aeri ᡣ𐭩

[soobhanan]

KISS ME AND I MIGHT DROP DEAD!

synopsis IF YOU LET ME STAY THE NIGHT, I THINK I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO STAY FOREVER ⋆ 𐙚 ̊ in which you spend 7 days in cebu, and the fellow tourist you meet by chance makes it difficult for you to stomach the thought of leaving.

pairing choi soobin x (f) reader

genre fluff, smut, reader and soobin are both tourists, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings mdni. alcohol usage, unprotected sex (please don't!), fingering, piv sex, sb cums inside reader

word count 6.7k

a/n first fic on this blog kinda nervous :3 been feeling sososo much for my soobie doobie these days, my love couldn't help but spill all over tumblr. hi, new friends! ♡

It seems as though the whole universe has conspired against you.

Standing under the scorching heat, you could not help but think that you should have stayed in the confines of your sweet, humble abode. If only Karina hadn’t convinced you to, in her words, “Step out of your comfort zone, you homebody!”, then maybe you would have been 12 episodes deep in a new drama, or even getting your rank rating up in League of Legends. 

It’s hard to gaslight yourself that your trip to Cebu is supposed to be a cathartic experience when it’s all starting so horribly already. Not when you are fresh off a miserable flight with the person in front of you reclining their chair all the way. Not when some businessman spilt their coffee all over your pristinely white hoodie, mumbling that you should have stayed out of the way because he has a flight to catch. Not when you are all alone while everyone else seems to be having the time of their lives raving about the beaches and parties this place has to offer. Not when you couldn’t even shoot a message to Karina complaining about how this was such a dumb idea for a raging introvert like you, because your stupid phone is betraying you and it can’t catch a stupid signal.

And while you are easily irritated, it’s also easy for you to come to terms with the fact that you will be stuck on this island by yourself for 7 days. You tried your best to convince Karina to come with you, but she kept insisting that it was time for you to attempt solo traveling just for the experience. Easy to say for someone as outgoing as her. You huff, feeling defeated as you slump to sit on your luggage, waiting for a cab to take you to your hotel, when you catch sight of a man bickering with… a cab driver?

“What do you mean I have to pay a thousand pesos? My hotel is 15 minutes away!”

If you thought you were already the epitome of irritation, this guy was far worse. He looks like he just clawed his way out of hell with how messy his hair is and how much sweat he’s drenched in. Not to mention the bags under his eyes and how flushed his skin looks from how hard he’s keeping his annoyance within and oh god, he’s beautiful.

He drags his feet to walk away from the cab, eyebrows still furrowed, and you had to begrudgingly stop yourself from checking this stranger out because you do not want embarrassment to lace all the exasperation you’re feeling right now. You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize he stopped to stand beside your slumped form, sulking like you’ve lost all your will to live.

“Jesus, it’s so hot…” you hear him groan as he types away on his phone. You assume he’s complaining to a friend because it’s what you would have done. That is, if you could catch a signal.

You giggle to yourself and he snaps his head to look at you, expression softening.

“Tourist?”

He’s talking to you. What the hell are you supposed to do when a man (who looks like he stepped out of a typical romance drama) strikes a conversation with you? You choose to face him, avoiding eye contact, and nod meekly.

He immediately whines. A behavior such a stark contrast to a man whose figure towers over you, “Can you believe that cab driver tried to charge me 1000 pesos for a 15-minute ride? My friend told me they overcharge tourists like crazy, so I should just act angry, but I guess I’m not scaring them off..?”

You finally make eye contact with him, skimming over his features. He’s handsome, but not in a way that suffocates you. He’s… cute. Makes you feel fuzzy inside with his soft features. Round, wide eyes, nose slightly scrunched, and the way his front teeth sit on his bottom lip makes him look like a bunny who wasn’t given enough carrot treats. What the fuck are you even saying at this point? He’s just some guy. Okay, a gorgeous one, at that.

You clear your throat, “Maybe you should try an Uber?”

“Ubers aren’t available in the Philippines…”

You nod, not knowing what to say. You’ve proven yet again that you are physically incapable of talking to cute guys.

“Shit. Now my phone is at 1%.”

You snort, “I’d offer mine, but this dumb fuck cannot catch a signal.”

He sighs defeatedly, now sitting on his luggage as well, “Aren’t you going to try and get a cab?”

“I was going to, but after seeing you with that cab driver, I might as well just take a flight back home already…”

He chuckles. Even his laugh is pretty.

“Maybe you’re better at haggling than I am?”

He seems to be right, because the first cab driver you hailed instantly agreed to drive you for 300 pesos. You nod at the stranger while loading your luggage in the back, and he smiles at you in return. You’re probably never going to see each other again. So much for a short-lived airport crush.

You fall back onto the expanse of your bed once you’ve checked in, relishing in the comfort after a pain-staking flight. Stretching your back, you’re relieved to find that the hotel wi-fi works like magic, finally satiating your need for chronically online personal time. After a few moments of scrolling through your feed to see what you’ve missed, you grew bored, pressing the call button beside Karina’s contact name. Her face lights up your screen immediately.

“Yah! Why are you on your phone instead of the beach? I just saw you repost a Tiktok 5 minutes ago!”

You roll your eyes, “Can’t a girl replenish her social battery before going out and about all alone?” She simply chuckles, giving you an avenue to start complaining to her about all the mishaps that have happened so far. You drone on and on until you’ve lost track of all the time you spent just grumbling over every inconvenience, and she reassures you that maybe you used up all your bad luck, and from hereon, everything will fall into place smoothly. You aspire to be as optimistic as she is. Soon enough, she yawns, saying that it’s time for her afternoon nap, and you’re left to scurry over to the bathroom to freshen up.

It’s 4PM when you step out of your hotel room, padding over to the lobby to ask for the pathway to the beach, when you catch sight of a familiar tall figure hunched over the receptionist desk. He seems to feel your presence, because he snaps his head towards you.

“Huh? Oh!” 

It’s the cute guy from the airport. You swear you’re going to get a heart attack.

“O-oh? Hey,” you try to muster out. You really, really suck at talking to cute guys.

He smiles, “Didn’t know you booked the same hotel! We could have shared a cab, then.”

“Would be weird to tell a complete stranger which hotel I booked, right?” You didn’t mean for the words to trail off your mouth quite harshly, really, but your realization hits you too late when his face flushes in panic as he responds. “A-ah! Yeah! I suppose it would be really weird. Sorry…”

You glance over at the receptionist desk to see that there was no one manning. Great. Now you can’t weasel your way out of this awkward situation.

“Uh… I was going to ask the receptionist where the pathway leading directly to the beach was, but I guess there’s nobody here?”

He’s shocked. It’s almost animated how his expressions are painted on his face. “I was going to ask them too! I’ve been waiting for about 10 minutes now, but I have no idea where the receptionist has gone, so…” He trails off, and maybe it’s the impatience getting to your head, so you ask,

“You want to just fuck it and find it ourselves?”

He looks at you, and for just a moment, you’re terrified. What if he thinks you’re hitting on him? Wanting to spend time alone with a hot guy? You almost think you’re fucked until he flashes a grin.

“I’m already itching to get my feet in the sand.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking side by side with him. You learn that his name is Soobin, and that he’s from South Korea, working in corporate like you. Soobin tells you about his friend that was supposed to come with him, but he booked his flight incorrectly in an absentminded haze, thus he was traveling solo. You tell him that your friend practically had to bribe you into going on this vacation because of all the stress you have bottled up from your miserable job. He lets out a giggle, saying that he needed to get away from his laptop screen given that even typing was giving him a migraine.

Despite your closed off nature, it was surprisingly easy to fall into a conversation with Soobin. Maybe you enjoyed the conversation a little too much, because it’s only then that you realize you’ve been going around in circles, still not finding the beachside.

“Do you think we’re lost?”

He turns over to you and stops in his tracks, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe?”

And then it hits you. You’re lost. God knows where you are, and you’re stuck navigating your way back with someone you met less than 5 hours ago. Did you really put your guard down for a stranger?

“Shit,” you pull out your phone, only to be reminded that it’s practically useless. It doesn’t help that you’re in a dead zone. You see him fiddling with his phone, seemingly to find a way to map yourselves out of this, but he was met with disappointment upon reading the words “no cellular service”.

You groan, wanting nothing but to go back to your hotel room to curl up in your bed, but Soobin was still adamant on finding the beachside. Unfortunately for you and your aching legs, you had to choose between dragging yourself sluggishly or having a tantrum in the middle of nowhere. The latter was a no-go, obviously, unless you had a death wish?

The fatigue and anxiety were catching up to the both of you as dead silence remained in the air, save from the small huffs you were letting out occasionally. Soobin glances at you from time to time, seemingly to check on your pathetic state. The sun was starting to set, and you’re certain you were going to make it to the headlines as the 25 year-old woman who (a) perished in extreme fatigue and irritation, or; (b) got brutally murdered by a bunny-looking stranger twice her size. 

You don’t notice that you were looking at the ground, questioning every life decision that has led you to this absurdity, when Soobin’s awed gasp snaps you back into reality.

“Heol…”

You look up to see a breathtaking view, all yours to behold. The sun was setting in the horizon, etched in the apricot sky. Palm trees breezed through the path, and the salt in the air barely grazed your tongue. Soobin has his mouth agape, eyes full of wonder. Okay, maybe he’s not a serial killer out to murder you if he brought you to such a beautiful part of the seaside. Unless this is all part of his grand scheme to let your guard down? But he looks clueless as he can be, perhaps you were more likely to be the murderer in this situation.

“Come! There’s no one around!” Soobin hurriedly waddles over to a spot just below the trees, inviting you to join him. Once you’re sat beside him in the sand, he stretches the entirety of his legs, letting out a hum of relief. He has a stupid smile on his face as his eyes glaze to take in the golden hour.

“I’m sorry I got us lost. I’ve never been good at directions,” Soobin smiles apologetically. “But hey, this view is nice. We have this all to ourselves.”

No one was around. Okay. Maybe this is the part where he brutally murd-

“I hope you’re not too tired. I… kinda heard you huffing a lot earlier and I figured you were getting antsy. Also it was probably because you were lost in god knows where with a dude you just met, so that must have been scary for you? I can’t convince you that I’m completely harmless because that would make me more suspicious, right? And oh god why am I rambling?” He’s melting into a puddle of embarrassment. Usually, you liked it when men learned to shut the fuck up, but you tolerated his rambling. He was quite… endearing, actually.

You let out a small chuckle, “Soobin, it’s fine. We’re chill. I was just tired of walking in circles, that’s all.” He sighs in response, fingers tracing shapes in the sand.

“The view is beautiful though. I’m kinda glad we got lost. We can gatekeep this experience,” you add, shooting a reassuring smile. Now you feel bad for ever thinking ill of him, because the way he perks up and grins at you just seals the deal that he was never a threat. Soobin turns away to continue watching the sunset, basking in the way the sun’s rays kiss his skin.

Time flew by too fast, and now you’re left with the problem of how you’re supposed to go back to the hotel, when a light suddenly beams at the two of you.

“Hey! This is private property!” Fuck. No wonder there weren’t any people around. The two of you get escorted out, with the security guard huffing about how “kids these days just fool around everywhere”, to which you and Soobin turn crimson profusely. You had no choice but to push your luck, asking him the way to your hotel no matter how embarrassed the pair of you were.

“Okay… that was humiliating,” you cringe and glance over at Soobin, who was not faring any better than you. His cheeks were still puffed out, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. 

“Kinda feels like we’re trauma bonded now,” he mutters, praying that this time around, you were going the right way. “Trauma bonded over a humiliation ritual…. today felt too long.”

You hum, “Yep. Might have to skip dinner. I just want to sleep and stock up on social battery for the next 6 days.”

His eyes widened, “Wow. We have the exact same hotel and trip duration.” 

You nod, not knowing what to make of this new knowledge, but all the rummaging in your brain was instantly cut off by him.

“Do you, perhaps…” His voice turns small. “Perhaps you’d like to stick together?”

“A whole week together? You might get sick of me.”

He grins, “Well, if by chance I do, it would be totally fine. We’re most likely never going to cross paths with each other again anyway.”

You don’t know what compels you to, but you agree. 

You hope Karina would be proud of you stepping outside of your comfort zone (and trusting that some guy doesn’t offer you as human sacrifice.)

The next few days went by like a dream. 

On the second and third day, Soobin took you ziplining and leaping off waterfalls despite your protests. You remember how your heart skipped a beat at his proud, child-like grin when he got you to admit that facing your fear of heights ended up rather enjoyable. The day after, the pair of you decided to take a break from the adrenaline and wandered off to the cultural spots Cebu had to offer. You didn’t expect him to take such good shots of you, worthy enough to be posted on your wilting Instagram account. Karina had even bombarded you with question marks, asking if you’ve finally made a new friend. Imagine her shock when you sent her a selfie you had taken of the two of you, and she found out your new “friend” looks like he stepped out of a manhwa.

By the end of the fifth day of your escapades with Soobin, you had suggested trying out the beachside bars your Tiktok algorithm was raging about. It seems like Karina had magic senses, because your phone suddenly chirped with a text notification while you added finishing touches to your makeup. 

rina<3: u crack cebu boy yet?

You furrow your eyebrows at this.

: huh

: we’re FRIENDS

rina<3: and he’s ur exact type

: well yes

: but it would be weird to get in a random stranger’s pants

rina<3: dude that’s exactly why

         : u can just leave it behind

         : what happens in cebu stays in cebu type shit

         : esp if hes bad in bed 💀

: you are so…

: what if i catch something from him

rina<3: feelings?

          : oh u meant an std

          : i snooped through his instagram and mans looks bitchless anyway

          : his following list consists of league gameplay accounts and 4 of his friends

: ugh idk man

: i just 

: hes hot but

: i’d rather not put weird thoughts in my head about a dude i’m spending the remaining days with

rina<3: LMAO it’s okay i’m playing

          : just sayin u only live once

          : and i’ve prayed hard for u to finally get laid again

          : especially after ur ugly ass ex

          : and don’t tell me u haven’t snooped through his ig either

: ?

: i have but

: just out of pure curiosity

rina<3: love when u get defensive

          : u in bed alrdy? do u wanna call and catch up

          : im yearning for my best friend

: awww i’m going out

: trying the beachside bars

rina<3: oh? 👀

          : enjoy <3

          : hoping u break ur vow of abstinence

: ????

: love you

: i’ll call u tomorrow evening maybe

Karina sends a heart and a wink in response, making you smile and shake your head

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you adjust a strand of your hair and suddenly become antsy. All those talks about Soobin suddenly made you feel hauntingly self-aware. You hate to admit that you wanted to look pretty to him. Life has a way of making things fall into place so perfectly, because not long after your frustrated fussing, you hear three knocks on your door. Soobin.

You pad over, opening your door to see Soobin standing in true, awkward, painfully endearing Soobin fashion. 

His eyes fall on your face, drifting just a millisecond to your bikini-clad and sheer covered body. You barely miss the way his cheeks burn despite the cold air from your room.

“You look-” he starts, but cuts himself off. Alarms blare in your head. Look horrible? A mess? You look like you tried to get all pretty for me but absolutely failed?

“Look what?” you squeak out, voice small. He scratches his neck, as if debating what words to say. You’re painfully fretting over every possible response until he eventually mumbles something after a few beats.

“You look beautiful.”

He says it so sincerely it makes your head spin. But alas, Soobin is Soobin…

“Not in a creepy way! The color of your outfit just fits you really well. And the way you did your hair and makeup is pretty cool. And-”

You shush him, trying to calm your heart that is about to beat out of your chest, “It’s fine, Soobin. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Awkward silence then envelopes you in the warmly lit hotel hallway, both of you not daring to meet each other’s eyes.

You were the one to break the stillness, “Let’s go?”, to which he hums in response. He looked like he had much more to say, but you don’t dare to pry him on his thoughts in fear of further straining the situation.

One thing you liked about spending time with Soobin is how the two of you go well together. Platonically, you swear. It isn’t even five minutes deep into the walk together when you’re back to telling each other mundane stories about your lives back home. Soobin whines about how he misses his dog, Tori, to which you reply “so she’s far better company than me?”, causing him to ramble in panic. You, in turn, tell him about how you don’t want to come back to office paperwork when you’ve been having the time of your life getting your feet in the sand all day. 

“I wish we could stay here forever,” he sighs, seemingly in a haze as the night breeze grazes his hair. “It’s been really fun just doing anything and everything with you.”

You take the chance to finally, actually look at Soobin. He towers over you, looking you straight in the eye like he doesn’t know your heart is about to beat out of your chest every time he does so. His hair is messy from the wind, the outline of his face perfectly chiseled by the moonlight gracing his skin.

In that moment, you know something starts shifting between your feelings and your ever-so rational mind. You can’t help it. Not when he’s looking at you like you hung up the moon. Not when his beauty is one you would only find once in a lifetime.

You’re done for.

Despite this, you push your thoughts down your throat, managing to whisper, “I’ll really miss you when we go our separate ways, you know?”

He chuckles, “Because I’m the only male friend you have that actually takes good photos of you?”

“Your words, not mine.”

He beams teasingly before adding, “I’ll miss you too. A lot.”

Suddenly confronted with the vulnerability of your words, you tear your eyes away from him and start kicking sand beneath your feet, “I don’t know why I got sappy, sorry. I still have 2 days with you.”

“It’s cute,” Soobin reassures you. As a friend would, right? You don’t want to overthink it. “I never would have thought we’d warm up to each other so fast, but maybe I was meant to meet you on this trip.”

“Just so you have someone to buy you vinegar for your jellyfish stings?”

“That, and we make quite a good pair for people who only met at the start of this week.” Your heart feels like it’s being tugged from all sides, painfully reminded of the fact that you’ve grown attached to him in such a short period of time.

Right. You really shouldn’t get too attached to someone who will be an ocean away by the following week.

Your forlorn musings are interrupted by the chants of people that cut through the bubble you and Soobin have placed yourselves in. He flashes an ever so sweet smile at you, taking your hand in his.

“You ready to get absolutely shitfaced?”

The world is spinning before your eyes.

“Sooooobieeee” you slur out, arm snugly wrapped around his. “Let’s drink more!”

You don’t know how much alcohol is flowing through your bloodstream, but it was enough for you to cling into Soobin like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Literally. If it weren’t for him, you would have fallen face flat into the ground.

He squeaks, “No more! You’re red all over!”

“And you’re not!” you pout, “It’s like I’m the only one having fun!”

You would have thought he was starting to get sick of you if it weren’t for his grip tightening before he says, “I’m having fun. But-”

“Soobin. Soobin. I’m going to throw up.”

He mutters a profanity in his native language, dragging you up so gently and guiding you somewhere your inebriated mind couldn’t fathom. It’s only when you breathe in the stench that you piece out that he had taken you to the bathroom (more specifically, the line of people leading to it.)

“Don’t barf on me, please,” Soobin practically begs, rubbing circles on your back as you lean further into his grip, dopey smile plastered on your face as you admire him from the angle below.

“You’re really, really, reallyyyy cute, Soobie,” you squeeze the bicep you’re clinging onto, making the man shriek in surprise. “How are you even real?”

He chooses to look away from your eyes that keep raking all over him, cheeks now a carmine red. 

“I told you earlier that you didn’t look too bad yourself, but I wanted to tell you that you looked absolutely fucking beautiful. Far prettier than me. Even though I spent so long trying to look cute for you,” you stumble over your words as he keeps his hold on your waist. You don’t even notice that it was your turn to enter the bathroom when he sighs and escorts you inside, oblivious to the stares you got from stepping inside together. 

He positions you so that you’re hunched over the toilet, his annoyingly long legs folded to keep you at eye level while he bunches your hair up. As your drunkenness wills, you expel the intoxication out of your system as Soobin wipes the sweat off your face and neck. When all is done, you look at him and weakly ask for toilet paper to wipe your face with, to which he takes it upon himself to do it for you, gingerly padding over your mouth and tear-stained cheeks.

“All okay?” Soobin asks as he throws the toilet paper away and tidies up the bathroom the best he could.

“Mhm,” you purr, latching onto his arm as he opens the door, receiving pointed stares from the people witnessing you step outside together. You were all oblivious to it, wanting nothing but to curl up into the heat his body tenders. He’s silent as you stumble over your feet, and yet he traces his arm back around your waist once more.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you back.”

“But you haven’t even drank that much yet!”

“I’m not a heavy drinker.”

You sulk as he maneuvers you all the way back to your hotel room. 

When he sets you down on the bed, your frown only gets deeper. He’s immediately rummaging through your bathroom, hurriedly asking where your cleansing wipes are before you succumb to slumber, and returns to your side albeit not telling him where it was. It’s funny, really, the way you could see yourselves falling into this routine in the future. A future that seems so out of reach, if only you wouldn’t be miles away from each other when all this is done.

“Stay still,” Soobin whispers, as if terrified of breaking through the air of tenderness sifting through your hotel room. He holds your face so delicately as he drags the makeup off of your lethargic state. He’s merely inches away and yet he seems so far from your reach. 

“Soobin,” you let out, almost a pained, yearning whimper. You feel his fingers tremble against your cheek before he resumes his ministrations with a simple hum. “You’re even prettier up close.”

Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Maybe it’s all those talks with Karina. Maybe it’s the rare occurrence of you acting according to impulse– but you close the distance between the two of you, letting out a contented sigh as you feel his plump lips against yours. 

The problem is Soobin stays unmoving.

You pull away, shame overcoming the entirety of your system.

“Soobin, I’m sor-”

“Good night,” he replies curtly.

All inebriety has fallen out of the window as you lay down, pulling the sheets all over yourself. You pray this was all just a dream. That you had actually dozed off as he was busying himself on tidying the makeup off your face. 

The last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you are his faint footsteps and the clicking of your door.

page.soobin: let me know if you’re awake

                     : i bought painkillers for you

                     : i’ll come by then

It’s half past 3 in the afternoon when you awake from your slumber, groaning as you curse yourself for drinking like a maniac the previous night. You simply blink at Soobin’s texts, about to reply when you recall all the humiliation you put yourself in. 

Fuck. Fuck. You’re fucked.

page.soobin: you awake?

                     : you have read receipts on by the way

Great.

: i just woke up

: it’s fine i can manage

: you don’t have to come over

page.soobin: stop

                     : at least let me take care of you

: i’m okay, soobin

: i swear

page.soobin: i’m still dropping by

                     : elevator rn

It all happens so quickly. One second you’re grimacing at the thought of seeing him in your disheveled and oh-so dreadfully humiliated state, and the next you’re opening the door for him. He’s dressed in a baggy shirt and shorts, hair disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it the whole while. 

“You should have gone out instead of worrying about my hungover,” you grumble under your breath, eyes not daring to land on him.

“Go out? Without you?” He says it like nothing significant happened between the two of you just hours ago.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that…”

Soobin puffs out a breath he’s been keeping for God knows how long. 

“Listen-”

“We don’t have to talk about it, Soobin. I’m really sorry. We should just forget that ever happened and just go our separate ways for the rest of our days here.”

Your mind is in shambles as he stares blankly, debating what to say next.

“Please look at me.”

You can’t deny his request when his voice sounds like it’s about to break. When your eyes meet for the first time since last night, everything just comes crashing out on you. He’s staring so intently, you fear you’ll break upon his gaze.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you find me beautiful,” he pauses before adding, “That you tried to look pretty for me.”

You grimace at his prodding. “Why would I not mean it?”

“You were drunk.”

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

Just like that, another awkward silence falls upon you. You could only hear his shallow breaths, like he was holding himself back. You pray he doesn’t hear the buzzing in your brain.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he professes matter-of-factly.

“You didn’t kiss me back.”

“I didn’t want our first kiss to be of us being drunk.”

You’re dumbfounded as you took in his feverish appearance. 

“So, if you’ll let me,” he murmurs, “I’d like to have a do-over.”

This time, it wasn’t you who closed the distance between your lips. In a matter of seconds, all of you is filled with him. Soobin. Soobin, who didn’t want to make a move in fear of you not reciprocating. Soobin, who was patient enough to care for you in the most minuscule of ways. Soobin, who you have at the palm of your hand, giving you himself wholeheartedly. Soobin, who has yearned for you all this time.

His soft lips glide against yours so smoothly, his hands eventually slotting around the curve of your waist to pull you in closer. Kissing him felt like coming home. Pressed up against him is where you wanted to be forever.

Soobin pushes you to lay on the bed, with him following suit. He’s careful not to put his whole weight on you, but even so, you feel suffocated by the affection bubbling within you. He’s all yours, albeit just for this moment. 

“Soob,” you manage to mewl out against the kisses he is peppering all over your collarbone.

“You alright, baby?” The endearment is enough to make your legs buckle around his waist, wanting to pull him in closer.

“More than alright,” you gasp as he grazes his teeth against your neck, leaving love bites. “I just can’t believe you’re mine today.”

He furrows his eyebrows, halting his actions, “Today?”

“Today,” you frown. “Last full day together and we’re back to our old lives.”

His eyes soften immediately, brushing the strands of hair from your face before he speaks, “It doesn’t have to be just today. I’m yours evermore.”

“But-”

“I’ll visit you every now and then. You can show me around your hometown, and I’ll fly you out to mine,” he traces his finger against your cheek, “And then you’ll meet Tori. I swear you’ll fall in love with her. And we’ll have all the time to ourselves.”

You snicker, “Do you say that to the girls back home too?”

Soobin chuckles in response, a low humming in his chest, “Home is with you.” 

You feel like you’re going insane as you pull him in once more, so overwhelmed with the infatuation. Your kisses escalate from shy smacks to a full-blown makeout session, eliciting soft groans from the man looming above you. The way you touch each other feels as though you’re trying to memorize the feel of your bodies, your hands making their way to the skin of his chest under his shirt.

“Take it off if you want to, baby,” he prompts, half-teasing and half-desperate. You catch your breath before tugging on it, motioning for him to help you in pulling it over his head. Every part of him looks like it was sculpted by the gods so intricately. You really can’t believe he’s yours for the taking. 

“You look like you’re about to devour me,” he teases.

“I am about to devour you.”

He moans at your words, taking you aback.

“You’re into that?”

“Only if it’s you.”

You don’t know how much time passes– all you know is that your clothes ended up on the floor and he’s inching his long fingers into your heat. His eyebrows are knit as he presses each knuckle to your walls, while you are left to whimper helplessly. His pace picks up, making your face scrunch up from the pleasure.

“Soo- baby, no,” you have a death grip on his arm, trying to stop him.

“Hurts?”

“No, good,” you swivel your hips, “Just want you inside.”

He gulps, a rush of heat going straight to his groin. “Condom?”

It’s irresponsible, really. Despite having previous experiences, you’ve never done it without. You don’t know why, but your brain compels you to heave in response, “No. I want all of you.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Death by dick seems pleasurable.”

Soobin almost can’t believe the humor laced in your words when he’s about to fuck the living daylights out of you, “Don’t die on me.”

He pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking himself. He’s achingly hard, and it took everything in you not to shoot up and beg him to let you have a taste.

“Soobin, you’re huge.”

“More surface area for me to love you with.”

You were about to shoot him a cringed out look when he guided his tip to your entrance. Both your faces scrunch up in pleasure despite the lack of penetration.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Baby,” your chest heaves, “I need you. I thought I made that clear.”

He beams, a stark contrast to him starting to inch through your insides. He’s biting his lip as he holds your hips down, “You’re- fuck.”

Your brain has officially melted into a puddle when he manages to fit everything inside. He gives you time to adjust to the intrusion, pecking your face all over. You swear this is the closest thing to paradise.

And he’s not far off. You notice how his knuckles are turning white from gripping your hips so tautly, trying to ground himself.

When you give him the signal to move, Soobin swears he could almost finish from the first thrust. He’s almost whining from the all-consuming pleasure, thrusts going from the softest brushes against your walls to calculated presses against the deepest parts of you. Soon enough, you’re babbling against his collarbone, leaving your own marks on his ivory skin. He’s yours, yours, yours.

“Fuck,” Soobin sobs, “I just want to stay like this forever.”

You can’t even bring yourself to respond verbally, resorting to clenching around him. His sobs grow even louder, hips unrelenting against yours. You wish you had met back in your hometown. You wish he was easily within your reach. You wish you had the liberty of being tangled up with him for the rest of your life. You don’t want to let him go. What can you do when the only person you’ve allowed yourself to feel everything and anything for lives oceans away?

“Baby,” your voice is weak as you scratch up his back, tugging on his nape. “About to cum.”

This only eggs him on faster, now slamming his hips roughly as he chases your orgasm. “F-fuck. I-inside?”

You hum, locking your legs tighter around his waist, “Nowhere else. N-need to have a piece of you with- in me before we fly back tomorrow.”

Your words seem to do wonders for Soobin. Your orgasm hits you at the same time he spills his warmth deep inside. You would’ve teased him about how he came so much if you weren’t twitching from the aftershocks of your release. He stays inside as the two of you unwind, him drawing circles against your hips, trying to soothe it from his death grip from earlier.

“You alright?” he mumbles against your neck, lapping at it gently. You hum in response, running your fingers through his tousled hair. You lay in silence, relishing in each other’s body warmth under the covers. He kisses the top of your head from time to time, breathing in your scent.

“I smell like vomit,” you grimace.

“You smell like sex.”

You roll your eyes, “That too. But I’m too lazy to take a shower. Just want to be with you.”

He taps your thigh, smirking, “Just say you want to take a shower with me.”

And that, you did. He takes his time with you, locking you in his embrace as the water simmers through your bare bodies. Mundane as it is, you bask in the feel of his body pressed against yours. You’d do anything to live in this moment eternally.

When it was time to fly back home, it took everything in you not to lock yourself inside Soobin’s luggage. You had walked hand in hand, waiting for each other’s flights back home. He kept kissing your knuckles, hushing sweet nothings. When your flight had been announced for boarding, you had cried in his arms, desperately wanting to take him with you. Soobin, ever the mediator, kisses the top of your head, promising to be by your side in a few months’ time. You don’t dare to look back when you enter the gate. You’re scared you’ll fall into another fit of sobs.

It’s been 5 months since, and you’re lounging on your couch, waiting for Soobin’s daily good morning message. He had been consistent in giving you even the smallest details of his life, the highlight of each of your days being the video call you hop on for your debriefings until you fall asleep. 

soob ♡: good morning

            : the heat is killing me

Your face lights up as his name pops up on your screen.

: good morning <3

: it’s 17° in seoul though?

soob ♡: wanna see something funny?

: baby it’s too early for your league of legends gameplay

soob ♡: heyyy :( 

            : but please say yes

            : this isn’t related to league i swear

: ?

: okay yes i wanna know something funny

soob ♡: okay maybe this is borderline creepy instead of funny

            : [Sent a photo attachment.]

You shriek as you open the photo, feet immediately waddling over to your front door.

There he is.

Soobin has a large grin on his face when his eyes land on you, a bouquet of lilies in his hand extended towards you. Even so, your favorite flowers dull in comparison to your favorite boy. The bouquet is all forgotten on the ground when you run to his embrace, one that you’ve been longing for. You don’t care if the neighbors could hear your squealing throughout the apartment hallway. He’s here. He’s here. He’s here, and he’s finally all yours.

“I’m home.”

[vivvangel]

BABY FEVER (among other things) — C.YJ

synopsis: after appearing on a reality tv show where txt took care of a child for a hundred days, choi yeonjun starts wondering what it would be like to have his own.

› pairings & contents: choi yeonjun of txt x fem!reader

✧ warnings: smut with plot, both hard & soft dom yeonjun, HUGE breeding kink!!!! unprotected sex, creampie(s).

FIRST EVER MUSIC CORE WIN.

• the "txt parenting diary" series was a trap. a cute, giggling, 15-month-old trap named yoojun. yeonjun walked in thinking it'd be wholesome content. he walked out filming all the episodes, a changed man.

• anyone who's watched the show could tell yeonjun LOVES yoojun. the way he learned to warm the bottle perfectly on his inner wrist. the way he whispered silly stories while feeding him. the absolute focus when trying to get his clothes on. the members had never seen him so soft, so domestic. well, except for maybe when he was drunk.

• txt's first win on music core nearly right yess after debut was nothing short of euphoric. but the real highlight for him? when the staff brought yoojun out for the encore stage. holding that baby in his arms, bouncing him gently to the celebratory music, seeing yoojun bow to the crowd, yeonjun's heart did something terrifying and permanent. he looked out at the sea of moas, felt the weight of the child in his arms, and thought: i want this. for real. with her.

• he doesn't say anything that evening. he's buzzing, but he hugs the members, thanks the staff, goes through the motions. but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd backstage, and there's a new, profound heat in his gaze.

TENSION SO THICK, YOU COULD CUT THROUGH IT.

• it starts subtle. i mean, he’s always been touchy, but now his hands linger on your hips, your lower back, with a different kind of purpose. when you’re cooking in his dorm, he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and just rest his chin on your shoulder, his palms spread wide over your stomach. he doesn’t say a word. he just… holds. like he’s imagining it rounded with his child.

• he starts buying things. not baby things—that would be insane—but family things. a ridiculously soft, large blanket "for movie nights." two matching, sturdy coffee mugs. he looks at apartments with an extra room, "for an office or something."

• the dirty talk shifts. it used to be about how good you felt, how pretty you looked. now, it’s laced with something deeper, more primal. "you take me so well, fuck, you feel like home." "i could stay inside you forever." once, in a haze of pleasure, he groaned, "you'd be so beautiful pregnant," and immediately clammed up, as if he’d revealed a state secret.

• watching and taking care of yoojun for a hundred days unlocked a specific, visceral kink: breeding. he never expected himself to be into something like that. he thought of finishing inside you is a sacred, claiming act of creation. the risk, the potential, is the biggest turn-on of his life.

• he becomes obsessed with your cycle. he’d never ask, but he notices the subtle signs. he even downloaded a tracker app. when you’re tired and crampy, he’s unbearably tender, massaging your belly with a warm palm. when he suspects you’re ovulating, or the app tells him so, he’s a different being—possessive, insatiable, his touches loaded with a desperate, hungry intent.

• he stops pulling out. it happens the first time after the music core win. he holds you down through his climax, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, and stays there, panting against your neck. the silence afterwards is thick with what he’s just done. the unspoken question hangs in the air: was that okay? the answer is in the way you cling to him, in the lack of protest.

IS THIS A DREAM?

• it’s a quiet night at his place. you’re curled up watching the parenting diary episode on his laptop. he’s pretending not to watch you watch it.

• on screen, he’s making yoojun laugh, tossing him gently in the air. you let out a soft, "aww, he’s so cute with you."

• that’s the trigger. he quietly takes the laptop, closes it, and sets it aside. his movements are deliberate. he turns to you, cups your face, and kisses you. it’s not hungry at first. it’s devastatingly sweet, full of the emotion he saw on screen.

• "i want that," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick. "ours. i want to see you holding our baby after a win. i want to come home to you both."

the confession hangs there. it’s huge. it’s terrifying. it’s the hottest thing he’s ever said.

• the sex that follows is slow, deep, and unbearably intentional. every kiss, every touch, every thrust is infused with that yearning. he makes love to you with his eyes open, watching every flicker of emotion on your face.

• he guides your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle, going deeper. "right here," he breathes, his rhythm becoming focused, potent. "this is where i’d put my baby in you."

• when he gets close, his composure cracks. the sweet, yearning boy is swallowed by the primal man. his thrusts become urgent, erratic. his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.

• "gonna put a baby in you," he chokes out, a ragged, desperate promise. "gonna see your belly swell with me. please. let me. i need to." it’s half plea, half vow.

• he comes with a broken sob, collapsing over you, his body trembling not just from release, but from the sheer magnitude of his want. he doesn’t move, keeping you pinned, filled, as if willing his desire into reality.

• later, wrapped around you in the dark, his hand splayed possessively over your lower stomach, he whispers the most vulnerable thing of all: "would you? someday? with me?" it’s no longer just a kink. it’s a dream, and he’s handing you his heart, hoping you’ll choose to build it with him.

💌 viv's note: literally nobody asked but here's a little something before i go back to writing anton and sunghoon again lol

[miupow]

Omg have you done girldad!Soobin head cannons yet?

GIRL DAD!SOOBIN HEADCANONS !

𝜗𝜚 ㅤ― 󠀬󠀬[ choi soobin x reader ] sfw , fluff . parent au , dad soobin , mom reader , mentions of pregnancy and birth , tooth rotting fluff

a/n ⸝⸝ no i haven’t yet… but i will now !!!! i hope you enjoy~~

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

soobin is the ultimate girl dad and nothing will ever change my mind about this ! his little girls are his everything and he would lay his life down in an instant for them

his daughters r such daddy’s girls he’s always the favorite parent lol !! he dotes on them and can’t ever tell them no the get absolutely whatever they want !

husband and father soobin with three daughters and a son .. his son looks just like him and is so shy and sweet ! his daughters always play with him as if he was their sister lol

letting his daughters put bows and barrettes in his hair, slather glittery makeup on his face, put a tiara on his head and make him play tea party or house with them. he’s always the dog.

him and his wife being the only two people who can tell their identical twin daughters apart and getting pissed when one is mistaken for the other. like wdym you can’t tell which is which??? starts color coding his twins so others can tell them apart 😭

he’s such a sap for his kids but he couldn’t care less , he loves them so much :( always there to support them in whatever they’re doing no matter what his schedule is, he would literally rather die than miss his kids dance recital

coming home from running errands to see both your daughter and your husband crying at the dinner table over math homework

he wasn’t very good in school so he’s extra impressed when his kids get good marks :) feels a little competitive with tyun because tyuns kids are just as genius as he is lol

he can’t stand being away from his kids :( take a child free weekend trip with him and he’s spending the entire time talking about how much he misses his babies :( always buying them gifts everywhere he goes they have sooo many toys and things because he just can’t help himself

taking naps with his kids :( soob passed out on the couch with two daughters on his chest, another daughter in his lap, his son wrapped around his leg 😭

[icupsaki]

miniskirt

synopsis: the four times you failed trying to flirt with your boss, and the one time he actually reciprocated.

pairing: boss!lee heeseung xf!reader

genre: modern au, office au, co-workers to lovers/boss x employee

cw: fluff, crack, smut, piv (unprotected), face-fucking, semi-clothed sex, rough sex, dryhumping, shoe-licking (ew), spanking, degradation, brat tamer!heeseung, power dynamics, petnames (use of good girl), light bondage, y/n is lowkey embarrassing/has zero shame whatsoever and just wants the heedih

word count: like 12k

this was lowkey inspired by miniskirt by aoa hence the name hehe😮

part 2 is here

MDNI

'print these contracts, organise them in chronological order, and have them ready in my office before you leave.'

that's what heeseung had told you to do, sliding a thick folder across the desk to you. this is what you deserve for disrupting your boss in an attempt to flirt with him, you suppose.

you remember staring at the files, and then at heeseung - asking him if he was serious.

"why wouldn't i be?"

"because there’s like… a hundred pages here," you say slowly, flipping through the folder with disbelief. "and half of these dates aren’t even labelled properly."

heeseung doesn’t look remotely sympathetic.

"then figure it out."

you clutch the stack of half-printed documents dramatically to your chest. "but i'm just a helpless employee, sir."

"don’t call me sir like that."

"like what?" you try to stop the grin from spreading on your face.

heeseung leans back in his chair with a quiet sigh, his watch gleaming under the lights. that looked expensive. "you know exactly what you’re doing."

and maybe you do.

because for the past three months of working under department manager lee heeseung, you'd made it a personal mission to get him to crack.

and to crack him.

"close the door on your way out."

that didn't get you any sympathy points. and now you're leaning against the wall, waiting for the barely-working printer to finish it's job - which would take a millennium judging from how much it already printed in the last twenty minutes.

the printer wheezes like it’s on its last breath before spitting out another single page.

you stare at it.

"you are genuinely useless," you mumble to the machine. another painful whirring sound answers you.

great.

you slide down the wall slightly, arms crossed as you wait for the next page to crawl out. the office is mostly empty now, just the distant hum of keyboards from the few employees still staying back late.

you're contemplating breaking the machine completely at this point. maybe heeseung would consider actually buying a new machine. that would benefit everyone.

the printer suddenly stops again.

"you actually piss me off." you walk over to it, pressing a few buttons before the screen flashes low toner in mocking little letters. you close your eyes, sighing.

"have you really reached a new low that you're talking to printers now?" jay walks by, pausing his steps as he sips on whatever iced beverage he was drinking.

you turn your head slowly toward jay with the blank expression of someone seconds away from a mental breakdown. "please don't start with me."

jay glances at the printer screen before letting out an understanding hum. "ah. toner issue."

"it’s been printing for thirty minutes and i have maybe," you look down at the pathetic stack of papers in the tray, "twenty pages."

"why do you need to print all that, anyway?" jay says gesturing with his free hand. you let out a long sigh, shuffling the papers into a neater pile against your chest.

"heeseung dumped it onto me. apparently the board meeting tomorrow needs physical copies of every contract involved in the merger." you pause, blinking up at jay. "why, you wanna help?"

jay lets out a short laugh, taking another sip from his straw. "very funny joke." he smiles at you, before shaking his head. "absolutely not."

your face falls immediately at the false hope. "oh, you're so fake. i'm never staying overtime for you again."

"that's crazy, because i distinctly remember you ignoring my emails for three business days last month." jay says, tone flat as he acts unbothered.

you roll your eyes, adjusting the heavy stack of papers in your arms. "whatever. i hope heeseung dumps ten times more work on you tomorrow."

"he won't, i'm his favourite." jay boasts, grinning lazily, making you scoff in annoyance.

you exhale through your nose, "i don't think his favourite would be working overtime."

jay just walks past, patting your shoulder. "you should just ask heeseung to fix the printer, it'd help everyone out." he's already around the corner before you can even utter a word out. what an idiot.

the printer makes a weird nose, and you whip your head around to look. yeah, it was definitely cooked. the screen flashes something ominous, low toner, paper jam, and a blinking error icon. sighing softly, you turn it off through the switch at the wall to just stop the loud, unnecessary noises it was creating.

you crouch down, gathering the scattered pages from the tray. around thirty printed overall, twenty properly done, the rest fading out halfway through like the printer gave up mid-sentence.

you stack them neatly, tapping the edges against your palm to straighten them. your eyebrows furrow as you skim the half-finished text. yeah, heeseung was going to cook your shit.

you exhale through your nose, straightening the stack one more time like that’ll magically fix the situation. whatever. it’s not like you personally sabotaged the machine. the thing had been dying for weeks anyway, it was way out of your control.

you’d just tell him that. the printer was already on life support. management issue. structural failure. not your fault.

yeah.

solid plan.

you slip the printed pages into a neat folder, tucking the thicker stack of contracts under your arm as you make your way back to heeseung's office. he definitely wasn't going to expect you back so soon.

you reach the door, and it's pretty much silent inside. well, besides for the loud ass typing sounding from heeseung's keyboard, you presume.

you hesitate for half a second, then knock. the typing doesn’t stop, of course it doesn’t.

you push the door open anyway.

heeseung is right where you left him, seated at his desk, sleeves slightly rolled up now, eyes fixed on his monitor.

you clear your throat.

"sir, the printer's out of ink again." you say, gently placing a stack of papers on heeseung's desk - half printed.

heeseung barely looks up from his laptop. "mm," his fingers continue gliding across the keyboard smoothly.

those fingers were the same ones you fantasized touching you all over.

"did you try replacing the cartridge?" he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

you stare at him flatly, "no, i just thought i'd announce it for fun."

that finally earns you a glance. bingo.

it's a slow one too, heeseung's eyes lift from his monitor screen to your face, his features showing how he currently feels - which is clearly unimpressed. "you're acting very sarcastic for someone who's asking for my help."

despite the attitude, you're reminded once again why you don't mind that your boss to overwork you. even if he isn't smiling at you, the warm feeling in your gut that usually appears when you talk to him is definitely present.

you recover quickly, though, because you have practice.

"i'm not asking for help," you say, lifting the small stack slightly. "i already did it. technically."

heeseung's gaze drops to the papers again, then back to you. he pats the empty space on the table. "put them down." his tone is calm, matter-of-fact, like he already expects you to listen. which, annoyingly, you do. he was your boss, after all.

you walk over and place the papers where he indicated, careful not to let the half-printed pages slide out of order. heeseung immediately pulls the stack closer, flipping through them with quick, practiced movements.

you shift your weight slightly as he scans the faded text on one of the pages, flipping through the papers.

"..this one's unreadable." he says flatly, not even looking at you.

you chew your lip nervously, "in my defence, we all told you the printer was barely working."

you hate how much you get off from this.

seriously. nothing turns you on more than your annoyed boss, always looking unimpressed no matter what actually comes out of your mouth.

most people would probably be intimidated by him, but you enjoy poking fun at him. probably because every now and then, you manage to crack through that perfect composure for half a second.

it’s addictive, honestly. even if he never actually flirts back.

he mostly just stares at you like you’re a problem he hasn’t figured out how to solve yet.

any normal person would’ve probably gotten embarrassed by now, maybe they would’ve stopped after the first few failed attempts at flirting with their boss, but it's not like heeseung even acknowledges your attempts, anyway. there's almost nothing to be embarrassed about.

heeseung just shakes his head softly, setting the papers back down onto the desk before reaching up to loosen and readjust his tie slightly. "it's late," he says calmly, "go home."

that snaps you back to reality, and you have to hide the disappointment that you feel from his words. why must he always look at you like you're the least attractive person in the room?

this was lee heeseung, your boss. you don’t even know what you expected. for him to flirt back? after months of him pretending not to notice every teasing comment you throw his way?

you clear your throat quietly, composing yourself once again. "..what about the contracts?"

"…what about the contracts?"

"i’ll handle them." heeseung nods, looking down at his watch.

"alone?"

he glances back at the papers, "you already stayed late."

you stare at him for a second. no way the boss that constantly forced you to work over time was showing concern.

you try to recover with humour instead. "wow. are you worried about me, sir?"

there’s a pause before heeseung’s gaze lifts to yours again, completely unreadable. he looks upset - yes! this is exactly what you were hoping for. that heeseung would be angry enough to just bend you across his lap and-

"go home," he repeats.

ouch. okay.

"right. goodnight, sir." you say, nodding your head.

you bow politely out of habit, keeping your expression carefully neutral even as embarrassment starts creeping up your neck. he doesn't say anything back even as you walk out of his office.

the second time is all thanks to jake, to be honest.

"so, how was overtime last night?" jake asks, sitting across from you as the two of you eat lunch in the office lunch room. there was practically nobody else there. the two of you decided on a later lunch because you wanted to finish a project before the day got away from you.

you raise an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite. "why are you, asking me that?" you don't hide the way you emphasise the 'you', because everybody knew that jake was actually heeseung's favourite employee, and unfortunately for you, his close friend too.

jake blinks innocently, "what's that meant to mean?"

you lean back slightly in your chair, squinting at him. "you know exactly what that means." you clear your throat, trying not to make it obvious that you clearly care a lot about this. "..did heeseung say something?"

his expression shifts, mirroring you as he leans back in his chair slowly, stretching his legs out under the table. "why would heeseung say something?"

"oh, don't play dumb with me now, jake." you scoff, flicking your food with your fork.

you stare at him, and he stares back. you immediately hate how calm he looks.

"…because you’re asking me about overtime," you say flatly, deciding to say it outright because he's clearly beating around the bush.

"i ask people about overtime all the time."

"no you don't, jake."

"yes i do."

he sighs dramatically, like you were being the difficult one. "fine. i asked because jay mentioned you were still here after nine."

of course he did. you pinch the bridge of your nose. "this office is just one big surveillance system, apparently.'" you poke around at your food again, "it's always something with you two. oh, and i can't forget sunghoon as well." you say, internally rolling your eyes at the thought of them.

"that's not true." jake defends himself, taking offense to being labelled as someone who gossips, even though it was true.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. "are you trying to convince me, or yourself, jake?"

he pauses, leaning back in his chair like he’s deeply wounded by the accusation. “wow. you're being very intense today."

"what did heeseung say, jake?" you crumble, holding your face in your hands. thank god the room was empty aside for you two, because you looked like you were about to go insane.

there’s a long pause, and it's way too long for your liking especially.

when you peek through your fingers, jake is watching you with a look that's way too entertained about your misery.

"okay," you scoff. "fuck you then."

"..why are you acting like he confessed something dramatic?" he asks slowly, taking another bite of his food.

"because you're being especially ominous about it all." you deadpan. "be honest, did he shit talk me? is he gonna fire me-"

"what?" jake nearly chokes on his drink.

you immediately sit up straighter. "oh my god. he is, isn’t he."

he’s pausing. why is he pausing? people only pause when they’re calculating how bad the truth is. you knew you should've just taken the lift to the other department's floor and used their printer, but no - you were lazy and despite being in the presence of your insanely hot boss, you still wanted to go home earlier last night.

"no, no, what? he isn't firing you." jake reassures.

you narrow your eyes. "that pause was too long."

"i was chewing."

liar. people don’t chew like that when they’re innocent. that was a guilty chew.

"liar."

jake laughs under his breath, shaking his head like you’re exhausting but entertaining.

"answer the question." you say sternly, reminding him of the subject at hand.

if he says yes, you're quitting - no questions asked. you're not letting heeseung win. you will resign before you can feel formally embarrassed by your boss and a dumbass printer. fuck the printer, by the way.

he leans back, finally giving you something resembling seriousness. “he didn’t shit talk you.”

"..he didn't?"

"no. i'm serious."

you blink, slowly putting your fork down. "okay," you say carefully, "so, what did he say then?"

jake finishes swallowing any food in his mouth before he speaks again, watching you like he's deciding how much damage he wants to do. "he just asked if you were always like that."

"always like what?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused. always like what? in the way you were a shameless flirt? or was he asking because now he thought you were completely incapable of finishing a simple work task. well, it wasn't a simple task, to be fair.

jake shrugs, "his words, not mine."

"jake," you clutch your skirt with your now empty hand. "you're being extremely unhelpful right now."

"how can i help?" jake grins as he takes another bite of food, "i'm telling you everything i know."

"it's not enough," you whine slightly, straightening your posture. you hate how pathetic that sounded the second it left your mouth.

before he can respond, a loud crack of thunder suddenly echoes outside the building. both of you glance instinctively toward the large windows lining the break room. rain patters heavily against the glass a second later.

"okay well, shit." you sigh. the rain is heavy too, not even the drizzle type. it's heavy. your co-workers that had already left were so lucky that they wouldn't have to go home in this weather.

"i didn’t bring an umbrella," you mumble immediately, making jake look back at you with absolutely zero sympathy.

"unlucky." he shrugs, leaning back. "i have one though, we can go home together if you'd like."

"..are you going to the station afterward?" you ask, and he nods.

"why don't you just ask him?' jake suggests, bringing the focus back to your conversation. the way he acted made it seem like it was the most normal thing ever.

"ask him what, jake? ask my boss if he's talking about me?" you shake your head. "okay, whatever."

you don’t even know why you care this much. logically, this should not matter. your boss asking one vague question about you should not have your entire nervous system reacting like this.

"so, how's your day been?" you ask, shitfing the subject. jake looks at you.

jake looks at you, blankly. "..we've been together the whole day."

oh right. you two have been stuck doing that stupid project heeseung assigned you both. honestly, you’re surprised neither of you snapped first because that was treacherous. pages and pages of data entry, revisions, formatting issues, and enough spreadsheets to the point that if you saw another one, you'd actually go insane.

right on cue, the break room doors swing open.

both you and jake glance up automatically, though jake twists around in his chair more obviously than you do, considering his back was facing the door.

your posture straightens on instinct, a smile forming onto your face. you don't even realise that you're doing it till jake turns around, a stupid grin forming on his face at your expression.

you clear your throat quickly, forcing the smile down into something more normal. meanwhile, heeseung either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. both are bad, to be honest.

heeseung walks further into the break room calmly, phone still in one hand as his gaze flicks briefly between you and jake seated together.

"why are you two here so late? your day should be over." he asks casually.

jake glances at the clock on the wall before looking back at him. "we lost track of time doing the project you assigned us."

"sounds like poor time management," heeseung replies immediately, making jake laugh.

you straighten slightly in your chair. "we didn’t ‘lose track of time,’ we were literally fixing the spreadsheet you gave us because half the formulas were broken."

heeseung's gaze shifts to you, then he glances briefly to the windows, taking in the rain. then back at the two of you. he doesn't even acknowledge that you defended yourself.

"jake," he says, voice returning to business immediately, "i still need the revised figures before tomorrow morning."

"yeah," jake nods, giving heeseung a thumbs up. "i was gonna stay back another hour and finish it."

your head turns toward him immediately, "..you were?"

"yeah," he says simply. "it’ll take another hour max."

heeseung hums once in acknowledgment before his eyes shift back to you, 'which means," he starts, "you can go home."

your brain pauses for a second. just you? heeseung wanted you out so bad, you sort of felt honoured. "i can stay too," you blurt out, offering before thinking.

both men look at you. jake looks confused and heeseung looks unreadable. you internally slam your head into the table.

why did you say that so fast. oh my god.

"there’s no reason for both of you to stay," heeseung says calmly. "you already finished your part."

"she's going home with me," jake speaks up, also standing up to rinse his container in the sink. heeseung raises an eyebrow, and jake notices.

"what?" jake asks innocently, turning the tap off. "it’s raining. she doesn't have an umbrella."

heeseung pauses before he looks directly at you, "you didn’t bring one?"

you suddenly feel strangely defensive. "the forecast said it was only gonna be cloudy." jake snorts next to you, and you

heeseung stays quiet for a second longer. his expression is unreadable, before he exhales softly through his nose, like he’s already regretting whatever thought just crossed his mind. "..you don’t need to wait for jake."

you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to look at heeseung front-on, who looks mildly inconvenienced by his own words already. "i’m driving anyway," he says flatly. "i can take you home."

a spike hits your heart, and you feel oddly flattered. because realistically, who wouldn’t react a little when their super attractive boss offers to drive them home? especially when said boss happens to be wearing your favourite tie from his rotation today. which you are aware he didn't do on purpose.

your eyes landed on it this morning, maybe lingered a little. the deep colour looked unfairly good against his dress shirt, sleeves still rolled neatly at his forearms from working late. you could only imagine those same arms around your neck later-

wait, you still needed to reply to heeseung. you clear your throat quickly. "you don’t have to-"

"i know," heeseung cuts in smoothly, which hits at your spirits for a moment, but then your mood lifts again anyway, a stupid smile threatening to tug at your lips before you can stop it. because now it sounds less like obligation and more like choice, or, you could just keep telling yourself that.

jake nods, a little too excitedly. "okay, that's fine with me." he presses his lips together, visibly trying not to blurt out something obnoxious.

heeseung glances over to you, "go get your stuff. we're leaving." he says, using his chin to gesture toward the door.

'we're leaving'? not, 'meet me downstairs' or 'i'll wait downstairs., but he's saying we're leaving together.

"okay.." you answer, way quieter than intended.

jake offers you a knowing smile, "drive safe," he says, looking directly at you instead of heeseung.

you're going to strangle him. heeseung either ignores the weird tone completely or chooses not to acknowledge it. you stand quickly before jake can make this worse, grabbing your phone from the table and adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

"finish your work," you mutter at him while passing by.

jake grins shamelessly. "have fun."

you barely make it two steps out of the break room before you become hyper aware of the fact that heeseung is following behind you. probably to his office, it was right next to your cubicle after all.

act normal, why are you suddenly forgetting how to walk. you facepalm internally, you've literally been alone with him before. this is fine.

the hallway feels longer than it needs to. you finally reach the row of cubicles, the familiar maze of monitors and dividers coming into view. you can that your desk is just ahead.

you step inside, grabbing your bag, which is next to your computer. you can feel heeseung's presence behind you, standing outside the cubicle. you grab your things quickly, shoving them into your bag with slightly more force than necessary. guess he already got all of this things and was ready to leave.

you finally straighten, turning around. "okay! i'm ready." heeseung doesn't even blink at your enthusiasm, turning around and walking toward the elevator.

"let's go." he says simply.

you catch up slightly, trailing after him. the elevator is ahead, reflecting both of you in the metal, slightly distorted. he presses the button, and the doors open immediately. the two of you walk in.

you step in first, instinctively moving to one side, and he follows right after you. it's silent and uncomfortable.

you clear your throat slightly. "..long day?" you say, immediately regretting how weak that sounds.

heeseung’s reflection in the doors shifts slightly as he glances at you.

"it was." he agrees simply, not saying anything else. awkward. a small smile tugs at your lips when you see heeseung in the reflection.

the elevator hits the floor to the carpark, the doors slide open to reveal the dimly lit carpark.

"you’re always this quiet after work?" you ask lightly, stepping out of the elevator doors as you walk toward his car.

he glances at you briefly. "you’re always this talkative?"

you grin immediately. "only around people i like." the response slips out smoother than expected, and yet he doesn't say anything back, holy airball. you can hear both your footsteps echoing softly through the near-empty carpark.

heeseung’s lips slightly curl up in a smile, but it disappears basically the second it appears. he rounds what you assume to be his car, and honestly you couldn’t name the brand, but you admit it looked expensive.

you stop beside the passenger side for a second, eyeing it openly. "wow."

heeseung glances at you while unlocking the doors with a soft beep.

"what?"

"your car looks rich." you say, in awe. you reach for the passenger seats door handle, sliding in. the seats are soft, and the car is noticeably clean. the only thing you can smell is a light tinge of his cologne.

heeseung just reaches forward to adjust something near the dashboard, entirely calm. "seatbelt."

you obey, arm reaching over your upper body to grab your seatbelt. the movement pulls your blouse slightly at the shoulder as you tug it across yourself, the quiet click sounding through the car once it locks into place.

you glance over, and heeseung is watching - as if he was making sure you were actually putting it on.

you narrow your eyes at him immediately. "were you expecting me not to?"

heeseung rests one hand against the steering wheel, expression calm. "no."

you scoff, "liar."

he hums softly, finally pulling the car out of the parking space smoothly. "you asked."

"and yet you answered dishonestly." you poke the inside of your mouth with your tongue, glancing out the window.

"i answered you professionally."

narrowing your eyes, "that isn’t even the same thing."

he stifles a laugh, but you notice before he can conceal it, making your stomach flip on instinct.

you slump further in the seat, only now realising the proximity of the two of you. the car feels way smaller than what it did just minutes ago.

glancing back over to him, you see how one hand rests loosely against the steering wheel while the other adjusts the wheel slightly as he turns out onto the wet street. that was like, the hottest thing you’d seen all week.

it feels intimate despite the fact that he’s just driving you home.

wait.

you forgot to give him your address yet he’s still going the right way.

blinking, your posture straightens almost immediately, shuffling back upright in your seat. "..wait."

heeseung keeps his eyes on the road. "what?"

you look directly at him, "how do you know where i live?"

there’s a small pause, before heeseung clears his throat. "your employee file."

you narrow your eyes instantly. "that sounds creepy when you say it like that."

"it’s literally HR information."

"okay, but why do you know it?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"i’m your boss."

"that does not answer my question at all."

a faint sigh leaves him through his nose, like you’re being difficult on purpose.

which, okay, maybe you are.

"you’ve worked under me for almost a year," he says calmly. "i know where most of my employees live."

you stare at him suspiciously.

"..do you have everyone’s addresses memorised?"

"no."

"just mine?"

that finally earns you momentary glance, but he looks back to the road a second after. "you’re asking a lot of questions."

"well, only because you aren’t answering the one i actually want answered." you say, shifting slightly in your seat.

rain continues tapping steadily against the windows, soft wipers cutting through the sound every few seconds. heeseung sighs once again, "fine, which one is that?"

you stare at him for a second, trying to hide your suspicion. "you know which one."

"humour me."

he’s doing this on purpose.

you can hear it in his voice now, he sounds so composed. heeseung makes another left turn, the way you remember taking to your house.

"why do you know where i live specifically?" you ask, quieter this time. not that you mind. if it were anyone else, maybe it'd be a little creepy - yeah, but heeseung was welcome over at anytime.

the red light flashes briefly onto his face as he slows down, you take in his pretty features.

"because," he says evenly, "you're usually the last person to leave the office." your stomach does cart wheels at his answer, even if it’s the simplest thing you’ve ever heard.

you try to hide the fattest grin that tries to force itself onto your face. "..you notice that?" you can’t stop yourself from asking.

"you make it difficult not to." if it were anyone else, you’d take that as flirting, but heeseung’s tone is so flat, that if you actually did take it as flirting then you’d need to be admitted to the nearest psych ward for delusion.

so you don’t, even if you want to. you stare out the window instead, watching rain streak across the glass, "are you saying i’m a difficult employee?"

"that isn’t what i said."

"but it’s what you meant, right?"

he exhales softly through his nose, barely a sound. you catch it anyway. the car moves smoothly through the wet streets, indicator ticking quietly as he changes lanes.

heeseung continues, "you stay late."

you glance at him again. "so do other people."

"not consistently."

"that’s because you don’t give anyone else the annoying projects." you argue back, before realising. "does that mean you’re keeping track of when i leave?" you sound a little too hopeful, it’s pathetic.

"it’s part of my job to know what’s happening in my department." he says flatly, shutting that idea down immediately.

you sigh softly, what a boring answer.

heeseung slows down the the familiar streets, and your apartment complex comes into view. heeseung eases the car toward the side of the road rather than pulling straight in.

he stops smoothly, gently turning the wheel as the engine quiets down. you grab your bag, unbuckling your seatbelt. "thank you, i really appreciate it." you’re about to grab onto the door handle, but heeseung halts your movements - grabbing your wrist.

it isn’t tight or forceful, just enough to make you pause. you blink at him, "..what?"

he doesn’t answer immediately. instead, his gaze flicks briefly toward the rain outside, then back to you. with his other hand, he reaches into the backseat pulling out…

an umbrella.

black. simple. clearly kept in the car for situations exactly like this.

he had one the whole time?

"take it." he pushes it toward you, before leaning over your body and opening the door for you. you unclasp the umbrella, turning back.

"good night." you smile, and heeseung nods.

"good night."

you thank him again before holding it over your head and walking into the entrance of your apartment building.

okay but, he had an umbrella the whole time and yet he insisted on taking you home. well, insisted is a stretch but he offered.

that had to mean something.

you had hoped, at least.

the third time you tried flirting with your boss, it was completely unintentional. in the way you weren't even trying to seek him out this time, at least. you were planning that for later.

yes, you had worn an extra nice outfit that day because you wanted to catch his attention. not that it worked, it never did. you don't even know what made you try again.

it starts like a normal morning. no heeseung ordering you around this time. which in hindsight, should've been a bad sign. no emails, no urgent requests, and no heeseung appearing behind your desk randomly - before giving you a stack of papers.

you clock in, sit down, open your laptop as minutes fly by in what feels like seconds. you're at your desk, half-awake as you scroll through your emails, when a voice pops up at your cubicle.

"hey." sunoo is leaning slightly against the divider, smiling at you in that friendly way he usually does.

you sit up, leaning back against your chair, "what's up?"

sunoo and you don't even try being formal with each other now, it's been a while since the two of you met. "before you ask," he starts, already dropping a stack of papers onto your desk, "yes, this is your problem now."

you glance at the pile, "seriously?"

sunoo laughs softly, resting his forearms on the divider. "it's just some missing formatting stuff from yesterday’s file. i fixed half of it but I got dragged into a meeting."

"wowow," you sigh, skimming over the papers. "you owe me."

"i owe you?" sunoo repeats, tilting his head softly.

"yes," you nod, looking up at him. "this is so much work, sunoo. i'm busy."

"busy doing what? you were scrolling emails and pretending to work," he corrects, making you glare up at him. "god forbid i actually give you to work to do."

"yeah, but it's your responsibility - not mine." you argue back.

sunoo shifts slightly, leaning more comfortably against the divider like he has nowhere else to be. like your desk is just part of his routine. "fine," he says. "we're still on for lunch, right? you're not ditching me for jake again?"

"that wasn't intentional. i had to finish my project, you know that." you don't hesitate defending yourself.

"yeah, yeah." sunoo smiles, his tone condescending like he doesn't actually believe in what you say.

you open your mouth to retaliate, because you refuse to allow yourself to be slandered this early in the morning, but sunoo interrupts. "why're you dressed so fancy today, hm? your blouse looks expensive."

you pause, glancing down at yourself. "in a good way, right?"

"yes, of course." sunoo states obviously, "how can you look expensive in a bad way?"

you ignore his question, "..really?"

sunoo nods immediately. "yes really. you look like you’re about to leave us for a better company."

you hum, pretending to think about it, smoothing your sleeve once like you’re just noticing it exists. "hmm."

"what is it this time?" sunoo sighs, making you scoff.

"bold of you to assume there's an issue, sunoo."

he narrows his eyes at you. "there is an issue. you’re doing that thing where you pretend you’re not doing something."

"what does that even mean?"

"you're overdressed." sunoo spits it out, taking in your outfit.

you tap the edge of the stack of papers on your desk, suddenly very interested in the alignment of the corners. "this is my normal everyday outfit, but okay."

sunoo’s gaze drags over you again, shaking his head. "that's not normal, you can't fool me."

you blink. "excuse you?"

"that blouse is not ‘normal.’ that’s ‘i have plans after work’ clothing."

"..i might have plans," you admit casually, lying out of your teeth. you had zero plans after work today. the most you were planning on doing was hopping on the game after dinner.

oh, but you wished you had plans. you wished your plans revolved around overtime, where you'd crawl underneath heeseung's desk and give them the most toe-curling blowjob any man has ever received.

sunoo’s eyes widen a fraction. "you do?"

you shrug. "hypothetically."

he leans in a little, lowering his voice. "with who?"

this little nosy rat. at least sunoo kept his mouth shut, though. had you told jake and the entire workplace would've heard about it by now.

you open your mouth, but then stop. familiar footsteps sound, and they're getting closer toward you.

heeseung walks into the view beside your cubicle, holding a folder in his hand. he looks at sunoo, who's still leaning casually against your divider, then at you, in which you offer a sheepish smile.

"good morning, heeseung." sunoo chirps, pulling his gaze away from you to greet heeseung. heeseung's eyes briefly flick from sunoo to you, then back to sunoo in almost under a second.

"good morning." he replies finally, but his tone is entirely flat.

sunoo, who is still undeterred, smiles wider. "busy day today?"

"yes," heeseung glances at the folder in his hand. "aren't you scheduled for a meeting that.." he pauses, looking at his watch before his eyes lift back up to sunoo, "started three minutes ago?"

sunoo blinks, offering heeseung a sheepish smile. then he straightens abruptly, like he just remembered that urgency is a concept. "oh, right. that's me."

you watch, barely holding in a reaction, as he takes one step, then another. "see you at lunch!" he calls back way too brightly, before turning his body entirely as he speeds down the hallway.

the silence is loud again, or it feels like it - despite your co-workers being occupied with chatting as well as the soft clatter of keyboards.

you blink once at the empty space sunoo was occupying a second ago, seeing heeseung just standing beside your cubicle with the folder in hand, expression unreadable as ever.

why must he look at you like you're some outdated fashion trend?

"was that necessary?" you ask lightly, nodding vaguely in the direction sunoo disappeared.

he doesn’t even look that way. "yes," he replies, "he was distracting you, and he was late to his own meeting." you shrug in response.

heeseung calls out your name, making you look up at him with a soft hum. "yeah?"

his eyes flick briefly to you, handing you another fuckass folder. it's heavy too, filled with enough paper to ruin your morning. you begrudgingly hold back the urge to roll your eyes. you swore on everyone's life that heeseung assigned you the most heinous roles known to man.

yes, your boss was hot, but was he hot enough for you to suffer at work everyday? yeah, probably, actually. you don't even know why you bothered questioning that.

you glance at him, still holding the folder between your fingers. "are you trying to torture me to death? because it's working."

"it's work," he says simply, "don't get distracted."

you squint at him, "it's killing me, heeseung."

that earns you a soft smile that lasts for literally 0.2 seconds. heeseung taps the folder once with two fingers, "organise it like the last one you did." he adds.

you sigh dramatically. "you know, most bosses say ‘good morning’ first."

“good morning.” heeseung mumbles, making you tilt your head.

"that was still late."

"those files you're going to organise are about to be late too if you keep talking."

you clutch the folder tighter. "they won't-

but he’s already turning slightly away like the conversation is over.

"bring it to my office when you're done." heeseung says like it's an afterthought, back turned to you.

you freeze slightly. "again?"

he pauses just long enough to glance back at you. "again." and with that, he's gone, walking down the aisle back into his office.

rude, but fine. you had worn your shortest skirt, hoping heeseung would at least spare a glance toward you. a glance that didn't involve him assigning even more work with the flick of his wrist.

now you had to spend another three hours filling out stupid spreadsheets, or whatever was actually in this folder. you sigh, flipping open the page.

the fourth time you flirted with your boss, it’s because he called you into his office just to wordlessly fix his tie before a meeting.

you patter your knuckles against the door of heeseung's office gently. "sir?" using your free hand, you adjust and smooth the lines out of your skirt.

when there isn't a response, you open the door gently. that's usually what that meant, anyway. it was a usual for the two of you.

you step inside, taking in his office once again. his office is neat in that way that feels slightly scary. everything's been placed with intention, nothing out of place. he’s standing by his desk, jacket on, tie slightly uneven.

it isn't that noticeable, you just tend to stare at him a lot. heeseung doesn’t look at you right away.

you clear your throat softly, catching your attention. "you called for me?"

he turns to you, features conveying a look of frustration. "fix this." he says only two words with zero explanation, but you understand almost immediately.

you blink, "..your tie?"

heeseung looks at you like you've asked him something obvious. "yes."

you hesitate, but realise he's the one who asked. you step forward, because apparently this is your job now.

you reach up carefully, fingers catching the knot of his tie. it’s already half done, like he rushed it or did it without caring.

you start by undoing it, re-aligning it entirely. heeseung's gaze drops, not to your face, but to your hands - watching your every move. you feel an immediate shift in the air.

"this feels like something you could do yourself." you murmur, trying hard not to mess his tie up as you keep the mood light.

"..i don't actually know how to tie a tie." heeseung admits, making your hands stop.

you glance up at him, "what?"

heeseung doesn’t even look embarrassed. if anything, he looks mildly inconvenienced at having admitted it out loud. "i never learned," he says simply.

"you're actually lying."

"i’m not."

"heeseung, you wear a tie almost every day." you say, genuinely flabbergasted.

"someone usually does it for me."

you squint your eyes, confused on 'who' this could possibly be. was he actually wifed up and this whole time you had been flirting with a married man? that made sense as to why he would never reciprocate. or maybe he just wasn't into you.

no but, if he was married you'd definitely know. there was no way jay or jake wouldn't have brought it up by now.

"..someone?" you mumble quietly, trying to keep this casual.

"stylists. assistants." he pauses. "sometimes jake."

oh thank god. he was the most single somebody could be, for sure. you smooth your expression immediately, pretending the question meant absolutely nothing, just professional curiosity.

you nearly laugh directly in his face, but you hold back for your own sake. you weren't trying to be assigned the workload of the entire team. "oh my god."

heeseung watches you carefully now, expression still composed, but there’s the faintest hint of annoyance underneath it. "what?"

"nothing," you say immediately, absolutely lying. "it’s just very hard to process that you don’t know how to tie a tie."

"you seem to be deeply affected by this."

"i am." you tighten the knot properly, smoothing the fabric down again. "this changes my entire perception of you."

"you're being dramatic," heeseung says making you scoff, but the sound comes out weaker than actually intended because you suddenly become aware of how close you are to him, catching the faint scent of cologne every time he exhales.

your fingers are still curled loosely around the fabric of his tie, brushing against the collar of his shirt as you straighten it carefully. your heel shifts slightly against the floor as you try not to think about the fact that if you tilted your head up even a little more, you'd be directly in his space.

which, technically, you already are, but like, you'd actually be able to kiss him. your eyes linger on his lips for way too long, and he definitely notices. heeseung's gaze shifts downwards, catching yours in the process. you smile, and he looks away, jaw tightening once as his eyes move toward the window beside his desk instead.

heeseung has never been the one to shy away like that. usually he'd just ignore all of your advances. your fingers tighten around the tie accidentally before you let go completely, stepping back casually.

you got a reaction from him this time.

"..done?" he asks, and you nod.

"mhm." you hum. heeseung finally looks back at you, one hand lifting to adjust the knot slightly where your fingers had just touched.

your gaze lifts again, and heeseung sighs quietly through his nose, like you’re the most exhausting part of his workday. "i have a meeting in five minutes."

"and?" you lean against his table lightly, smiling at him innocently.

"and you should go back to work."

"wow," you murmur dramatically. "using me for my tie-abilities and then discarding me?"

"you’re still on company time." he mumbles, but you don't miss the flush on his cheeks.

bingo! your boss really was into you. it isn't obvious, not in the way you were hoping for, not some dramatic giveaway, but it's definitely there if you're paying attention.

and you are absolutely paying attention.

you tilt your head slightly, practically screaming 'fuck me' eyes, watching him with a type of satisfaction you don't bother hiding. "you know," you say softly, "you’re really bad at hiding things."

heeseung's eyes flick up immediately, and you can practically see him having heart palpitations. who knew your stone-cold boss would fold over something as easy as that?

"go back to your desk," he dismisses you again, steadier this time. when he sees you inching closer, he does a complete one-eighty as he speed walks out of his own office.

your jaw drops. what the fuck?? heeseung, get back here!

you don't bother chasing though. now that you knew how heeseung truly felt, you had him wrapped around your finger.

he had it coming.

the next day you walk into the office, it's a friday.

which is usually a good day. lighter workloads, less tension, and maybe even the rare sight of your colleagues having fun before going home for the weekend.

and you of all people were going to have a good day. heeseung wasn't slipping from your hands again. not when you were going to actively pursue him in the actual shortest skirt you owned. not after the tie incident.

you're halfway through the lobby, eyes half focused on your phone as you scroll through unread notifications, when-

bang!

you nearly let out a blood curdling scream.

your entire body jolts violently as you whip around toward the source of the noise.

jungwon is standing near the reception desk, holding a stack of papers, looking mildly alarmed. the metal sign knocked straight onto the floor was the source of the noise.

when he notices you looking, he offers a smile and a wave. "good morning!"

you stare at him in complete disbelief, one hand pressed against your chest. "jungwon," you speak slowly, "you scared me, holy shit."

his eyebrows lift, "from a sign falling?"

"it's metal! it sounded like a gunshot." you walk over, bending down to pick it up.

jungwon crouches slightly too, reaching for the other side. "you're being dramatic."

before you can argue further, footsteps pass behind the two of you.

"cute skirt."

you whip your head around, glancing up instinctively. sunghoon is walking past with an iced coffee in one hand, slowing just enough to glance at you over his shoulder.

your brain malfunctions for a second, "..ah. thanks." you offer him a smile. at least someone thought you looked nice.

sunghoon gestures vaguely toward you with the coffee cup, "the colour suits you." then he walks off, heading into the direction of the cubicles.

you straighten slowly, still holding the metal sign. "wow."

jungwon looks between you and sunghoon’s disappearing figure, before landing back on you finally. "what happened to bagging the boss?"

you narrow your eyes at jungwon, patting down said cute skirt, "what are you talking about?"

jungwon smirks smugly. it would be adorable if it weren't in circumstances like this. "you should've known better than to tell jake and jay.

your stomach drops instantly. "..they told you?"

"they told everyone."

your jaw drops. what the hell?? you were going to kill park jongseong and sim jaeyun as soon as you found those two. "what are they even saying? and who have they told?"

jungwon laughs at your expression, putting down the stack of papers on the reception desk. "relax. i was kidding." he reassures, "only like, a few people know."

he lifts his hand, counting on his fingers with each name.

"jake, jay, sunghoon, sunoo-oh! and that junior, ni-ki."

"..even the junior knows?" you want to collapse directly onto the lobby floor.

jungwon tilts his head. "to be fair, he figured it out by himself."

"literally, HOW?" you exclaim, frustrated. were you seriously that obvious around heeseung?

"uh, cause you stare like you're in some office k-drama? duh." he sasses, which you do not appreciate.

you scoff, "i do not."

jungwon shrugs, "okay, secretary kim."

you roll your eyes, “secretary kim ended up pulling young-joon, though. so is this a sign?”

“you wish.”

“okay, bet you $50 i can pull heeseung.” you declare, making jungwon raise his eyebrows in shock.

“okay, fine. $50.” you reach out your hand, shaking on it.

then, he straightens his posture and widens his eyes slightly in the worst imitation of you imaginable.

"..heeseung," he mocks your voice, pretending to be you. "wow..your tie looks really nice today.." he places a hand over his chest, "did you get a haircut? you look so handsome and emotionally unavailable this morning."

eyes widening, you clasp a hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "oh my god - i do not talk like that."

"good morning." your entire body goes stiff. you remove your hand from jungwon's face, turning your head.

heeseung is standing there, watching the two of you with a blank face. apparently when jungwon was busy humiliating you, heeseung must've arrived to work. his expression is calm as ever, one hand resting loosely in his pocket while the other still holds his phone. heeseung was so hard to read like this.

jungwon immediately straightens. "morning, heeseung."

you push a smile on your face, "morning, sir." heeseung's gaze travels from jungwon to you.

"..why do you look so stressed already?" he asks, voice flat.

jungwon physically bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

you point at him immediately. "he’s harassing me."

heeseung glances over to jungwon with an expression that screams 'i don't believe her whatsoever', so you expect a scolding.

but no.

"jungwon."

jungwon straightens immediately, "yes?"

heeseung's tone stays flat, "you’re not on break."

jungwon blinks in surprise, "i'm literally just talking-"

"you’re supposed to be at reception processing those files," he cuts in, nodding once toward the stack still sitting on the desk. "not standing here causing problems before nine a.m."

hooray! heeseung actually took your side.

jungwon looks betrayed instantly. "i am processing them." his gaze flicks to you, and you stick your tongue out.

jungwon notices immediately, shaking his head like he's re-thinking his life choices. he tightens his grip on the stack of files. "unbelievable." with that, he turns away, walking off.

you're silently cheering in your head when heeseung turns to you next. "you aren't on break either," he nods his chin toward the elevator, "go work."

you pout, "but sir, i have nothing to do."

heeseung looks like he's about to scold you for the use of 'sir', but he doesn't. "you always have something to do," he says simply.

"nope." you shake your head, "jay and i finished the meeting pack preparation." you flash him a smile, way too enthusiastic for someone at work.

you look down for a second, remembering you're wearing the skirt. yoy glance back up, analysing his face. come on, heeseung. at least acknowledge it!

his eyes flick down for half a second, but it's not enough for you to read his expression. "..good." he coughs slightly, clearing his throat. "go help ni-ki, then."

your lips straighten in a frown. "seriously?"

"serious as i can be." you stare at him, and he stares back.

"go. he needs help with formatting." with a huff, you nod.

"fine, fine. see you, sir." you smile, walking past him. behind you, heeseung exhales a sigh of relief through his nose. this was going to be a long day.

when you reach the far end of the office, the atmosphere is completely different from the loud lobby. it's quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every keyboard click sound louder than it should. you can even hear your flats click against the floor with each step.

you scan the desks. ni-ki is lazily seated sideways in an office chair, one leg bouncing softly against the floor, eyes fixed on the monitor.

he doesn't even look at you. "if this is about the formatting issue again, i already fixed it three times." okay, sassy.

you pause beside his desk. "wow," you say. "thanks for the warm welcome."

ni-ki glances up, properly this time. his expression shifts immediately, a slight tinge of confusion before recognition. "oh, you're the help."

"you don't seem very happy to see me." wheeling a nearby chair over, you sit next to him.

he leans back slightly, squinting at you, "trust me. i'm glad it's you and not someone else."

you raise an eyebrow, "oh, spill?"

ni-ki leans down, then tilts his head toward the rest of the office, lowering his voice slightly like it’s classified information or something. "..he sent jake last time, and he 'fixed' it by making it worse."

honestly, that sounded in character. jake was lazy when it came to spreadsheets. "seems like him." you shrug, "so, if you're so good at this, why does heeseung think you need help?"

"he doesn’t think i need help," he says.

you hum. "sounds like he does."

"no," ni-ki corrects, dragging a hand through his hair. "he thinks i need supervision."

"that's probably worst, in all honesty." you snort softly. "that sounds like a polite way of saying you ruin files."

ni-ki points at you immediately. "exactly. see? you get it."

"are you always at the back here? i never see you around front anymore."

"it's better around here. the only person who comes back here is sunoo." your eyes widen. so that's where sunoo kept disappearing off to."

you tap your chin in thought as ni-ki continues clicking through the spreadsheet.

"say, ni-ki." you call, making him glance up at you.

"what?"

you lean forward a little in your chair, "jungwon said something about you earlier."

ni-ki raises an eyebrow, but for the most part he looks uncaring. "said what?"

"keep it a secret." you hold out your pinky.

in which he rolls his eyes as he exhales through his nose like he's already tired of you, but he still shifts his chair a little closer. "you're weird," he mutters, but intertwines his pinky with yours, reluctantly.

you brighten immediately. "okay. so jungwon said you know things about me and heeseung."

"it's hard to miss." he says simply, "i just notice patterns."

you lean forward slightly, still keeping your pinkies linked, "okay then. what patterns?"

"well for starters," he says, "you’re the only one that doesn’t get in trouble for slacking."

you scoff immediately. "you must be joking."

ni-ki finally glances at you, expression flat. "i’m not."

you lean back in your chair slightly. "i literally got sent down here as punishment."

"yeah, and that's a punishment for you? he made me clean the entire storage room when i submitted something late." ni-ki's words make you pause. sure, you already knew heeseung was attracted to you, but special treatment too? awe.

you let go of ni-ki's pinky. "done?" he asks, finally glancing at you.

you clear your throat quickly, snapping back into focus. "right, yeah."

ni-ki shrugs. "it was dusty."

"that’s your takeaway?"

"i don’t like dust."

"fair."

"when are you meant to leave?"

you blink, "leave?"

"from here," he clarifies. "this task."

you glance at the spreadsheet. then back at him. "when it’s done."

he hums like it's obvious.

"take your time."

hours pass, and you've felt like you've been able to bond with your junior very well, actually. he was entertaining, and was great at multi-tasking. ni-ki was able to keep full-fledged conversations with you while he did his work.

even sunoo came over at some point, pulling up a chair as he sits down with the two of you.

working here was way better than in the cubicles with those idiots. you glance around the quieter section of the office. there are much fewer interruptions, less noise, no one hovering over your shoulder every five minutes. cough cough, jake.

you're mid-conversation with sunoo, standing behind him as the two of you watch something on the monitor together. it feels comfortable as the two of you laugh at something.

"no, wait, pause it again," you say, breathless. "i swear that’s not what he meant to do."

which is exactly why you don't notice the foot steps behind you. ni-ki notices, but you and sunoo don't, still obliviously talking. there's a call of sunoo's name that makes the two of you snap your head back.

sunoo straightens so fast, "oh hi, heeseung."

you slowly let your hands drop from the back of sunoo’s chair like you just got caught committing a crime.

"go home. the day's over, anyway." sunoo nods immediately, standing up as he walks back to his cubicle immediately. ni-ki exhales softly like he’s relieved it’s not him.

damn, you were getting a lot of people in trouble today. oops.

you take a small step back too, ready to follow sunoo back to your own cubicle.

heeseung takes one look at you, "you." he says simply.

you flash him a smile, "..me?"

"go to my office." he says, voice flat. is he mad?

you hesitate, but nod. "right… okay."

he walks past you, checking whatever's on ni-ki's monitor. probably double checking to see if everything's correct. you can hear heeseung dismiss ni-ki home too, eavesdropping. when you realise their conversation is over you speed-walk toward heeseung's office.

you see sunoo, and he waves you goodbye, mouthing a 'good luck'. you nod, waving to him as well. you can see heeseung's office door now. reaching it, you pause for a second. it's the same as usual - neat.

you step inside, closing the door behind you. you’re unsure of whether you should sit or stand. you opt on sitting, taking a seat on his chair.

you wait a few minutes, clicking your heel against the carpet gently. the office genuinely sounded dead outside. was heeseung just wasting your time?

you sigh, standing up and walking toward the door. your fingers curl around the knob, about to open it but it’s pushed open - nearly knocking you onto the floor.

heeseung stands in the doorway, face expressionless. he stares at you, before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"sir," you call out, pitching your voice up the slightest. “are you upset-“

“do you always have to open your mouth?” heeseung pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated. you blink in surprise, shutting your mouth.

once he opens his mouth and realises you’ve actually obeyed, he doesn’t say anything. taking a seat on his chair, he leans back.

“come here.” you look at him, and he looks dead serious. you nod, walking over. you’re standing in front of him now, a confused expression on your face.

heeseung looks up at you with a sigh. “bend over.” your eyes widen.

“what?”

“i said, bend over.” he taps his thigh once, and you get the idea. okay, sure. you move almost a little too eagerly, tripping on heeseung’s foot - but that was clearly planted there on purpose.

your knees hit the floor, definitely bruising as you let out a soft hiss of pain. “why-“

heeseung’s fingers grab your jaw, fingers digging into the skin of your cheeks as you kneel. “stop talking.”

you shut up, nodding. he lets go of your face, leaning back. “clean my shoe.”

your eyebrows furrows in confusion. clean his what? his shoe? with what, a handkerchief? you reach in your pocket, trying to find the small pack of tissues you keep but he nudges your arm with his foot. “with your mouth.”

oh. so he was kinky like that. you look at him, “..are you serious?”

heeseung stares back at you, gaze more intense than you’ve ever seen before. “does it look like i’m joking?” good point.

you don’t answer. instead, you kneel further down, opening your mouth as you lick the base of his shoe. that first swipe of your tongue sent shivers down your spine.

you gag a little in disgust, but then you remembered who the shoe belongs to. the hottest guy you’ve probably ever seen in your life.

so, you persevere, licking another stripe of his shoe, nearing the lace now. you glance up, and heeseung’s just staring down at you, face expressionless. “..did i say you were done?”

you shake your head, “..no, sir.” you lean back down, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks as you unfortunately lick his shoe again, tongue cleaning the side this time. in the worst way possible, you could literally feel your pussy clenching around nothing right now and it was because of the most degrading act ever.

after a few more swipes of your tongue, heeseung lets up. “stop.” you obey, sitting back up, hands on your knees as if waiting for his next command.

heeseung looks down at you, and you feel pathetic - a little. his gaze is scrutinising. he taps his thighs again, making your gaze avert to there. “sit.”

you stand up immediately, straddling his hips. you lean in for a kiss, but he swerves it. embarrassing.

heeseung says your name condescendingly, “you haven’t earnt that privilege.” you feel the wetness in your panties pool at that.

“..how can i?” you murmur, glancing at him.

“you can kiss me if you can make yourself cum just like this.” heeseung says, leaning back in his chair. you scoff, that was easy. just looking into his eyes could probably make you cum.

heeseung raises an eyebrow at your scoff, but you don’t elaborate. “..okay.” and so with that, you move your hips, grinding your clothed cunt right against his thigh. despite the fabric separating the two of you, the heat emanating from your core is unimaginable.

heeseung doesn’t touch you for the most part. his hand travels down your back, fingers tingling your spine as he looks at you, eyes dark. despite knowing you should feel embarrassed, you can’t. this is what you’ve been waiting for, after all.

as you keep grinding, you can feel his dick harden through his dress pants - heeseung refuses to acknowledge it though. you continue grinding, hands on his shoulders as you practically hump his thigh, begging for release.

you bury your face into his shoulder, panting into his ear. heeseung pushes your hair back, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.

it’s when his hand travels further down your back and onto your ass. heeseung spanks your clothed butt once, and you orgasm just from that, letting out a soft moan. fingers tangle themselves in the back of your hair, pulling you away from his shoulder.

“there’s no way you came just from that.” heeseung mocks, almost holding back a laugh. you’re about to defend yourself, but heeseung speaks again. “but then again, we both know that this is what you wanted, right? to be bent over my desk like a cheap whore, desperate for me to fuck you?”

your cheeks heat up, hands pressing against his chest. “if i say yes, will you do exactly that?”

heeseung scoffs. “you seriously have no shame at all. get up.” you scramble to your feet, thighs shaky.

he stands up after you, bending you right over his desk. you whimper when your face hits his table a little roughly but it’s whatever. a hand trails down, going underneath your skirt. heeseung cups your pussy with his hand, shoving your panties to the side.

“you’re seriously this wet with this sort of treatment?” he sounds surprised, despite his tone still being flat. his hand delivers a sharp spank to your cunt, making you whimper softly.

leaning down, his mouth is next to your ear. “you seriously think i didn’t notice you wearing those tiny skirts all the time?” he roughly pushes your skirt up, slapping the fat of your ass hard. a pained moan leaves your lips.

“..you never said anything about it breaking dress-code, so i think you liked it.” you mumble out, grinning. he hits your rear again, wiping that smugness off your face instantly.

“so that means you dress like a whore for everyone to see?” heeseung mocks, tilting his head. “might as well show up to the entire office naked. i’m sure they’d all love to see that.” his palm strikes down again, making you choke. he hits hard, for sure.

“i was dressing like that for you-“ you stutter out, choking on a sob. “not anyone else.” heeseung yanks you back up with full force, holding your arms against your back. your back is pressed against his chest, making you dizzy at the proximity. this way you can feel his dick poking you through his pants.

“nobody asked you to do that though, did they?” he kisses your nape again.

you nod your head in agreement, “n-no, they didn’t.”

“good. are you finally learning your place?” heeseung’s hands travel down, going back underneath your skirt as he hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties. he drags them down with ease, and you step out of them.

“i can.”

“you can?” heeseung mumbles behind you, fingers ghosting your slit. his index finger travels your entrance before finally pushing in - going knuckle deep immediately. you choke.

“i’m not giving you an option.” he sits back down on his chair, pulling you back onto his lap with him. he spreads your thighs with ease, before sliding another finger into your cunt.

“i think i’ve been way too lenient with you.” he whispers into your ear as he pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.

you let out a shaky breath, “h-how so?” a soft whimper leaves your lips when he hits the back of your walls. his fingers go a bit deeper, hitting your g-spot, and effectively making your toes curl. your walls are literally clenching onto his long digits, unable to let them go.

“well, for starters.” he shoves another finger in, making you squirm. “you act like you own the place, and how does that make me look as a boss?” with one more slide of his middle finger, you cream all over his wrist, your back arching into him.

“stupid slut.” he mumbles, “you’re seriously not good for anything apart from cumming, hm?” heeseung lets you rest on him as you catch your breath, kissing the side of your temple.

you pant, distracted. how has this man made you cum twice already? “y-yeah, not good for anything else..”

heeseung makes you stand, bending you back over his desk again. he lifts the back flap of your skirt, and you hear fabric rustling. he grabs your hands, pulling them against your back as he wraps something around them.

you turn your head and see him tying his tie around your wrists. you turn your head back, cheek flat against the wood of the table. there’s a sound of an unzip, and you feel the head of his cock press against your sopping cunt.

he’s sliding it against your slit, not penetrating it. “..what are you waiting for?” you turn around, frustrated. you try buck your hips back, in which heeseung spanks your ass, making you gasp in surprise.

“beg for it.” heeseung scoffs, making you whine.

“are you serious?” you groan. when there’s no respond from his end you know the answer. “please, please, fuck me.” heeseung doesn’t budge.

you try buck your hips back, but heeseung grabs both of your hips with his hands, crescents digging into the soft flesh making you whimper.

“sir, please fuck me. i’ll be a good girl, just please.” tears well up in your eyes from the frustration of the lack of freedom and movement.

the tip of heeseung’s dick slides smoothly across your slick folds, making you whine deliciously. one hand drops from your hip, and before you know it, you’re impaled onto his dick in one go, his pelvis flat against his ass. your cunt struggles with the intrusion, walls fluttering to accommodate his length. you don’t miss the whimper that leaves his lips when he buries himself to the hilt.

you choke, burying your face into the hard desk, which isn’t comforting at all. he pulls out halfway, before slamming back in - letting out a soft hiss at the sensation of your velvety walls around his shaft dragging him back in.

his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, kneading roughly as he holds you flush against him. “..you’ve been such a needy little thing all week, haven't you?”

a hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling you closer to him. “just begging for my attention. you’re pathetic.” his other hand moves to your hip, holding you in place as he starts thrusting again, each snap of his hips bruising the back of your thighs.

“c-cause you always ignore me,” you gasp out.

“ignore you? please. i’m giving you exactly what you deserve.” he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass. “tell me you’re going to start acting normally from now on.”

you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as his dick grinds into your sweet spot, hitting the x marker. “i..” you whimper, “i’ll start acting normally..”

“good girl.” heeseung grabs your jaw, angling you toward him as he kisses you, swallowing your moans and whimpers. pulling back, he looks at you with hooded eyes, his pupils blown wide.

his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nerve. “you’re gonna cum right?” heeseung leans closer to you, watching the way your cunt spasms around his cock.

you nod, “please.” you just automatically assume he’s going to take it away from you, “please, let me cum.”

“you can cum.” heeseung punctuates his words with shallow thrusts, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each movement. his thumb doubles down, applying pressure. you can barely stand anymore, heeseung’s the only thing keeping you up right as your legs tremble.

with a flick of his fingers, you gush around his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. heeseung clamps a hand over your mouth before you can release any loud sounds, just in case someone was still lingering in the office.

heeseung pulls out before he cums himself, forcing you back onto your knees. before you can process what’s happening, he’s already pressing the head of his dick onto your lips.

pressing a soft kiss to his tip, you open your mouth obediently, wrapping your mouth around his shaft. heeseung’s hands tangle themselves in your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail as he controls the pace, moving your head back and forth.

he whimpers when he hits the back of your throat, feeling you gag around his length. “s-shit, right there.” you can’t breathe, nose firmly pressed against his pelvis but it’s okay. the expression on his face right now makes up for any sort of discomfort you could possibly be in.

heeseung starts jerking his hips slightly, hitting the back of your throat constantly. you gag again, tears welling up in your eyes, as well as drool escaping the corners of your mouth to dribble down your chin.

with one more thrust of his hips, he cums down your throat. it’s bitter, but you can barely taste it by the time it’s down your esophagus anyway. he’s panting softly, tucking his dick back into his pants. once he’s done, he starts combing your hair down gently with his fingers.

kneeling down, he wipes any liquid on your face with a tissue. “..was i too rough?”

you’re panting, and dazed, but you shake your head. “n-no. fuck me like that again.”

heeseung sighs, it kind of sounds like one of relief but you can’t tell. “come on, get dressed. i’ll take you home.”

“..i can’t stand up.”

on monday when you come in, the first thing you do is look for jungwon.

and you find him almost immediately, standing near the reception desk. he notices you, of course he does, his expression shifting into one of suspicion.

"oh, hey." jungwoon greets, smiling. you stop right in front of him.

"$50," you say.

jungwon tilts his head, "what?"

"you owe me $50."

his eyebrows lift immediately, "no i don’t."

"oh, you absolutely do."

jungwon turns to face you, "for what?"

"you said I couldn’t pull heeseung."

there's a pause as jungwon just stares at you. "..i said you couldn't-"

"you lost." you cut in immediately.

he exhales, sighing like he's rethinking every single financial decision he's ever made. "i hate this job," he mutters.

you brighten instantly, "..so $50?"

jungwon glares at you, "..i'll transfer it later."

you nod once, satisfied. "good."

this prompt has been sitting in my drafts for ages icl so i finally decided to finish it💔💔

i was lowkey going to skip on the smut again this time but i feel like this is a good learning curve LMAO

[soobinieee]

Things He Never Throws Away

pairing: bf! soobin x f!reader

genre: FLUFFFF, established relationship, slice of life

word count: 712

sum. you discovered that Soobin secretly keeps small, seemingly meaningless items...

The first time you realized Soobin kept things, it was by accident.

You weren’t supposed to see it.

He’d left his notebook open on the desk while he went to grab something, and you, being you—leaned over out of boredom more than curiosity.

It wasn’t notes. It was… random. A receipt. A dried leaf. A candy wrapper.

You frowned slightly, flipping the page.

A movie ticket stub.

Another page—there was a tiny pressed flower, carefully taped down. And then...

Your handwriting.

You froze.

It was just a scrap of paper. Torn, slightly crumpled, with a messy “don’t forget to eat!!!” written in your rushed handwriting, complete with three aggressively drawn exclamation marks.

You remembered writing it. You’d shoved it into his hand weeks ago when he skipped lunch again.

“…what are you doing?”

You nearly jumped.

Soobin was standing in the doorway, staring at you. Not angry—just… caught.

“I...uh—” You gestured helplessly at the notebook. “You collect trash?”

His ears turned red almost instantly. “It’s not trash.”

“It’s literally a candy wrapper.”

“It was from that place you like,” he muttered, walking over quickly and closing the notebook.

You blinked. “…you kept it because of that?”

He didn’t answer. Which, honestly, was an answer.

You leaned against the desk, crossing your arms. “Okay, but the leaf?”

“…you said it looked like a heart.”

You tried—really tried—not to smile.

“And the receipt?” “You were complaining about the price for ten minutes.” “I still stand by that,” you said immediately. “It was overpriced.”

A pause.

Then, softer, you added, “So you kept it?”

He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “I just… keep things.”

“Things,” you repeated slowly. “Yeah.” “That remind you of me?”

Silence.

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly debating whether to deny it or not.

“…maybe.”

That did it.

You laughed, not in a teasing way, but something warmer—something that made him glance at you, slightly confused.

“That’s kind of cute, Soobin.”

“It’s not supposed to be cute,” he mumbled.

“Too late.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. Instead, he sat down, pulling the notebook closer to him like you might steal it.

You leaned down slightly, peeking at the edge. “What else is in there?”

“Nothing.” “Liar.” “It’s just random stuff.” “Show me.” “No.”

“Show me,” you insisted, nudging his arm.

He held firm for a second—then sighed, like he knew he wasn’t going to win anyway.

“Fine. But don’t laugh.” “I won’t.”

You absolutely would.

He opened it slowly this time, flipping through the pages himself. There was more than you expected.

A bus ticket. A photo booth strip—your faces slightly blurry because you wouldn’t stop moving. A sticky note with a badly drawn star (yours again).

And then—

You pointed. “Wait, that’s from—”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

It was from a day you barely remembered mentioning. Something small, insignificant to you.

But he had it. Saved. Pressed between pages like it mattered.

“…you’re really serious about this, huh?” you said, softer now.

He didn’t look embarrassed anymore. Just honest.

“I forget things easily,” he admitted. “So I keep stuff instead.”

You tilted your head. “But these are all… me.” “…yeah.”

There was no hesitation that time.

Something in your chest shifted.

Carefully, you reached out, touching the edge of the page where your messy note was taped down.

“You know,” you said, voice quieter than before, “you don’t have to keep pieces of paper to remember me.”

He looked at you then, really looked.

“I know,” he said.

A small pause. “…but I want to.”

That landed heavier than anything else he’d said. You didn’t tease him this time. Didn’t laugh. Instead, you tore a small piece from your own notebook, quickly scribbling something before placing it in front of him.

He blinked. “What’s this?”

“Add it to your collection,” you said.

Suspicious, he picked it up. “you’re cute too (but don’t get used to it)”

His lips pressed together, like he was trying not to smile.

Failed.

“…this one’s staying,” he said. “Obviously.”

He carefully tucked it into the notebook, smoothing it out like it was something fragile.

And for the first time, you noticed—

He wasn’t just keeping things. He was keeping moments. And somehow, without you realizing...

He’d been keeping you, too.

---- m.list

[zerocoded]

DRUNK BOYF DUTIES !

Soobin tries to play it cool. He straightens up, runs his long fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with exaggerated gentleness. “I’m being very normal,” he declares, voice still slurred. You wish you could tell him that half of his body weight was on top of you, but you don't have the heart to do so when he was being so cute and hot at the same time.

WARNINGS ◦ drinking ◦ alcohol consumption ◦ sfw ◦ i mentioned soobin's height a thousand times i'm sorry ◦ drunk soobin and other txt members ◦ pretty light read

1,4O9 ━━━━━ drabble soobin x reader

۶ৎ 𝓜 , i need this man in a very unhealthy way. my number one husband right here guys. need him to birth my kids or summ. mid writing as always bye. we made a part two of this work, check it here.

━━━━━ read on ao3

The low hum of laughter fills the private dining room, plates half-cleared and soju bottles scattered like fallen soldiers. Comeback promotions are finally over, and tonight is the first real breather everyone’s had in months. You’re pleasantly tipsy, cheeks warm, but sober enough to play caretaker. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is gone.

Soobin is slumped against you, all six-foot-something of broad, warm muscle. His long legs are tangled with yours under the table, one big hand curled possessively around your thigh like he might float away if he lets go. His neck is fully exposed where the collar of his oversized button-up has slipped open—flushed deep pink all the way down to his collarbones, the color spreading beautifully across his chest. Every time he laughs, that pretty red deepens.

“Baby,” he whines right against your ear, voice low and syrupy, breath hot. His lips brush the shell of your ear on purpose. “You’re not even looking at me. I did so good this comeback… don’t I deserve all your attention?”

You bite back a smile, stroking his fluffy hair. “You’re drunk, Soob.”

“Am not,” he lies, then immediately ruins it by nuzzling into your neck with a pathetic little sound. His drunk eyes—half-lidded, sparkling, unfairly hot—find yours when he pulls back just enough to wriggle his eyebrows at you. The effect is devastating. That lazy, lopsided smile of his makes your stomach flip even after years together.

Across the table, Taehyun snorts into his water. “Hyung, you’re so gone. You just tried to feed Y/N a piece of lettuce with your fingers. You know she hates it.”

The whole table erupts—Beomgyu cackling loudest, Kai screaming something you can't comprehend, Yeonjun recording on his phone with zero shame. Even the staff friends who’ve known you all forever are trying to make a point.

Soobin tries to play it cool. He straightens up (as much as a giant clingy man can), runs his long fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with exaggerated gentleness. “I’m being very normal,” he declares, voice still slurred. Then he ruins it again by leaning his full weight on you, chin on your shoulder, whispering hotly, “You smell so good… wanna go home and cuddle. Or… not just cuddle.” He wriggles his eyebrows again, playful and shameless.

You laugh, cupping his burning cheek. God, he’s so fine like this—tall frame loose and relaxed, broad shoulders brushing yours, that exposed flushed neck begging to be kissed, drunk eyes full of open adoration. Years of dating him and he still makes your heart race like the first time.

Taehyun leans over, poking Soobin’s arm. “Hyung, blink twice if she needs to carry you out.”

Soobin blinks once, slowly, then twice while staring straight at you with the hottest, dumbest smile you’ve ever seen.

The energy is starting to wind down, the warm glow of the hanging lanterns casting soft amber light over the table. Empty soju bottles glint beside half-eaten side dishes, and the low chatter of the staff friends mixes with the distant hum of the restaurant’s playlist.

You stroke his hair again. “You okay, baby? Want some water?”

“Mmm… yeah,” he mumbles, but instead of reaching for the glass, he picks up the last bit of his soju, takes two slow, deliberate sips like he’s trying to prove he can still function. The liquid makes his already flushed neck and chest look even warmer under the low lighting. He sets the glass down with careful focus, then goes surprisingly quiet.

His big body is still pressed against yours, one arm draped heavily around your waist, but the playful wriggling stops. You can tell he’s concentrating hard—eyelids heavy, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, jaw set like he’s personally fighting off sleep just to stay here with you a little longer. The ambient glow from the paper lanterns paints golden highlights across his sharp jawline and the soft curve of his lips. His broad chest rises and falls in slow, steady breaths, the open collar of his shirt slipping even lower, revealing more of that pretty flushed skin.

You keep stealing glances at him, unable to look away. He catches you every time. Each time your eyes meet, a small, sleepy smile tugs at his mouth, deep dimples carving into his cheeks like they were made just for you.

“You’re staring,” he whispers after a while, voice lower now, a little rough around the edges. He leans in closer, nose brushing your temple. “Am I that handsome when I’m drunk?”

“Insanely,” you admit, brushing your thumb over one of his dimples. “But you’re also about to pass out on me.”

“Am not…” he lies softly, then chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. The table has mostly quieted, everyone lost in their own sleepy conversations, fairy lights twinkling overhead like tiny stars. Soobin’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your side, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket.

After another minute of comfortable silence, he straightens up just enough to look around the table, then back at you. His dimples flash again as he smiles, slow and sweet. “You want anything else, love? Dessert? More water? Anything…” He pauses, blinking slowly like the words are taking extra effort. "I'm gonna go pay, ok?"

You melt a little, heart squeezing at how hard he’s trying to be coherent and responsible even while clearly fighting sleep. “I’m good, Soob. We can head home.”

He nods, dimples deepening as he pulls you closer one last time, pressing a lingering, slightly clumsy kiss to your cheek. "Be right back."

You watch him rise, all tall and broad and still a little unsteady, that flushed neck catching the warm lantern light as he buttons his collar with clumsy fingers. The shift hits you instantly— the second he decides it’s time to handle things, the whiny, clingy drunk melts away and your responsible boyfriend clicks back into place. It’s the same Soobin who led the group through months of brutal promotions without complaint, the one who always makes sure everyone eats, rests, and gets home safe.

He stands there for a second, scanning the table with hazy but focused eyes, mentally counting bottles and plates like he’s checking for anything forgotten. His big hand rests on the back of your chair for balance, thumb brushing your shoulder once, gently, before he steps away.

Yeonjun notices immediately. With a small, knowing smirk, the older boy slips out of his seat and follows Soobin toward the counter without a word. You can’t help but smile as you watch them from afar. Soobin is already pulling out his card, insisting in that soft, slurry voice that tonight’s on him—“No, hyung, I got it. You all worked hard too…”—while Yeonjun quietly argues back, trying to split it anyway. Their voices are low, the exchange fond and familiar, like two older brothers bickering over who gets to treat the kids. It’s so cute you almost laugh out loud.

The soft amber glow of the restaurant wraps around them, fairy lights twinkling overhead, the quiet clink of glasses and low chatter from the remaining staff friends filling the warm air. Soobin towers over everyone even when swaying slightly, his broad shoulders filling out that half-unbuttoned shirt, cheeks and neck still beautifully pink. He’s fighting sleep so hard for this one last responsible act, and it makes your chest ache with affection.

You love this side of him more than anything—the quiet leader, the attentive one who acts like a true father figure to the boys even when he’s barely standing. He remembers the little things no one else does. He carries the weight without ever making it feel heavy. After years together, it still makes your heart flutter: how he can go from playful, whiny, and shamelessly clingy to this—steady, caring, and quietly in control—in the span of a heartbeat.

Eventually they come back, Soobin looking victorious but sleepy, Yeonjun rolling his eyes fondly behind him. Your boyfriend immediately returns to you, sliding back into his seat and draping his long arm around your shoulders like it’s the only place he belongs.

“Done,” he murmurs against your temple, voice soft and proud. “Ready to go home now?"

You lean into his warmth, breathing in his familiar scent mixed with soju and the faint restaurant aroma. “Yeah, Soob. Let’s go home."

[cbeargyu]

seven days a week

summary: you and your husband soobin have been married for a year, but your desire for each other hasn’t faded. in fact, it’s only grown more intense. from spontaneous office quickies to sensual public encounters, your love is as passionate as it is insatiable.

pairing: husband!soobin x wife fem!reader

genre: smut, pwp, romantic erotica, established marriage au.

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, oral, creampie, possessive behavior, riding, fingering, married couple dynamics, unrealistic libido (no mention of periods or pregnancy, this is pure fiction, not real-life sex ed) mutual obsession and desperate love vibes.

wc: 3,1k

notes: OMG! i just hit 1700 followers!! when did that even happen??? 🥹 thank you so much for all your love and support, i love you all endlessly 💌 you’re the reason i keep writing. i actually had this fic ready for a while, but i finally gave it a proper read-through so i could post it 🫠 husband!soobin is seriously the best concept ever… and him being a total perv too?? yes please 👅🔥

you never thought marriage would taste this sweet.

a year had passed since the two of you tied the knot, and not a single day had gone by without his hands on your skin, without your lips on his, without your body aching for him. most people said the passion would fade after the honeymoon, that routine would dull the fire, but it only seemed to burn hotter the longer you were together.

you weren’t just lovers. you were addicts. both of you.

it didn’t matter where you were or who was around—when the heat hit, you both found a way to release it. on the elevator to your apartment, pressed against the mirrored wall with soobin's hand covering your mouth to silence your moans. in the restroom of an upscale restaurant, your dress bunched up around your waist, legs trembling as he whispered filth into your ear while fucking you senseless against the sink. on your balcony at night, the wind carrying the scent of sex through the city, your knees bruising against the railing as he held you in place. at the beach, with the tide lapping at your ankles, his fingers inside you under the stars. in the backseat of your car, windows fogged up, your panties hanging from the rearview mirror by the time you were done. and then there was his office.

soobin was the editor-in-chief of one of the most renowned publishing houses in the country. prestigious, respected, calm under pressure. nobody would suspect that the man in that pristine tailored suit spent half of his lunch breaks buried between your thighs.

it always started the same way.

you’d text him something simple—are you free to eat together today?—and he’d reply with a time. never a word more than needed, not over messages. he liked it clean on the outside. so you’d walk into the lobby with your bag in one hand and a shy smile on your lips, nodding politely at the receptionist, who recognized you instantly. she’d give you that usual knowing glance, and you’d just giggle to yourself, acting like you weren’t about to get wrecked on the top floor.

his office was spacious, framed by tall windows and lined with bookshelves. his desk was always organized, the glass surface spotless—until you came in. the second he locked the door behind you, he turned into someone else entirely.

“took you long enough,” he murmured that day, voice thick with restraint as he pulled you in by the wrist.

“you said twelve-thirty,” you teased, your breath catching as he pressed you against the inside of the door, lips brushing your throat. “i’m right on time.”

“mm,” he hummed, dragging your coat from your shoulders with one hand, the other already slipping beneath your skirt. “that’s cute. thinking you get to play innocent.”

you gasped when his fingers met your bare heat, your thighs already sticky, aching, pulsing for him.

“no panties?” he chuckled darkly, dipping a finger between your folds. “what would the board say if they knew their editor’s wife walked into the building dripping like this?”

“they’d say it’s your fault,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him more access, already trembling when he started circling your clit slowly. “you make me like this.”

“that’s right,” he growled.

he dragged you away from the door, lifting you effortlessly onto his desk, scattering a few papers in the process. he shoved your skirt up to your hips, kneeling between your legs without hesitation. the cold glass pressed against your skin, contrasting the warmth of his breath as he kissed your inner thighs, teasing, licking, biting. then his tongue found your center, and you arched your back with a broken moan, one hand flying to grip the edge of the desk while the other threaded through his dark hair.

he always made you feel like this—unraveled, ruined, adored.

his tongue moved with practiced precision, licking you open as if you were his only purpose in life, savoring every twitch of your hips, every breathless cry. when your thighs started shaking, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “come on, baby. give it to me. i want to taste you.”

and you did. hard. moaning his name like a prayer, thighs clamping around his head as you came on his tongue.

he didn’t stop there.

before your body could recover, he stood up and unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate movements, eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. his cock was already hard, thick, leaking as he stroked it once, twice, while stepping closer. he didn’t ask. didn’t need to. you were already spreading your legs wider for him.

he slid into you in one smooth, deep thrust, swallowing your gasp with a kiss.

“fuck—” he breathed against your mouth, voice strained. “you’re so tight. always so good for me.”

you clung to him, arms around his neck, nails digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. he fucked you slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him, the way you whimpered every time his hips rolled into yours. but it didn’t stay slow for long.

“you think i don’t know what you do?” he grunted, thrusting harder, faster, his desk creaking beneath the rhythm. “you walk in here all sweet and quiet, but you’re just begging to be used.”

“yes,” you cried, breathless. “yes, soobin—please, harder—”

he gave it to you.

his pace turned punishing, relentless, fucking you into the desk so hard you could barely think. you could hear your slickness every time he drove into you, could feel the tension coiling in your belly all over again, already close to a second climax.

he brought his hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit until your vision blurred, until your moans echoed through the room.

“come for me again,” he ordered, jaw clenched. “want to feel you squeeze me while i fill you up.”

you came again, harder this time, your whole body convulsing around him as you sobbed his name, and seconds later, he buried himself deep and groaned as he spilled inside you, warm and thick, making you gasp at the sensation.

neither of you moved for a while.

his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, still trembling from the high. he kissed you softly, this time slower, gentler, like the man everyone else knew.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered with a smile.

“you started it,” you replied, smiling back.

he chuckled, pulling out with a groan, helping you adjust your clothes before tucking himself back in and fixing his tie like nothing happened.

you straightened your skirt, kissed his cheek, and headed for the door.

“same time tomorrow?” you teased.

his eyes darkened.

“count on it.”

people would say it was just the honeymoon phase. a spark that would eventually die out.

“give it a few months,” they said. “you’ll settle down. you’ll calm down.” but they didn’t know you. they didn’t know soobin.

because a year into your marriage, the fire hadn’t dulled—it had grown. hotter. deeper. more desperate.

you craved him constantly, and he wanted you like he needed you to breathe. it didn’t matter how many times he’d had you the night before—when morning came, his hands were already wandering beneath the sheets. sometimes you barely made it out of bed before he was fucking you into the mattress, your sleepy moans muffled by the pillow as he thrusted into you from behind. and when breakfast was over, when the dishes were still in the sink, he’d pull you onto the kitchen counter and eat you out until your legs went numb, just because he missed the taste.

when you both came home from work, it didn’t matter how exhausted you were—he always kissed you like it was the first time, always touched you like he’d been starving all day. in the shower, you’d grind against each other under the hot water until one of you caved. on the couch after dinner, he’d have you straddling his lap, his hands under your shirt, his cock pressed between your thighs. even when you were both tucked into bed, skin warm and clean, he’d still reach for you in the dark, whispering soft, filthy things against your shoulder until you were whimpering for him again.

sometimes, in the middle of the night, you’d wake up to find his hand already between your legs, his mouth on your chest, his cock hard and ready against your hip.

but nothing compared to how needy he got when you dressed up.

you’d gone to dinner with his parents that evening. the restaurant was elegant, quiet, candle-lit. you wore a dress he hadn’t seen before—tight, black, hugging your body like it was made for you. it stopped just above the knee, a subtle slit climbing up one thigh. you knew the second he saw you walk out of the bedroom that you were in trouble.

he didn’t touch you during dinner. not once. but his eyes never left you. his hand stayed clenched on his thigh under the table, his jaw tense, his smile too tight whenever someone complimented the way you looked.

and the second you stepped out of the restaurant and slid into the backseat of the car, he lost it.

you barely had time to buckle your seatbelt before he reached over and unfastened it again.

“soobin?” you blinked at him, surprised.

he didn’t answer. just climbed over you, slammed the door shut, and pushed you back against the seat, his lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding it in for hours.

“fuck,” he hissed against your mouth, his hands already tugging your dress up your thighs. “you wore this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“i thought it looked pretty,” you breathed, gasping when his fingers found the edge of your panties and yanked them down without hesitation.

“you looked like a fucking dream,” he growled, kissing down your neck, biting your shoulder through the strap of your dress. “do you know how hard it was to sit across from you and pretend i wasn’t dying to fuck you under the table?”

you moaned when his fingers slipped between your legs, already coated in your arousal.

“you’re so wet already,” he muttered, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit. “does dressing like that for me turn you on, baby?”

“yes,” you whimpered. “you looked so good in that suit, hubby. wanted to jump you the whole time.”

he groaned, cock twitching in his slacks at the sound of the word.

“say that again.”

you bit your lip, arching your hips into his hand. “my sexy husband. my baby. always so handsome.”

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna ruin you,” he grunted, already undoing his belt, freeing his cock with a breathless hiss.

he was hard, thick, leaking, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly while he growled under his breath.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding you down onto the seat. “turn around. get on your knees for me.”

you obeyed, heart pounding, body trembling with need. the soft leather dug into your skin as you leaned forward, dress bunched up around your waist, bare for him.

he gripped your hips and shoved into you in one swift, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt and making you cry out.

“god—soobin—!”

“shhh,” he murmured, leaning over your back, pressing kisses to your spine. “you want them to hear, baby? the valet’s still outside.”

you whimpered, biting your fist to muffle your sounds, and he started moving—deep, rough thrusts that had the entire car rocking.

he held your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you harder, faster, his cock slamming into your sweet spot over and over until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“mine,” he growled. “my pretty wife. you love this, don’t you? love getting fucked like this by your husband. so desperate for my cock you couldn’t wait till we got home.”

“yes—yes, please—don’t stop—”

he reached around to rub your clit, fast and messy, and you broke with a cry, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you.

but he didn’t stop.

“so fucking tight when you come,” he panted, slamming into you harder, chasing his own release. “gonna fill you up, baby. you want that?”

“yes, hubby—fill me up, please—need you—”

he groaned, buried himself deep, and spilled inside you with a shudder, hot and thick, making you tremble all over again.

you collapsed onto the seat, both of you panting, his cum already dripping down your thighs.

after a few moments, he kissed your lower back and helped you fix your dress, his hands gentle, voice softer now.

“you okay, baby?”

“never better,” you whispered with a lazy smile, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “think your parents noticed we left too fast?”

he laughed, pulling you into his lap for a kiss.

“they probably think we’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

you grinned against his lips.

“good. let them.”

you didn’t always mean to take it that far.

sometimes, the need just crept up slowly—starting with a brush of hands, a glance too long, the way his voice dropped when he leaned in to whisper in your ear. but with soobin, it was never just harmless teasing. not when the fire between you burned this deep, this fast, this endlessly.

the worst was when you were supposed to behave.

you were at a gallery opening, invited as a couple by one of soobin’s publishing partners. the space was sleek, minimalist, dimly lit with soft instrumental music echoing through the marble hallways. guests murmured about brushstrokes and contrast, sipping champagne, admiring modern pieces as if they understood them. you should’ve been focused. polite. engaged.

but all you could think about was the way soobin’s hand kept pressing low against your back, the way his lips brushed your temple every time he leaned in to comment on a piece, the way he looked in that black turtleneck and tailored slacks—quiet, elegant, composed. and the way his cock pressed against his thigh when he caught you watching him with that soft, hungry gaze of yours.

you lasted an hour. maybe less.

“you look stunning,” he murmured while you both stood in front of an abstract canvas, his fingers ghosting over the inside of your wrist.

“so do you,” you whispered back, stepping closer.

“i can’t stop thinking about the way you looked last night.”

“baby,” you warned in a low voice, heart fluttering.

“i can’t stop thinking about how tight you were. how you moaned for me.”

you swallowed, thighs clenching.

so when he found a quiet corridor tucked behind the private wing of the gallery, with large velvet curtains shielding the entrance and barely any foot traffic, you didn’t even hesitate when he took your hand and pulled you in with him.

the space was dark and unused, some storage room filled with rolled canvases and crates, dimly lit by a dusty lamp on a side table. you barely had time to glance around before he pulled you onto his lap on an old velvet loveseat, your dress riding up your thighs as he guided you to straddle him.

“here?” you breathed, heart racing, but already grinding against him.

he cupped your ass and pulled you down flush against his cock. “shh, just for a little. i promise i’ll be quiet if you will.”

you kissed him hard, needing him more than you cared to admit.

you fumbled with his belt, both of you breathless, frantic, silent laughter shaking your shoulders as you tried not to giggle while exposing him in the middle of the damn gallery. when you finally pulled him free, hard and hot in your hand, you didn’t hesitate. you lifted your hips, pushed your soaked panties aside, and sank down onto him in one smooth, aching motion.

you bit your lip hard to keep from gasping, forehead falling to his shoulder as you took him in completely, your walls stretching, pulsing, wrapping around him perfectly.

“god, baby,” he whispered, voice trembling. “you’re always so tight for me. always so wet.”

“i missed you,” you whispered back, starting to move slowly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you rolled your hips in slow, fluid waves. “i know it’s only been a few hours but… i missed you so much.”

his hands slid beneath your dress, gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm, helping you ride him deeper, slower, harder. every time you rocked down, you could feel his cock hit that spot that made you tremble, made your eyes flutter shut.

his head fell back against the wall as he watched you move—so beautiful, flushed, glowing under the low light. his perfect wife, riding his cock like it was her god-given purpose.

“fuck,” he whispered, jaw tight. “you’re gonna make me come so fast like this, baby. you feel too good.”

you leaned in, kissing his lips sweetly before whispering into his mouth, “then come with me. come inside me, love. fill me up. again.”

he groaned, desperate now, thrusting up into you as you bounced on his lap, your movements sloppy and fast, your moans barely restrained against his neck. you were close—so close—the tension in your belly winding tight, heat blooming between your legs as you chased your second high of the day.

and then he grabbed your face gently with one hand, the other still gripping your ass, and looked at you with that softness that always broke you.

“i’ll never get tired of you,” he whispered. “never. not your voice, not your body, not your mouth, not your moans. i’ll crave you forever, baby.”

you whined, overwhelmed, heart racing, body trembling.

“i love you,” you breathed. “you know that, right? i love you so much, soobin.”

“i love you more,” he said, and then you both broke at the same time—his warmth filling you deep as your walls clenched around him, your cries caught in the hollow of his throat, your nails raking down his back as you trembled in his arms.

you stayed there for a while, still joined, breathing each other in, hearts beating fast and in sync. you nuzzled into his neck as he stroked your back slowly, reverently, his softening cock still buried inside you.

and in that quiet little hidden room, beneath dim lights and forgotten paintings, you both made a silent vow without needing to speak it aloud:

to never tire of each other. to never stop touching, loving, needing. to crave, devour, and worship until your last breath.

because this love—this madness—wasn't just passion. it was eternity. and you were both so, so willing to burn in it forever.

[neteyamsheart]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 – 𝐃. 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺, 𝘈𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

𝐓𝐖: 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘋𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘺, 𝘈𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯. 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳: 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰'𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵.

It was difficult. Difficult for Malfoy's wife, Astoria Greengrass, to understand her husbands withdrawal–the lifeless look in his eyes, the loss of appetite–every May, around the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts 3 years ago.

Typically, he was the loving and devoted husband she adored: bringing her favorite flowers after long days of work, listening patiently to her rambles, and reciprocating her affection.

But during May, he became a completely different person, haunted by the day he ended up losing you.

–

Astoria vividly remembered the first time she had met him, as a young girl visiting the Malfoy estate with her family. Coming from a pure-blood family, she often attended these meetings though they were extremely boring.

That day, her mother was awfully anxious, reminding her, "Darling, remember to speak nicely and become friends with their son, Draco," whilst nervously adjusting her black gloves.

Her father, far more relaxed, greeted the Malfoys like old friends, immediately sparking a discussion of the Ministry's troubles as her mother was swept away by Narcissa to discuss recent pure-blood marriages.

Feeling out of place, Astoria stood awkwardly by her sister as the manor's grand doors closed behind them. The Malfoy manor being too cold and empty, much to her disliking. It was the complete opposite at her home which was fully encompassed in warmth and comfort.

"Astoria, I'll be a moment," Daphne, her older sister, suddenly said, nudging her forward, "Find something to do. I'll be there later when mother calls for dinner".

Astoria nodded slowly and began to wander aimlessly through the manor, just passing through the living room before a sharp voice stopped her.

"Greengrass, what are you doing just wandering about."

Astoria turned to see platinum blonde hair, a boy older than her, staring at her blankly with piercing gray eyes–an air of entitlement surrounding him. Her heart raced as she stood frozen, being drawn into the intensity of his gaze and his alluring confidence as he leaned against the doorframe, a flutter of excitement igniting in her chest.

Then, it immediately dawned on her who he was.

Draco Malfoy, the boy her mother encouraged her to be friendly with.

She watched his expression contort into a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, hinting at the layer of arrogance that she had heard so much about from others. But in that instant, time stood still, and the feeling as though a spark had been ignited made Astoria realize this was more than a passing attraction–something profound.

The beginning of her journey to falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

–

When Astoria became a 1st Year at Hogwarts, Draco was in his 3rd year and Daphne was in her second. Having not seen the older boy for a while due to school at Hogwarts, she was excited to see him again in hopes that they would kindle a strong friendship and possibly something more.

But her hopes were short-lived when she learned of you, and your relation with Draco.

You were a Slytherin, like him in your 3rd year, but unlike many in your house, you were more kind-hearted and well-liked by many of the students. Never once did you trample on others or comment negatively about other students.

Yet, at the same time, you were just like the other Slytherins. You were prideful, loyal, and cunning when you needed to be.

So to many, it was a surprise knowing that you were one of Draco Malfoy's closest friends. Though the two of you weren't especially close during your first year, over time your bond deepened and the two of you developed an unspoken understanding of each other.

You knew each other so well to the point where words became unnecessary, communicating effortlessly through shared glances and gestures. This unspoken language was enough to convey everything the other was feeling.

So, every day to Astoria, watching the closeness between you and Draco was unbearable and incredibly difficult. But, she never stopped trying to achieve that same level of closeness with him: inviting him to study sessions, engaging in Slytherin's Quidditch Practices and cheering loudly for him during games to receive a smug smile from him whenever he noticed her in the stands.

However, she quickly began to realize that all of this was futile. Why would anything she do matter when he had you?

You, who never needed to ask him to participate in activities. You, whom he had invited to the Yule Ball and asked to accompany him on every Hogsmeade trip–always remembering to buy you your favorite candy from HoneyDukes. You, who he was always side by side with, chatting and laughing so carefreely.

You, who brought out a different side to that arrogant, prideful boy–wiping away the familiar sneering and haughty look from his oh-so-handsome face.

Astoria was jealous of you. Extremely jealous. It was so painful for her to watch from the sidelines, feeling no matter how much she liked Draco, you would always come first.

There were times she often wondered if there would ever be room in his heart for someone other than you. Would she be overshadowed by your connection? Would he still think of you when spending time with her?

She'd figure that out soon enough. Even when she would find herself in rare moments with Draco, talking about their similarities, she could see him peeking over her shoulder in the library to stare at your figure as you laughed with friends from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

It was then that she knew, you would always be the center of his attention.

–

During the final moments of the Battle of Hogwarts, Astoria frantically looked around for Draco and Daphne.

Despite knowing he was on the Dark Lord's side, she still loved him dearly, harboring the same emotions she felt ever since she was a little girl.

But as she turned the corner, she saw Draco kneeling over you, as if the two of you were in your own little bubble. His body trembled violently as he cradled you so gently, grasping at your figure with such a tightness as if he never wanted to let you go.

All the chaos of the battlefield began to fade out as Astoria watched Draco whisper soft words to you–words she couldn't hear but feel in her bones and soul–as you looked up at him hopelessly with a sad smile on your face.

Tears streamed endlessly down Draco's face as your lungs tightened and your eyes began to close; Astoria slowly saw Draco reveal a vulnerability he rarely ever showed–so different from his typical cold demeanor.

She watched silently, remaining unnoticed, as tears brimmed in her eyes watching the melancholy scene unfold in front of her. Oh, how she wished it was her he was crying over.

Draco hadn't taken notice of her until he lifted your body carefully in his arms, facing Astoria with a raw look in his eyes clearly filled with love and heartbreak.

Astoria's heart ached.

This was something she'd never seen before. Something she knew only belonged to you.

–

Since then, Astoria had always known: she was simply a placeholder of you.

Still, she had hopes of being capable of taking your position.

She chose to pursue Draco, somehow becoming his "girlfriend" a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and his "wife" two years after.

But deep down, they both knew that titles like "wife" and "girlfriend" carried little meaning in the shadow of his true love for you.

But Astoria wanted to be selfish. She chose to put her desires first.

So despite knowing that if you were still alive, Draco would leap into your arms, abandoning the life Astoria and he had built just to be with you again, She didn't care.

So, every May, Astoria chose to be reminded of your significance to Draco.

She chose to hopelessly cling onto an opportunity that would never come–the chance to be Draco Malfoy's true love, one that would forever belong to you.

Authors Note: my first fic ever! please enjoy <3 also GUYS PLS IGNORE MISTAKES IM FIXING THEMMM AS WE SPEAK

divider creds:: @issysh3ll

[cloveswifey]

Love you, but not yet

Draco Malfoy

Tags: fluff at the beginning • established relationship • Draco being an asshole • emotional hurt • sharp words & wounded hearts • angst-heavy • vulnerability turned sour • the “L word” left unsaid or weaponized • love vs pride • tension & regret • storm after the calm • broken trust • soft beginnings, sharp endings

It was always the quiet moments with Draco that undid me.

Not the grand gestures or the stolen glances across the Great Hall, though those had their own kind of magic. No, it was the way he held himself in stillness. The way he leaned against the cold stone wall of the Astronomy Tower, arms folded, expression unreadable, pale eyes fixed on the stars as if they might finally tell him something useful. As if he could force answers out of them by glaring hard enough.

I stood beside him, close enough to feel the brush of his sleeve against mine every time the wind shifted, but not quite close enough to touch. That was how it always was with Draco. Close. Never quite close enough.

"You're quiet tonight," I murmured.

His mouth twitched, the faintest hint of something dry and knowing. "That's a bit rich, coming from you. You've been staring at me for the last five minutes instead of saying anything interesting."

I turned to him. "Maybe I was thinking of something interesting to say."

"I doubt it," he said, though there was no real bite to it.

Moonlight caught in his hair, turning the pale blond almost silver. It softened the sharpness of him, but only just. His jaw was still tense, his posture still too controlled, like even standing still took effort. Draco always looked composed, but up close, when no one else was there to see, I noticed the cracks. The tightness in his shoulders. The way his fingers flexed once at his side before he folded them back into stillness.

"You're impossible," I said.

He glanced sideways at me then, slow and deliberate. "And yet you're here."

There it was. That quiet, dangerous sort of flirtation he never seemed to mean and always meant. It settled low in my chest and stayed there.

"Maybe I like impossible," I said.

A faint smirk touched his lips. "That does sound like your sort of poor judgment."

I laughed under my breath, but the sound faded quickly. Because underneath the sarcasm, underneath the easy back-and-forth, there was something heavier tonight. Something restless in the set of his mouth, in the way he kept looking away from me and back at the sky.

I knew Draco. I knew the way he hid behind indifference, behind mockery, behind that polished pure-blood arrogance he wore like armour. But I also knew when he was fraying beneath it.

So I said the thing I hadn't meant to say. The thing that had been pressing against my ribs for weeks, months, maybe longer.

"I love you."

The words slipped out softly, but in the silence between us, they sounded far too loud.

Draco went still.

Not dramatically. He didn't gasp or recoil. But every line of him tightened. His shoulders drew back. His face emptied itself too quickly, like he'd pulled a mask into place by instinct.

Then he looked at me.

Really looked.

There was something raw in his expression, gone almost as soon as I saw it, but not before it lodged itself somewhere deep inside me.

He let out a quiet breath through his nose. "You really do have atrocious timing."

I blinked. "That's your response?"

"Would you prefer poetry?" he asked, voice soft and edged with something brittle. "I can try, if you like. Though I think we'd both suffer for it."

"Draco."

My voice must have changed, because his eyes flickered. The smirk faded. For a moment he looked tired. Younger, somehow. Not softer exactly, but less guarded.

He turned away first, gaze dropping to the grounds below. "Don't do that."

My chest tightened. "Do what?"

"Say things like that as if they're simple." His jaw clenched. "As if you can just hand someone a feeling and expect them to know what to do with it."

I stepped closer. "It is simple. I love you."

He gave a short, humourless laugh. "No, that's the problem. You make it sound simple."

"Then tell me what it is."

Draco was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. The wind moved around us, cold and restless, stirring his hair across his forehead. He didn't seem to notice.

Finally, he said, very quietly, "Dangerous."

I stared at him.

He kept going, as if once the word had escaped, the rest couldn't be held back. "Stupid. Reckless. Completely unfair." He glanced at me, and there was something sharp in his eyes now, something pained. "Do you have any idea what you do to me when you look at me like that?"

My breath caught.

"Like what?" I asked.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second before lifting again. "Don't make me say it."

There it was again. That pull between us. That dangerous warmth under all the tension.

"Maybe I want you to," I said.

A real smile threatened at the corner of his mouth, brief and crooked and so rare it nearly ruined me. "You're insufferable."

"You've said that before."

"Because it's true."

"And yet you keep meeting me up here."

That landed. His expression shifted, becoming more guarded, but not before I saw the answer in it.

He looked away. "Not yet," he said at last.

It hurt more than a rejection should have, because it wasn't one. It wasn't no. It was worse. It was hope, held at arm's length.

"Why not?" I asked, and I hated how unsteady I sounded.

Draco's throat moved as he swallowed. "Because I can't give you anything properly. Not now." He laughed once under his breath, bitter and self-directed. "I'm hardly in a position to offer anyone anything, unless they have a particular interest in family disgrace and looming catastrophe."

"I don't care about any of that."

"Well, I do." He turned to me sharply. "You think I don't know what people say? You think I don't know what I am?"

"I know exactly who you are."

He looked almost angry at that. "No, you don't."

"I do," I said, stepping into his space before I could think better of it. "I know you're cruel when you're scared. I know you hide behind that awful smirk when you don't want anyone getting too close. I know you act like nothing matters, and then lose sleep over things you'd never admit out loud."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't move away.

So I kept going, softer now. "I know you're better than you let people believe. And I know you're terrified of letting anyone see you want something you might not get to keep."

For one suspended moment, he said nothing.

Then, very quietly, he asked, "Have you finished dissecting me, or should I stand still a bit longer?"

I huffed out a laugh despite myself. "You know, for someone having an emotional crisis, you're still horribly smug."

His lips curved faintly. "It's one of my better qualities."

"Debatable."

"You keep coming back, so it can't be that intolerable."

The flirtation was lighter now, but more fragile too. It felt like touching glass and hoping it wouldn't crack.

"I see you, Draco," I said.

That did it.

Something in his face changed. The cool, polished expression slipped, and for a second I could see the boy underneath it all. Tired, frightened, aching, and trying very hard not to show any of it.

He closed his eyes. "Don't."

"Why?"

"Because if you say things like that, I might start believing you."

My heart twisted. "Then believe me."

He opened his eyes again, and there was no mockery left in them now. Only honesty, bare and uncomfortable and impossible to ignore.

"I'm not ready," he said.

This time it sounded like an apology.

I nodded once, though it felt like forcing air into my lungs. "All right."

His brow furrowed slightly. "All right?"

"I said all right. Not because I like it." I swallowed. "But because I'd rather have the truth from you than a lie you think I want."

Draco stared at me, and something about that look was almost disarming. "You are," he said slowly, "incredibly inconvenient."

"And yet," I said, echoing him.

That earned me the smallest exhale of a laugh.

He turned back toward the stars, though not fully. He stayed angled toward me now, as if some part of him had already given up on pretending indifference. His hands were flexing at his sides again.

"I think about you," he said suddenly.

I went still.

He kept his eyes fixed ahead. "More than I should. More than is remotely helpful." His mouth tightened. "You're there when I wake up. In class. At dinner. Merlin, even when I'm trying very hard to think about literally anything else."

My pulse thudded hard against my throat. "Draco..."

He cut me off with a glance. "Don't look so pleased with yourself. It's embarrassing enough as it is."

I couldn't help it. I smiled. "So you admit it, then?"

"I admit nothing," he said automatically, then paused. "I just said it, didn't I?"

"You did."

His expression darkened with that same flicker of fear. "And that's precisely the problem."

I stepped closer again, slowly this time, giving him every chance to pull away.

He didn't.

"You're scared," I said.

His jaw tightened. "Obviously."

"Of me?"

That made him scoff softly. "Hardly."

"Of this, then."

He hesitated. "Yes."

The honesty of it settled between us.

"Because if I let myself have it," he said, voice low, "have you, and something goes wrong..."

He broke off, but I understood. With Draco, unfinished sentences often said the most.

I moved close enough now that I could feel the warmth of him in the cold night air. "You won't lose me."

His eyes lifted to mine, searching, wary, wanting very badly to believe me and not quite knowing how.

"You can't promise that," he said.

"Maybe not." I held his gaze. "But I'm promising that I'm here now."

He looked at me for a long time. Then his attention dipped, once more, to my mouth. There was nothing accidental about it this time.

"You make it very difficult to be sensible," he murmured.

A smile pulled at my lips. "Was that meant to be a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it."

"Too late."

That earned me a look, exasperated and heated all at once.

Then, as if deciding something he wasn't ready to name, Draco lifted his hand.

He hesitated just before touching me, his fingers hovering near mine. Even then, even now, there was restraint in him. Care. Fear.

When his fingers finally brushed mine, the contact was so slight it should have meant nothing.

It meant everything.

I let out a breath. "I love you," I said again, softer this time. "And I'll wait, if that's what you need."

His lashes lowered. He exhaled slowly, and when he spoke, his voice had gone rough around the edges.

"Not forever."

I smiled, though my chest still ached. "No. Not forever. Just until you're ready."

His thumb shifted, barely grazing the side of my hand. It was such a small thing, but from Draco it felt startlingly intimate.

When he opened his eyes, something in them had changed. He still hadn't said the words back. He still wasn't ready. But the distance between us had narrowed into something quieter, steadier, real.

"I'll get there," he said.

I nodded. "I know you will."

He studied me for another second, then a faint, familiar smirk returned. Softer than usual, but definitely there.

"You know," he said, "it's deeply irritating that you can say things like that and sound sincere."

I smiled. "And it's deeply irritating that you flirt with me in the middle of rejecting me."

His brows lifted. "Rejecting you? That's a bit dramatic."

"'Not yet' is still a form of torture."

"Please," he drawled. "If I were trying to torture you, you'd know."

I laughed, and this time he did too, quiet and brief, but real.

We stood there a little longer under the stars, hands barely touching, the cold pressing in around us. He was still guarded. Still caught behind everything he couldn't say. But not unreachable. Not anymore.

And even though the words were still trapped somewhere behind his pride and fear and silence, I could feel them there.

Waiting.

[marshallowpuff]

Meant to be

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

Summary: When you and Draco became something real, but everything around you made sure it didn’t last.

Warnings: no use of y/n

Cw: angst

Wc: 3k+

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (coming soon)

Beauxbatons was beautiful in a way that made your chest hurt. Grand staircases spiraled upward. Gardens bloomed with flowers you'd never seen. Everything felt utterly foreign.

Your cousin showed you around, but everything felt hollow. It was as if you'd left part of yourself at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement, in his arms.

Hannah's letters arrived regularly, but their silence on certain subjects was deafening. Three weeks in, she finally broke down.

"He came looking for you on the first day back," her letter read. "He went to the Hufflepuff common room. When he realized you weren't there, when he realized you weren't coming back, he just... shut down. He looks hollow."

You read that letter until the paper fell apart at the creases.

You tried to write him a hundred letters. Sat in the Beauxbatons library with parchment and quill, searching for words that would explain everything. But every version sounded like an excuse. In the end, you wrote nothing. What was the point?

Draco's sixth year was a descent into darkness. Without her light, everything became harder to bear. He threw himself into studies with desperate intensity, as if perfecting spells might change his fate.

He spent the first month looking for her. Checking the library at odd hours. Walking past the Hufflepuff common room like a ghost. Catching himself looking for her at meals before remembering.

When Hannah finally told him the truth—that you'd been transferred, that you were gone—something broke inside him.

She'd left without telling him. After everything, she'd chosen to disappear.

He became colder. The teasing vanished completely. His face became a mask, perfect and impenetrable. He rarely smiled anymore. In the Great Hall, he sat in silence, his expression blank, his eyes empty.

People noticed. "He never smiles anymore," one seventh-year said to a friend. "It's like someone died inside him."

They were right. The part of him that had loved, that had teased, that had felt anything at all—that part was gone, buried under ice.

In the common room, he'd sit completely silent. When people tried to engage him, he'd respond with single-word answers delivered in a tone so cold it made skin crawl. Even Snape seemed concerned, noting how the brilliance had dimmed to almost nothing.

By December, the Dark Mark was burned into his forearm. With it came a burden so heavy he thought it might crush him. A task that involved Hogwarts. A task that would either destroy him or turn him into someone unrecognizable.

He wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her.

But she was gone. And he had no one to blame but himself.

The months stretched on like a wasteland.

You made friends at Beauxbatons. Real friends, kind friends, people who didn't know your heartbreak and didn't pry when you sometimes went quiet in the middle of conversations, lost in thoughts you couldn't articulate. You attended classes and earned decent marks, though you found it hard to concentrate on French incantations when your heart was still speaking in English accents that belonged to a boy an ocean away. You participated in Quidditch practice and actually played well, losing yourself in the rush of flight and the focus required to chase the Snitch, in those brief moments when the only thing that existed was the wind and the sky and the pure, uncomplicated joy of flying.

On the surface, you were healing. Your smile became more genuine. You laughed at jokes that had nothing to do with him. You made memories that didn't hurt to access. You were becoming a new version of yourself, a girl who'd loved deeply and been broken and was slowly learning to live again.

But there was a part of you that was still sitting in the Room of Requirement, waiting for him. There was a part of you that flinched every time a letter arrived, hoping it might be from him, knowing it wouldn't be, because you'd made the conscious choice not to reach out. There was a part of you that checked the mirror you'd bought in Hogsmeade—a small, ornate thing you'd kept hidden in your trunk—the one that would show you glimpses of Hogwarts if you held it just right and whispered the right incantation, looking for any sign of him, any proof that he was still there, still alive, still existing in the world even if he wasn't existing in your world anymore.

You never saw him in that mirror. You didn't know if he was deliberately avoiding reflective surfaces, if he'd found a way to hide himself even from the magic meant to track him, or if he'd simply accepted that you were gone and stopped trying to find you. It hurt either way—the not knowing was perhaps worse than any concrete answer could have been.

You heard through an older Beauxbatons student who had friends at Hogwarts that there was something happening. Something dark. Something that involved Draco. The details were vague and fragmented, but the fear was real. Your heart had started racing uncontrollably, a primal terror that something was happening to him, that he was in danger, that he was suffering.

You didn't have access to the kind of information that would tell you what was really going on. You only had worry and the terrible, helpless knowledge that he was going through something you couldn't help him with, facing something you weren't there to face alongside him.

For the first time since leaving Hogwarts, you truly grasped what your parents had been trying to protect you from. Not the love. They could never protect you from having loved him. But the danger. The darkness that came with his name, his family, the choices he couldn't make for himself.

It didn't make the separation hurt any less.

Draco spent December and January in a haze of despair that seemed to seep into his very bones.

The Dark Mark had been pressed into his forearm during the winter holidays, burned into his skin in a ritual that felt less like an honor and more like a branding, a searing that left not just physical scarring but a permanent mark on his soul. And with it came a burden so heavy he thought it might crush him entirely, might press him down into the ground and bury him there where no one would have to see what he'd become.

His father had given him a task—a task that involved Hogwarts, that was almost certainly meant to either turn him into someone completely unrecognizable or result in his death. The specifics were vague, designed to keep him in a state of perpetual anxiety, wondering what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to do it, whether he'd ever be capable of doing it.

He wanted to tell someone. More than anything, he wanted to tell her.

The realization that he couldn't—that she was gone, that he'd destroyed any chance of her ever knowing what was happening to him when he'd made those public, cruel statements to protect her from being associated with him, to make her want to leave before he was pulled completely under—hit him like a curse, hit him like a punch to the stomach that knocked all the air out of his lungs.

He'd sacrificed her to save her, and in the process, he'd lost her anyway. He'd pushed her away, made her believe he didn't care, made her hate him, all so that when the darkness came—and he'd known it was coming—she wouldn't be pulled down with him. And in doing that, he'd broken them both in ways he wasn't sure could ever be repaired.

The Room of Requirement became his refuge, the way it had been when she was there. But now it was filled with shadows instead of soft light. Now it conjured images of the couch where they'd held each other, the fireplace where they'd sat and talked about futures that would never materialize, the walls that had seemed to understand their love now seemed to mock it with their empty vastness.

He tried to keep it away, tried not to go there, tried to find other places to escape to. But the Room would find him, would manifest itself in corridors where he needed it, and he was too exhausted to resist. So he'd go in, and he'd sit in the darkness, and he'd remember her laugh, her eyes, the way she'd looked at him like he was capable of being good, like he wasn't already lost.

He became something hard and cold as spring turned to summer, like ice forming over water, like winter freezing over the world. The boy who had teased her, who had delivered cruelty wrapped in intelligence, who had at least occasionally shown that he felt something—that boy ceased to exist.

In his place was someone harder, someone colder, someone who had completely sealed himself off from any semblance of human emotion. The teasing was gone entirely. The mockery had vanished. Even his presence seemed to repel people now, as if he'd built walls so high and so thick around himself that no one dared to approach.

He barely spoke anymore. In the common room, he'd sit in complete silence, his expression unreadable. When people tried to engage him, he'd respond with single-word answers delivered in a tone so cold it made people's skin crawl. The sharp wit that had once been his defining characteristic had been replaced by an emptiness that was somehow more terrifying. He'd become a ghost, moving through the corridors like someone who wasn't quite alive anymore.

His task was already underway. His father was pleased. His mother had stopped asking him questions, had stopped pretending she didn't know what was coming, had simply accepted that her son was being consumed by forces neither of them could control. And he was dying by degrees, losing pieces of himself that he wasn't sure he'd ever get back—his conscience, his hope, the part of him that could tease and mock and feel, the part of him that had loved her.

Teachers noticed the change too. Even Snape, who had always favored him, seemed concerned by the complete withdrawal. Draco's grades remained impeccable—fear and obedience ensured that—but there was something else missing now. The spark that had made him brilliant had dimmed to almost nothing. He was a shadow of what he'd been, going through the motions, performing the role of a Slytherin student but not truly alive anymore.

The worst part was that she wasn't even there to watch it happen. She wasn't there to try to save him. She wasn't there to remind him that there was goodness in the world, that kindness existed, that love was real. She wasn't there to see what her absence had done to him, how completely it had destroyed the carefully constructed mask he wore, how completely it had frozen over every warm thing inside him.

She was gone. Safe in another castle in another country, living a life that had nothing to do with him. And he had no one to blame but himself.

When your father told you that a student from Hogwarts had died—that there had been a terrible accident, that someone had been killed in the castle in circumstances that were still unclear, that there was blood and chaos and a darkness that the Ministry was trying to cover up—your blood went absolutely cold.

"Who?" you demanded, your voice shaking with a terror so intense you could barely breathe. "Who died? Was it a student we know? Was it anyone from Hufflepuff?"

"I don't know the specifics," your father said gently, moving toward you with the kind of careful concern that made it clear he understood what you were asking, even if he wasn't saying it directly. "The name wasn't in the report the Ministry released. But it was someone important. Someone significant enough that the death made it into the wizarding papers, which means someone powerful is affected."

You spent three days in a state of terror so complete it was like drowning, like the world had narrowed to a single point of agonized uncertainty. You couldn't eat. You couldn't concentrate on your studies. You pulled Hannah's letters apart looking for any clue, any hint as to who had died, praying with an intensity that bordered on religious fervor that it wouldn't be the one person you absolutely couldn't bear to lose.

When Hannah's letter finally arrived, your hands shook so badly you could barely break the seal. You read the first line three times before you allowed yourself to believe it.

"He's alive," she'd written immediately, as if she'd sensed your fear across the distance and had made the information the very first thing she told you, the most important thing she could possibly communicate. "Whatever you're thinking, whoever you're afraid died, it wasn't him. He's changed though. He looks like a ghost. He looks like someone who's lost everything. Like someone the war has already consumed before the actual fighting has even started."

You'd sunk to the floor after reading that, relief and heartbreak crashing through you in equal measure. He was alive. He was suffering, he was changing into someone maybe you wouldn't recognize anymore, he was being destroyed by circumstances neither of you could control, but he was alive. That had to be enough.

It wasn't enough. But it was what you had.

You'd made it through your year at Beauxbatons. You'd passed your exams. You'd even started to laugh again, genuinely, at things that had nothing to do with him. But there was a kind of melancholy that had become permanent, a quality to your joy that was slightly muted, slightly careful, like you were always holding back just in case.

The war was coming. You could feel it in the way people talked about Hogwarts, in the worried letters from your friends, in the darkness that seemed to be creeping across the wizarding world. And somewhere in that darkness was him, alone, facing things you couldn't even imagine.

You thought about going back. You thought about defying your parents again, thought about using every trick you knew to try to get back to England, back to Hogwarts, back to him. But you were older now. You understood the impossibility of it in a way you hadn't before. Your parents were trying to keep you safe. The world was collapsing. And he—he was part of a family that was orchestrating much of that collapse.

Love wasn't enough to overcome the divide between you. You'd learned that the hard way.

But you still thought about him. You still wondered what he was doing, whether he thought of you, whether he'd managed to survive whatever dark thing his family had pulled him into. You still held onto the letters you'd written and burned, the words you'd never gotten to say, the explanations he'd never gotten to hear.

You'd loved him with an intensity that had shaken you. And you'd lost him in a way that had shattered you.

And you were still learning how to pick up the pieces.

A/n: sry it took so long to update but good news tmr im most likely posting the next part real soon, comment to be tagged!

Taglist: @gabriellewood, @lulzs-world06, @bumblebeebutter, @svnn132, @learninglinesintherainn, @nanamisandkakashiswife, @mochi-bear24, @bevwalsh, @bambibbam, @lilyyyyy08, @kakaolover

[draymalfoy7]

Draco Malfoy Fanfictions

~a collection of all Draco fics I recommend from different platforms. All fics are either Draco x Reader OR Draco x Original Character

Wattpad

(most of these are long and everything is completed)

Restricted - malfoysho

Training Wheels - alishawrites(luv luv luv it)

The World and Her Stars - alex1s18 (MY FAV)

The World and Her Stars: one shots

Potter? - Seselina ( A CLASSIC )

My Fake Boyfriend - sameezyy

so far on wattpad these are all I have that left a mark on me, some in my library, I dropped and some I couldn't remember if I already read or tbr.

AO3

(one shots, long stories, fluffs, smuts, some are taboo so I warn u to check summary first. ranges from 2k words - 1million words)

Things we can't forget

The Pact

Detention, retention and Draco being a little shit

The Slytherin Princess

Firsts

Pink in the night

Fresh start

Finding Sanctuary

Isn't? (Fav one shot)

Wonders of Ohio

Never like this

Right here all along (love this, set in regency era)

Wanderlust, wonder if it's lust

Starfish (very cute and softt)

Late Fees

Hiraeth (top tier writing and literature references)

A Magical Classmate (another Favv!)

The Nanny

Wish upon a star (longest, 1.1m words but I lovee)

The Hogwarts Descendant (best plot, 811k words)

What can I get you? (OH I LOVE THIS, FAV AU)

Astrea

Exams Are Meant For Naughty Interruptions

Punish Me, Professor Malfoy (Pt. 2)

Choose Me Instead

Peppermint

A Dragon's Promise

Little by Little

Sleeping with the enemy

You can check my ao3, I've read a lot already but these are just my bookmarks & favess, kudos not included yet : ao3 riyeu

TUMBLR

Masterlists

dracosathenaeum

dracosathenaeum's recos

fuckingjimin

earlgreydream

littlemissnoname13

iliveiloveiwrite

dracosaurusrex

lqveharrington

minty-malfoy

henqtic

prttydolls (my fav masterlist)

desiredmalfoy

sapphicwhxre

rosierecs13 recommendations

part 2

dr4cking (SMUTTTT :P HEH)

loving-daisy

fallingforfictionalcharacterss

shespeaksinsongs (FAV AUTHORR)

silverdelirium

(If you want to browse more draco tumblr fics, u can check my account. I only included masterlists because my account has loads of reblogged fics feel free to check anytime!)

Note: Almost all of these I've already read, very few are halfway finished. You can comment if some links don't work, I'll fix it ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ

[arbitrarykiwi]

IF YOURE OPEN TO IT MAYBE STREAMER SE-MI X FEM!READER!!!! I LOVED UR NAMGYU AND THANOS ONES AS WELL

Now Streaming...

Se-Mi Version

IF IM OPEN TO IT?!? WHEW BABY AM I?!?! I LOVE MY WIFE!!!!! hope you enjoy :333 I hope you like it !!!!!!!

Warnings: none, sfw, fluff, despite being sfw this blog is 18+

“I’m gonna go live, baby..”

You smile, bare feet pattering against the wooden floor of the apartment as you jog down the hallway. “‘M coming!! Wait for me!!” You call out, giggling and rushing into the office.

“Never would start without you.” Se-Mi says, turning around in her desk chair to face you, “wouldn’t be a good stream if you weren’t sitting all pretty on the couch behind me”

She’s opening her arms, beckoning you over. Never one to deny your girlfriend, you’re striding over to the space between her legs and wrapping your arms around her.

Instantly, Se-Mi is tightening her arms around your waist and pushing her face into your stomach, nuzzling into you like she’s trying to get into your skin, “mmm, you smell so good..” She hums, hands trailing down your back to grasp at your ass, pulling you into her even more, “good enough to eat~”

She bites playfully at your ribs, right under your bra, her teeth clenching around the fabric. In a fit of giggles you’re pushing away from her, grabbing her chin and shaking her head back and forth playfully.

Your thumb gently brushes over her bottom lip, playing with the sliver ring that rests against her pink, pillowy lips. “Ya got a stream to start soon, you can’t keep them waiting.”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right.” She responds playfully, lips puckering to place a kiss on the pad of your thumb. Tapping lightly on your ass, she’s spinning back around to face the monitor. “Go get comfy, beautiful.”

You’re walking over to the small couch against the wall, it’s out of frame but allows you to sit and watch both Se-Mi, the computer monitor with chat and whatever else she was doing for her thousands of subscribers and viewers.

“Annnnddd we’re good?” Your girlfriend’s voice echos out through the room, talking to the stream that eventually fills will with comments saying the stream was running well.

“Hell yeah, alright, it’s Thursday so we’re listening to music you guys send in to review it. I think we got some stuff already in queue-“

She does it effortlessly, attracting more viewers by the second and laughing along with the mass amounts of comments supporting her. This is one of the reasons why you always insist on watching her stream- the way she does it like it’s second nature to her, entertaining and engaging the viewers while having the widest smile possible. It’s adorable.

It’s odd, you think, maybe a trick of the blue light of the computer and the golden yellow hue of the ring light, but Se-Mi always looks so good. Her sharp features are accentuated by the light, her dark eyes shimmering every time she laughs with a wide smile at some comment by the chat, it even practically spotlights every time she plays with the lip ring that hugs her plush bottom lip.

Safe to say, she looks so fucking good. It’s a beauty that has your heart skipping a beat every time you watch her stream. Happy, laughing, completely in her element- it was such a good look on her.

And the chat always thought so too…but it seemed like this stream, with sleeveless shirt she had on that showed off the bandeau top she wore under ever so slightly when she raised her arms or turned to the side- the chat wasn’t nearly as tame as usual.

You couldn’t even fault them for it. She did look so good. The black choker she usually wears sitting so prettily on her neck, the silver jewelry in her nose and on her lip sparkling every time she turned her face, her outfit that showed off her waist and arms, and her hair that fell in her face just the slightest bit- oh yeah. You wanted to worship her then and there. So of course the devoted viewers thought so too.

But she was streaming- reviewing music that was submitted by the same chatters who are sending borderline obscene comments in the chat.

“Ohhh shit~” Se-Mi coos, nodding along to the beat of the submission someone had sent, “this is so good, I’m definitely adding it to my playlist.”

‘It should be !!our!! playlist’

‘Thinking bout that song and kissing her <3’

‘Omg her liking this song just makes her so much hotter’

You frown, just slightly as you watch the comments roll in from your spot on the couch, you’re used to it really- your girlfriend is hot- people are going to try and flirt. Normally, it made you proud. That was your girl!! The chatters could flirt all they want but at the end of the day you were the one riding her face- so jokes on them.

But something about the comments talking about song playlists with her and making out with your girlfriend to some song that doesn’t even come close to the handful of playlists you’ve made for her- it’s making something inside you tick with annoyance.

“Ohhhhh~ this reminds me of this artist I really like. Hold on, do you guys know this one?!” Se-Mi says excitedly, paying no mind to the comments or missing them completely (you weren’t sure). She’s leaning forward, face closer to the camera as she clicks through her shared Spotify screen.

She’s pulling up a band you showed her, a song that was your song. Your heart flutters. Even if Se-Mi wasn’t boisterous about your relationship with her, she always made sure to do something on stream that was for you, just for you. A slight nod to her favorite girl in the world, you.

Your frown is replaced with a small smile when the soft thrum of the song you know all too well begins to leak from the headphones she has on. Se-Mi turns a bit in the chair, looking over to you and smiling wide. She winks, a subtle motion that isn’t picked up on her face cam with the angle she was in- it was only seen by you- only for you.

You laugh silently to yourself and blow a dramatic kiss her way before she turns back to the computer set up. Goofy, wide smile on her face, Se-Mi goes back to reading the chat.

‘Omg stfu, she’s so cute.’

‘She’s so hot for knowing this band’

‘She definitely saw my DM recommending this! Ugh I knew I had a chance.’

Your face sours again, it was annoying that someone else seemed to think they showed your girlfriend the song you showed her.

“See I knew you guys would fuck with this one…” Se-Mi responds to the chat, “my girlfriend showed me this band when we first started dating.”

The way she says it, it flows so easily. Anytime you hear Se-Mi call you her girlfriend you feel like you’re being confessed to all over again. And for her to do it on stream and after someone thought they had even the slightest chance- Your smile is widening and your heart is skipping a beat.

Your eyes flick back to the chat, it’s instinctive at this point, you wanna know what the viewers are saying to your precious girlfriend.

‘She has a gf?!? Ugh rip.’

‘All the pretty ones are taken :(‘

‘Omg yall didn’t know she had a gf?! She’s literally so pretty, se mi deadass posted on her ig.’

The frown that was forming once more turns back into a smile seeing the most recent comment (given it’s removed from view seconds later with more chatters), seeing it makes you so happy. You two were public but private- so it made sense that some of the newer viewers that came from her popularity boom recently had no idea who you were.

Se-Mi chuckles, nodding in agreement to the comment you were happy about. She never paid attention to the flirting or the attempts at trying to get with her- she was more than happy with you and no comment from some random faceless (viewer or anything for that matter) could take her eyes away from you. She was completely and utterly devoted to you.

“My baby is so pretty isn’t she? She literally is so beaut- OHHHH MY LOORDDD! Guys, she bought me the signed, handwritten, lyric sheet from that artist I mentioned, you know the one I did a whole album review on last week- yeah! That artist!” Se-Mi cuts herself off, unintentionally, to boast about you.

“I mean like…I don’t even know how she found it, but it’s handwritten lyrics from my favorite song signed by the artist! She’s the fuckin’ best.”

You’re sat on the couch, smile so big your cheeks are hurting. It’s not often she talks about her private life or you so openly, she prefers to keep her private life her private life…but she can’t help herself sometimes. So every so often on streams, like now she’s ranting about her love for you and how great you are!

“Oh! Damn, my bad guys, the song ended…I’ll give that one probably a 6/10- like its good but compared to the first one of the album it wasn’t as good. Plus we still have 5 songs to get through so I don’t wanna get a head of myself.”

And just like that, she’s falling back into line with her music reviewing. It was cute- anytime she ranted about something she was passionate about, be that you or music, she gets this adorable smile on her face and her eyes light up, she starts talking with her hands too- it makes your heart melt.

“Next song!” She’s cheering, clicking play and sitting back in her chair to listen intently.

You curl up on the couch, pulling the blanket over you body and settling in much like her, leaning back and listening to the soft echo of the song out of her headphones and the sweet sound of her voice commenting on the songs.

Every so often your eyes drift back to the monitor, catching the chats responses. And for the most part, they’re friendly supportive comments that make you happy she has such a great community.

But with being an online personality…not all comments are just friendly.

‘I’m telling you let this one land and you’ll like it, the intro is just weird’

‘I can’t believe you gave the last song a 6 :( rip’

‘Your gf is so cute for that gift omg. Talk about soul mates.’

‘What gf? I looked at her ig and there’s not a pic of her’

‘Oh I found it….so far down. Must not be serious….sooo heyyy ;)’

Your eyebrows furrow, your breath hitches, you try not to be upset- you’re painfully aware that this random person has no chance with your girlfriend but reading it still doesn’t feel good. It also makes you mad for her…she’s trying to do what she loves and she’s being practically objectified by random commenters.

Se-Mi doesn’t even intend to read that message, she just happens to catch it. It’s a reaction that’s engraved in her. She’s immediately pausing the music on stream and spinning her chair to the side to face you.

“C’mere.”

You look to her confused but she’s beckoning you over with her hand, “C’mon!! Wanna show you off for a minute, humor me.”

She’s smiling at you so wide, eyes shining with an admiration you could never get tired of seeing- you have no option but to oblige. You’re standing up from the couch and walking over to her chair. Se-Mi wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, making sure you’re in frame- then she’s pulling you to sit on her lap, arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you.

“So yeah! She’s literally the best! I don’t know how she knew what song to get me the lyric sheet of, I swear I’ve never told her-“

“You play it all the time Mi-Mi. Of course I know it’s your favorite without you telling me directly” You giggle, saying the nickname that she only allows you to call her, her cheeks flushing a soft pink like they always do when she hears it.

Se-Mi is groaning playfully and hiding behind your back, knowing she’s about to get teased by her chat for being so soft for her pretty lil’ girlfriend.

“Awhhh come onnnn~” she’s groaning playfully nuzzling her face into your back before pulling away and reappearing in frame when she’s leans back to the side. Her eyes flick through the chat- making sure no one is saying anything mean about her baby.

‘Lolllllll!! Is it still ‘not serious’ now?! Omg ban that one chatter plz.’

Se-Mi laughs and nods in agreement with the commenter, “yeah funny they should even try to say it’s ‘not serious’ when I have a tattoo of her lips somewhere on me that I can’t show you all per twitches terms of service.”

You’re pushing her playfully, squealing and covering her mouth, “Shhh, ohmygod, you guys didn’t hear that.” You say looking into the camera with a pleading look.

Se-Mi shakes free from your grip and places a soft kiss on your fingers before taking your hand in her own, “so yes, it’s very serious, always has been and definitely always will be.” She says to the chat but she’s looking up at you with the most lovestruck grin on her face.

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonth3intern3t @reilapse @yuuumeee

[arbitrarykiwi]

*⁀➷ Jewelry Change and Test Run

Se-Mi (Player 380) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual things , heavy makeout , otherwise sfw , despite being sfw this blog is +18

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“So that’s how that works…huh..”

It falls out of your mouth without thinking. You’re sat behind your girlfriend on the floor, watching her reflection in the mirror as she fiddles with the silver hoop that fits snugly on her lip. You hear a soft click as she gets the ring open.

“Mhmm..” she mumbles, finally pulling the old hoop out of the piercing hole it’s been in the whole time you’ve seen her. You watch as her eyebrows furrow the slightest bit as she feels the gentle tug of the metal jewelry being pulled completely out. She takes the metal ring out with her thumb and pointer finger.

You stare at her reflection blankly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your lip ring…” you say, tilting your head like you’re examining her, the cutest little smile on your face.

“I don’t think you have.” Se-Mi confirms, eyes flicking back up to lock with your reflection. She gives you a wide smile, showing off her bare lip, “It’s weird right? It feels weird to me, I feel fucking naked.” She says laughing, putting the old jewelry in the small container she had ready for it.

“You look oh so beautiful and sexy with or without it. But it definitely fits you.” You say with a giggle, “Plus I like the way it feels.”

“Like the way it feels huh? So you like having the metal bump against your clit when I eat you-“

“I meant when I kiss you!!” You gasp playfully, lightly shoving her shoulder, “get your mind outta the gutter you fiend!…But yes also that- it feels good there too.” In seconds your face is flushes and you’re adverting your eyes from hers in the reflection of the mirror.

Se-Mi rocks backwards, reaching herself back to place a quick kiss on your cheek, “you’re so cute, you know that? Get so shy so easy.” She says, words laced with a deep admiration that makes your heart flutter. She’s rocking back to her position before and fixating on the new jewelry she got.

“What made you wanna change it?” It’s a random inquiry, you’re truly so interested in her piercings. You take in the way she looks without the lip ring. It’s such a small change but it really does affect the way she looks. It’s almost like the ring was genuinely a part of her- she was right, she kinda looked naked without it.

Oddly enough, that thought makes your cheeks flush hotter and your smile widen- she wouldn’t be caught dead without the lip ring when you two would go out, it’s a mandatory accessory! Yet, here she is taking her time with it out to inspect the new jewelry, allowing you to see her bare in a way that you couldn’t describe.

“I just had that one for so long…” she mumbles, leaning closer to the mirror to begin the process of putting the ring back in. “Thought it was time for a new one- plus I like the little diamond this one has in the center.”

She’s turning around to you once more, extending her hand, palm up with the new lip ring sat right in the middle, “see! I thought it was pretty, has a lil’ gem on it!” She says excitedly, watching with bright eyes as you pick it up and examine it much as she had.

Se-Mi was right, it was really pretty- a definite upgrade from the old one she had. “It will look so pretty on you!” You say, already imaging the way the round crystal would look pressed against the pink, plush, flesh of her bottom lip. “I really like it..” You say, smile now on your cheeks for so long it hurts, handing the small ring back to her- careful not to drop it.

She takes it back, turning back towards the mirror and leaning in. You find yourself leaning in too, curious to watch the process up close. You hear how she chuckles under her breath, her dark eyes flicking up to watch your adorable expression through the mirror.

Focused back on the task at hand, as hard as you make it (you’re always a distraction for her), she’s clicking open the ring and dropping her mouth open. Threading the metal through the piercing hole on the outside of her lip, you can see the way her tongue moves to catch the ring and thread it through alll the way.

Her hand comes up again, clicking the ring closed. It really does look so good, it fits perfectly against her bottom lip, the small gem catching the light anytime she smiles or moves her head. It even matches with her nose ring! “Awh!!! Mimi~” you’re cooing, “it looks so good!”

Se-Mi smiles, “It does, doesnt it?” Her finger dances along her lip, feeling the new addition. It’s a bit weird, it definitely feels different than the one she had in before but she really likes it. Her head turns left and then right, watching the gem catch the light much like the one on her nose ring.

She turns her body towards you again, wide smile matching yours, “we gotta give it a test run, no?”

You’re a bit confused, not exactly catching on to what she’s eluding to at first, “you think it’s gonna be difficult to eat with it in?”

Se-Mi is rolling her eyes playfully and crawling towards you, “No baby, you need to give it a test run.” She emphasizes, now crawling over you. You lower yourself down, back to the carpet as your eyes widen.

“Oh!!! Well yes, I guess I do.” You giggle, reaching up to hold her face in your hands, thumb brushing over the new lip ring, feeling it. “It does look really good on you.”

She flutters her eyes closed and places a gentle kiss to the pad of your thumb, “Thank you, beautiful. Now c’mon you’re killin’ me here.” She teases, looking down at you with low lidded eyes.

You’re pulling her down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. You can instantly feel the difference in her lip ring, it scratches at your lip more with the small little crystal but it feels so good. You’re arching your back off the ground, seeking more of her, licking at her lips and playing with the metal ring.

Se-Mi whines into your mouth, one hand coming to hold your waist, one of her knees slotting itself between your legs. You’re cradling her face, trying to pull her impossibly closer. She kisses you in such a way that has you never wanting to pull away, each brush of her lips against yours has you pushing further into her.

Eventually, you have to pull away- air is a thing. She’s pulling back, chest heaving and lips coated in your spit, “H-hmmm.” She hums out, still breathless, “I think we need to further test it out..gotta make sure it passes all the checks, yeah?”

And with the way her hand is dancing along the waistband of your pants- it doesn’t take you long this time to get what she means.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills

((Lmk if you’d like to be added to my main taglist for all works I post!))

[lov3notts]

hiiiii congrats on 1k🎊i’ve been following you since “reopened wounds” & it absolutely made my heart ache🤕 i would love a cupids arrow with draco + the prompt "i told you, we're done." "you sent me a text, you asshole. you didn't tell me anything." thanks!!

1k celebration!!!; navigation

had a massive writers block for what felt like weeks but i’m back<33 also thank you for supporting me & my mini series that i LOVE so much🫂

You found him at the Astronomy Tower — like always. Cold wind whipping through the air, robes fluttering around his frame. He had the nerve to look calm, He turned around when he heard your footsteps. His face was blank, cold. Detached.

You walked right up to him, breath trembling, heart in your throat.

“Really, Draco?” you said, voice sharp.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Of course not. You were always the one chasing, weren’t you?

He blinked at you once. “You shouldn’t be here. I told you, we’re done” he said flatly, like he’d practiced it, like it didn’t sting him to say it.

But you weren’t having it. Not tonight.

“No, you sent me a text, you asshole,” you snapped, eyes burning. “You didn’t tell me anything!”

He flinched. A flicker of guilt cracked his carefully built armor.

“You disappeared for two days,” you went on, voice breaking now. “And then all I get is: ‘This isn’t working. Don’t look for me.’ What is that, Draco? What the hell is that?”

He turned his back to you, gripping the stone edge of the tower like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Say something,” you snapped. “Anything!”

His eyes met yours then. Cold. Controlled. “What do you want me to say?”

You scoffed. “How about the truth? You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he shot back. “I was trying to make it easier.”

“For who? You?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Because that sure as hell didn’t help me. You don’t get to walk out and then act like it’s mercy.”

“You wouldn’t have listened!” he hissed. “You never do. You would’ve begged me to stay, and I couldn’t— I can’t—”

“Then you should’ve let me beg!” you shouted, voice breaking, eyes burning. “You should’ve let me fight for us instead of quitting. Instead of hiding behind a bloody text like a coward!”

That hit. His mouth twitched, like he wanted to defend himself, but all that came out was: “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Try honesty for once, Draco!” You were shaking now. “You always push me away and then wonder why I don’t trust you. Why I get scared. This is why. Because you run.”

“I was trying to protect you!” he yelled, stepping forward. “Everything around me is rotting — I’m rotting — and I didn’t want you caught in it!”

“You don’t get to take that from me. You don’t get to decide I’m not strong enough to stay.” you cried.

He flinched like you’d struck him. “I didn’t want to watch you fall apart because of me.”

“And now you’ve done it anyway” you whispered.

The wind howled between you, bitter and sharp. Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Then you said, quieter this time, “You think pushing me away is love. It’s not. It’s fear.”

Draco’s face crumbled just slightly. The mask slipping. His hand flexed like he wanted to reach for you — but he didn’t.

And you didn’t wait.

You turned and walked away — heart cracked, throat tight.

And this time, he let you go.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[slvqtore]

⟢ pairing. draco malfoy x fem gryffindor! reader. ⟢ summary. draco realizes that he may or may not have feelings for you, and that scared the hell out of him. ⟢ enemies to lovers. he fell first, he fell harder. draco being in denial. ⟢ wc. 2,8k

you and draco had been sworn enemies ever since you stepped foot into hogwarts. it all started when draco decided it’d be an entertainment to make fun of you very first friend—ron. of course, you stood up for him. sharp words. sharper glare. you made a few snarky comments about draco, and that pissed him off, really pissed him off. because not only was he embarrassed by anyone, no, but rather a girl. sure, he’s met loads of people who are brave enough to stand up for themselves, but never did he ever meet a girl bite him back. you really got under his skin.

you felt bad enough soon afterwards, so you decided to apologize to draco, maybe it was just a bad start, and you could become friends, you thought. wrong. instead, when you approached him that day to apologize, he and his friends greggory goyle and crabbe decided to play a little ‘harmless’ prank on you. you spotted him in the great during lunch, lounging at the slytherin table with goyle and crabbe. you took a deep breath, mustered your courage and walked over, ignoring the ugly stares around you.

“draco, i just wanted to—”

before you could finish, he cut you off. “oh, look! she’s in love with me,” he drawled, loud enough for not the entire table to hear, but rather the entire hall. he and his friends burst into laughter, but that wasn’t enough for them. you tried to hide your face in pure embarrassment. but as you stood there, he flicked his wand under the table, and suddenly your shoes stuck fast to the floor, as if someone had put a magic superglue on them. you tried to move, but your feet wouldn’t budge. at this point, everyone was laughing at you, and it made your cheeks burn from embarrassment, well except for your friends hermione, harry, and ron.

and with another flick of his wand, your bag flew open, its contents scattered all over the floor. your books, quills, ink, parchment, and at last, a photo of you and ron. “hey, look! looks like little y/n has a boyfriend!” he flew his arms up in the air, photo in his arms so that everyone could see. everyone burst into laughter, snickers echoing through the hall, and all you wanted was the world to swallow you whole. you tried your best to contain the tears threatening to spill, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. you could feel both sadness and anger bubbling up in your chest. oh you were so going to get him back.

and that’s what basically started your little rivalry with draco.

the rest of the years, you two just continued on with this silent hatred towards each other. endless arguments in the corridors. snickering remarks passed in classes. glares exchanged across the great hall. It became a sort of a game neither of you would admit you were playing, but neither of you would back down from. you knew it was childish and pathetic, you tried—tried to stop this childish nonsense by ignoring him but he just wouldn’t stop either. if he didn’t stop, why would you? you never wanted to back down from a malfoy, and you never wanted to let him walk over you like you were some sort of dirt.

── .✦

you were bolting across the castle corridors with books clutched tightly to your chest. oh you were so dead. you had already been late to professor’s snape class twice this week, and there was no way he’d let you off a third time. your shoes skidded slightly on the stone floor as you rounded a sharp corner, and slammed straight into something solid. books went flying as you stumbled backward, barely managing to keep yourself upright. you winced in pain, rubbing your forehead. “sorry i didn’t mean—”

“watch where you’re going!” an unfamiliar voice spoke up, cutting off your sentence. you looked up slowly, only to see crabbe and goyle towering over you, smug expressions plastered across their faces. without a word, you kneeled down, gathering the books scattered everywhere. you knew better not to stir things up, you honestly just wanted out. but then goyle took a slow step forward. and then another. until the thick sole of his boot landed squarely on the cover of your defense against the dark arts book. he shifted his weight onto it, grinding it slightly. “going anywhere, sweetheart?” you let out a slow, controlled breath, calming yourself down.

“aw, is she going to cry?” crabbe mocked, his voice thick with fake concern. goyle laughed, still grinding his boot into your book. hearing this, something in you snapped. you stood up, fists clenched at your sides. “you—”

“back off.”

you froze—everyone did. goyle turned his head slowly, his smug expression faltering. there, stood none other than draco, just a few steps behind them. “seriously? picking fights in a hallway with someone who’s not even trying to fight back? pathetic.” crabbe opened his mouth to argue before shutting up upon seeing draco’s deathly glare.

crabbe and goyle exchanged a look, clearly unsure whether to stay or follow his silent command. sure enough they got their answer once draco sent them another death glare, sending them goosebumps. the two lumbered off, still grumbling to each other as they disappeared around the corner.

you just stood there, eyebrows raised, your expression that in a mixture of confusion and disbelief as you stared at him. “what are you looking at?” he asked, his tone sharp. you scoffed, still wearing a confused-disbelief-weirded out face. “i had it under control, by the way.” you kneeled down once again to gather the books and papers scattered across the cold stone floor. now it was his turn to scoff. “yeah right you did.” he inched closer, kneeling down across from your figure as he reached for a few books near your hand. you simply shot him a look. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“i was expecting more of a ‘thank you’ rather than endless chattering.” he replied coldly, causing you to roll your eyes. soon enough, you’d gathered the last of your books, hugging them tightly to your chest as you stood up, draco following shortly after. “here’s your.. stuff.” he muttered, tossing a few of your books at you without a care as you caught them just in time, almost dropping your potions book.

“thanks? i guess.” you muttered, catching his gaze one last time before hurrying past him, almost forgetting about professor snape’s class. oh you were so getting detention.

he let his gaze linger on your figure as you slowly disappeared into the castle corridors. “did i really just help that pathetic little girl?” he scoffed at himself, clearly confused and annoyed at his obnoxious actions earlier. he brushed it off soon enough—dismissed it as nothing more than a moment of temporary insanity. “whatever,” he muttered under his breath, tugging his robes tighter around him as he made his way through the castle corridor.

meanwhile, you crept silently down the hallway once you got near enough, clutching your books like they might somehow make you invisible. with every step toward the potions classroom, you prayed snape would be too deep in his lecture to notice the door creak open. unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side this time.

the second your hand touched the handle and you slipped through the barely opened door, all eyes turned—well except for one. he didn’t even have to look up to know it’s you, of course it was you, who else would it be? “ah… miss y/l/n,” snape drawled, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked up from the papers on his desk. “how generous of you to grace us with your presence. tell me, did you spend the last fifteen minutes perfecting your dramatic entrance, or are you simply incapable of reading a clock?” you let out an awkward chuckle, eyes darting from here to there out of nervousness.

“i can explain, see—”

“five points are deducted from gryffindor,” he interrupted flatly, his voice cold. “for your inability to arrive on time,” his gaze flicked to you now, slow and deliberate. “and another five for believing your excuses are worth wasting class time.” you froze, lips parted, but he wasn’t done. “detention. this evening. you’ll report to the hospital wing, madam pomfrey is in need of assistance.”

you only nodded, sighing in defeat. quiet whispers and sucked breathes could be heard around you, causing your ears burn in embarrassment. well, you did see it coming, just didn’t thought you’d end up with madam pomfrey. honestly, you were just grateful you didn’t have to scrub the toilets.

── .✦

inevitably, you being you, you snuck out of detention. it was pretty easy actually, all you did was slip out the back quietly when madam pomfrey got distracted with a student coughing up slugs. you could have stayed—should have. but it was the quidditch finale! there was no way you were missing this.

so now, here you were, standing at the edge of the stands with hermione and ron by your side.

“do you think they’re going to make it?” hermione asked, her expression was filled with worry, not taking her eyes off of harry. “don’t worry,” you said softly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “you know they always do.” she nodded slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver. the roar of the crowd echoed in the distance, today was the quidditch finale, after all. everything was riding on this match. victory or defeat, it would be remembered.

your gaze was fixed on harry, watching his every move as he soared through the sky with focused determination. that was, until he knocked malfoy clean off his broom. you winced as you watched him tumble toward the ground. “bloody hell, that must’ve hurt!” ron too, winced watching the scene play out. and of course, being the crybaby he is, he whined and cried out in pain, causing you to erupt into laughter. “what a crybaby,” you snorted, nudging hermione and signaling her to look down.

she too, laughed, watching the scene unfold. “i mean honestly, can he be more pathetic?” you giggled, watching his body got dragged away before averting your attention back to the game. however, your stolen moment of freedom didn’t last so long. because just as you were starting to relax, a chillingly familiar voice spoke from behind.

“enjoying the game, are we miss y/l/n?”

you froze, already knowing who’s voice that belonged to. slowly turning around, you came face to face with the one and only ; professor snape himself. damn it, just when things were starting to get fun. “abandoning your assigned detention to sneak into a quidditch match,” he said coldly. “how very brave of you.”

he was expecting you to come up with thousands of excuses, but no, this time, you kept your head low, not daring to make a sound as you accepted your ‘defeat.’

“since madam pomfrey has apparently been relieved of your assistance, i’ll see to it that your punishment continues under my supervision. expect extended hours, and fewer excuses.”

and just like that, your fun came to a very swift, painful end. but fairly speaking, it was worth it. you didn’t regret sneaking out on detention, not even a little.

you pushed open the doors to the hospital wing, trying your best to act casual, like you hadn’t just snuck out of detention. “well, well. look who decided to show up.” madam pomfey looked up from her cabinet with a raised a brow. you gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the nape of your neck. “sorry, got.. held up?.” you muttered, giving her an awkward-apologetic look. “mhm,” she obviously didn’t buy your excuse, but thankfully she didn’t press it.

“you can start by helping me here, basic salve application, wound cleansing,the usual.” you listened intently at her orders, nodding in response as you let your eyes wander around the room. your eyes then landed on a certain blonde whom you’d recognize, sitting on one of the beds with a scowl and a rather dramatic ice pack pressed to his forehead.

you replayed the moment where he had fallen oh so dramatically and whined like a baby, and you couldn’t help but let out a snort—unfortunately enough, loud enough for him to hear. his head snapped toward your direction almost immediately. “what are you laughing at?” his tone was cold, firm, as he was trying to act as cool and intimidating as possible. but then again, that never worked on you.

“nothing.” you shrugged, averting your attention back to madam pomfrey, who’s now explaining how to treat minor surface wounds. on the other hand, draco scoffed at you, clearly annoyed and irritated. sjkwnskwjw “now, you’ll be helping malfoy with his wounds.” you blinked, still not able to process what she had just said. “wait, what? can’t i help neville? or seamus?” you practically begged her not to put you with draco.

“no buts. malfoy’s wounds are all but minor ones.” before you could negotiate or even complain, she immediately gave you a tray full of supplies before promptly walking away, leaving you alone.

you dramatically sighed, rolling your eyes as you made your way toward draco, who didn’t look much pleasant either. “you look thrilled to see me,” you muttered dryly, setting the tray beside him. “i’m overjoyed,” he deadpanned. “can’t you tell?” you ignored him, grabbing the cloth. you back the urge to just choke him right here, right this moment.

“shut up and hold still,” you murmured, bringing a cloth to his cheek. he winced as you gently dabbed the cut on his left cheek. you rolled your eyes, still not looking at him. “your wound is as small as a goblin’s nail, you’ll live.” now it was his turn to roll his eyes. your presence alone infuriated something inside him.

eventually, the two of you fell into a quiet silence. you were too focused on cleaning his wound, and as for him, well he was too busy fighting himself from looking at you. he couldn’t help but steal few glances, his eyes drifting toward your face every now and then. not that he’d admit it. he’d constantly lean back once you got too close, way too close.

he didn’t understand it. didn’t want to understand it.

his heartbeat had picked up without warning, thudding awkwardly in his chest. and the worst part? you were just there, close, calm, completely unaware that you were quietly driving him insane. and that unsettled him more than anything else. he looked away, jaw clenched, silently begging himself to get a grip. this was you who he was talking about, you! the person he has hated from the very beginning, the very person who infuriated him more than anyone. so why, why was his heart racing—beating so loudly for you? he gulped once your face inched closer, looking away almost instantly.

snap out of it, draco.

“done,” you said finally, stepping back and setting the supplies aside. just as you were checking if you’d missed any wounds, you noticed the faintest shade of pink dusting the tip his ears. “you good?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “i’m fine,” his tone was sharp and defensive. “haven’t you got somewhere else to be?”

you blinked. okay. rude.

your brows lifted slightly, folding your arms. “as a matter of fact i do.” with that, you made your way across the room to madam pomfrey, not giving him another glance. “all done,” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. “he’s not bleeding out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

she glanced over her shoulder with a nod, clearly picking up on your tone but not commenting on it. “good. i need you to stay and help with the other students. and once you’re done, tidy up the room, will you?” you gave a quick nod, already moving to the next patient, someone from hufflepuff with a nasty bruise forming on their temple.

that night, draco couldn’t sleep at all. who else would he be thinking about if not you? you had invaded his mind that it made him go insane. no matter how many times he turned over in bed, no matter how tightly he shut his eyes, it was always you he saw. it was maddening, really. he groaned and threw his pillow over his face. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered into the fabric. “completely mental.”

he hated to admit it, but if he were to say he just now thought you’d grown up to become rather attractive—he’d be lying. truth was, he’d known for years. he just never let himself acknowledge it.

he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “no. absolutely not. this is not happening.”

[jijournal]

THE GREENHOUSE EFFECT | D.M

Summary: When you're paired with Draco Malfoy for Herbology, you expected eye-rolls and dead plants. But, you don’t expect that the most sudden pairings bloom the brightest.

wc: 1.7k+

cw: Hufflepuff!reader x draco. FLUFF! FLUFF! FLUFF!, a very pouty reader who loves and names her plants.

A/N: Alright you got me. I made up some of the plants mentioned cause I got lazy going through all the canon plants in hp. I LOVE LOVE LOVE HUFFLEPUFF!READERS! 💞

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You’d witnessed many botanical tragedies during your years in Hogwarts’ greenhouses—Mandrakes shrieking their way into fainting fits, Puffapods misfiring into clouds of spores, even a Dungbomb incident involving a Fanged Geranium with a grudge and poor aim—but nothing, not even that, prepared you for the quiet devastation that was Draco Malfoy trying to care for magical plants.

“This one’s supposed to be droopy, right?” Draco asked one chilly morning, holding up a miserable-looking Flitterbloom, his face in lost confusion. The plant sagged from his gloved fingers like a limp dishcloth, the edges tinged with black rot, its once vibrant fronds now hanging as though in mourning.

Professor Sprout audibly gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “No, Mr. Malfoy, it most certainly is not supposed to look like that! That poor dear is drowning in water it didn’t ask for!”

You bit down on your smile, valiantly trying not to laugh. You really did try. But the look on Draco’s face—offended, a little baffled, and thoroughly disgusted—was too much. Your shoulders shook with suppressed giggles, and Professor Sprout caught your eye with a hopeful glint.

“Y/N,” she said, a little too sweetly, “would you mind pairing up with Mr. Malfoy for the rest of the term? He could use someone with your… patience.”

You blinked, unsure whether you were being punished or knighted. “You want me to help him?”

“I don’t need help,” Draco snapped, standing straighter.

“You do,” you and Sprout said at the same time, your voices perfectly overlapped. Your eyes met. She looked vindicated. Draco looked betrayed.

And that was how you became Draco Malfoy’s unofficial plant handler.

⸻

You wore flowers like armor. Always. In your hair—violets carefully tucked into your braid, a daisy behind your ear, sprigs of baby's breath pinned like secrets. Your jumpers often had tiny embroidered petals curling down the sleeves or buttons shaped like blooming buds. When people asked, you just smiled like the flowers had chosen you that morning and not the other way around. Flowers were a part of you, just like freckles were a part of others.

“Is there a reason you always dress like a sentient meadow?” Draco asked once, squinting as you buttoned up a coat stitched with little yellow marigolds that seemed to flutter when you moved.

“It’s for luck,” you said serenely, smoothing a daffodil-shaped pin at your collar. “And it makes the plants feel at home.”

He stared like you’d just offered him a slice of moonlight for breakfast. “You think the plants care what you’re wearing?”

You tilted your head, genuinely perplexed. “You don’t?”

The first incident came swiftly. You’d barely begun working together when he attempted to nudge a Puffapod into blooming. One gentle poke was all it needed—delicate, respectful. Draco prodded it like it owed him an explanation, and it exploded in a soft-pink mushroom cloud of pollen.

You stood in stunned silence, covered in fuzz, bits of petal clinging to your braid like confetti. You tried not to pout. You really did. But you ended up cross-legged on the floor, mournfully collecting the petals and whispering soft apologies.

“She just needed patience,” you murmured, fingers brushing the frayed bloom. “A bit of kindness.”

Draco sneezed and looked utterly unconvinced. “It was a plant. Not a therapy client.”

“She had a name,” you said sharply, shooting him a glare. “Lulu.”

He gave you a flat look. “You named the Puffapod?”

You met his gaze with unflinching sincerity. “I would've told you her name if you didn't blow up her sister Lala earlier this year.

He sighed. "yeah... because plants have siblings."

The next week, he crushed a Bubotuber in a moment of casual irritation. One second he was ranting about someone stealing his socks, the next he squeezed the bulb like it had personally offended him. It responded by erupting in a burst of thick, greenish goo. Draco’s shriek of horror echoed off the greenhouse walls.

“You strangled her,” you said disappointed, trying not to frown as you dabbed away goo with a Moondew sprig.

“I barely touched it!”

“You manhandled her like she owed you money.”

“It attacked me!”

“She was terrified.”

He stumbled back, covered in yellow-green sludge. “Of what? My refined bone structure?”

You crouched next to the limp plant, wand raised, murmuring a soft charm. “Of being misunderstood. She’s very shy.”

Draco groaned. “Merlin help me. Not again.”

“She has a name,” you said firmly. “Matilda.”

“Of course she does.”

With a flick of your wand and a quiet word, Matilda shivered back to life, wiggling slightly in your palm. You leaned in and whispered something that made her glow faintly. She’d forgiven him. Barely.

“She’s a menace,” he muttered.

“She’s sensitive,” you corrected, stroking her stem.

Draco stared at you like he was trying to decide if this was some elaborate Hufflepuff prank. You smiled serenely and tucked a fallen blossom behind your ear.

By the fourth week, Draco had managed to offend a Flutterfern, enrage a Shrivelfig, and traumatize a Fanged Geranium into permanent wilt. The final straw came when he took pruning shears to a Venomous Tentacula like he was avenging a personal vendetta. It lashed out in protest, its tendrils flailing before curling in on themselves, whimpering.

You didn’t speak to him for the next twenty minutes.

Instead, you crouched beside the wounded plant, gently gathering its injured tendrils in your hands. You rocked slightly, whispering something ancient and low—more lullaby than incantation. Slowly, the Tentacula calmed. Its color returned in hesitant pulses. One vine curled around your wrist, tentative and grateful.

“You’ve got to be doing this on purpose,” Draco muttered from the other side of the greenhouse. “No one’s that bad at plants unless they’re cursed. Or a Gryffindor.”

You glanced up, your voice dry. “You think I’d hex my own greenhouse just to make you look bad?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “With great pleasure.”

You dusted soil from your cheek with a dramatic flourish. “I’m petty, Malfoy. Not suicidal.”

He eyed you, then your boots. “You’ve got roses on your socks.”

“They’re embroidered,” you replied, lifting your foot slightly to show him. “Climbing roses. Very resilient. A bit clingy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”

You grinned. “Like you.”

His ears turned pink.

The sixth time was different. He didn’t kill the plant. He merely terrified it.

A small Mandrake sat trembling on its roots while Draco hovered uncertainly nearby, brow furrowed, tongue between his teeth in sheer concentration, wondering how the hell did you manage to stop a mandrake from crying. You watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, trying not to interfere.

“If you’re going to loom like that,” Draco muttered, glancing sideways, “you might as well do it yourself.”

“I’m observing,” you said proudly. “You’re improving. That Mandrake hasn’t flinched in at least two minutes.”

“It keeps looking at me.”

“you mean, He. Well, duh he has eyes. Of course he's looking at you.”

“Judgmentally.”

“That’s a compliment,” you said. “He doesn’t usually acknowledge people he dislikes.”

Draco scowled, but the Mandrake remained intact. Which, for him, was practically a miracle. When he wasn’t looking, you snuck the plant a leaf treat. It quivered happily.

Later that afternoon, while you adjusted the angle of a sunlamp for your Asphodel, you sensed Draco stepping beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just hovered—an odd, uncertain weight in the air. Then his voice came, softer than usual.

“You missed a spot.”

You turned, confused, just as he reached out. His thumb brushed a smudge of soil from your cheek, lingering a second too long. You froze.

The world narrowed. You forgot the cold, the damp, the faint buzzing of Pixie-flies overhead. For one suspended breath, it was just you, him, and the inch of air between your faces.

He cleared his throat abruptly and pulled his hand back. “You had… dirt. On your face.”

“Oh.” You touched the spot instinctively. “Thanks.”

He turned away, cheeks faintly pink. You didn’t say anything. Your heart was too loud.

⸻

All term, you’d been tending to a single Moonlily in the corner of Greenhouse Three. Once silver-bright, it had withered into something curled and gray, like it had forgotten what light felt like. Every class, you brought it a fresh blossom, whispered to it like an old friend. “I’m still here,” you told it. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Draco never asked about it. But he noticed. You caught him glancing at it when he thought you weren’t looking. Watching the way you cared.

And then came the last day of term.

Most students had left for the holidays. Snow pressed against the greenhouse windows, and frost dusted the vines in glittering white. You were alone, brushing a light dusting of ice from the soil, when you heard the sound of footsteps.

Draco.

He looked a little windblown, hair tousled, scarf half-untied. In one gloved hand, he held something fragile. Small. Pale.

A pot with a single marigold.

Its stem was crooked. Its petals trembled. But it was alive.

“I, uh… Professor Sprout helped,” he said quickly, almost defensive. “A bit. Mostly she just stopped me from killing it.”

You stared, lips parting. He shifted, awkward.

“It’s not perfect,” he said.

You reached out and took it gently, your fingers brushing his. The flower quivered in your palm like it knew who had grown it.

“It’s exquisite.” you whispered.

His shoulders sagged, some tightness easing in his jaw. “I... It reminded me of you. It's bright and... pretty. Very, pretty.”

You stepped closer.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with something you didn’t dare name. “I love it.”

And then, without thinking, you kissed him.

It was soft, tentative—dirt-smudged noses, cold fingers brushing warm cheeks, and the quiet, sweet hush of something just beginning. He tasted of peppermint tea and the kind of wonder that comes only after you’ve stopped pretending not to care.

Behind you, something stirred.

You turned as the Moonlily—the one you’d nurtured all term—gave a shiver, then slowly unfurled. Its silver petals caught the moonlight and glowed like a promise, blooming with the kind of gentle pride only magic, patience, and love can grow.

Draco stared, wide-eyed. “Was that... because of us?”

You clutched the flower he'd given you to your chest, heart fluttering. “She’s been waiting. I think... she felt it.”

He looked at you, the usual edge in his voice softened into awe. “You’re completely mad.”

You grinned, breathless. “You still think the plants don’t notice?”

And then, for the first time all term, Draco Malfoy laughed—really laughed. It spilled into the greenhouse like sunlight after rain, warm and unexpected.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe they do.”

You reached up and tucked the crooked little flower he’d grown into your braid, letting it nestle behind your ear like it had always belonged there.

“Then they’ve clearly been paying more attention than you have.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[lqveharrington]

Masquerade Ball | D.M.

summary: The Malfoys hold a masquerade ball in hopes of finding Draco a wife.

pairing: prince!draco malfoy x lady!potter!reader

includes: use of Y/N, mutual pinning, both oblivious, really just fluff with a tiny bit of angst

a/n: it’s like a mix of benedict’s story but not

As a child, Draco never understood how important he was to England’s society. He was always confined within the palace walls—forced to attend endless galas and balls hosted by his parents until his feet ached. Perhaps he could have escaped those obligations when he was younger, but now, he was trapped in a cycle of socializing with eligible maidens in hopes of finding a wife.

He had tried running away once at the age of seven but ran back to his mother the moment he encountered a beggar at the palace gates. It was then he realized how sheltered he truly was, unaware of the hardships beyond the gilded walls.

When Draco once questioned his status withing the kingdom, Lucius merely replied, "You will rule when you turn two and twenty." As the sole heir with no sibling, the weight of the kingdom rested squarely on Draco's shoulders.

Yet, as the years ticked closer to his inevitable coronation, he made no progress in finding a bride. Lucius' patience began to wane, culminating in the grand decision to host a masquerade ball to enhance his son's chances of courting a suitable queen.

And of course, Draco had words to say about the situation.

He adjusted his dark suit and spun the silver ring on his finger, meeting his mother's eyes through the standing mirror. "Mother—"

"Do not fuss, Draco," Narcissa chided gently, wiping invisible dust off her son's perfectly pressed suit. "Your father has made up his mind. You are to take the throne in two years. This must be done."

"And if I find no one?" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, tilting his head at the piece of hair sticking out. It wouldn’t lay flat if he tried gelling it down.

"Then we will try again next month," She said softly, squeezing his arm. She looked between his eyes and sighed, "Please, try, my love."

"They don't care for me, mother," Draco muttered and turned to face her, rolling his shoulders back—already dreading dancing with women who want the fame and fortune. "They care about being a queen."

"Which is why it is a masquerade ball," Narcissa explained and grabbed the mask that resembled a peacock. "You will blend with the crowd, your identity hidden." She slipped the mask over his head and patted his cheek. "Get to know them without the burden of your title."

"And you believe this will work?"

"I do!" She smiled brightly and stepped away from him, ready to make her arrival with her husband. Narcissa gave him a reassuring smile and nodded. "Tu es très beau, Draco. Just... be yourself."

Draco gave her a weak smile and watched her leave his room, letting his shoulders slouch down the second the door shut. He ran his fingers through his hair again and let his mind dwell on thoughts that were unbearable.

"When has that ever worked out for me?" He muttered underneath his breath, looking in the mirror again to notice the only identifiable thing about him was his piercing silver eyes.

"Papa, why are you staring at me like that?" You asked, adjusting your flowing gown while your mother fussed with your hair.

"Yes, James, what are you staring at her for?" Lily inquired with an arched brow, perfectly pinning your hair into a dolled up bun and slipping a silver rose in its center.

"Nothing." James grumbled and fiddled with the peacock feathers on the end of your mask, thumbing the string. "Just... be safe, alright? This is your first time attending one of the King's socials without us. What if you get kidnapped?"

"James!" Lily gasped and smacked her husband on the chest, snatching the mask from him and handing it to you instead.

"Papa!" You laughed and kissed his cheek, pulling the mask over your head. "I'll be fine. Hermione and Ginny will be there, and Harry too." You pull your curls free from the mask and tilt your head at the mirror, touching up minor details such as the skewed mask and stray pieces of hair. "Besides, I doubt I'll dance much. Champagne and people-watching sounds far more appealing."

"Maybe mingle a little," Lily suggested and pinched her fingers together, leaning into her husband’s touch. "It's for the young Malfoy to find a wife, after all."

"I'm not fraternizing with Draco," You huffed and adjusted the silver necklace resting on your collarbone, the setting sun shining across the jewelry. "Harry and he practically hate each other. Not exactly ideal courtship material."

"Imagine you as queen," James mused and pretended to command a group of handmaids to fetch more books for your extensive library. You were always going to be a bookworm like your mother and he bet you would do anything to have a room the size of the palace for your books.

"James!" Lily scolded jokingly once more before smiling softly at you, clasping your hands in hers. "Just be safe, Y/N."

"Of course," You squeezed her hands and smiled back before heading out the door, tilting your head as you called out for your brother. "Harry!"

James winced as your voice echoed throughout the foyer, Lily letting a small laugh slip through. "Bloody hell, that girl can shout.”

"Why does this place look fancier than usual?" Ron grumbled, glancing around the grand ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers and cascading drapes.

It wasn't odd to see the palace all dolled up, but everything looked so much more expensive and one of a kind. Like it was an even more special experience. There were pyramids of champagne in every corner and in the center of the ballroom was one of the largest orchestra groups you’ve seen in years.

"Because it's a masquerade ball, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on his arm, making him kiss her cheek to make up for his remark. "Honestly."

"So, Y/N," Ginny nudged your shoulder—a mischievous smile decorating her face—ignoring Harry’s warning look. "Anyone you're hoping to dance with tonight?"

"I don’t think so, Gin.” You push your mask up and stare at all the people entering the palace. Even they were surprised at all the added decorations.

"Boring," Ginny teased before leaning into Harry and whispering something inaudible, making you roll your eyes at the two of them. If they had to be so in love, they shouldn’t do it in front of you.

Just as you opened your mouth to retort the sickening sweet scene, trumpets blared from the top of the staircase, redirecting everyone's attention to the far end of the ballroom where Lucius and Narcissa stood—the couple adorning their own masks.

"Please welcome His Majesty, the King, and Her Majesty, the Queen!"

Lucius made quick remarks about the importance of the evening before a sly grin appeared on his face, earning quiet whispers from the audience. "Enjoy yourselves tonight! For who knows when the prince will arrive..."

The whispers only intensified at the mention of the prince arriving at a later time. Could he possibly be avoiding the event himself? But that would make sense, not when the event was for him.

"Interesting," Hermione murmured as if she read your mind, making your brows raise in amusement.

"What is?" Ron asked.

"Draco isn't here for his own ball," She noted, glancing around the room for any signs of the prince.

You huff and push her toward her beloved. You would make sure Hermione had a good time rather than dwell on something that didn’t matter too much. If you had to see your brother and Ginny be all lovey, you would have Ron and Hermione do the same.

"Go dance with Ron."

Hermione sighed and took Ron's outstretched hand before looking back at you, narrowing her eyes. "Do not be a wallflower tonight. I expect you to dance with someone at least once.”

You shrug your shoulders and watch her disappear into the dancing crowd before spinning toward one of the many towers of champagne. Unfortunately, someone just had to come find you.

"Lady Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, making you freeze at how awful this coincidence was. It wasn’t like you could’ve avoided the man for too long, especially when the whole bloody kingdom was invited to the ball.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath and presented a fake smile to him, hands clenching by your sides in annoyance as you gave him a short curtsey. "Lord Cormac."

"How delightful to see you!" Cormac grinned and eyed you up and down like you were his next meal, your mind and body hating everything about him. "Would you like to accompany me this evening?"

Your eyes widened in fear and disgust, mind racing millions per hour to find a plausible excuse. “Actually—“

"Is there a problem?" A smooth, unfamiliar voice interrupted your pathetic excuse, allowing you to recollect your thoughts.

Cormac's grin faltered at the sudden interruption, taking a short step back at the sight of the taller man. "We were talking."

"I believe the lady declined," The newcomer said evenly, keeping his face as schooled as possible.

Cormac huffed but retreated in annoyance, making you grin. You turned to the stranger to find him staring McLaggen down until the boy finally moved to the other side of the ballroom. His mask obscured most of his face, but his silver eyes gleamed with amusement and victory. Funny, you found his McLaggen’s obedience quite amusing as well.

"My knight and shining armor." You quipped and tucked your hands behind your back, taking small steps toward the champagne tower you were supposed to be minutes ago. "Have we met?"

"Not officially," He smirked beneath his mask and followed, copying your small movements. "A masquerade ball is about knowing someone without truly knowing them, isn't it?” He took two glasses from the tower and handed you one—doing his best not to knock any other glasses down. “Forgive me for keeping my identity a secret.”

"Then I'll do the same, my knight." You give june a curt nod before taking a sip, the drink fizzing down your throat.

"Is that what I am now?" He chuckled and looked at you from above the rim of his own drink, silver eyes shining with interest.

You grin, "Yes."

He hummed and tilted his head at you, "Then you shall be my Ivy.”

"Unique." You raise your brows and take another sip of champagne. "Why Ivy?"

"You're dressed in a deep green," He noted. "And as unassuming as you may look, I sense there's poison beneath."

"You say that like you know me already," You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your glass back on a passing tray as a song finished.

"A quick interaction is all one needs." He countered and finished off his champagne. He waited for the music to start up again before offering you a hand, "Care to dance?"

Without a second thought, you took his hand and readied yourself in the starting position, joining the rest of the partners on the floor. Your right hand was gently clasped in his left and his hand was warm on your waist.

It all felt different than the other times you’ve danced. It felt comfortable.

You tilted your head up as he spun you around, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, I’m an only child," He said as you moved to walk around one another, eyes still locked onto yours. "Rarely left home unless dragged to events like these. Not much of an exciting life."

"Surely there's more. Friends? Acquaintances?" You press and take hold of his hand as he glides you across the ballroom—each note from the orchestra filling the background.

"Most used me for status." He admitted and quickly adjusted his mask and hold on you. "I learned from it.” You nodded and lightly held onto his arms when he dipped you, faces mere inches from one another. He pulled you up, “And you?"

"One older brother. Protective to a fault. Thinks every man is a threat." You rolled your eyes and separate yourself from him, letting him follow before clasping his left hand again. "I’ll admit, I came to the ball to be with friends.” You follow his steps as the dancers created a gorgeous pattern from above. “Dancing wasn't on the agenda, but... this isn't terrible.”

He smiled at your confession before remembering what the point of this ball was for. "What are your thoughts on the prince?"

"He can be...” You hesitated and looked around like the prince himself could hear you. “Difficult."

"Difficult?" He echoed and tilted his head to the side in interest.

"My brother has always had a grudge against him." You explained before spinning, heels clicking against the marble flooring. "I've had to endure their spats. Not the best memories. But it's not like I'll speak to him tonight."

He chuckled softly, silver eyes glinting behind his mask. "You never know. Masquerades are full of surprises."

And as you danced together, the room blurred began to blur, the weight of titles and expectation fading into the music and laughter. You found yourself relaxing, allowing the mysterious man to guide you across the floor with ease. His hand on your waist was steady yet respectful, and for the first time, you found yourself enjoying a ball.

"You're a good dancer," You remarked, glancing up at him through your mask—his blonde hair perfectly combed except for a small curl at the front.

"I've had years of practice," He replied smoothly. "Though I usually find these events unbearable. This is... different."

You smiled. It’s like you had the same thoughts. "Perhaps the mask makes it easier to be yourself. No judgements. No expectations."

He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps. Or perhaps its the company."

Heat crept up your neck, and you glanced away, spotting Ginny grinning at you from the sidelines. You shot her a playful glare before focusing back on your partner. "Careful, my knight. Flattery might get you into trouble."

"Is that a risk you're willing to let me take?" He teased and dipped you, your eyes quickly darting to his lips before meeting his eyes again with your wide ones.

Before you could respond, the music shifted, signaling the end of the dance. He gently released you, bowing with a flourish. "Thank you for the dance, Ivy."

You curtsied in return, heart pounding from whatever feeling you just experienced. "The pleasure was mine, Knight."

As you parted ways, you found yourself glancing back at him, only to see he was doing the same. You quickly turned, chastising yourself for the flutter in your chest.

Draco leaned against a column, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. There was something about the girl—the way she challenged him, spoke without pretense. He shook his head. It was foolish to dwell on a fleeting interaction. Yet... He couldn't ignore the way his chest tightened at the thought of her laughter.

"Enjoying yourself?" Blaise sidled up next to him, nursing a glass of champagne.

Draco kept his eyes locked on the many guests in the ballroom, scouring the place for his Ivy. He wasn’t sure if this was what his mother told him about when he was younger. That maybe those silly fairy tales were true.

"Surprisingly," Draco admitted and let out a small chuckle. "Met someone... intriguing."

Blaise arched a brow, "Do tell."

Draco merely smirked, "Just someone worth dancing with.”

The night wore on with more dances, laughter, and champagne than you anticipated. Yet, your thoughts kept drifting back to the silver-eyed stranger. When you finally decided to seek fresh air, you slipped out to the palace gardens, the cool breeze a welcome relief.

"Running away?" A familiar voice drawled, your insides warming at the sound.

You turned, finding him seated on a marble bench beneath a canopy of roses. "Escaping," You corrected and fiddled with your necklace. "Balls can be… suffocating."

"Agreed," He nodded and patted the space beside him, tilting his head at you. "Care to join me?"

Hesitating only a moment, you sat down, the silence between you comfortable. Stars glittered above, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It felt nice.

"Why Ivy?" You asked suddenly. You were sure there was something more to the nickname than what he previously said.

He chuckled and leaned back on the bench. "Told you. Your dress. The presence you carry. You cling to walls but have thorns when approached. Fascinating contrast."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, humoring him. "And you? You're alright with Knight?"

"You said it yourself. Rescuing you from McLaggen was quite the heroic act." He grinned and met your eyes.

Laughing, you nudged him with your shoulder. "Hardly slaying dragons."

"Ah, but you never know." He mused, gaze drifting to the sky and tracing the stars his mother taught him about all these years. "Like I said, masquerades are full of surprises."

You glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that, but the sound of the final dance being announced interrupted your thoughts.

"One more?" He offered, standing and extending his hand.

"Why not?" Taking it, you let him lead you back inside with a smile your swore would hurt your cheeks the next day.

The ballroom felt different this time. More intimate. As you danced, you realized you didn't want the night to end. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him, something you couldn't place but didn't want to let go of.

"Do you think we'll meet again after tonight?" You ventured and glance between his eyes.

He hesitated, something flickering in his gaze. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it's best we don't. Some things are better left as a beautiful memory."

Your heart sank at the thought of truly knowing who your knight was. "I suppose that's true."

As the music reached its crescendo, he leaned in, voice a mere whisper against your ear. "Thank you for tonight, Ivy."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, bowing deeply. And then, just like that, he disappeared into the crowd.

You stood frozen, scanning the room, but he was gone.

"Y/N! There you are!" Hermione’s voice suddenly filled the space as she grabbed your arm. "The prince is about to reveal himself. Come on!"

Reluctantly, you followed her to the front of the crowd, mind half-heartedly paying attention to the reveal of the prince. Trumpets blared once more, and the King stepped forward, his wife grinning brightly by his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending. Now, allow me to present my son, your future king. Prince Draco."

Your breath caught as a figure ascended the stairs. The crowd parted, and there he stood—silver eyes, blonde hair, and the very same mask now resting in his hand.

Your heart stopped.

No. It couldn't be.

His gaze swept over the crowd... and landed on you. His expression mirrored your shock, realization dawning.

You were Ivy.

And he was Draco.

Neither of you spoke. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the middle of the grand ballroom.

Masquerades, you thought dazedly, really were full of surprises.

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