sun had already begun to set, the days becoming shorter and shorter as winter approached. Jieun shivered slightly, the cold nipping at her bare legs.
“See?” you taunted, a smile pulling at your lips. “Wearing pants was a good idea.”
“Oh, shut up!” Jieun exclaimed, elbowing you sharply. There was a short stretch of silence, and then Jieun spoke again. This time, her tone was serious. “Y/N, w-we really need to talk. About…you know. What are you going to do? He’s your soulmate, for god’s sake!”
“What can I do?” you asked resignedly. “He made himself clear.”
“But…you’re meant to be together,” Jieun argued quietly, her eyes full of concern as she glanced at you.
“I can’t change how he feels,” you sighed, shoving your hands into your pockets. Even thinking about Jungkook made your heart ache. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Tonight isn’t about me or Jungkook, okay? It’s your night.”
“I know,” Jieun smiled sadly. “I’m just worried about you. You’re my best friend, you know?”
Later, you find yourself sitting in the cushioned seats of your school’s theatre. All the seats around you were occupied–either by friends or family of the performers. A few of the junior students had performed already, but you didn’t pay much attention. After all, you were only there for Jieun.
You glanced at the program in your hands, flipping through it to pass time. As you read through the pages, you spotted Jieun’s name. The program said she’d be singing two songs, both of them ballads you had heard her sing in the shower for weeks.
The person performing after her was a boy named Kihyun, whom you had met at a few parties. You continued scanning the page, looking for names you recognized. Eventually, your gaze gravitated back to Jieun’s name. As your eyes shifted up the page, your heart stopped.
Your soulmate’s name was printed neatly above Jieun’s, followed by the two songs he would be singing. Your heart began to race, remembering the last time you had heard Jungkook sing.
Before everything fell apart.
In your nervousness, you had begun tapping your leg rapidly. The woman beside you glared at you pointedly, and you forced yourself to sit still. Suddenly, the people around you began to applaud, and your attention snapped to the stage in front of you.
The boy currently on stage was removing his acoustic guitar from his lap. He stood and bowed, some people in the crowd whistling and hollering. Then, the boy turned and exited the stage, the lights dimming as the next act entered.
In the darkness of the auditorium and in the sudden silence of the audience, you heard the Jungkook’s voice for the first time in weeks. It was quiet, but you heard it nonetheless.
You guessed he was nervous. You couldn’t help the amused smile that appeared, but you resisted the urge to reply to his thoughts. Keeping your mind as blank as possible, you weren’t surprised at the sight in front of you when the lights flickered back on.
At the front of the stage, Jungkook stood, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants. His bangs were pushed to the side, and the harsh lighting highlighted Jungkook’s sharp features. He looked more handsome now than ever.
You gulped–and then the music started.
Soon, Jungkook’s sweet voice was flowing throughout the theatre. As he sang, he kept his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed. He was singing a cover of Lost Stars, which fit his voice perfectly. As the song progressed, Jungkook switched to a falsetto, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to be carried away by Jungkook’s beautiful voice. His words surrounded you like an embrace, and you wished those loving lyrics were for you.
Needless to say, you couldn’t be blamed for being unable to focus on the rest of the performances following Jungkook’s.
Jieun clung to your arm, her breath already reeking of alcohol. Around you, a swelling mass of people moved, and deafening electronic music thudded in the background.
“Come on, Y/N,” Jieun slurred, giggling at herself. “Just have a drink with me! It won’t kill you.”
“I didn’t plan on coming to your afterparty,” you frowned, trying to discreetly lead your friend towards the front door. She noticed and stomped her foot.
“You’re so mean!” Jieun whined. “You owe me. You didn’t even pay attention to my performance! I could tell y-you were still thinking about Jungkook!”
“Shh!” you hissed, covering her mouth with your hand. “Fine! I’ll drink. Shit, Jieun. Don’t…talk about that here, okay?”
“‘Kay!” Jieun chirped triumphantly, dragging you to the kitchen with surprising strength.
Inside the kitchen, there was a crowd of very drunk people chanting, “Shots! Shots! Shots!”
Somehow, Jieun was able to produce a shot glass filled with tequila. Sighing, you grabbed it and threw it back. A few shots later, you were as sloppy as everyone else. Your friend had disappeared, leaving you with your new friends in the kitchen.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure appear in the entryway of the room. It was Jungkook.
“I’ll be back,” you mumbled, turning to follow your soulmate with newfound courage, no doubt from all the tequila you had just consumed.
The crowd in the living room had dispersed a little bit, allowing you to spot Jungkook quite easily. He leaning against the back of the couch surrounded by a group of his friends, an arm slung over the shoulders of another girl. He held a can of beer in his other hand.
Impulsively, you stormed towards to your soulmate, feeling the frustration and hurt you had buried so well resurface. It also irked you to see Jungkook cozying up with another girl when he knew. You staggered up to Jungkook’s group, pushing past two guys to stand directly in front of your soulmate.
“What the fuck?” one guy spat, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. You paid him no mind, shaking him off.
“Jeon Jungkook!” you yelled, your words slurring together, as you crossed your arms. “We needta talk.”
Suddenly, rough hands spun you around. The guy you had pushed earlier was glaring down at you, positively seething.
“Look at me when talk to you, bitch,” the guy seethed, and you winced as his grip on your arm tightened. Then, he was staggering backwards as if he had been pushed. And it was because he had been. Jungkook stood tall beside you, his expression stony.
“Don’t touch her,” he warned quietly, his voice threatening. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from his friends and out of the living room. Behind you, Jungkook’s friends were openmouthed in surprise.
Jungkook guided to to a secluded hallway, dropping your hand immediately after he stopped walking. He turned to look at you, his expression icy.
“I thought I told you to stay away from me,” he said, his eyes guarded. Jungkook’s lips were set in a straight line, and you thought they looked much better when he was singing earlier that night.
“You did, but you were also being an asshole,” you replied, feeling a little more sober than a few moments ago. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation. Bravely, you looked into Jungkook’s uncaring eyes. “It’s great that you feel that way. I get it, okay? But it’s not all about you, and we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing left to say!” Jungkook exclaimed, frustration seeping into his voice. “I’ve already explained myself to you.”
“No, you haven’t,” you snapped. “You told me to forget about what had happened. But why? You’ve explained absolutely nothing. I don’t know how you feel, let alone how I feel!”
“You want to know how I feel?” Jungkook laughed coldly. “Like I said, there’s not much to say. I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s bullshit!” you cried, feeling angry tears pool in your eyes. You blinked them away furiously. “We’ve been talking for years, Jungkook. You’re not like this…I know you’re not.”
“You know nothing,” Jungkook hissed, backing you up against the wall. He slammed his hands against the plaster, caging you in with his arms. Still, you stared at him, defiant. “Sure, it was fun to play pretend. But that wasn’t me, it won’t ever be me. I’m not going to lie and say that I’ll change for you, because I never will.”
“I’m not asking you to change,” you replied. “You’re making all these assumptions–”
“You should be asking,” Jungkook interrupted, his voice quiet. His arms dropped from around you and he stepped back. His words rang with finality. “If you knew who I really am, you’d ask.”
“Jungkook!” someone called shrilly from around the corner. The girl from before–the one who Jungkook had been sitting with–appeared, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floors as she approached. “I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me,” Jungkook smirked, all traces of your conversation cast away in the blink of an eye. He slipped his arm around the girl’s waist and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.
You bit your lip, your heart stinging painfully.
“What are you looking at?” the girl spat when she saw you still standing there awkwardly.
Jungkook paid you and the girl’s protests no mind. He caught the girl’s lips with his, his tongue slipping obscenely into her mouth. The girl moaned and pressed further against Jungkook. His hands wandered deviously, one hand slipping underneath the girl’s shirt.
Your eyes blurred with tears, and you hurried away before Jungkook and the girl had the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Blindly, you stumbled towards the front door of the fraternity house–at least that was where you thought you were.
In the distance, you thought you heard someone calling your name. Still, you didn’t stop. You were eager to escape this crowded building. The heat and the constant noise were suffocating you. Finally, you reached the door, your hands searching for the knob.
Eventually, you located it. You turned the doorknob with haste, inhaling deeply as you stepped into the crisp, autumn air. You closed the door behind you and continued on aimlessly, your eyes unfocused with unshed tears.
Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you kept your eyes cast skyward as you tried not to cry. You weren’t sure where you were going or how long you had been walking. You just kept going, because it was easier than thinking.
Hurt was still radiating through you, and you wondered why you were still pretending to be fine. You glanced at the ground and let a few tears fall, your vision clearing.
But by then, it was already too late. You looked up just in time to see the bright headlights of an incoming car.
And then, everything went dark.
The last thing you heard was Jungkook’s voice, ringing loudly in your mind.
“Y/N? What’s going on? Talk to me–are you alright? Fuck! Y/N!”
- Girl in Luv
Okay…another cliffhanger. I’m sorryyyyyyyy! Also I just wanted to say this: I was absolutely shocked by the support I received from the first part of this series. I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to respond! So, I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment. Stay tuned for part three, and tell me what you think so far! Thanks again, guys 💛
Warnings: Some of them have SLIGHT sexual content (heh what ya think..)
Scott had a habit to climb through your window at night. You knew roughly what time he used to come by and you decided to change into something more comfortable to sleep in before he arrived, instead of always having to go into the bathroom to change every time.
You started to undress and search for the shorts you use to sleep in when you heard a gust of wind behind you. “Man, now I REALLY don’t regret arriving earlier.” the familiar voice behind you made you turn around in terror.
The smirking face of Scott met yours and you quickly took your dirty shirt and tried to cover your bare body. “Scott!” you squealed with widened eyes and he just nodded in appreciation.
You cursed under your breath as you bend down to gather the rest of your clothes but kept on drop your clothes and Scott still stood in front of your window, smiling proudly as he eyed you up and down. “Stop staring and get out!”
He shook his head and you roared at him, still panicking over your naked body, deciding to run towards the bathroom with or without clothes. You yanked backwards by an overly strong and warm hand gripping around your forearm.
Your naked back flushed against Scott’s chest as he was able to lean in to whisper in your ear. “No, I’m not going anywhere.” panting as he spoke. “You’re coming over here.”
“Holy-moly!” you got surprised by the slight numb voice of Stiles behind you. You turned around and flinched, realizing you didn’t wore a shirt, neither pants, or a bra, or panties..
“Stiles!” you gasped as you saw him standing in the door opening. His mouth was slightly open and his mesmerized gaze were focused on your body. “I wasn’t prepared for this-” he began and raised his eyebrows.
“But I like it.” he continued with what you thought was him being seductive and approached you. You furrowed your brows as he took a few step forward, his brown eyes almost piercing you were you stood, face slightly red due to his affection.
“I mean, WOW!” Stiles exclaimed with the most flustered face you’ve seen as he gesture towards your body. You followed the motions of his hands just to freeze when your eyes met his crotch.
You let out a muffled giggle, making Stiles look at you in confusion. “Stiles? Is that a boner?” you asked boldly with a smirk, quirking your eyebrows as you met his eyes again.
His gaze moved towards himself and immediately tried to cover it. His face turned even more red as he stumbled backwards towards the door. “Shit, I-” he began and hit his back in the door frame, letting the door guide him out from your room. “B-bye Y/N.”
It was 10 minutes left until Liam’s arrival. You had invited him over to help him study for his test on Friday. You wrinkled your nose after sniffing your armpit, unbuttoned your shirt with one hand, letting the other one trying to open the buckle of your bra.
“I can’t invite him over and smell like crap.” you mumbled to yourself and decided to undress completely just to find a whole new outfit, all from underwear to your favorite over-sized cardigan.
“So I thought about what you’ve said about the combinations of the amino acids and-” Liam were looking intently down in his folders of papers, not realizing what he walked in on. You froze and your eyes widened as you held your clean underwear in your hand, smiling at him always being so unaware of his surroundings.
He closed the door behind you, still not looking at you as you answered him. “-yes Liam?” you replied him, with the most exaggerated seductive voice you could disguise.
Liam turns around slowly, meeting your eyes. You flash him a smirk as you place your hand on your hip as you pop it, twirling your underwear between your fingers.
In what seem to be in slow motion, he drops all his books, papers flying around him as his eyes Liam’s eyes widen, mouth drops and the mortification immediately covers his face as he tries to talk.
“I-I, I’m-” he stutter before he quickly turns around, opens the door, hits his nose on the frame, leaving a trail of blood before running out from your room. When he close the door behind him you can’t help but let out a giggle.
You didn’t hear anything due to the harsh sound of your nearly broken hairdryer. The sound might resemble a nuclear power plant and you didn’t hear that someone had opened your door and stepped in.
Brett caught you in action just in that time when you had blow dried your hair upside down and were flipping your hair back over your shoulders, making it look quite sensual as Brett had seen it in slow motion. “Save that for tonight Y/N.” he purred and you dropped the hair dryer on the floor, almost hitting your foot but flinched in the right second.
“What the hell! What are you doing here? Get out!” you roared in panic and grabbed the wet towel you had hung on the back of the chair beside you, trying to cover your body as Brett pursed his lips into a smirk before stepping backwards out from the room.
“Woah.” Brett sighed for himself, he felt his heart rate increase in his chest when he realized what he had walked in to. He leaned back against the door and thought about how beautiful your naked body were in the daylight. He’d only seen the dark silhouette of it when you had sex during late nights, when your parents were asleep.
You’ve told Theo a thousand times not to come to your place until 8 p.m. since you wanted to get home from practice and shower before his arrival.
The clothes you had decided to wear laid properly on the end of your bed, waiting for you to put them on as you stood in front of your bookshelf, taking your brush out from one of the shelves to start to even out the wet tangles in your hair.
“Nice.” the hiss of Theo’s voice made you freeze, then turning around just to see the door to your room were wide open, having him leaning against the door frame. “THEO!” you quickly dive down the floor to look after something to cover your naked body with.
You felt your heart start to pound in your chest as you saw him lick his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth. “What are you doing?” you tried to sound threatening but your voice betrayed you when you spoke.
With a quirk of his eyebrow, he tugged the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric over his head to let it fall to the floor. He started to striding towards you, having his dark gaze eyeing you up and down as he approached you and with just that look, he was devouring you.
❛ My power over you grows stronger yet. ❜
❛ Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind. ❜
❛ Your part is silent, little toad! ❜
❛ Perhaps it is you who are the toad… ❜
❛ Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide! ❜
❛ Seal my fate tonight. ❜
❛ I hate to have to cut the fun short, but the joke’s wearing thin. ❜
❛ Let the audience in. ❜
❛ God, give me courage to show you you are not alone! ❜
❛ Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? ❜
❛ I heard as I’d never heard before. ❜
❛ What you heard was a dream and nothing more. ❜
❛ Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore… ❜
❛ That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. ❜
❛ And do I dream again? ❜
❛ You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge. ❜
❛ I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. ❜
❛ In your mind you’ve already sucummed to me. ❜
❛ Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. ❜
❛ Past the point of no return. ❜
❛ What raging fire shall flood the soul? ❜
❛ What rich desires unlock its door? ❜
❛ What sweet seductions lie before us? ❜
❛ Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. ❜
❛ Did you think that I had left you for good? ❜
❛ Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! ❜
❛ You’ve past the point of no return. ❜
❛ You try my patience make your choice. ❜
❛ I gave you my mind blindly. ❜
❛ Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance. ❜
❛ Have you forgotten your Angel? ❜
❛ Wildly my mind beats against you… ❜
❛ Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigne. ❜
❛ Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. ❜
❛ Can I ever forget that sight? ❜
❛ Can I ever escape from that face? ❜
❛ Past the point of no return - no going back now. ❜
❛ When will the flames, at last, consume us? ❜
❛ When will the blood begin to race? ❜
❛ I remember… there was mist. ❜
❛ Who was that shape in the shadows? ❜
❛ Whose is that face in the mask? ❜
❛ Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! ❜
❛ Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! ❜
❛ Now you cannot ever be free! ❜
❛ Come. We must return. ❜
❛ Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you. ❜
❛ No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! ❜
❛ Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. ❜
❛ Lead me, save me from my solitude. ❜
❛ Say you’ll want me with you here beside you. ❜
❛ Anywhere you go, let me go too. ❜
❛ Can you even dare to look or bear to think of me? ❜
❛ Have you no pity? ❜
❛ Your lover makes a passionate plea. ❜
❛ Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! ❜
❛ Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before! ❜
❛ Only then can you belong to me… ❜
❛ You alone can make my song take flight. ❜
❛ It’s over now, the music of the night. ❜
❛ Twisted every way, what answer can I give? ❜
❛ Say you love him/her, and my life is over! ❜
❛ Now, let it be war upon you both! ❜
❛ See you later, because I’m going now. ❜
❛ This haunted face holds no horror for me now. ❜
❛ It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies. ❜
❛ For the past three years, these things do happen! ❜
❛ And did you stop them from happening? No! ❜
❛ Why have you brought me here? ❜
❛ We can’t go back there. ❜
❛ I can’t escape from him/her/them… ❜
❛ Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! ❜
❛ Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! ❜
❛ Go now, don’t let them find you. ❜
❛ I fought so hard to free you! ❜
❛ Say you love me. ❜
❛ Your chains are still mine! You belong to me! ❜
❛ Wait! I think my dear, we have a guest. ❜
❛ I had rather hoped that you would come. ❜
❛ Free him/her! Do what you like only free him/her! ❜
❛ Does that mean nothing I love him/her! Show some compassion! ❜
❛ The world showed no compassion to me! ❜
❛ Did you think that I would harm him/her? ❜
❛ Too late for prayers and useless pity! ❜
❛ You little demon - is this what you wanted to see? ❜
❛ Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend. ❜
❛ Look around, there’s another mask behind you! ❜
❛ Please promise me that sometimes, you will think… of me! ❜
❛ Where in the world have you been hiding? ❜
❛ I only wish I knew your secret. ❜
❛ Who is your great tutor? ❜
❛ Why you spray on my chin all the time, huh? ❜
❛ The final threshold! ❜
❛ They say that this youth has set my lady’s heart aflame! ❜
❛ Go away, for the trap is set and waits for its prey! ❜
❛ There is no phantom of the opera. ❜
❛ Look, your future bride! Just think of it! ❜
❛ Please don’t, they’ll see. ❜
❛ But why is it secret? What have we to hide? ❜
❛ It’s an engagement, not a crime! ❜
Pulling out your white blade, you twirled it around your fingers. “You are the one that has situated yourself in the middle of my mission demon.”
His eyes turned black, “I don’t take kindly to you halo bitches killing my kind.”
You pointed to your head with the tip of the blade, “Do you see a halo anywhere?” You walked toward the tall demon, “That’s a horrible stereotype. And I haven’t killed him… yet.”
“You’re a mouthy little thing,” he said, bringing out his own knife. “Don’t you have any idea who I am?”
You shook your head, running the tip of your blade over his cheek, “I don’t care who you are.”
With that, you moved to sink the knife in his neck. He was faster. He ducked away and knocked you off of your feet with his leg. You landed flat on your back, the wind knocked from your lungs. His black boot came down to press on your chest.
“Oh little angel,” he said as he leaned down over you. “You have to be smarter than that. And actually, a bit faster.” Placing the tip of his knife under your chin, he tipped your face up, “Does the name Bucky ring a bell?”
Palming your knife, you slung your arm up with all your might and plugged it in his thigh. He yelled in pain. When his foot moved off your chest, you scrambled to your feet. Facing him, you knew you had screwed up.
“Fucking bitch!” he said as he grabbed for you.
You closed your eyes and willed yourself back up to heaven.
What greeted you was even scarier than what you had left on earth…
Okay. I’m so sorry guys, I know it’s been about 80000 years since I’ve posted but I’ve just had really bad writers block and I’ve been really busy with work and school and whatnot but here it is.
This was a request from an anon: “Could you please make an imagine where the reader is given to Mistah J because they were in debt to him. He immediately because super obsessed with her, but the reader is very scared of him <3 <3″
This is like decently close to the request just i couldn’t figure out what to write. I’m sorry!!!!!
“Please, no Mr. Joker, I’ll give you anything. You can have anything.” You saw the man beg for his life, for another chance. It disgusted you to see him like this. To see the man you once knew as your father beg for drugs. You shook your head in disgust and turned away. You had no idea why but he insisted you be there with him, maybe it’s ‘cause he knew it could very well be one of his last days, if not his last.
“Anything?” The green haired man purred as he circled your father. Your father nodded and looked you in the eyes as if he were apologizing. Confusion clouded your mind as to why he would be apologizing. Maybe it was for being a shitty father, or for making you witness this horrid interaction.
“You can have my daughter,” he stated simply. You eyes snapped open and your back straightened.
“Excuse me? No you can’t have me and what the fuck dad?” You said in disbelief.
“Oh she’s feisty, I like her. You’ve got yourself a deal there Mr. You can keep your life, and your drugs, in exchange for this lovely creature,” he said as his looked you up and down, drinking in every detail of your body.
“No. Dad what the hell is wrong with you? You’re not actually serious are you?” Your voice dropped as the look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact serious about selling you to the Joker.
“I’m sorry Y/N. There’s nothing else I can do,” he muttered, embarrassed that he had gotten to this point. Your heart broke as you watched the man you once looked up to pick drugs over his own daughter.
“Oh we are going to have so much fun together little miss Y/N,” the Joker snarled in your ear. You flinched as his hands came down on your shoulders.
“Dad… How could you?” He looked down in shame and walked out of the room without a word. Tears were streaming steadily down your face as you stared at the door he had just left through.
“Hm. Dads, am I right?” The Joker broke the silence in the room. “Hi doll face, I’m the Joker, the man that your father is seriously indebted to, and you belong to me now! You can call me Mr. J,” he said, extending a hand towards you as if to shake hands. You glanced down at his hand and ignored the offer. “Oh sweetheart now that’s just rude. That won’t fly doll. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Gonna have to teach you a lesson then. Take a seat,” he said as he pulled you down to sit next to him. His face got serious and you knew you were in trouble. “You belong to me now. That means you do what I want, when I want, and where I want. If you disobey me sweetcheeks, you get punished. Are we clear doll face?” He gripped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You nodded and he released your face. “What’s your name sweets?”
“Y/N,” you said simply. He stared at you with a bored look as if he was expecting you to say more. You stared back in defiance and he let out a long displeased groan.
“Not a talker are we? I can change that y’know,” he said with a maniacal smile as he pulled his shiny gun out of the holster under his jacket. He lifted the gun and caressed your soft cheeks with the cool, hard metal. You stared him dead in his crazy eyes as he tried to scare you with the powerful weapon in his hands. His face fell as he realized you weren’t scared and you wouldn’t open up to him. “Now tell me doll, am I gonna have to find some other ways of getting you to open that pretty mouth of yours?”
“Fine. What do you want to know. You get three questions, choose wisely,” you said, boredom dripping in your words. Your father had dragged you in to a world of guns and violence, this was not the first time you had been threatened at gun point and you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
The Joker raised his non-existent eyebrow and stared you down. He was vastly impressed by your cool composure and lack of fear. Most in your shoes would be trembling, begging for their dear lives but you, you just sat there, bored with his games and his old intimidation tactics.
“And who do you think you are making demands?” He sneered angrily.
“I’m just trying to get this show on the road. Question one, two more to go. Like I said Mr. J, choose wisely.”
“I like your spunk sweetcheeks. Alright, why aren’t you scared? Most people would be terrified out of their minds, why not you?” He inquired.
“You’re not the first basket case my father has pissed off. I’ve been tied down, beat, interrogated, the works. I’m used to it now. My father owes a lot of people a lot of money but what they always fail to realize is that I mean little to nothing to him. I must admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re different than the others. He’s offered me up before y’know? No one’s ever agreed but you, you fell for it,” you explained. He stared at you with a confused look spread across is tattooed porcelain skin. “Stop staring,” you said.
He stared at you open mouthed and went to wrap his hand around your neck only to retract quickly. “You doll, are special, that’s for sure. I can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have. Last question, do you like the left or the right side of the bed?” He threw his head back as he howled with laughter, his infamous laugh ringing through your ears and the small room you two were seated in.
You rolled your eyes and mentally groaned at the stupidity of this man. “Right,” you said as you got up from the small couch. “Can we go now? I would really like to get out of here and take a shower. I’m assuming there’ll be towels and whatnot ready for me? Clothes maybe?” He shook his head at you and wrapped his hand in your hair and yanked back.
“Now listen here Y/N, just because you’re not scared of me doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of the things I’ve done and trust me honey, I can do worse,” he spoke in a deep, threatening voice. You felt the tip of his gun press against the center of your back. You had to admit that you were a little scared. The other men you dealt with were nothing like him. He was deadly, ruthless, and he could crack at any moment. “Now that we have the all cleared up let’s get this show on the road shall we?” His mood switched instantly.
A while later you pulled up to a lavish place. You were unsure of what to expect from him but you figured it shouldn’t surprise you that he lives in such an extravagant set up. He pulled you up from your elbow and you followed him inside. It was beautiful as you had expected upon seeing the outside of the house. Gold everything, marble counters, purple accents strewn around the house.
You glanced around, taking in what would be your new house.
“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled to yourself mostly. His hands came down on your shoulders in a gentle way, his hands travelling up and down your shoulders. You leaned your head to the side allowing a pleasant stretch to the tense muscles of your neck. “Do you live here all alone?” you inquired.
“No, the maid lives here, a few of my more trusted henchmen, for security measures. Not that I couldn’t protect myself, just don’t wanna do all the work myself,” he answered. You hummed in acknowledgement and continued to scan the room around you. “The room’s upstairs, I already had some of my men pick up your stuff from your father’s place, if you need anything else just tell me and I’ll send someone out to get it,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. You nodded, and dragged yourself up to what looked like a spare room. You plopped down on the bed and let out a long sigh.
So this is what my life is like now, you thought to yourself, looking around the lavish room. Joker stepped up to the doorway and stared you down before sitting down next to you on the big fluffy bed. “Why am I here Joker?”
“Please, call me Mr. J, Joker sounds… Too formal. I want you here because you’re a beautiful girl, your father did me wrong, and I want to make him pay.”
“Hah… Well jokes on you Mr. J. My father doesn’t care about me. Keeping me here is doing nothing but giving him the chance to shamelessly waste away without me yelling at him. You’re doing him a favor,” you explained. He nodded and spread a wide silver grin across his pale tattooed face.
“Y’know doll, maybe I just want your lovely company,” he said sarcastically.
“Y’know, maybe I just can’t stand your company,” you retorted. Before you could react, his hand came across your skin with a harsh sting. The force behind it made you fall back and place a tender touch on your cheek. You looked down, cowering away in fear. You loved to put on the tough girl act. Sure, you had dealt with crazies but nothing that ever came close to the Joker.
A slow tear dripped down your soft cheek. His eyes widened at the realization that he had made you cry. “Can you please leave me alone,” you muttered.
“Shit Y/N are you okay doll?” His voice was a bit quieter than before.
“Please just leave.” You were shaking, terrified to be in the same room as this psychotic, dangerous man.
“What’s wrong sweets?” You looked at him with a look of disbelief.
“You just slapped me across the face. If I’m being totally honest, I’m terrified right now. You scare the living daylights out of me. The moment I saw you I was scared for my life. I don’t want you in here. If I’m going to have to live with you I want to be left alone… I don’t want to be scared for my life. Please just go…” He looked at you, shock on his face.
“Alright. If you need something you can let someone know.” He placed a hand on your hunched back and left.
A small part of you felt bad for banishing him from your life but it wasn’t right for him to treat you in such an awful manner. You let out a sigh and laid down on the comfortable bed. Before you knew it you had slipped in to a deep sleep, forgetting about the disaster your life had become.
Hey! Can I request a scenario where you’re in your last year of uni
doing literature and lose your motivation, and it’s not till you meet a
talented musician you get your ambition back? I’m yoongi biased so if
it’s him that’d be fab! Thankyou!! 💞
You cupped your hands over your face, your index fingers rubbing back and forth along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes stung from staring at the white light of your laptop screen and your skull was throbbing with how much thought you were putting into your essay. A quick glance to the clock at the bottom right of the screen had a grown falling from your lips; 4;27 a.m., in two hours, you’d have to be getting ready for class. Dropping your hands to the desk with a thud, you glared at the still mostly blank word document, the cursor blinking at you as if taunting you that you hadn’t made it move in the last hour and a half or so.
This was your last essay before your thesis; you were so close to getting your Master’s that you could feel it barely brushing against your fingertips. But the last few months had been overbearing to say the least; your parent’s had announced that they would be getting a divorce just weeks after the semester started, you got fired from your longtime, paid internship because you were being accused of stealing office supplies–which you weren’t, by the way–and then your boyfriend informed you over Christmas break that he’d been seeing someone else and that your three year relationship was now over. So your studies weren’t really on the forefront of your mind, to say the very least.
You sucked in a long breath, and let it out in a huff through your nose. You did still have a week before you had to hand this in, so all hope was not lost. Things just really weren’t looking good for you at the moment. Your fingers tapped a rhythm out against your space bar, your touch too light to press the key down and make that forsaken blinking cursor nudge over and stop silently mocking you. The sound of your scoff shattered the silence of your apartment, almost making you jump. You needed some kind of distraction, and at this hour, pickings were slim.
Your lips pursed in thought, your fingers slowly walking along your desk, tracing the side of your phone before picking it up. A quick swipe with the pad of your thumb had your home screen greeting you, the brightness doing nothing beneficial for your already sore–and most likely reddened–eyes. You tapped the name of the one person who you had no doubt would be awake at this ungodly hour:
“Some people are trying to sleep, you know, Y/N.” Namjoon’s deep voice fluttered into your ear, not sounding the least bit groggy.
“Were you one of those people?” You ask, your hoarse voice giving away how obviously sleep-deprived you were.
A pause. “No, but I could have been.” You chuckled on your end, the laugh only lasted mere seconds. “What’s up?”
“I’m unmotivated trash and I’m going to flunk and not get my Master’s degree and I’ll end up having to sell my kidney to make rent money.” Your head fell back against your chair, your upper body slouching slightly.
Namjoon snorted into your ear. “You could go into acting with all that drama spilling from your mouth.”
“Shut up.” You grumble, one foot planted on the ground to pivot you back and forth in your chair. “You’re getting the highest marks in class, you don’t get to have an opinion.”
“So, you called because?” He tried to sound fed up, but there was a lilt of humour in his voice that gave him away.
“Because I’m sad, and I need my Joonie to cheer me up.” You whined, a subconscious pout pulling out your bottom lip despite the fact that he couldn’t see you.
“You’re sad, are you?” You hummed an affirmation. “Well… I have a show tomorrow night, why don’t you come along? Could be fun. Watch me looking great and being extremely talented on a grimy collection of wooden skids covered in a sheet, also known as the stage.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous depiction, but a part of you was really intrigued by the idea. Namjoon shared his love of literature with you, of course. After all, you two were getting the same degrees. But he had another side of him; he was an underground rapper and although he shared some of his lyrics with you from time to time and told you about his shows on occasion, you’d never been invited to see him in action.
Every time he gloats over you, you just want to punch him in the face to shut him up. With your fist or maybe with your mouth. You still aren’t quite sure which one to use yet. Possibly both.
pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: comedy, slight angst, fluff type: enemies to lovers / police au word count: 10,542 words warnings: a bunch of sexual innuendos author’s note: happy birthday to my mean ho, pablo, fellow yoongi appreciator, and the bestest friend in the entire universe @zephyoongist (i have a longer note for you at the bottom!)
Lieutenant Min Yoongi
had stationed himself at his desk for three hours already, starting from when
he came in at six a.m. sharp, and practically inhaled the coffee he had bought
from the quaint hole in the wall cafe near his apartment. Despite already
downing the largest cup he could order from the shop, he no longer felt the
effects of the extra shots of expresso and was forced to drink the watered-down
version offered at his workplace. With more caffeine than actual rivulets of
carmine running through his veins, Yoongi practically fuels his sleep deprived
body with lethal doses of the stale and caustic coffee provided at the Bangtan
The crisp sheets of
paper from the latest case file he is examining are spread out across his desk
in somewhat of a disarray, the original order he had put it in four hours ago
now long gone, as he continuously rifles around for certain tidbits of
information that can piece the solution together. Picking up what is now his
third cup of coffee, he mumbles a variation of curses under his breath when he
sees that he had been using the case’s manila folder as a coaster, glaring
disdainfully at the blatant brown ring staining the front of the file. He is
beginning to lose feeling in his backside, and his mind toys with the thought
of taking a nap in one of the cots set up in the backroom. Yet, he cannot take
his eyes away from the evidence laid out in front of him; the solution is right
there—he can feel it beneath his fingertips as he trails them across the ridged
papers and the dark ink.
Three rapid knocks are
heard against the glass of his office door, and Yoongi looks up to see
Hoseok—his second-in-command sergeant and long-time police partner—enter the
room, nervously biting his lower lip. A deeper crease forms between his
furrowed eyebrows as Yoongi takes one glance at the worried and tense
expression adorning Hoseok’s ordinarily cheery face. He finally speaks up, his
voice cracking slightly from disuse. “What is it, Hoseok?”
“Organized Crime sent
their sergeant here to work on that case with you.” Hoseok gestures towards the
opened file. “Apparently, it’s connected to a string of gang induced murders
they’ve been tracking, and—”
“Oh, fuck, no.” Yoongi
interrupts, rubbing his temples as he closes his eyes. “Please don’t tell me
“Guess I’m stuck with
you again. I’d say it’s a pleasure to work with you again, but it really isn’t,
so let’s just cut the crap and get straight to it, pretty boy.”
“Millicent, what on earth are you doing?” Draco shot his friend a confused look from across the eighth year common room, where his peaceful solitary study session had been interrupted by a weird flapping noise.
“Flapping around with the sleeves of my girlfriend’s oversized sweater.” Millicent replied as she flapped around with the sleeves of her girlfriend’s oversized sweater. It wasn’t even a Slytherin sweater, but one of the Chinese national quidditch league. Cho Chang wasn’t even Chinese, but Korean. Draco didn’t really get the relationship she and Milly had.
“And why are you doing that?” Draco asked with a tired sigh. He was more than done with dissecting the love song they had to explain for muggle studies. He still couldn’t figure out what hit me baby one more time was supposed to mean. Was the singer pro domestic violence?
Stupid Britney Spears.
“Because it’s fun. You know that’s a thing people have, right Draco? Fun? A good mood? Happiness?” Millicent stopped flapping and walked over to him. Ignoring her sarcasm Draco quickly shielded his essay from sight. Millicent would probably know what Miss Spears meant since she had been raised by her muggle father, and he was not looking forward to getting laughed at by her.
Why does Chang even own sweaters that big? Draco wondered as Milly sat next to him. Cho was a petite girl and she’d be able to fit into this giant red tent at least seven times.
“Because she knows I like oversized sweaters, and she knows I like to wear stuff that smells like her.” Milly replied. Dammit, he’d been thinking out loud again.
Draco was so busy scolding himself for his slip up that he forgot to reply. It wasn’t a rare thing to happen these days. After the war getting distracted by all sorts of things was basically the only thing he did. He couldn’t even stare at Harry for longer than half a minute before something else caught his eye. It was maddening.
“Here, you try it.” Shaken out of his thoughts Draco nearly strained his neck as he looked at Milly again. She was wearing a plain grey shirt now, and the red sweater lay in her outstretched hands. Draco frowned.
“Why would I try it? I don’t want to smell like your girlfriend.”
“Not what I meant dumdum.” Milly chuckled, but there was a sad glint in her eyes. “I mean try wearing this oversized sweater and flap the sleeves.”
“I see no reason as to why that would be pleasing in any way.” Draco shot back, still looking puzzled. He pulled his muggle studies homework towards himself again and tried to regain focus, even though he knew it was a lot cause. He couldn’t concentrate for longer than half an hour a day it seemed.
“You say that again once you’ve tried it. Come on, if you do it I will help you with your muggle studies, and I promise I won’t laugh.” Millicent looked at him with puppy eyes, and Draco sighed. He wasn’t going to get rid of her until he obeyed, and since he was constantly sleep deprived he had no energy left whatsoever to protest.
Milly grinned and then actually squealed, before pulling Draco’s reading glasses off his face and shoving the sweater on. It was still warm from when she’d worn it, which left Draco feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Things improved when the smell of mint tea and cheap shampoo filled his nostrils. This left him confused for a moment, until he recalled smelling this exact same thing every time he hugged Milly, and hugging for some stupid reason (which did not fit his aesthetic or his family name at all) was the only thing that could calm him down when his mind was racing again.
“Feels nice ey?” Milly asked with a cheeky grin as she tried to put his glasses back and stabbed him in the ear with one of the legs. He rolled his eyes and grumbled as a pleasant warmth spread through his gut. The knowledge that not all students in the school wanted to see him dead was comforting.
Not that a Malfoy needed comforting or anything silly like that. Don’t be daft.
“You know there’s no shame in asking for help right? Or a hug?” And without waiting for Draco’s approval Milly pulled him into a firm hug. Draco sputtered but didn’t push her away. He was too tired.
And it felt kind of nice.
“Now flap with your arms.” Milly ordered as she released him.
“I’m not going to flap my arms Mills.”
Milly gave him a sharp look and whispered in a threatening voice, “if you do not flap your arms I will tell the Weasleys you were jealous of their knitted sweaters.”
Draco blushed bright red and gave her a look that was a combination of fear, exhaustion and irritation.
“Fine.” He sighed then. He heaved up his arms and flapped the ridiculously long sleeves in front of Milly’s face, knocking off her glasses. He chuckled as they landed on the floor, then he continued to harass Milly’s face with the sleeves. He probably looked ridiculous but now that he had started he found he didn’t care much. He hated being wrong but this was indeed quite fun to do.
“Are you happy now?” Draco grumbled a little out of breath after he’d exhausted his arm muscles.
“Wrong question Draco.” MIlly gave him a sharp look again, but it was less impressive now that her hair was disheveled and her glasses were gone. “What you should ask is are you happy?”
“No, I looked like an idiot.” He tugged at the gigantic red sweater. “Will you help me with my muggle studies now?”
Milly shook her head and sighed, which earned her a shove from Draco, but then she retrieved her glasses and scanned his work. She chuckled. “Well the answer to your question is not domestic violence. It’s sex.”
“Sex? Why would you hit people during sex?” Draco flapped out, turning beetroot as soon as he reasised half the common room was listening to them.
“I haven’t the slightest, I’m more of a Bambi lesbian myself. Maybe you could ask Pansy?”
“Oi! I do not engage in BDSM thank you very much.” Pansy yelled at them. Just as the rest of the common room she had overheard Milly.
“But I bet Potter has you covered.” The asian girl added with a smirk.
“Covered in what?” A dissolved looking Harry walking into the room right that moment.
“Latex and leather.” Pansy answered. Draco wanted to die.
“I prefer the sweater Malfoy is wearing to be honest. Latex and leather sounds rather uncomfortable. Why would I cover Malfoy with it anyway?”
“For BDSM sex of course.” Milly replied. Harry tripped over his own feet and fell hard against the table Draco had been using to make him homework.
“Excuse me?” Harry sputtered with a bright red face as he rubbed his painful upper arm. He looked rather stupid, lying there almost face first on the floor.
“Hey! What did you guys do to Harry?” Ron shouted offended as he entered the common room, soon followed by Hermione.
“We revealed the secret BDSM sex he and Draco are having.” Pansy said matter-of-factly. Draco let his head fall onto the hard wooden table with a loud thud. He hated his friends sometimes.
“Oh that,” Hermione shrugged, “well I’m glad you found someone who’s willing to dominate you, and I for one hope he shares all of your many kinks Harry.”
Ron looked like he might pass out as he stared open mouthed at his girlfriend. “He’s getting whipped by Malfoy?”
“Well that escalated quickly.” Millicent mutterd in Draco’s ear. Draco groaned and threw a quill at her head. She caught it and sat back to enjoy the gigantic mess she’d made, openly enjoying the commotion.
Draco, however, was very much not enjoying the commotion. Sex was always a bit of a taboo subject for purebloods and the little bits and pieces he had puzzled together so far did not feature any of the things his fellow students were talking about. Left alone that he did such things to Harry Potter on a regular basis.
As soon as Ron actually fainted and people weren’t looking at him anymore he fled up the stairs. The last thing he heard before he slammed the door shut was “DEAN THOMAS I AM NEVER GOING TO WEAR A FUCKING LATEX LEOTARD! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER.”
All in all Draco was happy to collapse on his bed and pull the curtains shut around it, cancelling out the last bit of the noise. He crawled under the duvet and hugged the oversized sweater he was still wearing.
He couldn’t really wrap his head around the fact that only a year ago he’d been certain he wouldn’t even survive the war, and now he was safe and warm and cozy, wrapped up in a huge sweater from Cho Chang, out of all people. It was ridiculous.
But besides that it was comfortable too, and within five minutes he was sound asleep. He never slept longer than an hour though, because that was the moment the nightmares kicked in.
“Uhm, Malfoy?” Draco stirred in his sleep. The red eyes of Voldemort flickered with green for a moment, but soon they went back to red again. He did not wake up. “Malfoy are you okay? Are you having a nightmare?”
It was the genuine concern in Harry’s voice that penetrated through the fog of the dream and woke Draco up. He groaned and curled up further, shaking from the memory of him. No matter how many times he saw it the face still terrified him. He was unsurprised but not un-ashamed to find his cheeks were wet from tears.
Harry set something down on his nightstand and sat down on the edge of his bed. The way the mattress dipped in reminded Draco so much of his mother bringing him a goodnight kiss that he was crying again before he even realised it.
He turned around, trying to bury his face in his pillows, but Harry stubborn fucking prick Potter wouldn’t leave him alone. A muscled arm, strongly contrasting with Draco’s own weak limbs, curled itself around him and soon after he felt Harry’s chest press against his back. It appeared the slayer of the dark lord was spooning him.
“Luna taught me how to spot the difference between crying alone and crying lonely.” Harry said, his tone of voice more than a little bit uncomfortable and awkward.
“And she showed me how to chase away the fear of a nightmare.” He added rather doubtfully, and he moved away from him so one of his hands got the space it needed to make hard but relaxing stroking movements across Draco’s back.
Draco was so overwhelmed by the nightmare, what had happened in the common room and what Harry was doing now that al he could do was tell himself to breathe. Just breathe.
After a minute or two Harry sat up again, and to his own surprise Draco found himself more relaxed than he’d felt in months, probably years.
“I have no idea why you just did that,” Draco murmured, still a bit out of it, “but I enjoyed it.”
“Glad to hear that.” Harry replied. Draco tried to casually dry his cheeks before emerging from his duvet again. He self consciously put a hand through his hair, certain it would look a right mess.
“You, eh, left your homework in the common room.” Harry indicated at the boks on Draco’s night stand and flushed a bit. “I thought I’d give it back to you before they start reading it out loud downstairs.”
“Thank you Po-.”
“Harry.” Harry cut in. “You can call me Harry, if you want to that is.”
Draco, surprised that Harry would think he would not want to call him Harry, sat up a bit straighter and tried to convey his thanks again. “Well then, thank you, Harry. And do call me Draco, if you want to that is.”
“I do.” Harry blurted, turning even more red. “I mean I do, eh, want to call you Draco.” He finished clumsily and Draco found himself smiling. A rare occasion these days.
“Where did you get that sweater from?” Harry asked, seemingly to prevent an awkward silence.
“Cho Chang actually.” And Draco couldn’t help but laugh as Harry’s face flushed again. The messy haired man looked horribly awkward, guilty, puzzled and shocked at the same time, and it frankly looked quite hilarious.
“Relax Harry. I’m not dating your ex. Millicent would kill me if I stole her girlfriend.” He chuckled as relief flooded Harry’s face, feeling suddenly giddy with the thought that Harry Potter might be interested in him.
“Wait what?” All of the sudden Harry looked puzzled again. “Since when are Cho and Bulstrode dating?”
Now it was Draco’s turn to be puzzled again. “Since the start of the school year.” He said slowly, eying Harry with suspicion. The guy wasn’t fucking with him now was he?
“They are the leaders of the GSA, and they snuggle together like, all the time.” Draco continued. Harry frowned, seemingly digging through his memory to recall any of Draco’s claims. “Harry are you sure you have the right prescription for your glasses? Those two could not have been more obvious if they’d tattooed we are lesbian lovers on their forehead.”
Harry glared at him and pulled his knees up. “It’s not my fault I suck at seeing that kind of thing okay? I wasn’t raised with it you know. With love.”
And suddenly Harry looked very small, sitting there on the edge of Draco’s bed, staring ahead without seeing anything. Draco swallowed hard, not sure what to do now, until he remembered what he was wearing.
“What?” Harry snapped as he changed from hurt boy into an angry adult man.
“Put this on and flap with the sleeves.” Draco held out Cho’s sweater. “It helps, I promise.”
Harry eyed the sweater. He didn’t seem to have much faith in Draco’s method and unlike Millicent Draco had no threats he could use against his victim. Though victim was the wrong word of course.
“You’re ridiculous.” Harry muttered and he turned back to staring at the wall.
“And you won’t be able to hit me in the face with permission if you do not put on this sweater and flap the sleeves in my face.” Draco shot back. He was ready to sell some of his dignity and self perseverance if it meant Harry would look happy again. Though if he was being honest he didn’t have much dignity left.
Harry eyed him from the side, then silently snatched the sweater from Draco’s outstretched arm and pulled it over his head. It looked stupid on him, way too big, the colour didn’t fit and Harry had more of an middle eastern look to him than a chinese one. Still, Draco had so much trouble tearing his gaze away from Harry that he did not even see the man coming when he hit him in the face with his sleeve.
Once it did hit him though he scrambled backwards until he was pressed against the headboard of his bed as a reflex. Harry didn’t seem bothered by this and just lurched forward until he was half-sitting half-lying on top of Draco as he hit him in the face with Cho’s sweater.
“I said flap not hit!” Draco yelled as Harry beated down on his face, but he was laughing as he said it, because Harry was laughing too now.
“I thought you were supposed to be a BDSM fan?” Harry shot back with a wicked grin.
“I don’t even know what that means Potter!” Draco exclaimed just before Harry tired out and collapsed on top of him. “I thought the song was about domestic violence.”
“Cozy mind you have there.” Harry tapped the side of Draco’s head and dragged himself up a bit until his face was hanging above Draco’s.
“Just as cozy as yours, possibly even cozier.” Draco whispered, very aware of the fact that his breath was caressing Harry’s face, and that he had no idea if it smelled good yes or no.
“Show off.” Harry shot back.
Despite his nerves Draco looked smug as he shot back, “It’s not showing off if it’s true.”
“I think it still is, but I’d have to ask Hermione to be sure.” Harry pulled a thinking face, which Draco thought was the single most adorable thing in the world. Before he knew what he was doing he’d drifted off from the conversation to Harry’s eyes, his hair, the patterns on the ceiling, how muggles knitted wool for their sweaters…
He startled when Harry talked again and mentally scolded himself for losing focus. He’d lived in one house with the dark lord, he should be able to handle some stupid concentration issues. And there he was drifting again.
“Did you hear what I said?” Harry inquired with an amused look on his face. At least he didn’t get angry like some of the professors did. Or maybe the anger came later. “I said it is pretty disturbing that two eighteen year old boys are bragging about their shitty mental state when they should be kissing.”
“Kissing?” Draco muttered perplexed.
“Yes Draco, kissing. I hope you do know what that means.” Draco briefly wondered how this idiot of a man had gotten the balls to be so up front about things, but before he could get distracted again he bend forward and planted his lips firmly on Harry’s. And for the first time since the war, he didn’t think anything could distract him from the magnificent experience that is kissing Harry Potter.
It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was rather clumsy, with several collisions of teeth and near-bitings of tongues, but it was right. It felt right. And as Harry reached out and tangled his fingers in Draco’s hair, messing it up even more, the both of them were sure they would be alright.
And they would be.
This turned out to be wayyyyyyyy longer than it was supposed to be and I procrastinated a buttload of homework typing this out so if you could let me know what you thnk that would be extra appreciated this time! (Bc then I know if I wasted my homework time writing something nice or stupid)