#feedback: a second to forever

[hongjoongspoetry]

shut up thank you so much 😭 considering its my first time writing fantasy AND soulmate au, im so happy you think its good!! soulmate aus are my guilty pleasure, so it was really important for me to make it perfect! and im happy you think it is 🩷🥹

Maybe one day id like to do a little spin off on the other ships in the story, i.e jongsang, yungi and woo (with someone ;))

Ngl, im so proud of myself when I came up with seonghwa growing flowers out of nervosity. Like I know for a fact if I had any supper power, id 100% accidentally trigger it because of my anxiety or nervosity lmaooo 😭 but im so happy you liked it!! and thank you so much for reading and leaving feedback, it really inspires me to write more!🩷

A Second to Forever | Park Seonghwa

🍄 Summary: The countdown on your wrist was getting closer to its end and the jitters of finally meeting your soulmate were rendering you an anxious mess. It was a moment you had waited for your entire life — the chance to put a face and name to the person you were destined to meet — and it made you think of different ways to escape fate. After a series of comedic events where everything that could go wrong, did, you met your soulmate. In that instant, everything changed. The encounter was filled with sparks of attraction, warmth and genuine connection, leading to a tender first interaction that left you both feeling enchanted.

🍄 Pairing(s): Fairy!Seonghwa x Fairy!Reader, brief Fairy!Yeosang x Werewolf!Jongho

🍄 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, fantasy AU, fluff, humour

🍄 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), use of magic, water manipulation, flower manipulation, Wooyoung is a mood, petnames (bubbles, little one, jjong, love, darling), smooth talker!Hwa, flustered!MC, Seonghwa has some insecurities, brief mention of kidnapping and murder (literally just mentioned once in conversation), kissing and cuteness overload

🍄 Wordcount: 7.1K

🍄 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Happy Friday everyone!!! I don't have a lot to say, except for enjoy hehehe. It was quite fun to write this one. I've never really done a fantasy/fairy au before so it was certainly a fun challenge! The fairies are sometimes referred to as little one / little fairy, not because of their physical appearance but because fairies are described as 'tiny' in tales even though they are human sized here!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes, not sexual content but moments of intimacy. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!!!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

The beautiful pink petals of the cherry blossom trees littered the streets of Seoul. The flowers could be found in every corner and in every crevice, covering the ground in a pink blanket, much like the thick layer of snow in the winter season. Peering out of the window of Yeosang’s flower shop, you wonder about the story behind each passerby. A trio of young witches dressed in high school uniforms walked by with their arms looped and joyous laughs tumbling out of their mouths. A tall man triple checked his wristwatch, hair gelled back and one sharp tooth peeking out. The stress was evident on his pale face and your eyes flashed down to the fat blue ring resting atop his middle finger. The bright complexion and fang was a giveaway, yet the piece of jewelry confirmed your thoughts.

The vampire narrowly avoided colliding with another man nearly half of his height that appeared out of nowhere. You glanced down and noticed the lack of feet on the new person. Ghosts weren’t usually seen out in the open during daytime as the sun made them nearly impossible. The bright rays pierced through their translucent forms and turned them invisible to those who weren’t aware of their surroundings. It was good you could walk through them, a bit disrespectful, but at least they weren’t involved in a lot of traffic accidents.

As if on cue, a loud crash erupted behind you, and you were quick to turn around. The owner of the shop, the most beautiful garden fairy you had ever laid eyes on, stood with his legs in a wide stance and hands open, as if holding an invisible box. His eyes were trained on the mess of porcelain shards, a dozen red roses and a pool of water decorated the wooden flooring. The pair of see-through wings with a dash of green in them flickered fiercely, a sign of annoyance that he refused to express on his gorgeous face. Your own wings, thin and blue, fluttered as a smile overtook your features. 

“You alright, Sang?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and crouched down to pick up the aftermath of his ditziness. “It’s the fourth vase this month…”

You grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner while Yeosang separated the roses from the remains that couldn’t be reused. Before you got to sweeping, you placed your hand right above the puddle and wiggled your fingers. The water slowly separated from the floor and hovered in the air, taking on an oblong shape that bent at your will. You guided the water to the drain with a flick of your wrist and the only proof of there ever being an accident were the broken shards. Yeosang shot you a grateful look and you handed him the floor scoop in return as you gently swept the bits into the dustpan.

“You can’t blame yourself for the first two times, remember? It isn’t your fault the customer’s service dog accidentally knocked stuff down with his tail and it definitely isn’t your fault that some parents bring their kids in and have no control of the devil spawns playing tag in a flower shop!”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am!” 

Yeosang ignored your cheery outburst and threw the collected pieces in the trash can behind the register. Overwhelmed by being in the center of attention, even if it was only him and you there, he reflected the light on you.

“How much time is there left?”

You slid your forearms across the counter with your palms facing the ceiling. The digital timer that was injected into your wrist seconds after you entered the world was currently showing 01:10:20 with the last numbers frequently changing. Seventy minutes. A little more than an hour left until you’d come face to face with your other half. The thought sent a pleasant spark down your spine and along the thin veins of your wings. Many nights were spent staying awake and wondering who they were and the times you managed to succumb to sleep, you were visited by the image of your soulmate, but the face was always hidden behind a blurry shield.

Just a little while longer and you’d be able to trace the outline of their features. Then there was the curiosity whether they were a fairy like you or another creature. It wasn’t unheard of or impossible to be paired with something other than your own kind. You knew fairies whose soulmates were everything from witches to werewolves, however your soulmate was yet to show themselves. 

“That’s soon,” he replied, a dash of excitement lingering in his voice and a joyous glint twinkling in his eyes. 

“Right… I don’t know whether it’s too soon or not soon enough.” You buried your face in the safety of your palms. “Oh, Yeosang, what am I going to do? It feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest!”

A fresh and slightly musky aroma with a hint of fruity sweetness surrounded you, blossoming a comforting and warm feeling in your chest. The flower shop was filled with a variety of different scents, but this one stood out, as if the plant was right beneath your nose. A barely-there touch grazed the slightly exposed part of your cheek, right beside your ear, and you slowly raised your head only to be met with the lovely sight of a large jasmine bush protruding between the planks. Jasmines were known for their calming effect and you could practically feel the tension melting off your shoulders, back and jaw. 

“Thank you, Sangie.”

“Anytime, bubbles. Now, I can see the cogs turning in your head. Go ahead and ask away.”

“What… How was it when you met Jongho?”

The garden fairy paused for a second and thought over his answer. For someone who had already met his soulmate, it was hard to put the experience into words. How was Yeosang supposed to explain the unfathomable feeling of the air shifting the moment he locked eyes with his soulmate?

“I don’t know how to explain it, but believe me when I say that all of my worries disappeared when I met Jongho. Nothing in the world mattered anymore. I could literally be on the brink of death and I wouldn’t even care because, well, he was there.” A blush the same hue of his heart-shaped birthmark rose to his cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. 

Yeosang and Jongho met in their first year of university, if you recalled correctly. That would be a mere five years ago. Yeosang was running late for his exam and was in such distress, he forgot about the countdown on his wrist. His thoughts were everywhere and nowhere. It would be a miracle if the fairy even remembered half of the material he revised in time for the evaluation. Yeosang quickly regretted his choice of taking the elevator instead of sprinting up the five flights of stairs. He didn’t even think of using his wings!

There were just a few more minutes until the doors would close, so when the elevator dinged and the doors just started parting, Yeosang slipped through the crack and collided with a sturdy chest. Everything he was holding — keys, pencil case, water bottle, notepad  — fell to the ground along with an apology slipping out of his lips. The words didn’t get very far as Yeosang looked up and found the warmest pair of eyes staring right back at him. Yes, he missed the exam.

You sighed at the dreamy look on his face. “You’re just saying that because you love Jongho’s eyes.”

“Do not!” His glow intensified and took on the shade of the red roses behind him, a stark contrast to his green and black highlights. Yeosang eventually yielded as you raised your brows and tilted your head sideways. “Okay, I do love him, but it’s not because of his eyes!”

Joy stretched your lips into a genuine smile. You were happy for him. It was about time someone other than you brought the fairy out of his shell and Jongho, from the brief encounters you had with the werewolf, was just the man for the job. Your friendship with Yeosang blossomed in elementary school. The class consisted mostly of vampires, witches and werewolves, and hadn’t it been for you and Yeosang, the homeroom would’ve been vacant of fairies. The one thing you had in common — being of the same species — was the magnetic pull that brought you together — the garden fairy who wore his heart on his sleeve and the water fairy who, despite having a smile warm enough to melt blocks of ice, didn’t think twice before standing up for others. In other words, by drenching the pupils for making fun of the sweetest boy in class.

Though one was a garden fairy and the other a water fairy, your differences went beyond your magical abilities. Yeosang was quiet and you were loud. He liked to observe while you wanted to participate. The apples of his cheeks set ablaze at the merest crumb of attention while you didn’t shy away from the spotlight. Your differences didn’t hinder you from being friends, on the contrary actually. The different traits were perhaps the reason why you stayed friends for so long. 

Having an unpredictable mind that changed course like the unruly waters of the sea, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts run down an unstoppable stream. If the universe paired Yeosang with someone that was an anchor — grounding and strong, giving him the opportunity to lean on his soulmate whenever — what would it give you? Would your soulmate be a vampire, cold and quiet, to balance your loud and bubbly personality? Or what if they were a controlling werewolf, an alpha ordering you around, trying to drown out your outgoing persona? But your soulmate wouldn’t hurt you, right?

The silence on your part alerted Yeosang and he was quick to notice your distant gaze. He slowly waved his hand in front of you, the motion eventually getting more frantic the longer your eyes stayed stuck on the same object, until you broke out of the bubble separating you from the rest of the world.

“Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” you replied without missing a beat and glanced down at your wrist. 

00:50:35

Your eyes widened. The time was suddenly moving so fast. All those years of you wailing and complaining about there being an eternity until you’d meet your soulmate were taunting you now. 

“What if I lock myself in the guest bathroom of the flower shop?”

“It’s impossible to defy the universe.”

“What will they do? Break the bathroom door?”

Yeosang paused for a moment and gave you a skeptic glance. “Maybe you forget to lock the door.”

"Impossible,” you countered and kept your eyes on the countdown. “I always check twice.”

“Maybe the lock breaks because you pull on the handle when checking.”

It was your turn to take a breath. He had a point and you hated it when he was onto something. “Okay, what if I hide in a river in a bubble of water?”

“Congrats, your soulmate is a merman or mermaid.”

“What if I take a trip to Jongho’s pack?”

The sudden call of your name snapped your eyes up to Yeosang’s. “Do you not want to meet your soulmate? Because you’re really acting like it…”

“It’s not that I don’t wanna meet them. I’m just… scared…”

There was no point in feeling embarrassed of your admission. Everyone you asked who had already met their soulmate told you the same story. How they were nervous, scared and excited about finding out who their other half was. You thought they were stupid at first. Who would be scared of meeting their soulmate? Now you felt stupid for secretly invalidating others’ feelings. 

“There’s no reason to be afraid, bubbles. The person you’re destined to meet isn’t just created on a whim. A piece of your soul is taken to put in theirs and vice versa, whoever it is, you’re created to fit each other.”

“But–”

“No buts. You can’t cheat fate…” A quiet blanket settled over the almost empty flower shop. “Take a stroll and try to think of something else. Here.” 

A vine covered in different sized leaves emerged from the ceiling at a single twitch of his fingers. Yeosang held his hand out and a leaf the length of your forearm fell off the branch right in his palm. He grabbed each end of the blade and beckoned you to hold out your wrist. The leaf was neatly tied around your timer, successfully covering the changing numbers.

“Now you can’t look at the timer and won’t worry about where you are or who you’re around.”

One corner of your mouth curved up in a gracious smile. “Thank you, flower.”

“I gotchu, now fly away and don’t come back unless you wanna show me your love for all eternity.”

With a new found confidence and a leaf on your wrist, you big Yeosang goodbye and left the flower shop per order. You didn’t know where to go. Any location you thought of was either too fancy or not fancy enough to meet your soulmate in. The idea to wait outside your front porch wasn’t too bad. If they turned out to be a complete weirdo you could just run and hide. The downside would be that they would know where you lived. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you decided to just walk in a straight line and let the path guide you to the person destiny chose for you. 

It was a beautiful day. There wasn’t a single cloud in the blue sky, and the sun could freely share its warm rays with the planet. People made the most of the sunny weather and spent the day outdoors. Some took longer walks with their dogs, while others decided to enjoy the clear sky in the outdoor seating areas of coffee shops. As you passed a park, you caught sight of students in high school uniforms with blankets strewn beneath them and books lying open on their laps. The bright weather sent everyone in a good mood and you just hoped the atmosphere wouldn’t change when your timer ran out. Getting sidetracked was easier than you thought. A little further up ahead the road was a fairly new shop which had just opened a few months ago. You did visit it a handful of times to your mother’s requests of buying different ingredients for her and just like then, her gentle voice echoes in your head reminding you to stop by Jung’s Magic Shop on your way home for a bottle of moon petal essence. 

The bell above the door jingled at your entry. A surge of intensity hit your nose the moment you stepped over the threshold that you thought blood would ooze out of your nostrils. One word to describe the store would be chaos. The space was the size of a shoe box and crowded due to the many unopened boxes, random piles of books that couldn’t fit in the bookshelves and random trinkets laying around. At first glance, the shop appeared to be empty, but as you reached the register and tapped the small bell with the sign ‘tap me’ attached to it, a man of short stature emerged from a cloud of smoke.

“Hello little fairy,” he greeted and leaned his elbow on the counter while resting his chin on his palm. “What can I help you with this fine evening?”

Jung Wooyoung, the youngest wizard of his family line, was most known for being the new addition in town and almost setting the whole building on fire on his first night there. He was a handsome wizard. Black hair that fell neatly over his nape and tickled the beginning of his shoulders. His equally dark eyes were obscured by a heart-shaped fringe. It was nearly impossible not to squirm beneath his gaze, but the tension would disappear with a quick flash of his bright smile. The most alluring feature of his face would be the mole right beneath his right eye, and if the viewer was extra observant, they would notice a subtle beauty mark on the center of his bottom lip. 

“Hey Woo, do you perhaps have some of that moon petal essence?”

“Hmmmmm, I think they are all reserved for other customers.” The hopeful light faded from your eyes and he was quick to take back his words, lowering his tone and whispering behind his hand as if the place was bustling with customers. “But… I can just tell Mrs. Yang, I dropped her bottle.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries, little fairy. Take it as a gift for being my favorite customer.” His eyes jumped down to your wrist and a wrinkle appeared between the skin of his furrowed brows. “What’s wrong with your wrist?”

“Oh, this?” You raised your hand and gave him a better view of the leaf. “It’s nothing, I’m supposed to meet my soulmate soon and I couldn’t stop worrying, so Yeosang tied it to keep me from worrying.”

Wooyoung hummed as his hand reached out to play with the knot of the blade. “Yeosang is that little flower fairy, huh?” He dreamily sighed. “He is beautiful.”

“And happily taken by his soulmate,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh, don’t remind me! Can’t a mind fantasize in peace?” Agile as a fox, he changed the course of the conversation, seemingly no longer interested in the ‘little flower fairy’ and his boyfriend. “Well how much time is there left until you meet the lucky one?”

“It showed less than an hour back at Yeosang’s shop.”

“And you walked all the way over here?” You nodded, a bit clueless at the sudden question. “That’s a thirty minute walk, little one and that’s if you walk at a brisk pace.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I think you need to get out of here unless you want to find the love of your life in this chaos.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly ushered him to get your moon petal essence. 

“Jeez, woman. I’m going!”

As soon as Wooyoung handed you the essence trapped in a bottle the size of your pinky, you slipped it over your head and let it dangle around your neck, and dashed back out into the busy street. The door nearly hit you on the way out and you could’ve sworn you heard a cackle come from the inside, definitely Wooyoung pulling some strings to mess with you. A harsh gust of wind  swooshed around the many bodies and you threw your hand up to shield your eyes from the flying dust and dirt. What you didn’t expect though was for your leaf to come undone and travel through the air.

“Oh no!” You gasped and quickly ran after it.

As if sensing your chasing figure, the wind picked up and pushed the leaf further away. Like a game of cat and mouse, the blade would land on the ground and then jump a few paces whenever you’d get too close. It was taunting you and that alone made you more determined to capture it again. The thought of Wooyoung casting a spell on it back in his shop didn’t sound too unbelievable. The more time you spent with the wizard, the more of his foxy personality broke through his innocent act. 

“Come back here,” you hissed and chased the lively leaf while successfully avoiding collision with the other pedestrians. A brilliant idea flashed before your eyes and everyone watched in awe as your blue wings fluttered to life, and lifted your figure off the ground.

The leaf brushed off your command and continued its path further and further away from you. There was actually no point in retrieving it, but you realized you felt much better not having to look at your timer than when it was visible for everyone to see. Even now, as you were losing your mind trying to get it back, you didn’t think to glance down at your wrist. Entirely occupied by the stupid part of a random plant Yeosang summoned, you didn’t realize your timer was rapidly coming to an end. Your wings flapped rapidly, propelling you forward. Victory filled your veins as you inched closer and closer to the blade. The harsh wind stilled and the leaf fell limp on the ground just as you touched down with the soles of your feet. You ran the last stretch with your arm extended and fingers spread, ready to capture the green piece. A noise of triumph escaped your mouth as you grabbed the end of the blade.

“I got you!” 

What you didn’t expect was for the leaf to be pinched between a thumb and forefinger, twice the size of yours, at the other end. You traced the path up the stranger’s arm and gazed into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you could ever imagine — round and wide, akin to a surprised bunny. A bubble you weren’t aware of burst in your ears and all of your thousands thoughts stored in various chests scattered in the vast space of your mind were reduced to nothing. Your breath was trapped in your throat, yet you didn’t feel the need for air as long as you kept staring at the stranger. A soft breeze — nothing like before — brushed against your bodies and a rain of cherry blossoms followed. The petals landed in the stranger’s hair and blended with his baby pink strands. The man was breathtakingly beautiful and your heart squeezed in content of being the center of his attention. 

“Hey,” he said and your insides nearly collapsed from the combination of his slight rasp and soft-spoken tone. His raspberry-colored lips curled upward and dethroned the sun as the warmest source of light in the galaxy. The fairy who couldn’t go a day without speaking was for once at a loss for words. 

“Hi,” you squeaked out and hastily rose to your feet, letting go of the oh-so-important leaf.

The man chuckled and followed your lead. His long legs were trapped in a pair of khaki pants and the pine-colored vest was buttoned up, showcasing his sunkissed arms and collarbones, and even a sliver of his belly button adorned by a trail of bright pink hairs. A brown string was tied around his neck, with just enough space for a pinky to slip between his skin and the material, and the ends disappeared beneath his shirt. That wasn’t the only accessory on his beautiful body — a light watch, in the same hue as the necklace, sat snuggly around his left wrist. A pair of beige boots fit his outfit perfectly and perhaps even made him an inch or two taller.

The attire was very comforting as it reminded you of your relatives and the few fairy friends you had. It wasn’t something people wore around these parts as most residents weren’t of fairy descent and stuck to the more modern-day clothes. Before you could spiral into what-ifs, a motion behind him caught your attention and as you threw a glance over his shoulder, the prettiest pair of wings in fairy history came into view. They were much brighter than his hair and glowed with iridescence, shifting from shades of lavender to bubblegum pink beneath the sunlight. But that wasn’t all. A shimmering gold ran through the venations, starting thick and then thinning out as they neared the edge of his wings. The stranger belonged in a bedtime story based solely on his appearance, a tale deserving to be shared with the world.

“I’m Seonghwa.” 

He tucked the leaf behind his ear and held out his hand, patiently waiting for you to reciprocate. The moment your palm touched his, he ran his thumb over your knuckles and gave it a soft shake. Gentle ripples erupted along the surface of the skin he touched and it brought a sense of serenity you only felt while being in a pool of water. Seonghwa gently and slowly turned your hand sideways, as if waiting for any attempts of resisting, but continued when you didn’t fight him on it. Multiple zeros glared up at him and a smile, broader than the one before, spread across his cheeks. 

“And do tell, is my soulmate’s name as beautiful as her face?”

An embarrassing noise was born as the question struck you like a golden arrow launched from Cupid himself and lodged itself in the center of your heart. To make matters worse, Seonghwa pulled your hand up to his face and planted a chaste, but lingering kiss on your ring finger. If Yeosang knew that a mere kiss and some sugar coated words would leave your brain fried, he would’ve done it a long time ago. Through the haze of pink hearts and desire, you managed to give up your name, but not without stumbling over your tongue a few times first.

“I love being right,” he admitted and you were a second away from fainting in the arms of your soulmate.

“I–I, yo–you– I–I mean, what!?”

Seonghwa chuckled, clearly amused and endeared with your flustered behaviour. “You have a pretty name.”

“Your face is pretty!”

You didn’t mean for the compliment to slip out after not even five minutes of meeting your soulmate, but you were drunk on him and everyone knew a drunk mind spoke a sober truth. Nonetheless, you slapped your hand over your mouth as if it would take the confession back and erase his memory. Little did you know that Seonghwa had already stored it in a folder named ‘prettiest flower’ somewhere in the far back of his head with the intent to reminisce about the sacred first meeting every once in a while. 

“Thank you, darling.”

A few people had gathered around you to witness the life changing moment of two strangers, but neither paid them any thought. Seonghwa scratched the back of his neck with his left hand — the other one still holding yours — and cleared his throat, slightly feeling the pressure of multiple eyes on him. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” 

“Please.”

There was no step by step manual telling you what to do after meeting your soulmate. You wished though. Something like Soulmate 101 or The Soulmate Startup, it would certainly help you in times like these — you and Seonghwa sitting on a random park bench, a vacant seat between you and the March wind doing all the talking. The scenery was pretty though. An oblong pond stretched from one end of the park to the other as a long trail went around it. Years ago, probably an elderly garden fairy, planted a bunch of various trees along the path that had now grown into beautiful timbers of various sizes. You weren’t that skilled in flora, it was Yeosang’s specialty, but you managed to snag up a thing or two from the decade long friendship. 

There was an array of oak, maple and pine trees that would look nothing short of magical during the harvest season, but it didn’t mean the different hues of green were any less pretty. The growing leaves just needed to emerge from their buds and the park would look lively again. The few cherry blossom trees were at least in full bloom and distracted the visitors from the otherwise naked park, and a couple of evergreen shrubs were blooming nicely. The few ducks and swans were a cute bonus too. You thought back to Yeosang and Jongho’s story. How the younger immediately introduced Yeosang to his family, to his pack, and they welcomed him with open arms or how the garden fairy wasted no time taking Jongho to his family owned — now, entirely written over on Yeosang’s name as both Mr. and Mrs. Kang retired — business.  

“So… what kind of fairy are you?” Seonghwa’s voice snapped you back to the present. 

Most people usually guessed what abilities you had based on the color of your wings. Blue could only represent so much and the element that was always tied to it was water. Either Seonghwa was really clueless or wanted to spark up a conversation… You had a feeling it was the latter.

“I’m a water fairy,” you replied and crossed your legs over each other, subconsciously leaning closer into Seonghwa who sat with his arm draped over the back of the bench. The heat emitting from his limb grazing your shoulders and neck. “But that’s obvious because of my wings… Your wings are beautiful though and like, I’ve never seen wings in that color before and I’m trying to understand what fairy you are, but it’s so hard!”

By that point, you were already rambling. The words trickled out of your mouth like a waterfall with no end in sight, but Seonghwa didn’t mind. On the contrary, he bashfully smiled, as if you had told him the stars belonged in his eyes — which wasn’t far from the truth. People, more often than not, praised him for his wings, calling them beautiful, breathtaking, magnificent — every flattering word you could think of. Seonghwa thought he had grown immune to the compliments. However, hearing it from you sent a heat to his cheeks challenging the pink peonies in Yeosang’s shop.

“Thank you…” He meekly replied and lowered his voice down to a whisper. “People try to guess, but no one’s gotten it right yet… I’m a garden fairy.”

You felt stupid for not thinking of that, but in your defence, most garden fairies you knew (just Yeosang’s family) had green wings and green or brown hair — the two main colors symbolizing earth and flora. Of course you wouldn’t assume Seonghwa was one too as he radiated the colors of strawberry ice cream and lavender skies. 

“Are you like… royalty?”

Seonghwa couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling out of him and threw a hand over his mouth to keep his volume down so as to not disturb the other visitors. In all his years of living, he had never been mistaken for royalty. His cute pink blush intensified and was identical to the vibrant camellias on his left. 

“N–No!” He said between the laughter and waved his other hand. “It’s not common, but fairies with parents who have different abilities can be born with… abnormal wings. My mom is a garden fairy and my dad a fire fairy.”

“Wow, that’s cool. I didn’t know that at all.”

“Not many do. I mean, I have yet to meet another fairy with a not-so-normal pair of wings.”

You chuckled. “If that’s why you came here, then you’ll be disappointed.”

“How come?”

“There’s only one other fairy family here and they are gardeners too, but not the flashy-kind like you.”

This time he didn’t cosplay a tomato or shy away from your kind advances. Seonghwa leaned in and the distance between you was reduced by half. You gulped at the sudden close proximity and your eyes darted down to his lips curving up in a smirk. 

“I’m not disappointed.”

Snapping out of your trance, you found his eyes again. The round rabbit-like shape taking on that of a siren. “Huh?”

“You said if that’s why I came here then I’m going to be disappointed and well, I’m not. Wanna know why?” 

You didn’t trust your usually loud and bubbly voice to be stable anymore, not when his scent of burned sugar and sunflower fields infiltrated all of your senses. Playing your cards safe, you nodded slowly.

“Because I found something better.”

The question of what lingered in your eyes and while Seonghwa could see the curiosity shimmering in them, he wanted to hear you ask. Perhaps the soulmate connection was stronger than both of you thought because a warm feeling spread through your abdomen, like an instinct telling you when danger was near or when you could feel someone staring at you from afar, and you decided to take a step from your unusually shy exterior. 

“What?”

Seonghwa’s grin broadened. It wasn’t a matter of what, but of who. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he leaned even closer to you. The three letter word rested on the gap of his teeth, just gauging your wide eyed expression. In a whisper, far more quiet than the calm ripple of waves or comforting sound of bubbles bursting he answered your question.

“You.”

“M– Me?”

He hummed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. More obvious than the grass being green and the sky blue. “Yes, you. My pretty water fairy. The prettiest water fairy.”

A rush of heat attacked your face and the urge to look away was almost bigger than the urge to run your fingers through his wavy hair. The looming fear of taking a step too far made you hold back and keep your hands glued to your sides. Seonghwa wasn’t having it though. With trembling hands, he gently hooked his pointer finger beneath your chin and rested his thumb in the center of your chin, the tip grazing your bottom lip,  and directed you back to face him. Fierce bubbles reached the surface of the pond and the ducks quacked in panic at the sudden change in their peaceful environment. 

“Don’t shy away from me, pretty. I’ve been waiting for years to finally meet you and I want to stare at you until I’ve memorized the most discreet feature of your beautiful face.”

“Seonghwa,” you whispered. Your heart was loud in your ears and the hot blood wouldn’t stop rushing to your head. If you were to check your temperature, the thermometer would break from the heat and you’d be rushed to the nearest hospital. Little would they know you weren’t suffering a severe fever, but of love sickness instead.

“May I…” he hesitated as well. The two-hour-long interaction, mostly spent sitting in front of the pond, made you feel as though you had known each other for two decades. 

Sensing his caution, you wrapped your fingers around the wrist attached to your face. You gave him a soft squeeze of encouragement and whispered, “It’s okay.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

A pair of soft and plush lips pressed against yours and a tidal wave whirled in your stomach, flipping all of your senses into overdrive. The hand that was originally cupping your chin maneuvered to cradle your cheek as his other hand fell on the cramped space between your and his thighs. Your own fingers reached the sides of his vest to not stray with the pink haze clouding your rational thoughts. It was nice to be taken care of and follow someone else’s lead every once in a while, and Seonghwa proved he could do just that. Eager and wanting more, you pushed against him and Seonghwa took it as a sign to gently swap his tongue against your bottom lip, practically begging to be let in and who were you to deny him entry?  A rich, romantic and soothing fragrance surrounded you as the kiss deepened and your fingers slid up his sides, and gently wrapped around his neck. The need to run them through his hair grew alongside the desire bubbling in your abdomen, but you refused to mess up his neat waves. 

As you parted to relieve your burning lungs, the sight surrounding the bench stole the breath right out of your throat. Multiple thorny stems protruded from the ground and created a curving wall around your bench, leaving a slim opening facing the pond. White, red, yellow and pink petals bloomed through the thousand green leaves shielding you from the outside world. It was magical, something you’d only see in movies or flower gardens where the caretakers would trim and bend the bushes until they fit their vision. You gingerly extended your hand and traced the outline of a pink rose. They were fully grown and unraveled, the kind people would kill to get their hands on for their partners on Valentine’s Day. 

“Why…?”

You were so immersed in the flowers to notice Seonghwa shrinking into himself. Shoulders hunched up to his chin, fingers fiddling in his lap and bottom lip caught between his teeth. The powers of a fairy were both a blessing and a curse for different reasons. Garden fairies could manipulate greenery to create art deserving of a place in the Louvre. Until they were fully in control of those powers, their emotions dictated their actions, often leading to chaos like a cocoon of roses mirroring Seonghwa’s warm heart.

“Did you do this?”

Seonghwa was snapped out of his embarrassed trance and sheepishly smiled. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck despite not feeling an itch and then wiped it obnoxiously off his thigh. There was no point in hiding the truth. A bush didn’t just sprout overnight let alone in a matter of seconds, at least not without the help of a fairy. Seonghwa was still reluctant to admit the truth. What person would want to hear about their soulmate becoming overwhelmed by emotions to the point where they lose the reins of their powers? There was nothing attractive or admirable about that. Not at Seonghwa’s grown age! 

As much as he wanted to play it off and play stupid. Answering with a simple shrug of his shoulders and feigning a look of surprise. Seonghwa was a worse liar than someone who couldn’t control their powers, the truth spilling out from him despite his best efforts. “...Maybe?”

The garden fairy had yet to gauge your reaction. He wished to spare the flustered image of you in his mind for just a little while longer before ruining it forever with the expected disappointment souring your features. 

“Red for love and passion…” Your voice rang out like a wind chime and Seonghwa  slowly looked up at you who had your eyes set on the beautiful flowers. “Yellow for warmth and friendship. Pink for joy and appreciation, and white for new beginnings.”

“You know the meaning behind them,” Seonghwa whispered in awe. 

A soft smile spread across your face. “It would be embarrassing if I didn’t considering my best friend is a garden fairy.”

There was a mutual understanding not to prance over the obvious mishap and Seonghwa released a blow of relief as you didn’t laugh at him and the slip of control over his abilities. The silence returned with a comforting undertone, soft and steady, allowing space for peace to settle in. Neither you nor Seonghwa tensed or fidgeted at the lack of conversation and simply basked in each other’s presence. The fear and sheer anxiety of meeting your soulmate was for nothing as Seonghwa proved to be more tender than a flower. The flame burning inside of you flickered brighter with each gentle word he spoke and you hoped, with every ounce of your being, that he felt the same, that he too was drawn to this connection as deeply as you were. 

“The flowers are for you.” Seonghwa was the first to interrupt the silence. Perhaps the soulmate connection ran deeper than a simple countdown leading up to the moment you met.

“Huh?”

“The roses. They are for you. It’s what I felt– What I feel when I’m with you.”

“Oh!”

He let out a sound something between a huff and chuckle at your sudden rigid position while you begged for your face to cool off.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume you feel the same?”

“Not at all.” You bit the inside of your lip and tapped your fingers along your thigh. “Would it be wrong of me to say I really like you?”

Seonghwa held your gaze. The warmth of his smile seeping into your bones and spreading throughout your already heated body. He gently dropped his hand on the wooden surface with the palm facing the clear sky. Cautious yet daring, your finger extended from your remaining fingers as if testing the waters. It grazed the soft skin of his palm and it was the brief contact you needed to slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining and giving each other comforting squeezes.

“Not at all,” he breathed out, his thumb running along the side of yours.

Bonus: 

“No, Jongho, you don’t understand. I told her I didn’t want to her if she wouldn’t come back with her soulmate. It’s been hours since then! What if she’s kidnapped? Or murdered? Or sold overseas?!”

In the time you were enjoying the company of your newfound soulmate. Showing Seonghwa the town where bits and pieces of your childhood were sprinkled in the streets, coffee shops, book shops, restaurants, playgrounds and elementary- to high school. Yeosang was slowly losing his mind in the safety of his flower shop, prancing back and forth as his mind theorized a hundred different ways harm could come your way. Jongho helplessly watched his soulmate get his daily steps in. The werewolf, despite being younger than the fairy, was quite calm about the whole ordeal. It was more likely that your phone had died than for your soulmate to kidnap and take you to another country in a span of three hours. 

“Yeosang, love, I need you to calm down–”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Jongho!”

The werewolf threw his hands up in surrender. It wasn’t everyday the calm and collected garden fairy who followed strangers home to see their puppies and kittens lashed out on others, especially not his own soulmate. 

“Whoa, can we go back to using our inner voices, please?”

That seemed to snap Yeosang out of his frustrated stupor. He sighed and ran a hand through his multicolored hair. “Sorry, Jjong. I’m just worried for her.”

“I get that, but working yourself up over nothing won’t help. I mean, you haven’t even tried calling her…”

“That’s because I don’t want to interrupt if everything’s going alright! That would just be embarrassing for us both!”

As Jongho parted his lips to reassure his boyfriend that there was nothing embarrassing about checking on his best friend to see if she was alive, the door of the flower shop opened. The person Yeosang had been prematurely growing gray hairs over waltzed in with a bright smile on her face and a handsome man in tow. Yeosang’s jaw went slack and Jongho leaned back in shock, certainly not expecting you to heed Yeosang’s threat and bring your soulmate to his very shop. 

You cleared your throat, “Yeosang, Jongho. This is Seonghwa, my soulmate. Seonghwa, this is my best friend Yeosang and his soulmate Jongho.”

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[navybrat817]

Late Night Shenanigans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky searches for Alpine when she gets out one night and finds her curled up with you.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter and Alpine likes her, bit of grumpy!Bucky, humor, attraction, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @starlightcrystalline sent me this IG video and I had to do something for her. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was going to kill Sam. No, not really. He wasn’t a cold-hearted killer. Just because Sam hadn’t shut the door fast enough didn’t mean it was his fault that Alpine ran out. Accidents happened, and she was lightning fast. It still stunned Bucky and Steve when Sam shouted that she got out because she hadn’t taken off like that before. Super soldier speed hadn’t worked since she was gone by the time Bucky got to the front of his place. 

They split up to look for her, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up since it was late, but he was worried since Alpine had gone past his neighborhood. She was his little buddy, his kindred spirit. He wanted her to be okay. He didn’t want her to get lost or hurt.

“Alpine?” he asked, rounding a corner and looking around. His shoulders dropped when he didn’t spot her. “C’mon, Al.”

He went down another block when he heard an unfamiliar voice in the distance, his body going stiff. “Oh, my GOD. You are seriously the cutest cat EVER.” Was this stranger talking about his cat? “Your fur is as white as snow and so soft. OOH. Is your name Snowball?”

“Snowball?” he muttered, jogging in the direction of your sweet voice. Wait, why did he think your voice was sweet?

“You’re a little purr machine! I just want to take you home and cuddle with you and keep you FOREVER.”

“Oh, no, you fucking don’t,” Bucky snarled, rounding another corner. He didn’t care how sweet you sounded. You were talking about possibly stealing his cat, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

He sighed in relief when he saw Alpine before his brows furrowed. She was curled up in your lap as you sat in the middle of the sidewalk. He had to blink to be sure his eyes were working correctly. Alpine never took to strangers like that. She liked Steve and Sam, but it still took her time to warm up to them.

Shooting them a text to let them know he found Alpine, he wondered who you were and why she was snuggling with you. 

“Al.” He whistled as he jogged the rest of the way over. Instead of jumping out of your lap like he expected, she curled into you more and purred. Maybe you had some sort of special power that made his cat relax. 

You tilted your head up and Bucky forgot how to breathe for a second. Even under the harsh light of the sidewalk lamp you were beautiful. Fuck, maybe you had some sort of special power over him, too. “Hi!” you said a little too loudly, like you didn’t have a clue how late or quiet it was. Inhaling, he could smell the alcohol on your breath from where he stood. Jesus, were you drunk? “Hooooooooe, my God. You are the hottest man I have ever seen in my life. Just… ” You waved a hand at him. “Holy fucking shit.”

He was thankful that it was either too dark for you to see or you were too drunk to notice the pink in his cheeks. Not to mention, he was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He hardly looked hot. “You’re drunk, but thanks for the compliment,” he stated, reaching out for Alpine who stubbornly stayed put. Seriously, what was her deal? She didn’t know you. He didn’t know you.

“Annnnd I’ll be sober when I wake up tomorrow, but you’ll still be really hot. That’s totally not fair.” You giggled after a moment and held Alpine up to look at him. “Isn’t he hot? Like a model or a god or something made up in a lab.” You tilted your head. “Or my dreams.”

Bucky frowned, as if he didn’t talk to his cat on a regular basis. He was trying to ignore that you were clearly physically attracted to him. That wasn’t the usual reaction people had when he came around. Not in today’s age at least. His glare didn’t even phase you since you continued to smile at him. “Al’s a cat. She can’t-”

“Meow.”

Your lower lip trembled and he feared you’d burst into tears. He had no clue what to do if you cried. “I’m soooo sorry. I didn’t know she was your cat. I swear.” His eyes widened when you tried to get to your feet, his hands going to your hips to help steady you. He was reluctant to let you go, and he felt like an ass because he probably scared you. “She just came right up to me and I only wanted to pet her for a minute.”

Your smile turned into something triumphant. “See, she agrees with me,” you said, rubbing your cheek against Alpine’s before you gasped. “Wait, you called her by a name. Do you know her?”

Bucky let out a breath, wanting to get back home and get some sleep. He had had a long day. “Yeah, she’s my cat and she got out a bit ago. Could you please give her back so I can go home?”

Bucky kept a hand on your hip when Alpine finally moved into his other arm. He felt better, but wouldn’t relax completely until he was at home. “It’s okay. I’m glad she did,” he said honestly. Because Alpine went to you, it made it much easier to find her. “Wait a second.”

“What?” you asked, making him lose his breath again when you looked him in the eyes.

He had to blink a few times and snap himself out of his stupor. What was wrong with him? “Why the hell are you out here by yourself?” he asked, trying to keep his anger in check when he took in your outfit. He was so concerned about Alpine that he didn’t clock right away that you were in a semi-revealing black dress. It was gorgeous, and that kind of look could attract all sorts of attention. Even if you weren’t drunk and all alone, the thought of someone taking advantage of you made his blood boil.

You nodded to the building beside you. “My place is RIGHT there, but it’s soooo sweet that you care about my wellbeing.” 

“Which apartment?” he asked. 

“Okay, you may be really hot and I may be drunk, but I don’t know you, so I’m not telling you my apartment number.” You wrinkled your nose. “That’s how true crimes start.”

He snorted before he could stop himself. At least you were smart enough not to tell him. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re alone out here.”

“My friends and I were celebrating a birthday at the bar a few blocks away and the birthday girl wanted to play drinking games and my luck was terrible tonight since I kept losing, or I guess winning if you count drinking as winning?” you explained, shaking your head. “Anyway, my sober friend dropped me off, but your cat walked over before I could go inside,” you continued, smiling and scratching behind her ears. At least you hadn’t walked home alone. “And it would’ve been rude of me to ignore little Snowball.”

“Her name’s Alpine,” he corrected you, but there was warmth in his tone instead of annoyance.

“My apologies, Queen Alpine.” You booped Bucky on the nose. “And what is your name?”

Bucky blinked and blinked again. He couldn’t believe you just booped him. If Steve and Sam had seen that… “It’s Bucky.”

You didn’t react to his name, simply giving him your name, too. “Do people call you ‘Buck’?” you giggled. “Because Buck rhymes with-”

“I think you should get inside,” he cut you off. “And make sure you drink some water and have some aspirin waiting beside you when you wake up.”

“Awwwwwwwwwww. You really do care about my wellbeing,” You leaned into him, stars in your eyes. “You’re a good man. I can tell.”

Bucky cleared his throat. Why would you think he was a good man? “Well, if Al likes you, you can’t be all bad.”

“I can be bad if you want me to,” you whispered exaggeratedly and winked. “Sorry, I have no filter when I drink.”

“Yeah, I sensed that,” he deadpanned. It was kind of refreshing. “Do you always flirt with strange men like this?” he asked, feeling a surge of jealousy for no reason.

“Just you, stranger,” you answered. He believed you only because you seemed too sweet to lie. “Thanks for being nice and letting me snuggle with your cat.”

You had to be drunk to say he was nice. “I’m a grump.”

You booped his nose again. “Whatever you say, Mr. Grump,” you said, giving Alpine one last pet. “See you later, Alpine.”

The meow Alpine let out sounded so sad it almost broke Bucky’s heart. “It’s late, Al. She needs rest, and so do we.”

“Night night!” you called back, somehow managing to walk in a straight line up the building door. “Sweet dreams!”

“What if Al wants to see you again?” he asked. 

You paused and smiled over your shoulder. “If you want to see me again, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

As tempting as it was to ask for your number or give him yours, you were drunk. You’d probably forget all about him in the morning. Besides, you might have a boyfriend. So he held Alpine closer and watched you go inside, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“You gave me a real scare, Al,” he said, walking away as Alpine looked back at the building. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

For Alpine’s sake, he hoped they’d see you again.

And for his own sake, he hoped you were single.

Had to be done, lovelies! When and where will he see you again? See what happens next with Late Night Recap. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hyuckiefluff]

Flipped | Mark Lee

pairing: gryffindor!mark lee x slytherin!fem reader (ft haechan) genre: angst, fluff, smut (in 2nd part) wc: 29k+ summary: the first time you met mark lee, you flipped his world upside down— literally. seven years later and after countless attempts to avoid you, you're still driving him insane. except now, it’s for an entirely different reason. content warnings: mild possessiveness/jealousy, minor confrontation/injuries, non-consensual drugging (love potion), mark is mean at first and terribly bad at feelings, miscommunication, unrequited feelings. explicit sexual content, cursing, loss of virginity, semipublic sexual activity, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex. a/n: proofreading this after meeting mark lee irl had me feeling crazy... bro is actually majestic and i miss him BAD. anyway... this one is special to me because i’ve been wanting to write a hogwarts au since forever and i absolutely love how it came out. this is also slightly inspired by the movie/book “flipped” so it has a ‘she fell first, but he fell harder’ vibe that i’m kinda obsessed with. i tried to do something different and write the events from both perspectives, i hope it’s clear enough so that you can tell when it’s him and when it’s her. feedback is always appreciated! ps: i had to split this into two parts bc apparently i reached the max word count, so all the smut cws apply to the 2nd part . thank you so much for reading!

The first time Mark Lee met you, you flipped his world upside down.

And not in a good way. In the most literal and humiliating way possible.

It happened on the Hogwarts Express, during your very first year. Mark had been desperately searching for an empty cabin but since he was dragging a suitcase stuffed to the brim by his overly concerned mother, he was at a severe disadvantage. Someone else had already claimed the spot every time he reached a door.

By the time he made it to the last cabin, he was already panting. But at last, he found one that was partially empty.

You sat cross-legged on the seat, nose buried in The Quibbler. Mark found that a little odd, his father always said The Quibbler was full of nonsense, a rag for conspiracy theorists rather than real journalism. But that wasn’t his problem. His problem was the fact that both of his arms were shaking from the weight of his bag.

He cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and your messy bangs fell into your wide, starry eyes. For a second, Mark swore they got even bigger at the sight of him.

“Not at all!” you chirped, your voice high and excited.

Mark forced a polite smile and stepped inside, shuffling toward the overhead compartment. He glanced up at where your bag was already neatly placed and swallowed hard. How the hell was he supposed to get his own up there? He wasn’t weak by any means, but after dragging it through the entire train, his arms were screaming in protest.

You seemed to notice his struggle because you set The Quibbler down and pulled out your wand. “Need help?”

Mark was about to shake his head when suddenly, his feet left the ground.

“What—HEY! PUT ME DOWN!”

Mark flailed helplessly as his entire body flipped upside down, his robes falling over his head. Panic surged through him as he felt his pants begin to slip.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I thought this was the right spell!” you gasped, flicking your wand again, this time more frantically.

Mark tried to grip at something, anything, but all he managed to do was thrash at the air while more of his clothes tried to slip away from his body.

“I—I don’t know the counterspell!” you admitted in a panic.

At the commotion, students from other cabins poked their heads in. A chorus of laughter erupted at the sight of Mark dangling upside down, arms desperately trying to keep his robes and pants in place.

A tall, older student finally pushed his way inside. He took one look at Mark and sighed as if this were nothing new. “Seriously? Don’t you first-years ever learn?”

“I—I was just trying to help him levitate his bag…”

The older student pinched the bridge of his nose. “Finite.”

Mark hit the seat with an unceremonious thud.

“If you lot keep casting spells on the train, I’ll start deducting points from your houses as soon as you’re sorted,” the boy warned before turning on his heel and waving off the lingering audience.

You hesitated, staring at Mark with wide, guilty eyes. “I’m sorry…” you whispered, your voice wavering just a little.

But Mark wasn’t listening. He was too busy seeing red from both rage and humiliation. Without a word, he grabbed his bag and stormed out.

That was the day Mark Lee met you.

And the day he swore he’d never speak to you again.

The first time you met Mark Lee, you flipped.

Not literally but in the way your heart did a little somersault the moment he stepped into your cabin.

You had been engrossed in The Quibbler, completely enchanted by every bizarre detail about the magical world. Since you grew up with two Muggle parents, receiving your Hogwarts letter was like stepping into a dream where the impossible suddenly was real. You couldn’t get enough of it.

Your cabin door suddenly slid open and a boy stood there, panting slightly, his face flushed red from exertion as he struggled to drag an absurdly large trunk behind him.

You felt your face heat up. You’d never been around many boys growing up, having attended an all-girls school, but there was something about him that struck you immediately. Maybe it was the way his glasses were slipping down his pretty nose, or the way he offered a shy, slightly strained smile as he stepped inside. He was adorable.

And he was struggling.

You watched as he attempted to haul his trunk toward the overhead rack, his arms visibly trembling under its weight. Something in you immediately wanted to help.

The problem was… you had no idea what you were doing.

You’d only ever performed magic by accident, usually when you got too emotional. Your mom still loved to tell the story about how the lights in the house flickered every time you cried as a baby. Or the time Madeline Perkins made fun of your pigtails, and the swings mysteriously sent her flying off the playground.

But you’d only just gotten your wand the day before at Ollivanders. You hadn’t practiced a single spell yet, but you had been reading your textbooks. Wingardium Leviosa was the most basic charm in your book.

How hard could it be?

Apparently, hard enough that you somehow missed the part where it said that even though the spell was only for objects, if it was aimed at a person, it would also make their clothes float.

Which was how you now found yourself staring up at the cute boy you’d just met, his body suspended in midair, robes billowing wildly, eyes wide with pure horror.

Talk about a terrible first impression.

From that moment on, Mark Lee avoided you like the plague.  

It didn’t help that you were sorted into different houses—him in Gryffindor, you in Slytherin. You quickly learned that those two houses were basically sworn enemies, which made it even easier for him to pretend you didn’t exist.  

Despite his rocky start on the train, Mark had no trouble making friends in Gryffindor. He was well-liked, effortlessly charming, and even if he wasn’t the loudest in the room, he always carried a quiet sort of confidence. You, on the other hand, kept to yourself. Spending most of your free time watching him from across the Great Hall, your crush on him growing by the day.  

You didn’t know why you liked him so much, he hadn’t done anything grand or impressive to win your admiration. If anything, he actively tried to avoid you.  

You tried approaching him a few times during your first year, hoping to properly apologize and smooth things over. But each time, he found a way to dodge you, claiming he was late for class, too busy with homework, or suddenly needed to be anywhere else but next to you.

So by second year, you changed your approach.  

If Mark Lee wouldn’t pay attention to you as a friend, you’d make him notice you as a rival.  

Mark had been one of the best students in your first year, so you became an absolute academic weapon in your second. You were determined to match him in every class, if not surpass him.  

“Excellent work, Miss Y/N,” Professor McGonagall praised, a rare note of surprise in her voice as she examined the intricate tea jar you had just transfigured from a blue jay.  

You glanced over your shoulder at Mark. He was sitting a few rows back, his brows furrowed as he stared at your jar with a barely concealed frown. His own transfiguration was… less successful. The lizard he’d tried to turn into a pen still had a suspiciously scaly texture.  

But it wasn’t just Transfiguration where you shined.  

You also excelled in Potions, something that became very clear when Professor Snape assigned your class, which you shared with the Gryffindors, the difficult task of brewing Draught of Living Death, a highly advanced sleeping potion that could render someone unconscious with just a single drop.  

One of the Gryffindors groaned in frustration. “Sir, this is way too advanced—”

“If it’s too difficult for your little Gryffindor hands,” Snape sneered, cutting him off, “perhaps you should take notes on how some of the Slytherins are managing. Particularly Miss Y/N.”

Your ears burned at the attention as several students shuffled closer to your workstation, peeking at your bubbling cauldron. The only ones who didn’t approach were the Gryffindors at Mark’s table.  

You noticed that his potion was violently spewing green gas bubbles, and he looked deeply frustrated, brows knitted together as he stirred with precision.  

Letting your own potion simmer for a moment, you stood up and made your way over to his table. The chatter among his friends died down as you approached. Zhong Chenle, the boy sitting next to him, smacked his arm lightly to get his attention.  

Mark finally looked up, his glasses fogged from the potion fumes, and the front of his hair sticking up in all directions.  

You stifled a laugh.  

“Need help?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.  

Mark blinked at you, and for the first time since the train, you finally had his full attention.

“No, thanks. I got it.”  

The words had barely left Mark’s mouth when his potion let out another violent blorp, spewing a sickly green bubble into the air. It popped immediately, releasing a smell so putrid it made your stomach churn.  

“Dude, that smells like a troll’s ass,” Chenle cackled, covering his nose.  

Jaemin, who was sitting across from Mark, raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, mate. She’s the best in the class.” He shot you a grin. “Let her help.”  

Mark resisted the urge to groan. He knew they were right, but the last thing he wanted was for you to be the one correcting him. It was bad enough that you had been outshining him in every subject lately, now you were swooping in to save him too?  

But before he could protest again, you stepped closer to his cauldron making his entire body tense.

“What did you add to make it green like this?” you asked, peering into the potion. Your voice was calm, inquisitive like you weren’t there to gloat but to actually help.  

Mark clenched his jaw, eyes fixed stubbornly on the cauldron. “I did exactly as the instructions said.”  

Jaemin let out a small snort, clearly unconvinced.  

“Hm,” you hummed, examining the bubbling liquid. “You must’ve added more than three drops of Valerian root extract.”  

Mark frowned. Valerian root extract? He thought back to when he had been adding the ingredients, trying to get ahead of everyone. Had he miscounted? Maybe. Probably.  

You reached for a small vial of powdered sopophorous bean and sprinkled just a pinch into the potion. “This should balance it out and bring it back to its original black color,” you explained, gently stirring the mixture.  

Mark watched in reluctant amazement as the once-toxic green sludge darkened before his eyes, settling into the inky black shade it was supposed to be.  

He barely stopped his brows from rising in surprise. You had fixed it. Just like that.  

Mark swallowed down the frustrated lump in his throat. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of knowing you had one-upped him again.  

“That was impressive, Y/N,” Jaemin said, clapping his hands.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling shyly. “The instructions in this book are a bit ambiguous, so I suggest adding less than what the recipe says at first, watching how the colors change, and then adjusting accordingly.”  

Mark exhaled slowly, forcing himself to loosen his grip on his stirring rod. He hated to admit it, but that was actually… good advice.  

Still, he kept his eyes on his potion, refusing to look at you or thank you for helping. 

"You should start sitting with us, Y/N," Chenle said, grinning like a cat as he threw an arm around Mark. "So you can help our boy here, who’s clearly lost."

Mark didn’t miss the way your eyes lit up at the invitation. And that was exactly why he needed to shut this down immediately.

He knew about your little crush on him, everyone did. You weren’t exactly subtle about it. You always looked at him with those heart eyes across the Great Hall, his friends teased him about it constantly. You also cheered the loudest for him at every Quidditch match, even when he was playing against Slytherin. Even when your house lost. He’d seen the way your own housemates sneered at you for it, the way they mocked your infatuation, but you never seemed to care.

The other thing about you was that you were so unapologetically Muggle-born.

Not that Mark cared about blood status. He wasn't that kind of wizard, despite coming from a long line of pure-bloods. But you made it so difficult for yourself. You didn’t even try to blend in among your Slytherin peers. You didn’t mind their teasing, didn’t care that you had practically no friends in your own house.

It was frustrating, the way you took every jab with a smile, like none of it ever got to you. But what frustrated him even more was that whenever he said anything, whenever he so much as muttered something slightly harsh, your whole face fell.

And for some stupid reason, that bothered him more than it should.

“Sorry, this table is already full,” Mark said, once again avoiding your gaze. He imagined the way your smile faltered.

“What are you talking about? There’s plenty of—”

Mark elbowed Chenle sharply in the stomach.

“Like I said, the table’s full.”

“Oh… okay,” you murmured, your head dipping slightly. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”

Mark didn’t watch you walk away, but he could feel the disappointment in your steps.

“Dude, you’re so mean to her,” Jaemin muttered, his eyes still on your retreating figure. “She clearly likes you.”

“Whatever,” Mark huffed, waving him off. “Let’s focus on something else.” He ignored the knowing smirk Jaemin shot him and tried—failed—to ignore the creeping warmth rising up his neck.

In your third year, you found a passion for Herbology.

Mark should’ve been relieved. After all, the more time you spent in the greenhouse, the less time you spent trying to talk to him. And at first, it was great. He barely had to think about you at all.

But then… it became his problem.

Because one day, he started noticing small bowls of water left in his usual spots—on the Gryffindor table, outside the Quidditch locker room, even near the Gryffindor common room entrance. At first, he ignored them. Maybe some first-years were testing a spell. Maybe it was a coincidence.

Then, he saw the petals floating in the water shift and transform into delicate, shimmering fish as soon as he grabbed the bowl.

And Mark hated to admit it… but it intrigued him. The magic was advanced, something most students their age wouldn’t even attempt. He even caught himself watching the tiny enchanted fish, mesmerized by the way their colors glowed under the candlelight.

That was his mistake, because his friends noticed.

“You’re actually accepting her gifts now,” Chenle teased, crossing his arms as Mark peeled off his muddy Quidditch uniform.

“We don’t even know if it’s hers,” Mark argued, tossing his gloves onto the bench.

Jaemin snorted. “Do you really think anyone else in our year knows how to do that kind of magic?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one crazy enough about you to put in that much effort,” Chenle added with a smirk.

Mark rolled his eyes. “There are other girls who like me, you know.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “Are there? ’Cause I feel like Y/N’s already scared them all off.”

Chenle laughed. “Honestly, just give her a chance. She’s pretty, and let’s be real, she’d probably do anything for you.”

Mark sighed, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

They didn’t get it. He’d spent years running from you, dodging your attempts, shutting down any rumors before they could spread. He couldn’t just give in now.

Maybe it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

But it did to him.

So he kept doing what made the most sense to him, and one day, you found yourself walking into the greenhouse when your eyes immediately spotted the familiar bowls scattered across the table. Your heart clenched at the sight, but you refused to believe Mark would just discard your gifts like that.

But as you approached, you noticed something that made your stomach twist painfully. The fish, once so vibrant and lively, now lay still in the water. They barely moved. They didn't swim with the same energy, the same color that had once made them sparkle. They just stayed there, like lifeless figures floating in stagnant water. And, as ridiculous as it sounded, you could almost swear they looked sad.

It hit you like a physical blow. Mark really didn’t want anything to do with you. 

The realization didn’t come alone, though. You’d noticed it over the last few months, but you’d been too stubborn to admit it to yourself. Mark had been spending more time with a girl from Ravenclaw. You didn’t even know her name, but the way they talked and laughed together, the way he’d smile at her with that soft look you’d always hoped to get... It was all the confirmation you needed. Mark Lee wasn’t just avoiding you… he was interested in someone else.

You stood there in the greenhouse, staring at the fish, a sinking feeling settling deep in your chest. He didn’t care about you the way you’d always hoped. 

In your fourth year, you decided it was time to focus on yourself. To put Mark away and finally let go of your feelings for him.

You’d been practicing something called Occlumency. Professor Snape had given you a book on it and told you it would help you shield away any distractions when you started falling behind in class due to your little infatuation with a certain seeker.

“This is very advanced magic,” Snape had said, handing you the book with a knowing look, “and it takes months, sometimes years, of practice to master it.”

And practice you did. Every day, you worked at it, pushing your emotions into a mental drawer and locking it away. It was hard at first. Your thoughts kept wandering back to Mark, but slowly, you began to make progress. You learned to control your thoughts, to put each memory, each feeling about him into that mental drawer, one by one, and shove it far back in your mind.

The more you practiced, the easier it became. It wasn’t perfect, but over the course of the year, you started to feel a strange sense of indifference towards Mark Lee.

At least until The Yule Ball was announced in the middle of the term. Even with all your hard work on Occlumency, you couldn’t stop the twinge of longing that crept in. You knew Mark would be going with Mia, the Ravenclaw girl whose name you had learned through the whispers of the school. It wasn’t like you had any right to feel disappointed, but the nagging thought of asking him yourself refused to leave your mind.  

You had planned to skip the celebration altogether. The last thing you wanted was to sit alone while Mark and Mia danced, all dressed up and happy.

But that changed one afternoon in the library when you were buried in research on Venomous Tentacula for a Herbology project

The library was the one place where you could lose yourself without interruption, so you were caught off guard when you heard footsteps approaching and a voice calling your name.

“Hey, Y/N, right?”  

You turned, surprised to see Lee Haechan standing there. He was easily one of the most popular guys in Slytherin, the kind of person who always had a group of friends around him, cracking jokes and showing off on the Quidditch pitch. He wasn’t one to hang around in the library by himself during a free period. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken to him—if you ever had.  

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice more guarded than usual.

You were used to your fellow Slytherins teasing you for the smallest things, such as your Muggle clothes or the way you searched for books manually instead of having Madam Pince summon them for you.

“You probably don’t remember, but last year, you helped me during the Potions final,” he said, his tone surprisingly shy. It was a sharp contrast to the cocky confidence he usually carried.  

You thought back, remembering how badly he had struggled to keep his assigned potion from bubbling over and spilling across the table. You had only helped him because if his potion had spilled into yours, it would’ve ruined your work. But you didn’t tell him that.  

“I remember,” you said, reaching for a book on a higher shelf.  

Before you could grab it, he stepped closer, plucking it from the shelf with ease.  

“Thanks,” you muttered, slightly suspicious of the unexpected kindness.  

Then he said something that completely threw you off balance. “Listen, I heard you don’t have a date for the Yule Ball.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your fingers tightened slightly around the book. Lee Haechan, of all people, was bringing up the Yule Ball? He was one of the most sought-after guys in Slytherin, and yet here he was, talking to you about the biggest event of the year.  

“I’m not really planning on going,” you said, brushing off the conversation as you moved toward a nearby table.  

And, of course, he followed.  

“Really? Why not?” he asked, dropping into the seat across from you.  

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t leave you alone until you answered. “For starters, I don’t dance.” You flipped open your book, eyes scanning the pages in an attempt to distract yourself.

Haechan leaned forward slightly. “Ah, that’s an easy fix. I can teach you.”  

You glanced up, raising a brow. “Where is all this coming from, Haechan?”  

His smile widened when you said his name “I thought it was obvious,” he said. “I want you to go to the dance with me.”  

You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for the moment he’d burst into laughter and reveal it was all some elaborate joke. But he didn’t laugh. He just watched you, his smile still in place.  

“Me?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  

He nodded. “You have pretty eyes, by the way.” His voice was casual as if he were just commenting on the weather. You nearly choked on your own breath, covering it up with an exaggerated cough.

“Did anyone ever tell you that?” he continued, watching your reaction with obvious amusement.  

You willed yourself to stay composed, but your heart was racing. What was he playing at?  

“Why would you want to go with me?” you asked. “It can’t just be because I helped you once on a test.”  

“Why not?” He rested his chin in his hand. “Maybe I’m extremely grateful and want to repay you.”  

Your heart beat faster than you wanted it to, and you couldn’t tell if he was just messing with you or if he actually meant it. Haechan had a teasing air about him that made it impossible to tell. Was this a bet with his friends? Or did he just enjoy seeing you flustered?

You hesitated, trying to find the right words, but before you could say anything, he stood abruptly.  

“Sleep on it if you want,” he said with a grin. “You can tell me after the Quidditch game on Saturday.”

“Oh, but I wasn’t planning on—”

“I’ll see you there, Y/N,” Haechan said, cutting you off with a wave. Before you could protest, he walked away, leaving you in stunned silence.  

The next few days were strange. Haechan was clearly hovering around you. He wasn’t making it obvious, but you were observant enough to notice that he wasn’t skipping some of your shared classes anymore. He had also started spending time in the library even though you’d rarely seen him there before. He didn’t approach you, but you felt his eyes on you every time.  

You also realized he was checking out books right after you did. It was oddly amusing, so you decided to mess with him one day.

You had spent enough time in the library to know how to take books from the Restricted Section without alerting Madam Pince. You pretended to read over one, placed it on a different shelf, and waited. A few minutes later, you spotted Haechan heading straight for that section.  

Silence filled the air, then a bloodcurdling scream rang through the library. The sound of a book hitting the floor echoed through the rows of shelves. Moments later, Haechan rushed out, his wide eyes locking onto you as you hunched over, struggling to hold in your laughter.  

“I’m guessing that was your doing,” he said, dropping into the seat beside you.  

You shook your head, still grinning. “That’s just a security mechanism all the books from the Restricted Section have.”  

His brows lifted, amusement flickering in his gaze. “How did you even get a book out of there without a professor’s note?”  

You shrugged. “I have my ways.”  

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with something that made you suddenly self-conscious. “You keep surprising me, Y/N.”  

Across the library, Mark sat at a table with Mia, his Potions textbook open in front of him but he wasn't reading anymore and his quill was static in the air. His gaze was locked on you and Haechan, watching the way you leaned in, the way your laughter softened the space between you. Mia followed his stare, then let out a quiet hum.  

“What an odd picture, huh?”  

Mark blinked, tearing his eyes away. “What?”  

Mia tilted her head, her quill twirling between her fingers. “They’re from the same house, sure, but Haechan is one of the most popular guys in school.” She glanced over at you, then back at Mark, a slow smile tugging at her lips. “And she… isn’t she kind of an outcast? Even in her own house?”  

Mark tried to keep his tone neutral and disinterested  “So?”  

Mia let out a soft laugh, dipping her quill in ink. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s probably just bored. Using her for his own amusement.”  

Mark glanced back at your table. Haechan was leaning in, grinning as he spoke to you. You looked up at him with something close to exasperation, but there was a smile playing on your lips. It was weird. You didn’t smile like that often.

He ignored the way something twisted in his chest. “You don’t know that,” he muttered, forcing his eyes back to his parchment.  

Mia hummed, unconvinced. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual for a Saturday with a quiet sense of dread settling over you. Instead of heading to the greenhouse like you normally would, you made your way to the Quidditch pitch, the crisp morning air biting at your skin. You had layered up so much that your scarf nearly swallowed half your face, but even with the extra warmth, you wished you were still curled up in bed.  

When you reached the stands, the realization hit you like a punch to your face—today’s match was against Gryffindor.

You should’ve known, but school events had barely been on your radar between your Occlumency lessons and your herbology studies.  

You climbed up to the Slytherin side of the stands, slipping into a seat in the back row. It wasn’t crowded yet, and you hoped to stay unnoticed, keeping your head low. The last thing you wanted was to catch the attention of a certain seeker. Or two. Not that Mark would be looking your way anyway.  

The distant whoosh of broomsticks cut through the morning stillness, and then, all at once, the stadium came alive. Players soared onto the pitch in a blur of red and green, the announcer’s voice booming through the enchanted speakers. You were only half-listening when you noticed Haechan scanning the crowd.  

You set to ignore him when his eyes landed on you.  

He mouthed something, but you couldn’t quite make out the words from the distance. His lips moved again, slower this time, like he was asking a question.  

You hesitated, then lifted your hand in a thumbs-up, hoping that would satisfy whatever he wanted. Though you immediately regretted it when you felt the weight of other eyes shifting onto you. People had noticed the exchange. Your face burned, and you quickly looked away.

The game began, and you tried to focus. Your eyes followed Haechan for most of it, but every so often, your Occlumency walls slipped, and your gaze found Mark. He was fast, his broom cutting through the air as he scoured the pitch for the Snitch. Haechan was right on his tail, matching his every turn, the two of them locked in a battle of speed.  

You knew Mark was a talented seeker. He was quick and light in the air, but his broom wasn’t as fast as Haechan’s, and that made some difference.  

You weren’t really rooting for either of them. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Though the right thing to do as a Slytherin would be to hope for Haechan’s victory.  

The crowd suddenly roared, breaking you from your thoughts. Both seekers had disappeared behind one of the towers in a steep dive, and they were gone for a few agonizing seconds. Then, like a flash of green lightning, Haechan shot back into the air, arm raised, the golden Snitch clutched tight in his fist. 

The Slytherins around you erupted into cheers, the stands vibrating with excitement. You blinked, then let yourself be swept up in the celebration, joining the chorus of triumphant screams.

Haechan suddenly veered toward the stands, his broom tilting slightly as he hovered just above the crowd. He brought the Snitch to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to its delicate golden surface before tossing it in your direction. Your hands reacted before your mind could catch up, fingers closing around the tiny fluttering ball with ease.  

A collective gasp rippled through the Slytherin section, eyes darting between you and Haechan.  

"Y/N!" Haechan called out, his voice carrying effortlessly over the noise of the crowd. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"  

The world felt like it had slowed.  

You hated attention. You hated feeling like all eyes were on you. But what you hated the most in that moment was the fact that Mark was there, hovering just behind Haechan, watching everything unfold. His broom was still, his expression neutral, but you could feel his eyes burning into you, waiting for your response.  

"So," Haechan prompted, his voice a little breathless from the cold and the game, his nose and cheeks tinged pink. "What's your answer?"  

Your fingers tightened around the Snitch. You risked a quick glance at Mark, searching for something—anything—in his face. But all you could see was the annoyance from losing the match.  

There was only one right answer.  

"Okay," you said.  

Haechan grinned, throwing his arms up in victory. The crowd erupted, voices overlapping as cheers and chants of his name filled the air.

Mark wasn’t on his best game today. He was usually laser-focused before a match, but things weren’t going right thia morning. First, someone pulled a prank and turned his Quidditch robes a bright pink. Now, he was stuck wearing Sungchan’s, which were way too big. They hung loosely around his shoulders and got in the way whenever he tried to move.  

On top of that, Mark was in a strangely sour mood, though he couldn’t figure out why. Everything felt off. The broom didn’t feel right in his hands, and the wind felt harsher than usual.  

Then he saw you in the stands.  

At first, he thought you were there for him. You usually came to cheer him on, so it made sense. But when Lee Haechan flew by and his face lit up when he saw you, Mark realized he’d been wrong. You looked flustered, but you still gave him a thumbs up.  

So, you weren’t there for him? That was okay. Actually, it was better than okay.  

But then Haechan wouldn’t stop. He kept swooping around Mark, poking fun.  

“A little slow today, huh?” Haechan called as he flew beside Mark. “You looking a little distracted, Lee.”  

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Focus on your game,” he said, his tone clipped.  

“Oh, I am.” Haechan’s eyes flickered to you in the stands, where you were rubbing your hands together for warmth.  

Mark’s focus broke. The rest of the game felt like a blur.

He was usually the fastest to spot the snitch. No matter who he played against, his eyes always found it first. And Haechan wasn’t known for being the most observant player, so when Mark saw the snitch fluttering just a few feet away, he immediately maneuvered toward it. But his borrowed robes dragged around his legs, slowing him down. By the time he managed to free himself, Haechan had already spotted the snitch and was racing toward it.  

Mark pushed forward, forcing his broom to match Haechan’s speed. When he caught up, the Slytherin boy turned to him with a smirk and a challenge in his eyes.  

“First one to catch it wins the prize,” Haechan said.  

Mark frowned. There was no prize for catching the snitch. The cup at the end of the year depended on accumulated wins, and there were still plenty of matches left. But then it clicked. Haechan wasn’t talking about the cup. He was talking about you.  

For some ridiculous reason, he thought Mark was interested in you.  

The snitch suddenly dove, and both seekers followed. They jostled for position, each elbowing the other to get ahead. But then Haechan leaned forward, and it was like his broom had shifted into another gear. He shot ahead, leaving Mark behind with no chance to catch up.  

When Mark rose back to the pitch, he already knew he had lost.  

It shouldn’t have pissed him off as much as it did. Gryffindor had been on a winning streak for the past three matches, and they were still leading. This loss wouldn’t hurt them in the long run. But something about losing to Haechan irritated him.  

It definitely wasn’t the fact that Haechan flew straight toward you. It wasn’t the fact that he tossed you the snitch and asked you, in front of the entire school, to go to the dance with him.  

Mark didn’t know why his ribs felt tight against his chest or why he found himself waiting for you to look at him. But then you did, and all he could do was scowl.  

And then you said okay.  

Mark didn’t want to hear the cheers so he turned his broom and flew away.

It was the night of the Yule Ball, and you were nervous. Ever since the match, you had started getting more attention from your fellow Slytherins. Some of it was good, some of it wasn’t. A few girls had taken an interest in you, though, and they were nice enough that you didn’t feel the need to keep your guard up so you didn't refuse when they offered to help you get ready for the ball.

“You have really pretty eyes,” Minjeong said, tilting your chin up. “I think if we curl your lashes and tweeze your brows a bit, they’d stand out even more.”  

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, shifting awkwardly on the vanity stool they had just enchanted into existence in the dorm.  

“I hope you don’t mind,” Karina started, eyes bright with excitement, “but I made some modifications to your dress.”  

You tensed. “What? What kind of modifications?”  

“Oh, just a few little ones,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean… you’re about to show up with the most popular Slytherin guy. You can't wear something plain.”  

“Right,” Minjeong agreed, blending eyeshadow onto your lids. “You have to show everyone you’re on his level.”  

You weren’t sure how you felt about that. But you let them work. They curled and pinned your hair, dusted powders and pigments onto your face, and finished off with a few well-placed glamour enchantments. When they finally let you open your eyes, the reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable.  

“This is our best work yet,” Minjeong said, clapping Karina on the back.  

“Absolutely,” the taller girl agreed, looking satisfied.  

Your hair fell in soft curls over your shoulders, half-pinned in the back with what looked like strands of shimmering tinsel woven in. Your eyes somehow looked bigger, framed by thick lashes that made them seem darker, more intense. Your brows were perfectly shaped, giving your face a softer, more refined look.  

“Okay, now put on the dress! We’ll go get ready,” Karina said, pointing toward the neatly laid-out fabric on your bed.  

Before you could say anything, they were already out the door.  

“Thank you!” you called after them, but they were long gone.

You turned toward the bed, hands smoothing over the fabric of the dress Karina had "modified". To your relief, it was still elegant and not overly flashy. The gown was a soft, silvery blue with a delicate shimmer that caught the light when you moved. The bodice was fitted but modest, with sheer lace sleeves that draped lightly over your shoulders. The skirt flowed down in gentle layers of airy fabric, giving it an almost weightless quality. It was pretty, delicate, and just fancy enough to make it clear you hadn’t thrown it together last minute.  

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. At least it wasn’t anything too dramatic.

When you stepped out of the girls' dorm and into the Slytherin common room, your heart pounded so loudly you were sure someone could hear it. Haechan was waiting for you, and the moment your eyes met, you noticed how the entire room seemed to pause. Conversations quieted, and nearly every gaze turned toward you.   

“Wow… you look so… wow,” Haechan stammered, walking up to you. His expression was so genuinely stunned that you felt warmth rise to your cheeks.

“You look gorgeous, and I don’t think that even describes it well.” He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, his lips curling into a grin when he noticed how flustered you looked.   

“Hah, thanks,” you chuckled nervously. “You look nice too.” He did. His black suit fit him well, long robes flowing behind him, accented with silver details that made him look effortlessly put together. His hair was slicked back, but a single strand had fallen over his forehead, softening his sharp features.  

He placed a hand on your back and led you up the stairs and out of the dungeons, you instinctively held onto his arm to steady yourself.   

Thankfully, by the time you reached the Great Hall, the attention had shifted from you. The room was filled with students dressed in elegant robes, sparkling gowns, and tailored suits, each more dazzling than the next. The sheer number of people made it easy to blend in, or so you thought.  

Because somewhere across the hall, a particular Gryffindor’s eyes never left you.

“Who is that?” Jaemin asked, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.   

“That’s Y/N, idiot,” Chenle replied, looking equally stunned.   

“No way… seriously?” Jaemin’s eyes widened.   

“Now she finally looks like she could really date someone like Lee Haechan,” Mia chimed in, sipping her drink with a raised eyebrow.   

Mark didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on you across the room.   

“Cat got your tongue?” Mia teased, and Mark snapped out of his trance, his eyes meeting hers.   

“No…uhm… she looks the same to me.” Mark muttered before walking away.   

You ended up enjoying yourself far more than you’d expected. Haechan was surprisingly fun to be around, and he wasn’t getting too touchy, which you appreciated. You both jumped and swayed to the music of the Weird Sisters.   

“I hate this band!” Haechan shouted over the noise, but his feet didn’t stop moving.   

You burst out laughing. “Me too.”  

He grinned at you, his face flushed, both of you breathless and sweaty.

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Hey, what’s up with you and Mark Lee?”

Your laughter died in your throat.

“Huh? Nothing, why?” you stammered, trying to hide your nerves.   

“Because he’s looking at me like he wants to hex my head off,” Haechan said, chuckling.   

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Mark indeed staring in your direction. His expression was tight, angry even, but there was something else there too. Beside him, Mia was practically clawing at his attention, asking him something. He simply shook his head, dismissing her with a frown before she stormed off.   

“Don’t mind him,” you said, turning back to Haechan, but he was already watching you.

“I’m not,” he said softly, his hands finding yours. 

Suddenly, you were standing closer to him, and you had to tilt your head to meet his gaze. The music shifted into a slower tune, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized how close he was now.   

“Stop me if you’re not okay with this,” he murmured, his breath warm against your face. Before you could even process, his lips brushed yours, and then he closed the gap entirely.

Haechan’s lips were soft against yours, and for a brief moment, the world around you disappeared. The music faded into the background, the chatter of students blurred into nothing, and it was just the two of you.  

Then, all at once, everything shattered.  

A loud crack echoed through the Great Hall, and before you could process what was happening, something thick and cold splattered down your back. You gasped, stumbling away from Haechan as a chilling sensation spread over your skin. A murmur rippled through the crowd as gasps and stifled laughter filled the air.  

You looked down. Dark, sticky liquid seeped into the delicate fabric of your dress, staining the soft silk into something sickly and ruined. A pungent smell filled your nose. You barely had time to react before your dress started shrinking.  

Your breath caught as the bodice tightened, the fabric pulling uncomfortably against your ribs, cinching around your waist like an invisible grip. Your sleeves vanished, and the hemline shot up several inches in one horrifying swoop, exposing far too much of your legs.  

The laughter grew louder.  

You clenched your fists, heart pounding as humiliation crashed over you in waves.  

“What the hell?” Haechan’s voice rang out, sharp and furious. He whipped around, wand drawn, eyes scanning the hall for the culprit.  

And then your gaze landed on Mark.  

He stood several feet away, his wand still faintly sparking at the tip. His expression was frozen, his face a shade paler than before. His mouth was slightly open, like he wasn’t sure how the spell had left his lips in the first place.  

But you didn’t see uncertainty. You didn’t see hesitation or guilt. All you saw was an angry boy.  

A boy who barely acknowledged you before. A boy who always seemed unimpressed by your very existence. A boy who just humiliated you in front of the entire school.  

Your throat tightened.  

He really hated you that much.  

Haechan was already stepping in front of you, blocking you from the murmuring students. His wand was still raised, his grip so tight his knuckles had gone white.  

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Lee?” His voice cut through the noise, venom dripping from every word.  

Mark didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, his fingers twitching like he wanted to undo what he had just done. But he didn’t move.  

Your breath was shaky as you forced your voice to come out steady. “You didn’t have to do that.”  

Mark’s gaze snapped to you, something flickering in his eyes. But you didn’t care what it was.  

“You could’ve just ignored me like you always do,” you continued, your voice sharper now, your chest rising and falling with barely contained anger. “You didn’t have to humiliate me.”  

Mark opened his mouth, but for once, he had nothing to say.  

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, then turned away.  

Haechan was already pulling off his robe, draping it over your shoulders before wrapping a protective arm around you. “C’mon, let’s go,” he muttered under his breath, shooting one last glare in Mark’s direction before leading you out of the Great Hall.  

Mark didn’t mean to stare.

But from the second you stepped into the Great Hall, he couldn’t seem to look away.

You didn’t look different. That’s what he told himself. It was just a dress. Just some makeup. Just a bunch of pointless glamour spells. Nothing about you had actually changed.

And yet.

And yet.

His grip tightened around the goblet in his hand as he watched you dance with Haechan, laughing at something he said, looking so damn happy at his side. Mark didn’t even know Haechan that well, but for some reason, he hated him.

He hated the way Haechan touched your waist. He hated the way you let him pull you closer when the song slowed down. Hated the way you tilted your head to look up at him, that slight pause in your movements making it clear what was about to happen.

Mark’s heart slammed against his ribs, something bubbling up inside him, something sharp and hot and suffocating.

And before he even thought about what he was doing, his fingers twitched around his wand.

It happened too fast.

A crackle of magic shot from his wand like a reflex, like something instinctual, something uncontrollable. It streaked through the air, twisting and curling before hitting you and Haechan where you stood.

The Great Hall fell into silence and then laughter erupted.

Mark could barely register what had happened, only that you looked devastated. Your dress was drenched and shrinking until the delicate fabric was something ridiculous, something cruel, something designed to humiliate.

His blood ran cold. He had done that.

He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t even know what spell he cast, just that it happened because of the way you looked at Haechan. Because of the way Mark didn’t want you to look at Haechan.

Haechan’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Lee?”

You turned to him then, and when your eyes met his, something inside him dropped.

Because you didn’t only look angry. You looked… hurt.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, and it wasn’t an accusation. It was just... disappointment.

Mark felt something claw up his throat. But he couldn’t say anything.

He watched as you shook your head, your expression hardening as you pulled Haechan’s robe tighter around yourself.

"You could’ve just ignored me like you always do,” you said, voice sharp now. “You didn’t have to humiliate me."

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

And then you turned your back on him. And he just stood there still gripping his wand.

Still feeling that suffocating thing inside his chest.

Hating himself for the fact that he had only just realized what it was.

Mark felt like the ground had been yanked from under him. His whole body felt heavy, like he was stuck in some kind of nightmare where he could see everything going wrong but couldn’t stop it.

Jaemin sighed, shoving Mark’s wand into his own pocket. “Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Mark couldn’t answer. He was still staring at the spot where you’d stood, where you’d looked at him like he was the worst person in the world. 

Chenle shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is with her, but you actually humiliated her in front of everyone. That’s not just being petty, Mark. That’s being cruel.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mark said quickly, voice hoarse, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew how weak they sounded. What did that even mean? That he hadn’t meant to hex you? That he hadn’t meant to let his jealousy swallow him whole?

Jaemin scoffed. “Well it sure as hell looked intentional.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt tangling in his throat. “I—I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. It just—” He exhaled sharply. “It just happened.”

Jaemin exchanged a look with Chenle. “Right. It just happened that you hexed her right when she was kissing Haechan.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. He hated the way Jaemin said it. Like it was so obvious.

Chenle crossed his arms. “If you’re gonna act like this every time you see her with another guy, maybe just admit that you like her and spare everyone the dramatics.”

Mark flinched. “I don’t—”

Jaemin held up a hand. “Before you finish that sentence, think really hard about whether or not it’s a lie.”

Mark clamped his mouth shut. Because he didn’t know anymore.

But it didn’t matter, did it? Even if he did like you, what difference would it make?

You were the one who hated him now.

By the time your fifth year came around, you’d successfully mastered Occlumency so well that when you returned to school Mark was nothing more than a passing thought. The memories you had of him felt distant, like a foggy dream.

You never thought you’d feel this way, but it was almost freeing. The emotional weight he’d carried for so long was no longer crushing you. You were finally able to move on.

After what happened at the Yule Ball, you were relieved that Haechan seemed to understand you needed space. He kept things between you friendly, never bringing up the kiss or attempting to do it again. It made things easier, even if there was still an underlying tension whenever he caught your eye for too long. But just because he didn’t push for anything more didn’t mean he stopped very obviously flirting with you.

If anything, he seemed to have doubled down. Compliments slipped into every conversation, his arm would brush against yours whenever he passed by, and he always found some excuse to sit next to you in the common room or during meals. It was like he had claimed you in some unspoken way—not forcefully, or in a way that made you uncomfortable, but in a way that let everyone else know that he was still very much interested.

Karina and Minjeong, meanwhile, had become your biggest support system. For the first time, you felt like you truly had friends. And if they had one common enemy, it was Mark Lee.

“He is so pathetic,” Karina muttered, stabbing at her breakfast aggressively. “Walking around like a sad puppy as if he isn’t evil.”

“How dare the Gryffindors say we’re the house full of terrible people when they have someone like Mark Lee?” Minjeong scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

You hid a small smile behind your cup, already used to their daily Mark-related grievances. It had become routine at this point. Every morning, without fail, they found something new to complain about. And if they couldn’t find anything, they made something up.

“I mean, look at him,” Karina continued, tilting her head toward the Gryffindor table. “He’s just poking at his food and sighing dramatically. Does he expect us to feel bad?”

Minjeong rolled her eyes. “As if he has anything to be heartbroken over. He’s the one who embarrassed you in front of everyone. And now he has the audacity to mope around? Get a grip.”

You said nothing, focusing on your plate instead. You had built up your Occlumency walls so well that even you weren’t sure what you felt about Mark anymore. You weren’t angry. You weren’t sad. You weren’t… anything. And you were proud of that.

You stopped going to Quidditch games after a while. You just couldn’t shake the feeling of self-consciousness that crept in every time you stepped into the stands. But Karina and Minjeong convinced you to go today. It was Slytherin’s match, and though it was against Gryffindor, you agreed. You trusted your walls, confident that nothing could touch you now.

The game started, despite the pouring rain. The weather only seemed to make it more intense. The announcer’s voice echoed over the field, remarking on the lightning that nearly struck the Slytherin keeper. You could barely hear him over the storm.

Mark and Haechan were both darting across the sky, locked in pursuit of the Snitch. They were higher than the other players, cutting through the rain like streaks of lightning themselves. You tried to follow them with your eyes, but the thick raindrops blurred your vision and the gusts of wind whipped your hair into your face, making it harder to see. Then, all at once, the sky split open with a crack of lightning.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Mark’s broom fall from the sky, his body following in a terrifying, uncontrolled descent.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, your voice barely carrying over the storm. Time seemed to slow. Your mind raced as you realized that one of the professors had cast the Arresto Momentum charm just in time. The world around you shifted back into real-time, and suddenly, Mark’s body was lying motionless on the pitch.

He was unconscious but thankfully unscathed. The rain was pouring down in sheets now, mixing with the frenzy of footsteps as professors rushed to his side.

Without thinking, you slipped out of the stands, pushing through the chaos of the crowd. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your breath quickening as you neared the pitch. The professors were already at his side, checking him over carefully. You could barely breathe, the panic tightening around your chest.

“Mark,” you whispered, as if calling him out of a deep sleep.

When Mark woke up, the first thing he saw was Madam Pomfrey waving her wand over him, a soft golden light flickering at the tip as she muttered a diagnostic spell under her breath.

“Oh, great heavens! You’re finally awake,” she gasped, clutching her chest in relief. “I was beginning to think I’d have to send for St. Mungo’s. There was no reason for you to still be unconscious!”

Mark blinked a few times, his vision still slightly blurred, before realizing he wasn’t alone. Chenle and Jaemin were sitting nearby, their faces tight with concern.

“Mate, you scared the shit out of us,” Chenle said, his brows furrowed.

“We thought we lost you,” Jaemin added, a little too serious for Mark’s liking.

“What… happened?” Mark asked, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t had a sip of water in days.

“You fell off your broom from at least fifty feet in the air. It was insane,” Chenle said.

“I don’t… why don’t I remember anything?” Mark mumbled, wincing as a dull, throbbing pain settled in his skull.

“Professor McGonagall slowed your fall, but you still hit the ground pretty hard. You must’ve knocked your head,” Jaemin explained.

Madam Pomfrey huffed. “I’ll bring you a dose of Revitalizing Tonic, it should help with the disorientation. You two wrap things up and get to your dorms… it’s far too late for visitors.” She turned on her heel, bustling off toward her supply cabinet.

Jaemin scooted closer, watching Mark carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got beat up by the Whomping Willow,” Mark muttered.

Chenle snorted. “You’re lucky you didn’t actually land on it. That would’ve been really bad.”

“We were all so worried. No one thought you’d wake up today,” Jaemin added.

“The whole team was here earlier,” Chenle continued. “Mia too… and, uh—Y/N was the last one to leave—”

“Wait, what?” Mark pushed himself up too fast, his head spinning in protest. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, we’re just as shocked as you are,” Chenle said. “She ran to the pitch the second you fell. I swear, I thought she was gonna pass out from how hard she was crying.”

“She looked like she was having a panic attack,” Jaemin added. “Professor Snape had to give her a Calming Draught.”

“I think she genuinely thought you were going to die,” Chenle said.

Mark’s stomach twisted painfully. His mind still felt sluggish from the fall, but that one piece of information cut through it like a blade.

You were crying over him? Panicking? That didn’t make any sense.

“This doesn’t…” Mark swallowed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would she—why would she care?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.

“Beats me,” Chenle shrugged. “She hasn’t talked to you in over a year. I was sure she hated your guts. But apparently, you’re harder to get over than we thought.”

Mark barely registered the teasing tone. His brain was running a mile a minute.

You were worried about him. You didn’t hate him? Or maybe… maybe it was just shock. Maybe seeing him fall had been scary in the moment, and once you knew he was okay, you'd go back to ignoring him. This didn't mean anything.

…Right?

After Chenle and Jaemin left, Mark knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Madam Pomfrey had left him a Sleeping Draught, which sat untouched on his bedside table.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Jaemin said. How you ran onto the pitch, crying over him. It didn’t make sense. You hadn’t spared him a second glance since the Yule Ball. If anything, he would’ve preferred if you were still angry, if you had lashed out at him, screamed, hexed him—anything. 

But instead, you had simply erased him from your world. The few times you had looked at him had been either by accident or when he deliberately put himself in your way, and your eyes had always been so empty.

The door to the hospital wing suddenly creaked open. Mark assumed it was just the wind, or maybe Madam Pomfrey checking in on him, so he quickly shut his eyes and feigned sleep when he heard soft footsteps approaching.

For a moment, there was nothing. He almost convinced himself he had imagined it until he felt the weight shift at the edge of his bed.

Then, the sound of quiet, muffled sobs.

“Mark…”

His breath caught in his throat.

It was you.

Before he could even process it, your hand was suddenly on his face, fingers grazing his cheek in the softest touch. A shiver threatened to run down his spine, but he forced himself to stay still.

“I’m sorry…” Your voice was fragile. “I wished so many bad things on you last year… I feel like…like this is my fault.” A shaky inhale. “Please be okay.”

Mark wanted to sit up. Wanted to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that none of this was. That he had deserved everything you threw at him but not this guilt.

But if he moved, would you run? Would you slip away before he even had the chance to say anything?

He was too much of a coward to find out. So he stayed still, letting your fingers caress him, letting your words sink into his skin like a warmth he hadn’t felt in so long.

Mark was certain you had stayed the whole night. Even in the haze of half-sleep, he had felt your presence beside him. He only realized you had left when the first rays of sunlight began filtering through the hospital wing’s windows.

Madam Pomfrey cleared him to leave that morning, assuring him he wasn’t in any real danger anymore. She did, however, insist he avoid Quidditch for at least a week. Not that he particularly cared. There were no matches coming up, but even if there were, he doubted he’d be able to focus on anything other than you.

He didn’t know what to do with the new knowledge that you did care about him. That you had cried over him. That you had touched him so gently, so reverently, as if he were something precious. It should have been a relief, but it made him anxious instead. After all this time, after everything that he’d done to you, how was he supposed to approach you?

The thought of you looking at him with those same empty eyes, telling him to get lost, made his stomach twist.

No—he had to be smart about this. He had to find a moment when you were alone.

That would have been easy before, when you had no friends and spent most of your time buried in books or wandering the castle halls by yourself. But now? Now, you were constantly surrounded by Karina, by Minjeong, and worst of all, by Haechan.

Mark had been watching the two of you closely, trying to figure out if there was something going on. He knew Haechan was still pursuing you, that much was obvious, but you weren’t dating as far as he could tell. At least, he hadn’t heard anything about it.

Still, the thought gnawed at him.

After a lot of consideration, he decided the best way to talk to you was during your prefect rounds at night. The problem was figuring out when you were scheduled. If he had tried this a year ago, you probably would’ve handed over the information without question. Now? Not a chance.

So, he had to get creative.

It took some effort to figure out your schedule, but after bribing a few Slytherins with an unlimited supply of Fizzing Whizzbees from Honeydukes for the rest of the year, he learned that your shift usually started around 8 pm.

So by 7:59 pm, he was slipping out of the Fat Lady’s portrait, glancing around to make sure Filch wasn’t lurking in the shadows. His heart was pounding, but he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or anticipation.

He was finally going to talk to you.

He figured you’d start your shift near the Slytherin common room, so he made his way toward the dungeons. Sure enough, there you were, walking slowly, completely absorbed in a book.

Mark couldn’t help but smile to himself.

"So much for staying vigilant during patrols," he finally said.

You flinched, nearly dropping your book. When you turned around, your wide eyes locked onto his, shimmering under the dim candlelight. For a second, all he could think about was how lovely you looked.

"Mark..." you breathed, almost like you couldn’t believe he was real.

"Hi," he said, scratching the back of his neck. He looked away for a moment, gathering the courage to step closer.

"Are you okay?" you asked, and the genuine concern in your tone made his heart stumble over itself.

"Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal," he chuckled nervously.

"Not a big deal?" Your brows furrowed, and your tone sharpened slightly. "You fell from the sky, Mark."

He wasn’t used to you looking at him after all this time, much less with worry.

"I’m sorry," he said, watching the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides. "I heard you were pretty shaken up after it."

"Yeah…" you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was..."

Mark's heart jumped. He knew it already, he knew you had stayed by his bedside, knew you had cried over him—but hearing you say it made something in his chest tighten painfully.

Your eyes scanned him again, like you were checking to make sure he wouldn’t collapse at any second.

"I’m okay, I promise," he reassured you.

You nodded, then let out a sigh, glancing around as if suddenly remembering where you were.

"What are you doing outside your common room this late?"

Mark hesitated. Should he make up some excuse, or should he just tell the truth?

"If you were planning to sneak out with Mia, I’ll have you know that I must deduct points from your house and report it to Professor McGonagall," you said, your tone suddenly more detached. Just like that, the warmth in your expression flickered out, and your eyes went cold again.

Mark felt like he had just been shoved back into reality.

"No, no," he stammered quickly. "Mia and I are not… we’re not together."

You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. "Okay. Then why—"

"I wanted to talk to you," he blurted out. "To apologize. For everything. I never got the chance to back then."

"It’s been a year, Mark," you said flatly.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured. "But you still deserve an apology. And I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but… I needed to say it anyway."

His voice faded toward the end, barely audible. 

"Okay…" You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You're forgiven. I don’t hold it against you anymore... I actually haven’t for a while."

"Really?" Mark blinked. "You don’t even care why I did it?"

"Not really. It doesn’t matter anymore."

"I want to explain, though," he insisted.

You simply nodded, waiting.

Mark took a deep breath. "I was an idiot back then… well, I guess I’m still an idiot but I was an angry idiot. And I don’t know what came over me… I took it out on you. But I swear, it wasn’t because I hated you. I never hated you." He exhaled sharply, as if forcing the words out before he lost the nerve. "I know you don’t have to believe me, but… I just—I need you to know that."

He spoke so fast, stumbling over his words. Afraid that if he paused, he wouldn’t get to say everything he wanted. By the time he finally stopped talking, your expression had softened just a little.

"I see…" You seemed to search for the right words before settling on a quiet, "I’m glad you told me." A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips.

But it didn’t ease the tightness in Mark’s chest. It didn’t make him feel any better. Because there was more, so much more he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how. And he was terrified.

"Do you wanna hang out?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

"Now…?" You glanced around, hesitating. "I’m kind of—"

"No! Sorry, I meant… later. Tomorrow, maybe? Or—I don’t know… whenever you can."

You stayed quiet for a moment, considering it. "Uhm… okay. Tomorrow. After class?"

Mark nodded too eagerly. "Yes! That sounds perfect." His voice came out overly excited, but he couldn’t help it.

"Okay. See you tomorrow, then." You gave him a small wave before turning away. "Now go before any of the other prefects see you."

Mark barely registered your warning, his mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow.

You were dreading your night shift as a prefect tonight. You hadn’t slept much after staying by Mark’s side all night. You heard he was discharged this morning, but not seeing him with your own eyes made you feel as if he was still hurt.

You had no idea how to deal with the knot in your stomach, so you brought a book with you hoping it would distract you. But even as you read the words on the pages, they blurred into one long line, your mind constantly flickering back to him.

You’d spent so long putting up walls inside your mind, careful to shield yourself from things that hurt too much. It had worked, mostly. You hadn’t felt anything deeply in a long time. But after the accident, those walls felt thinner, more fragile than ever.

And the minute Mark spoke behind you, you felt them crack.

Your whole body went stil and he was just standing there, smiling shyly at you. It took everything in you not to collapse in relief. 

You whispered his name and tried so hard not to let your emotions show. But everything felt too much, the relief, the fear, the overwhelming rush of memories and feelings you had buried for so long. You had to hold it all in. You couldn’t let him know how glad you were to see him. 

You were trying to remain composed, to keep your usual guard up, but with him standing there, looking so... so Mark,  

"Hi..." he said quietly. 

You forced yourself to speak. "Are you okay?" It was the question you had been waiting to ask, but it came out more desperate than you’d intended.

"Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal," Mark chuckled, the sound awkward and nervous. But even the way he said it made your heart sink with unease.

You couldn’t hide the irritation that sparked inside you, the remnants of the fear still clinging to your chest. "Not a big deal? You fell from the sky, Mark." The words left you harsher than you intended. You were so angry at the idea of losing him, so scared because it had been too close.

"I’m sorry, I heard you were pretty shaken after it." His voice was quieter now, and you could feel the way he was trying to reach you, even though the distance between you both felt insurmountable.

You nodded slowly, the walls inside your mind trying to reassemble themselves, trying to keep you composed. “Yeah... I was...."

The truth slipped out, and as soon as it did, you regretted it. You didn’t want him to know just how terrified you’d been that something might happen to him and you wouldn’t be able to truly tell him how you felt. The walls inside your mind cracked again.

"I’m okay, I promise," Mark said softly, his gaze holding yours, as if trying to assure you.

You wanted to close your eyes and pretend like everything was okay, but the walls kept wavering. You couldn’t trust that feeling, not yet.

You nodded, but the unease inside you didn’t go away. Not when you saw the way his eyes kept searching yours. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t control.  

The walls that had kept your emotions in check for so long were trembling now, and it was getting harder to keep them from falling. You needed to focus on something else, anything else.  

"What are you doing outside of your common room so late?" You forced the authority back into your voice. But you knew it didn’t fool anyone—not Mark, not even yourself.

He stumbled over his words, clearly nervous. "I wanted to speak to you. Apologize for everything. I never got the chance to back then."  

The words hit you like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t just an apology. It was him standing in front of you, looking so... raw. You weren’t sure if you were ready for everything he was willing to lay bare. But you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t stop yourself from listening.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. "It’s been a year, Mark."

"I know. But you deserve an apology, and I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but still... I wanted to say it."

Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice, but something inside you fought to keep the walls intact. The last time you’d allowed yourself to feel so exposed, it had ended in too much pain.  

"Okay..." You put a strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re forgiven... I don’t hold you to it anymore. I actually haven’t for a while."

His expression shifted in relief, but it didn’t bring the peace you thought it might. "You don’t care why I did it?"

You shook your head, forcing the walls to stay up. "Not really. It doesn’t matter anymore."

"I want to explain, though," Mark said, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen in him before.

And you nodded, thinking that maybe it was okay to let the walls waver for now. 

So you heard him out when he nervously asked to hang out, and you ignored the logical part of you that told you you might get hurt again.

The next day, Mark woke up earlier than usual. He told himself he wasn’t making a big deal out of hanging out with you today, but he still spent longer than necessary in the shower. He even put on cologne, something he never did.

He only had two classes with you this year, and after the Yule Ball accident, he made a habit of sitting as far away as possible, just so you wouldn’t catch him sneaking glances every few minutes.

But today, he was going to sit next to you.

At least, that was the plan—until he walked into Divination and saw that Lee Haechan had already taken the seat beside you.

Mark blinked. He didn’t even know Haechan was in this class. Then again, he was pretty sure he had skipped most of the semester. And yet, he suddenly decided to show up today? Right when Mark was finally trying to make things right with you?

Mark scowled as he trudged to the table behind yours. Mia slid into the seat next to him, but he barely noticed her presence until she snapped her fingers in front of his face, breaking his intense staring contest with the back of Haechan’s head.

"Did you do something different to your hair?" Mia asked, eyeing him.

Mark instinctively ran a hand through it. He had used a bit of gel this morning, but now that she pointed it out, he felt self-conscious.

"No," he muttered, dropping his hand and forcing himself to focus on Professor Trelawney, who was currently droning on about the art of tea leaf reading.

"...And remember," she was saying dramatically, her bracelets jingling with every exaggerated movement, "the leaves do not lie! They reveal the truth hidden beneath the surface, the past, the present, and sometimes, if you are truly gifted, the future."

Mark barely listened, too distracted by the way Haechan kept whispering in your ear.

"Now! Pick a partner and interpret their tea leaves. It can be anyone's cup!"

Mark didn’t hesitate. He shot up from his seat, stepping around Mia and snatching your cup before Haechan could even reach for it.

You flinched slightly at the sudden movement, but when you looked up and saw it was him, you relaxed.

"Hello," Mark said, smiling.

You smiled back. "Hi."

From beside you, Haechan’s jaw tightened. "I see you’re alive."

Mark smirked. "You’re lucky I am or there’d be no witness to prove you didn’t push me off my broom."

“Guide yourselves with the book and pay close attention to the patterns so you can decipher what the tea leaves say,” Professor Trelawney cut in, her voice airy and theatrical as always.

“I guess I’ll look at your cup then.” You flicked your wand, summoning Mark’s cup toward you.

Haechan huffed beside you and settled for reading Mia’s cup instead.

Mark watched you tilt his teacup, your eyes scanning the damp leaves at the bottom with unnerving concentration. He’d never taken Divination seriously, Trelawney's constant doomsday prophecies were more of a running joke than anything, but the way you were studying his cup seriously made him realize you were exactly the opposite.

“Alright…” You murmured, brushing your fingers against the rim of the cup as you turned it slightly. “This shape here…it kind of looks like…” Your brows furrowed in thought before you glanced at the textbook. “A hound?”

“A hound?” Mark repeated, leaning in slightly.

“It symbolizes guilt.” You looked up at him then, and for a moment, the room felt too quiet. “Something that’s been eating at you for a while. Maybe something you want to say but haven’t faced properly yet.”

You were staring back into the cup as if searching for something more. Mark wanted to brush it off, make some joke about Professor Trelawney getting to your head, but the way you spoke made him hesitate.

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat, “that’s… ominous.”

“Maybe it just means he regrets not catching the Snitch before nearly cracking his skull open.” Haechan snorted, leaning back in his chair.

Mark’s jaw twitched but before he could open his mouth to say something, Professor Trelawney’s voice rang through the room.

“Now, now! I sense many of you are struggling to find clarity in the leaves, but do not fret! The Inner Eye is a gift not all possess.”

Mark turned your cup carefully in his hands, squinting at the clumps of tea leaves at the bottom like they might suddenly rearrange themselves into something comprehensible. They didn’t.

“Alright…” he said slowly, stalling for time. “So, um—this kind of looks like…” He tilted his head. “Maybe… a deer?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “A deer?”

“Or… a horse,” he amended quickly. “Yeah. Definitely a horse. Which, uh, probably means…” He paused, grasping for anything remotely logical. “You have an adventurous spirit. And, um, bravery. And, like… untamed passion?”

Mia snorted from beside him, barely holding back her laughter, while Haechan outright scoffed.

Before you could tease him, Professor Trelawney materialized beside your table, her many scarves billowing behind her. She peered over Mark’s shoulder, tutting disapprovingly.

“I knew you didn’t have the Sight, my dear boy,” she said, shaking her head mournfully. “But fear not, Divination is an art that can be nurtured… even in those with less potential” She patted his shoulder with a dramatic flourish before floating off to torment another group.

Mark sighed, his ears burning red. But then he glanced at you and you were smiling. At him.

And suddenly, he didn’t care about looking like an idiot.

The bell rang before he could bring up your plans for later, and you left with a small wave. He spent the next few hours trying not to overthink it, but thankfully your last class of the day, Care of Magical Creatures, was together. That meant another chance.

Professor Kettleburn led the class out to the paddock, where a row of iron-reinforced cages sat waiting. Today’s lesson was on Chimeras.

Even Mark knew that was a terrible idea.

“Of course, we won’t be working with full-grown Chimeras,” Kettleburn reassured, “for obvious reasons. However, the Ministry has provided us with young ones under very, very careful supervision.”

He demonstrated the proper way to throw raw meat to the creatures. The chimera’s serpent tail lashed at him when he got too close, and the class collectively took a step back.

“Alright! Now, you lot give it a try!” Kettleburn beamed, seemingly unfazed by the near-death experience.

Mark grabbed a chunk of bloody meat and approached the enclosure, trying to ignore the way the chimera’s goat head was glaring at him. The moment he threw the meat, it hit the ground about a foot too short, and the beast let out a dissatisfied growl.

“This,” he muttered under his breath, watching as the chimera’s lion head snapped at him, “is why Professor Kettleburn has lost almost all his limbs.”

“Need help?”

Mark flinched at the sudden voice, turning to find you standing there, watching him with an amused tilt to your lips.

He huffed out a laugh. “You know, I’ve noticed you ask that a lot. Do I really look that helpless?”

You giggled. “Uhm… a bit.” Then, you took the meat from him and tossed it over the fence in one smooth motion. The chimera caught it mid-air, seeming significantly less hostile toward you than it had been toward him.

Mark blinked. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I’m a terrible flyer.”

Mark scoffed. “That’s the one thing I think I’m good at.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.” You said it casually, but both of you knew you’d been to almost every single one of his Quidditch matches since first year.

He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck, summoning whatever courage he had left. “So… did you still want to hang out today?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “How about the library?”

Mark barely resisted the urge to groan. He tried to keep his face neutral, but you noticed the way he grimaced.

You smirked. “Or we can do the greenhouse?”

His expression instantly lightened. “Yes! That sounds good.”

And when you turned back toward the chimera, Mark found himself staring a little too long. He’d never really noticed how pretty your eyes were. Or maybe he had, and he’d just forced himself to ignore it. But now—now he couldn't stop seeing them. The way they glowed when you got something right in class, the way they sparkled when you looked at him for the first time on the train all those years ago.

He missed that. The way you used to adore him.

And he hated himself for wasting it—because he’d been too much of a coward. Too immature to handle something so good.

After your last class, you made your way back to the Slytherin dorms, stopping in front of your mirror to fix your uniform and contemplate whether a simple glamour charm might make your cheeks look a bit rosier. Not that you were dressing up for Mark, obviously.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his sudden shift in attitude. He’d never been this… nice before. And maybe you were quick to accept it because you’d spent the past few days terrified of losing him. But was that enough of a reason to let your guard down?

You sighed, closing your eyes and practicing Occlumency for a few minutes before heading out. You knew you’d need your walls strong if you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.

When you stepped into the common room, Karina and Minjeong were hunched over a Potions essay they definitely should’ve finished by now.

“And where are you going all dolled up?” Karina asked, looking up from her parchment.

“What? I look the same as I always do,” you said, feigning nonchalance.

Minjeong raised an eyebrow. “Are you meeting Haechan?”

It would’ve been easier to say yes. But they’d find out soon enough when Haechan inevitably strolled through the door looking for you.

“No, I’m going to go check on the Venomous Tentacula.” You were actually proud of how quickly you came up with the lie.

“Okay. Boooring.” Karina waved you off, already focused back on her essay.

You smiled quickly, muttered a goodbye, and slipped out of the common room before they could ask anything else.

When you arrived at the greenhouse, Mark was already there. He straightened up the moment he saw you, hands fidgeting slightly at his sides. But then you noticed he was holding something. A flower.

Not just any flower... a Moonbloom Orchid. A rare magical plant that was known to change colors based on the emotions of the person holding it, and right now, its soft lavender hue radiated warmth and quiet affection.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, Mark… it’s so pretty. How did you get it?”

Mark shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Oh, it wasn’t that hard to find.”

That was a complete lie.

He had sneaked out to Hogsmeade during his free period yesterday and asked around every store, pub, and dodgy corner for hours, trying to track one down. He had spent almost all his galleons on it.

But looking at your face, your excitement, he decided it was worth every single one.

“Thank you. I love it,” you said, your fingers brushing over the glowing petals as you smiled up at him.  

And that smile—Merlin, that smile—hit Mark like a Bludger to the chest.  

For the first time, maybe ever, he wanted to kiss you. Really kiss you. Not in some fleeting, passing thought but in a way that made his heart pound and his throat tighten. The desire was so sudden, so strong, it nearly knocked him off balance.  

He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, so… want to show me around?” he asked, as if he hadn’t been having lessons in this greenhouse for years.  

You giggled, and he could tell by the amused glint in your eyes that you saw right through him. “Sure,” you said, playing along. “I guess I can show you what I’ve been working on.”  

You led him toward a section of the greenhouse that looked darker, the air thick with the scent of damp soil and something faintly spicy. Twisting vines curled around the edges of a wooden planter, their leaves twitching slightly as you approached.  

“These are pretty hard to find,” you explained, crouching beside the pot. “I begged Professor Sprout to let me plant the seeds I found. Don’t ask where I found them, though.”  

Mark raised a brow, intrigued, but he didn’t press.  

“You really love this stuff, huh?” he asked instead.  

You glanced up at him, then back at the plant, lightly running your fingers over its writhing leaves. The Venomous Tentacula shuddered, curling toward your touch as if it recognized you.  

“I guess I do,” you admitted. “I don’t know… I feel comfortable around plants. I can feel their emotions, almost.  Even if they can’t really express it… I guess I relate to that”  

Mark watched you carefully, noting the way you hesitated like there was something more you wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring yourself to.  

The way you spoke about plants… it was almost the way he felt about you.  

Something real and quiet. Something he had never really put into words because he didn’t know how.  Because even now, standing next to you, close enough that he could see the way the evening light reflected in your eyes, he felt like he shouldn’t want it.  

Mark wasn’t sure how long he stood there just watching you, but it was long enough for you to notice.

You blinked up at him, tilting your head slightly. “What?”

He shook his head, forcing a laugh. “Nothing,” he said.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was the way the soft glow of the sunset made you look almost unreal. The way your lips parted slightly, like you were about to say something, only to change your mind. The way his own thoughts were a mess, tangled somewhere between I shouldn’t and I can’t stop thinking about you.

You turned back toward the plant, your fingers lightly tracing one of the curled leaves. “It’s kind of funny,” you murmured, half to yourself. “Plants grow towards the things they need. Sunlight, water… warmth.”

Mark swallowed. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way you said it made his skin feel hot. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “They don’t second guess it. They don’t hold themselves back.”

He wasn’t sure if you meant anything by it, but it struck something deep in his chest anyway. 

Because he had spent years holding himself back.

And now, with you standing this close, your voice soft, your eyes flickering to his he wondered if maybe he should stop doing that.

His hand moved slightly, barely thinking, like an instinct. Like those plants reaching for sunlight. And for the briefest moment, your fingers brushed against his.

It would be so easy to close the space between you.

So easy to reach forward, to tip your chin up slightly, to finally, finally—

The greenhouse door banged open.

Mark jolted back so fast he almost knocked over the planter.

Professor Sprout bustled in, looking completely oblivious to the moment she had just shattered. “Oh! What are you two doing here? Curfew is soon, I need to lock up for the night.”

You cleared your throat, stepping back as well, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry, Professor. We were just finishing up.”

Mark forced himself to breathe, still feeling the ghost of your fingers against his.

Still thinking about how close he had been… and how badly he already wanted to try again.

The rest of your fifth year went by in a blur. Even though you and Mark were on much better terms now, there was little time to think about it between the overwhelming pile of O.W.L prep and the ridiculous amount of homework assigned for every subject.

You managed to pass every exam, most of them with an Outstanding. Mark, on the other hand, had spent so much time this year distracted by you that he fell behind on his classes. 

So as punishment, he forced himself to stay away—at least until he could guarantee he wouldn’t completely fail.

He still barely scraped by. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only subject he earned an Outstanding in, but his Potions grade wasn’t high enough to qualify for the advanced level. Not that he wanted to take the class again, but it meant one less excuse to see you during the day.

When sixth year came around, he found himself sticking around you more, even if your friends didn’t particularly like him. So more often than not, he waited until you were alone.

Like now.

“Hello,” Mark said, spotting you sitting on the grass with a book open in your lap. The Whomping Willow loomed behind you, its massive branches swaying with an eerie creak. He eyed it warily.

“You’re awfully close to that thing.”

You barely glanced up. “It’s not so bad once it gets used to you.”

Mark scoffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t think that is capable of getting used to anything.”

You hummed, flipping a page. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, making you look almost ethereal.

Mark swallowed.

He’d spent so much time not noticing these things, forcing himself to ignore the way your presence always made his stomach twist. But now, it was getting harder to push those thoughts away.

Without thinking, he sat beside you, close enough to feel the faint brush of your robes against his. “You know,” he said after a moment, voice quieter than before, “you are allowed to relax now. OWLs are over.”

You huffed a soft laugh, still looking at your book. “I don't think I know how.”

Mark tilted his head, watching you. “Maybe I could teach you.”

You finally turned to face him fully, the corner of your mouth twitching. “And you’re the expert on relaxing?”

Mark grinned, a little lopsided. “Nope. But I’m an expert at not studying. That’s basically the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now, and something in his chest tightened at the sight.

A light breeze rustled through the trees, sending a few leaves drifting between you. One of them settled in your hair.

Mark hesitated.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he reached up. “Hold still,” he murmured.

Your brows furrowed. “What—”

His fingers brushed against your hair, plucking the leaf free. But his hand lingered grazing your temple.

You went still. Mark swallowed, his pulse hammering. He thought about pulling away. But then you looked at him and your eyes flickered down to his lips just for a second.

Suddenly, the space between you wasn’t so wide anymore.

His hand was still in your hair, and your breath was so, so close, and he could see the way your lips parted slightly almost as an invitation.

But then a sharp creak from behind you made you jolt apart. The Whomping Willow shifted, its branches twitching ominously.

Mark exhaled, pressing a hand to his face. What the hell was that? When he glanced at you, you looked just as dazed. Maybe even disappointed.

That sent a strange thrill through him.

But then you cleared your throat, shaking your head as if brushing the moment away. “We should probably move,” you said, standing and dusting yourself off. “Before the tree decides to take a swing at us.”

Mark huffed a laugh, still a little breathless. “Thought you said it was harmless.”

But as you started walking away, Mark stayed there for just a second longer, staring after you. 

He really needed to kiss you.

Badly.

Mark Lee was confusing you.

There had been two clear moments now where you’d almost kissed. Both times, he’d been the one to lean in first, and both times, something had interrupted before it could happen. Yet despite his boldness in those brief moments, you still couldn’t fully let yourself believe this attention was real.

Your heart wanted to, but your brain knew better.

Mark had spent years ignoring you, brushing you off like you didn’t exist, and then humiliated you too. Only to suddenly pull you into his orbit now. Yes, he’d apologized—sincerely, you’d give him that—but that didn’t mean you could just forget the way he hurt you before.

Meanwhile, Haechan seemed to be acting… strange lately.

He was always around, even more than usual. He’d even started asking you to help him with assignments, which was bizarre because Haechan had made a sport out of either sleeping through classes or deliberately distracting you in them. Yet now he’d started seeking you out in the library, sitting closer in the common room, and finding any excuse to keep you near.

You didn’t mind. If anything, it felt comfortable being around him. Haechan never made things complicated. 

But you did notice the way Mark would glare daggers at him from across the Great Hall. Or the way his jaw clenched whenever he caught Haechan whispering something in your ear that made you laugh.

And then there was the incident.

It happened in Charms class. Professor Flitwick had started teaching everyone Expulso, a more advanced charm that forcefully propelled objects away from you. It was precise magic that required perfect wand movement and a focused mind.

And well... Mark had neither.

You’d been paired with Haechan for the practical exercise and he, of course, turned the whole thing into a joke, purposefully missing his targets just to make you laugh. Then he decided to experiment, turning his wand on the scarf Mark had left on his desk. With a flick of his wrist, Haechan sent it flying toward himself.

“It’s a bit cold in here, isn’t it?” he grinned, draping it around his neck.

“Dude, give it back,” Mark said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Haechan shot him a smug look. “Relax. I don’t fancy these colors either.”

Mark gripped his wand so hard his knuckles turned white. He really tried to keep his composure, but watching you laugh with Haechan as he mocked the Gryffindor colors did something dangerous to his self-control. His mind blurred with pure instinct. Before he could stop himself, he flicked his wand and muttered, “Expulso.”

He’d only meant to send the scarf flying back to him.

Instead, Haechan was thrown clear across the room, crashing into a stack of desks and sending books and ink bottles scattering everywhere. Gasps echoed around the classroom. Mark’s stomach dropped.

“Mr. Lee!” Professor Flitwick exclaimed, horrified. “Detention! Immediately!”

And that’s how Mark ended up cleaning every single portrait frame in the castle as punishment.

Now he was on his fourth hour of wiping down dusty frames, trying to ignore Sir Cadogan’s taunting comments.

“Are you truly the best Seeker this school has to offer? Ha! Pathetic, if you ask me! No spine! No dignity!” the painted knight cackled, waving his sword wildly.

Mark gritted his teeth, his grip on the cloth tightening. “I swear, if you don’t shut up—”

“Oh? Going to hex me too, are you?” Sir Cadogan jeered. “Do it, coward! Strike me down if you dare!”

Mark seriously considered shaking the frame just to feel some satisfaction when he heard footsteps behind him.

“You haven’t learned your lesson about hexing people yet?”

Mark froze.

He turned around and there you were, still in your uniform, badge pinned neatly to your robes as a reminder that you were out on prefect patrol. His heart did a stupid little flip at the sight of you.

“Apparently not,” Mark said, trying to force a laugh.

“I think we need to do something about your self-control, Mr. Lee.”

The way you said his name, playful but with a trace of authority, sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

“I admit,” Mark started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve been a bit hot-headed lately.”

You raised a brow. “Lately?”

Mark groaned. “Okay, fine. Always. But—” he hesitated, his mouth clamping shut before he said something stupid like I just get like that when I see you with him.

You were still watching him, expectant. “But?”

“…Nothing.” He turned back toward the frame, vigorously wiping it down as if it would erase his own embarrassment.

You stepped closer.

“Mark.”

He swallowed thickly, his hand pausing. “…Yeah?”

“Why did you do it?”

He tried to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

You huffed. “You’ve never lost control of your magic like that with him. Not even during Quidditch. You didn’t just hex Haechan… you blasted him.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. “Maybe he deserved it.”

“For what?”

Mark clenched his teeth. For touching you. For putting his arm around you like you belonged to him. For making you laugh like that. For being close to you in a way he wasn’t allowed to be.

“…For being an asshole,” Mark muttered pathetically.

You scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Touché.

“Mark,” your voice softened. “Look at me.”

He did. And God, he shouldn’t have.

You were so close. Your scent, your warmth, it was dizzying. Mark could feel his pulse roaring in his ears, his breath shortening. His hand hung limply by his side, still clutching the rag tightly.

There was ink on your cheek.

Without thinking, he reached up, his thumb grazing softly against your skin. “You, uh…” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. “You’ve got ink. Right here.”

You gasped.

And Mark realized he was completely, utterly doomed. His thumb caressed your cheek, and then his hand drifted lower, trailing down your jaw before he realized what he was doing.

His entire body was screaming kiss her.

You didn’t move away and for one unbearable moment, Mark swore you were leaning in too—

“Oi!” Sir Cadogan suddenly barked from his frame. “You there! I see you trying to woo a lady with improper decorum! Unhand her at once!”

You flinched back like you’d been scalded. Mark cursed under his breath, his entire body recoiling from yours.

“I—uh... should finish patrol,” you stammered, practically fleeing.

“Yeah. Right. Patrol.” His voice cracked. 

And as you disappeared down the corridor, Mark let his head fall against the wall with a groan.

That was three times.

Three times he’d almost kissed you. Three times something—or someone—had interrupted. And three times he’d walked away regretting it.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

Halloween arrived in a blur of decorations and excitement. The castle was buzzing with energy, students gorging themselves on sweets from Honeydukes and filling the Great Hall with loud chatter and laughter. 

Mark wasn’t particularly fond of sweets, but he still tagged along with Jaemin and Chenle to Hogsmeade that morning. It was a decent distraction.

When he finally returned to the dormitory that evening, exhausted and chilled from the walk, he found a small pile of sweets on his bed. Mark frowned. Weird. He didn’t remember leaving any there. But then his eyes landed on a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

His heart stopped.

A slow, stupid smile spread across his face as he reached for the box, his mind flashing back to years ago—to the day you’d given him a similar box of chocolates in second year. Back then, he’d been a coward. He’d tossed them out in front of you when his friends told him to, too embarrassed to admit that the sight of you blushing as you handed them to him had made his heart race. He could still remember the hurt on your face when he did it.

Mark wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

He opened the box without hesitation, popping one of the chocolates into his mouth. It melted on his tongue, rich and sweet, but almost immediately he felt… odd. Like his blood was moving too fast in his veins.

He blinked.

His pulse thundered in his ears, and an uncomfortable tightness built low in his stomach. His throat was dry. His skin felt hot. His head felt like it was being stuffed with cotton.

“What the hell…” Mark muttered, stumbling back slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him.

The room swayed around him, his thoughts clouding over like a dense fog. But the one thing that stayed sharp and clear in his mind was you. Your face. Your voice. The lingering warmth of your skin from when he’d touched your cheek before. His body burned with the desperate, uncontrollable urge to find you.

Mark didn’t remember walking out of the dorm. His body moved on autopilot, driven by a force he didn’t understand, only that he needed to see you.

You hated Halloween patrols.

They were miserable every year, especially when you knew the castle was still alive with music and celebration, and you were stuck walking through empty corridors. It didn’t help that Halloween was also prime time for students sneaking out of their common rooms to pull pranks or engage in other debauchery.

So when you rounded a corner and spotted two people heavily making out against the wall, you didn’t think much of it. You just sighed and braced yourself to break them apart.

“Alright, enough,” you said, walking toward them. “Back to your dorms or I’m docking points—”

You froze.

The boy pinning the girl against the wall, his hands gripping her waist like he couldn’t get enough of her... was Mark.

Your heart plummeted so fast it made you feel physically ill.

“Mark?” your voice cracked.

Slowly, like something out of a nightmare, Mark’s head turned toward you. His pupils were blown wide, his hair mussed from the fervent kiss. There was a wild, unhinged look in his eyes that you didn’t recognize like he wasn’t entirely there.

But the girl…

You felt like the air had been knocked out of you when you recognized her.

Minjeong.

Your best friend.

Your mind couldn’t catch up. No. This didn’t make sense. Mark had almost kissed you. Three times. You’d spent weeks pouring your heart out to Minjeong, admitting—-however humiliating—that you thought Mark was starting to like you back. And she… she knew.

She knew exactly how you felt about him.

Your gaze darted between them, desperately searching for some sort of explanation, some indication that this wasn’t what it looked like. But Mark was still staring at you in a daze, and Minjeong was… smiling.

You felt something splinter deep inside you.

“You—” your voice died in your throat.

Minjeong had the audacity to giggle. She pulled away from Mark’s mouth, though his hands were still clinging to her hips. “Oh…hey, Y/N,” she said breathlessly, a sheen of gloss smeared across her lips.

You looked at Mark, desperate for him to say something. But his gaze was fixed solely on Minjeong, his chest heaving, his lips still parted like he wanted more.

“Mark,” you choked out again.

His head snapped toward you. For a split second, his face twisted into something confused, like he didn’t understand why you were there. His eyes darted across your face, and you swore there was a flicker of recognition, a brief moment of panic in his expression.

Then Minjeong giggled again and Mark’s gaze instantly darkened as it fell back on her.

“Aw, don’t be mad, Y/N,” she pouted. “Please don’t tell Professor Snape, yeah?”

You felt like you were watching yourself from outside your body. “You two… can’t be here right now. You need… you need to go back to your common rooms.”

Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

“Come on,” Minjeong teased, suddenly hooking her arm around yours. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Y/N. We’re just having some fun.”

You flinched. Don’t touch me.

Your Occlumency walls shot up instinctively, straining under the weight of your heartbreak but holding just enough to keep your expression neutral. You swallowed down the burning in your throat and repeated, “You need to go.”

Mark still wasn’t speaking. His pupils were so dilated it was unnatural, his chest still rising and falling rapidly like he couldn’t catch his breath. His swollen lips parted like he was about to say something.

But Minjeong turned, smiled sweetly at him, and said, “Mark, come on. Let’s not get Y/N in trouble.”

And Mark moved like a moth to a flame. Without hesitation, he grabbed her waist and yanked her into another bruising kiss. You recoiled like you’d been burned, forcing your eyes away before the image could be seared into your memory forever.

The sound of Minjeong’s delighted giggles made you want to scream.

Finally, she pulled back, wiping her mouth with a smug grin. “See you tomorrow, Y/N,” she sang, then turned to Mark and cooed, “Come on, lover boy. Let’s go.”

Mark didn’t even look at you. He let her drag him off down the corridor without so much as a glance in your direction.

The second they disappeared, your Occlumency walls shattered. You sucked in a shaky breath, clutching your chest like you could physically hold the pain in. A choked sob escaped your throat, but you quickly swallowed it back, forcing yourself not to cry here.

You’d be damned if you let them see you break.

What you didn't know is that Mark wouldn’t remember any of it.

Not the taste of Minjeong’s lips. Not the way his body burned with the inexplicable need to touch her. Not the sick, nauseating feeling in his gut when he caught your tearful gaze and felt like he was betraying something sacred.

All he would know was that when he woke up the next morning, his throat would be dry, his mind foggy…

…and the lingering taste of chocolate still heavy on his tongue.

A whole week passed since Halloween and Mark could not, for the life of him, figure out what he’d done to make you go back to acting like he didn’t exist.

You wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t spare him a glance, and on the rare occasion that your eyes did meet his, it was like he physically repulsed you. It was driving him insane.

Mark was starting to think he must’ve had one too many butterbeers during Halloween night and done something incredibly stupid. But he couldn’t know for sure because, again, you wouldn’t speak to him.

He also noticed you and Minjeong weren’t talking anymore. That part confused him almost as much as your behavior toward him. You were either with Karina or Haechan now, but most of the time, you were alone. And Mark hated it — hated seeing you without the warm spark you always carried when you were surrounded by friends.

But most of all, he hated that you were ignoring him. He needed you to talk to him. He needed you to tell him what he did wrong so he could fix it immediately.

Which is why he was now standing outside the Slytherin common room, anxiously hoping someone would be kind enough to let him in. Unsurprisingly, none of the Slytherins were willing to let a Gryffindor in, especially one who looked as nervous and fidgety as Mark did.

He was starting to lose hope when, finally, the perfect opportunity came in the form of Karina.

“Hey! Karina—” Mark called, jogging a few steps toward her. She slowed down as she spotted him, her face immediately tightening into an annoyed scowl.

“What do you want?” she said, her tone clipped and cold.

Mark blinked, taken aback. He knew Karina didn’t exactly love him, but she had never sounded this openly hostile toward him before.

“Uh… I was hoping I could talk to Y/N. I was wondering if you could either let me in or—”

“How dare you?” she snapped, suddenly pointing an accusing finger at him.

Mark froze. “I— sorry, what?”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve coming here with those stupid puppy dog eyes like you didn’t completely break her heart again. Haven’t you humiliated her enough? Or do you just get off on using her and throwing her away when you’re bored?” Karina’s voice trembled with anger.

“Wha... what are you talking about?” Mark asked, his voice rising in exasperation.

“Don’t play dumb, Lee. You know exactly what you did,” she spat.

“No, I don’t! I swear, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of right now! I already apologized for the Yule Ball… and the gifts… but what is this about me using her?” Mark’s heart was starting to race, his palms sweating as dread crawled up his spine.

Karina scoffed incredulously. “Seriously? You’re gonna keep playing the innocent act? After everything?”

“Karina, I’m serious. I don’t know what you mean! What did I do to her?”

“Oh my god.” She let out a bitter laugh, taking a step back like she couldn’t stand to be near him. “You really don’t remember?”

Mark’s throat tightened. “…Remember what?”

Karina stared at him for a long moment, her face twisted with disgust. “Halloween, you idiot.”

Mark blinked. “Halloween?”

“Yes, Halloween. When you were shoving your tongue down Minjeong’s throat like a desperate little dog.”

Mark’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Karina laughed humorlessly. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know. Y/N saw you, Mark. She caught you all over Minjeong that night. After you almost kissed her three times. After she told us how she thought you finally liked her back. After she spent literal years pining after you!”

“No…” Mark felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No, no, no. That… that’s not right. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t like Minjeong, I like—” his voice caught in his throat. “I like Y/N.”

Karina let out another bitter laugh. “Yeah? Well, you sure have a fucked up way of showing it.”

“No, I— I don’t remember that! I don’t remember kissing Minjeong! I swear to god, Karina, I would never do that to Y/N...” his voice cracked, panic making his words rush out in a desperate tumble. “I don’t remember! I don’t—”

“Save it, Mark.” Karina’s face hardened. “I’m not the one you should be begging for forgiveness to. But it doesn’t even matter, you've already ruined everything. She’s not gonna take you back, not after that. So do her a favor and stay the hell away from her.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the common room.

Mark trudged back to the Gryffindor common room looking deader than the ghosts that roamed the castle. His head was spinning, Karina’s words replaying in his mind like a haunting echo.

He couldn’t believe it. He kissed Minjeong. How the hell could he not remember something like that? Was he really that drunk that night? But it didn’t make any sense. He’d never gotten so drunk on butterbeer that he completely blacked out before.

It was eating him alive. The image of you looking at him with absolute disgust now made so much painful sense. And if you saw it happen, no wonder you hated him.

By the time he stepped into the boys’ dormitory, Mark looked like someone who’d just been handed a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.

Jaemin, who was drying his hair with a towel, was the first to spot him. “And what the hell happened to you?” he laughed, eyeing Mark’s pale, horrified expression. “You look like you just sat through one of Snape’s scoldings.”

Mark groaned and dropped face-first onto his bed. “Kill me.”

Jaemin raised a brow. “That bad, huh?”

“I screwed up this time, dude. Like… really screwed up.”

“What, did you jinx another student by accident?”

“No.” Mark’s voice was muffled against his pillow. “…I kissed Minjeong.”

“What?!” Jaemin and Chenle —who had just pulled open the curtains of his four-poster bed— exclaimed at the same time.

Mark turned his head just enough to look at them. “I don’t even remember it happening, but apparently, I kissed her during Halloween… and Y/N saw the whole thing. And now she hates me.”

“Dude,” Chenle gawked, disbelief clouding his face. “How the hell do you kiss someone and not remember it?”

“Yeah, that’s insane–” Jaemin started, but then his voice abruptly cut off, his eyes widening like something just clicked in his brain. “…Wait. Halloween?”

Mark lifted his head, brow furrowing. “Yeah?”

Jaemin suddenly shot to his feet and walked over to Mark. “Did you eat any chocolates?”

Mark blinked. “What…?”

“Did you get any chocolates that night?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?”

Jaemin’s face paled. “Oh my god. Dude. Those were doused with Amortentia.”

Mark felt his entire body go cold. “…What?”

“Holy shit,” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely horrified. “You seriously didn’t know?”

Mark sat up so fast his head spun. “What do you mean I didn’t know?! What the hell are you talking about?”

“The chocolates, Mark! Every year during Halloween, girls sneak Amortentia into the chocolates hoping that the guy they like eats them and falls in love with them for a few hours. It’s a whole thing. Why do you think I told you to throw away the ones Y/N gave you years ago?”

Mark’s brain short-circuited. “Wait… what?”

“Dude!” Jaemin looked at him like he was dense. “I told you not to trust those chocolates around Halloween! Renjun’s dad works in Diagon Alley, and he says love potions are always sold out around this time of year because of Hogwarts students.”

“Especially you, dude,” Chenle added “You’re Gryffindor’s Seeker. You’re literally the main target. How did you not know this by now?”

Mark’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might pass out. “I...I didn’t. I thought—I thought the chocolates were from Y/N…” his throat tightened. “But she’d never do that to me…”

Jaemin and Chenle exchanged a look before Jaemin cautiously asked, “…Did they have a card on them?”

Mark blinked, trying to remember. “…No?”

“Exactly!” Jaemin threw his hands up. “Y/N always put a card on her gifts to you, dumbass. She’s never not done that.”

“Oh my god,” Mark’s voice cracked, his hands clutching his hair. “I’m such an idiot! I thought they were from her so I just... I ate them. I didn’t even think—” his stomach twisted in horror. “I kissed Minjeong because of a love potion?”

“Looks like it,” Chenle said grimly.

Mark felt like he was going to throw up. “Oh my god. Y/N must think I’m the worst person alive. She probably thinks I led her on and then went and kissed her best friend—”

“Yeah, well, considering you practically ate her face off in front of her, I’d say that’s a fair assumption,” Chenle shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t remember any of it happening!” Mark’s voice cracked as panic completely consumed him. “Oh my god, Y/N hates me. She thinks I—fuck! I have to go talk to her—”

“Woah, woah, no. Don’t do that,” Jaemin said quickly, grabbing his arm.

“What?! Why not?”

“Because if you go to her right now all panicked, she’s just gonna think you’re making excuses! You need proof that you were under a love potion or she’ll never believe you.”

Mark stared at him, wide-eyed. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“Minjeong.”

Mark blinked. “…What?”

Jaemin gave him a look. “Minjeong. She’s obviously the one who gave you the chocolates. If you can get her to admit it, Y/N will have to believe you.”

Mark swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “But what if she doesn’t admit it?”

Chenle scoffed. “Then we hex the truth out of her. Don’t worry, we got you.”

Mark could barely process anything. All he could think about was how you must’ve felt watching him kiss Minjeong. How heartbroken you must’ve been. How you probably cried yourself to sleep that night thinking he never cared about you.

You probably still thought that.

Mark’s hands clenched into fists. No. He wasn’t letting you believe that for another second.

An hour later he was pacing outside the Great Hall like a caged animal. Jaemin and Chenle stood nearby, whispering to each other. They were supposed to be helping him stay calm, but so far, their only strategy had been muttering plans that Mark couldn’t even focus on.

“I still think we should just give her Veritaserum and call it a day,” Chenle muttered.

“We’re not drugging anyone,” Jaemin shot back. “We’ll talk to her first.”

“You think she’s just gonna just admit she poisoned him with Amortentia?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Jaemin said with a smug grin. “We just need to pressure her enough that the truth slips out”

Before Mark could ask further, Minjeong appeared at the top of the staircase, chatting with a group of Slytherins.

“There she is,” Jaemin muttered, already moving forward. Mark and Chenle followed.

“Minjeong!” Jaemin called out.

She paused, turning around. When she saw them approaching, her smile faltered.

“Oh,” she said, plastering on a forced grin. “Hey... what’s up?”

“We need to talk,” Mark said, his voice tight.

Minjeong blinked. “Talk?” Her gaze flicked between the three of them. “About what?”

“About Halloween,” Jaemin said pointedly.

Mark watched Minjeong’s face carefully— the way her eyes widened just enough to betray her surprise before she forced her expression back to something neutral.

“Halloween?” she repeated with a weak laugh. “Why would we need to talk about that?”

Mark stepped forward. “Don’t act stupid,” he said quietly.

Minjeong’s smile faltered. “I... don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Chenle crossed his arms. “Then how come Mark doesn’t remember kissing you or anything about that night at all?”

Minjeong scoffed. “What are you insinuating?”

“You laced the chocolates with Amortentia,” Mark cut in, his voice like ice.

Minjeong’s eyes widened. “What?!” she sputtered, her voice rising a little too high. “That’s insane! Why would I do that?”

“You were waiting outside the Gryffindor common room that night,” Jaemin said coldly. “You knew exactly that Mark would think they were from Y/N and you were waiting to see if it worked.”

“That’s not true!” Minjeong snapped. “I didn’t—”

“Everybody else was at the celebration except you,” Chenle said. “You knew he would go to the common room after Hogsmeade, and you sneaked in the chocolates right before we arrived.”

“T-that’s ridiculous!” Minjeong stammered. “I was just leaving the Great Hall when I saw Mark walking around and he kissed me out of nowhere!”

“Bullshit,” Jaemin shot back. “You knew he was drugged and wouldn’t differentiate from the person he really wanted and anyone else.”

“Merlin, you guys are being crazy. Why would I even do that?”

“Because you like him,” Jaemin answered before Mark could. His voice was dripping with amusement, but his eyes were cold. “And you knew you didn’t stand a chance with Y/N around, so you figured a love potion would tip the odds in your favor, right?”

Minjeong scoffed. “As if I would ever--”

“Then swear on your magic,” Chenle challenged, his smile razor-sharp. “Swear on your magic that you didn’t put Amortentia in those chocolates.”

Silence.

Minjeong’s mouth opened then closed. Her eyes darted to Mark, panic slowly blooming in her face. “I—I don’t have to do anything—”

“Swear on your magic, Minjeong.” Mark demanded.

She didn’t.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Jaemin muttered.

Minjeong’s face flooded with color. “You guys are insane! I didn’t do anything! Mark probably wanted to kiss me—”

“Oh, spare me” Chenle snapped, his laugh sharp and incredulous. “You think if he actually wanted to do it, he’d just block out the entire night like it never happened?”

Minjeong’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “H-he was probably just—just embarrassed or something.”

“Embarrassed?” Mark’s voice finally cracked, and whatever grip he had on his composure snapped like a twig. “Embarrassed about what, Minjeong? You’re the one desperate enough to force yourself onto me when I was incapacitated ” His voice was raw, his chest rising and falling with the force of his anger. “I don’t even like you!”

The words hit Minjeong like a slap to the face. Her entire body visibly recoiled, her mouth parting slightly.

But Mark wasn’t done.

“I like Y/N. I’ve always liked Y/N. And you…” his voice cracked as the words ripped out of him, “you made me kiss you in front of her. Do you have any idea how fucking awful that must’ve been for her?”

Minjeong’s throat bobbed, her face pale. “I—I didn’t mean for her to see.”

“Yes, you did!” Mark shot back, his voice raw and trembling. “Don’t even try to pull that bullshit right now. You knew she was patrolling. You absolutely knew what you were doing. You wanted me to want you, even if it wasn’t real. Even if you had to—” his voice broke slightly, rage burning his throat, “—had to drug me to get it.”

Minjeong flinched, her eyes darting between them. “I didn’t think it would—”

“Exactly!” Mark let out a humorless, bitter laugh. “You didn’t think. You didn’t think about me, you didn’t think about Y/N… You didn’t think about anyone but yourself! All you cared about was getting me no matter what it cost, and you didn’t care how it would make her feel. You—” his voice cracked and he swallowed hard, “—you humiliated her. And she probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest asshole who just played her.” 

“I-I swear, I didn’t think it would get this far”

Chenle scoffed. “You literally slipped him a love potion. What the hell did you think was gonna happen?”

Minjeong shot him a glare, but her voice cracked when she tried to defend herself. “I just— I thought maybe if he… if given the chance…. he’d realize he liked me, okay?”

“Are you serious?!” Mark practically exploded. His voice booming with the sheer force of his emotions. “You didn’t think about how messed up it is to force someone into something like that?”

Minjeong was shaking now. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad…”

“But it did,” Mark’s voice broke, his throat tight. “And now I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me.”

Silence slammed down on them like a sledgehammer. Minjeong’s face crumpled, but Mark didn’t care. His entire body was shaking with rage, with guilt, with absolute devastation.

And that’s when Mark heard a sharp, shaky intake of breath behind him.

Slowly, he turned around  and his heart dropped.

You stood a few feet away, eyes wide. But it wasn’t heartbreak painted across your face. It was pure, unbridled rage.

“You—” your voice shook with fury as you looked at Minjeong. “You drugged him?”

Minjeong froze like a deer caught in headlights. “I—”

“You gave him Amortentia,” you seethed. “You drugged him and then… and then you let him kiss you and you didn’t even stop him?”

“It wasn’t… I didn’t—” Minjeong stammered, panicking now.

“What the fuck is your problem!” you cut her off. “Do you have any idea how messed up that is? You violated him!”

Mark’s breath caught in his throat at the way your voice cracked with fury.

“What?” Minjeong scoffed, suddenly back on the defensive. “It’s not like he didn’t enjoy it in the end—”

“Oh my god,” you recoiled like you were about to be sick. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you think it’s okay to force someone to kiss you under a love potion and then act like it was consensual?”

“I didn’t force him to eat them—”

“You set them up for him like a trap” you shrieked. “You drugged him! You took away his ability to choose! How can you even live with yourself?”

Minjeong looked around like she was hoping someone would swoop in and save her, but no one did. Even the Slytherins she’d been chatting with earlier were watching in stunned silence.

“You… who consoled me all the times I went to bed crying over him!” you spat, your voice raw with emotion. 

“I… I’m sorry…”

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped. “You knew exactly what you were doing, an apology won’t do it now”

Minjeong opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

“Let me make one thing very clear,” you said through gritted teeth. “You don’t look at him. You don’t speak to him. You don’t breathe in his direction. If I catch you so much as standing near him, I’ll make sure every professor in this castle knows exactly what you did.”

Minjeong didn’t need to be told twice, she practically bolted in the opposite direction, not sparing any of you a glance.

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Y/N…” Mark said weakly, his voice cracking. “I’m so—”

“Don’t,” you choked out, turning back to him. “Please don’t apologize. Just—” your voice broke again, and then suddenly, you were throwing yourself into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry she did that to you.”

Mark held you even tighter. “It’s not your fault. God, Y/N, I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” you whispered. And you meant it.

This was the first time you hugged and Mark realized you fit perfectly in his arms, like you were meant to be there all along. You smelled incredible too. It was that soft, earthy smell of fresh rain on soil and blooming jasmine, the kind of scent that lingered in greenhouses after a long day of tending to plants. It hit him all at once. Of course. That was exactly what the Amortentia had smelled like to him.

His stomach tightened at the realization. The first time he bit into those chocolates, the first person that had flashed through his mind was you.

God, he was such an idiot.

When you finally pulled away, Mark’s entire body screamed at him to pull you back in. To kiss you. To fix everything. His gaze fell to your lips, and he almost gave in but then he remembered Jaemin and Chenle were still very much standing there, watching the two of you with annoyingly amused smiles.

Mark cleared his throat, stepping back slightly. “Uh… thanks, guys. You know, for… everything.”

“Of course, man,” Jaemin grinned. “We couldn’t just let that snake get away with it.”

“I still can’t believe she’d go that far,” you murmured, concern furrowing your brow. “I didn’t even know she liked you like that… or that she was capable of something so—” you swallowed hard, struggling to find the word. “…horrible.” You glanced up at Mark, your eyes still heavy with disbelief.

Mark’s heart ached at the guilt in your voice.

“You couldn’t have known,” he reassured softly. “She fooled everyone with that sweet girl act.”

“Not everyone,” Jaemin muttered under his breath, arms crossed.

“Oh, shut up, just the other day you were talking about how she’s the hottest slyther—” Chenle started, only to get a sharp elbow in the ribs.

“Anyways!” Jaemin cut in quickly, forcing a grin. “We’ll, uh… leave you guys to it. And please, for the love of Merlin, talk. I’m sick of all this miscommunication.”

“Seriously,” Chenle added, smirking. “If I have to live another day of you two silently pining for each other I will offer myself to the werewolves.”

Mark felt his face heat as you laughed softly, and a moment later, Jaemin and Chenle disappeared down the corridor.

You both stood there, your gazes flicking everywhere except each other. The weight of everything that had just happened still hung heavily in the air.

Mark swallowed hard. “So… uh…”

“Come on,” you suddenly said, grabbing his hand before he could finish his sentence.

“Where are we—”

“Just trust me,” you murmured.

Mark let you pull him along, his fingers curling instinctively around yours. You led him up staircase after staircase until you reached the Astronomy Tower and when you finally stepped out onto the platform, Mark couldn't believe his eyes

“Whoa…”

The view was breathtaking. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting hues of orange, pink, and deep indigo across the sky. From this high up, the Hogwarts grounds looked almost dreamlike. The Black Lake glistened like glass, and the Forbidden Forest stretched endlessly beyond it.

“I’ve never been up here during sunset,” Mark admitted, his voice slightly awed. “It’s… beautiful.”

You smiled softly, leaning against the railing. “I thought you’d like it.”

Mark turned to you. “Why?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “…I’ve noticed you do that a lot.”

Mark blinked. “Do what?”

“Stare at the sky.” You smiled faintly, not looking at him. “Whenever you’re playing Quidditch. When it’s a slow game and you’re not chasing the Snitch, you just… look up. Like you’re mesmerized by it.”

Mark’s breath caught.

He didn’t know what hit him harder. The fact that you noticed something so small about him or the fact that you cared enough to remember.

“I didn’t think anyone ever noticed that…” he said quietly.

You glanced at him then, your gaze soft and sincere. “I don’t think anyone else caught it… but I did.”

And that was it.

The final push Mark needed.

“Y/N,” his voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I swear to Merlin…I never wanted to kiss her. The only person I’ve ever thought about kissing is you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath caught, and Mark took a shaky step closer. “I… I didn’t know it at first. I mean, I did, but I didn’t understand it. Not until I ate those chocolates. Because the first thing I smelled was—” he swallowed thickly, his gaze locking on yours. “It was you. Rain, jasmine, and… and that earthy smell you get when you come back from Herbology. That’s what Amortentia smelled like to me..”

Tears stung your eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Mark…”

“And when I heard what Minjeong did, I thought I was gonna lose my mind. The idea of you thinking I didn’t care about you… that I’d choose her over you… I hated it. I hated myself for hurting you, even if it wasn’t my fault.” His voice broke slightly. “I never wanted anyone else but you.”

The tears finally slipped down your cheeks. “You mean that?”

“With everything in me,” Mark choked.

Mark could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin, his hand twitching at his side. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to kiss you.

“Can I—”

“Please,” you cut him off, already stepping toward him.

That was all it took.

Mark crashed his mouth onto yours, his hands instinctively finding your waist as you gripped the front of his sweater. The kiss was desperate, not rushed, but heavy with years of longing. He kissed you like he was afraid you’d slip away if he stopped, and you kissed him like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d lost.

And Merlin, you tasted like heaven.

By the time you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other.

“…I’ve been wanting to do that for years, you know,” Mark admitted, laughing shakily.

You let out a soft laugh. ”Years?”

“Yeah,” he smiled sheepishly. “I think I fell for you the first time you hexed me on the train. I was just too immature to see it.”

Mark swallowed hard, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Can I… can I kiss you again?”

“Mark, you can kiss me whenever you want.” you said, caressing his cheek.

He loved the sound of that.

This time when he kissed you, it was slower. Like he was memorizing the taste of you, the feel of you, the fact that you were finally his.

read part 2 here

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Esther!? 😭🥹

I don't even know where to start or how to thank you?! Thank you so much for showing your support and love throughout the entirety of March (and also on my other content)! I'm so happy and grateful that you enjoyed the event, and I'm so happy they brought you joy 🥹🩷

Personally speaking, I looked forward to hearing your thoughts for each and every instalment as you really showed a big interest in those fics when we first announced event, and I can say, you really never failed to bring a smile to my face with your words and reactions images. I read through your reblogs with a warm heart and even now, days later, I find myself re-reading them because they truly bring me so much joy. Just the thought that someone appreciates my works that much 🩷

Again, thank you so much for reading our works, sharing your thoughts and being one of the kindest (if not the kindest) friend on this app 🩷 I truly wish you all the happiness, love and luck in the world!

✨To my dearest:

Mina @hongjoongspoetry and Ariadné @bvidzsoo Now that the Cherry Blossom March event is over (😩😭) I just wanted to say thank you for this beautiful event🌸💓 I’ve enjoyed every second of this event and reading every single one shot you two have written have honestly been the highlights of my days💕 It's very noticeable that you two have had so much fun working on this because it really shows in every piece which has been planned and written with so much creativity and passion💓 The both of you deserve all the love you've receiving and more! Just once again thank you for creating such a beautiful event and sharing your work with all of us🥺🫶🏻💓

[rafedarling]

for dad!drew could you write about him lifting her pregnancy’s belly? for a relief of the weight

i don’t know if you already wrote about this but i thought it’d be cute. (english isn’t my first language so i hope i wrote this well)

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: you’re almost eight months pregnant with your baby girl, and for some reason, this pregnancy feels much heavier than your first with rustyn. your growing belly makes even simple tasks difficult, leaving you exhausted and frustrated. when drew finds you struggling to wash your face in the bathroom, you ask him for an unusual favor, to lift your belly and give you just a moment of relief.

warning(s): english is not my native language. pregnancy struggles, mild frustration, pure fluff

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7

Drew had always been attentive, but ever since you hit the third trimester, he was on high alert. You were nearly eight months pregnant with your baby girl, and for some reason, this pregnancy felt ten times harder than when you were carrying Rustyn. Your belly was round, full, and heavy so heavy that simple movements became a struggle.

Standing in the bathroom, you tried to bend forward just enough to splash water on your face, but the weight of your stomach made you feel like you’d topple over. Huffing in frustration, you called out,

“Drew, come in here.”

A moment later, you heard his hurried footsteps before he appeared in the doorway, concern already written all over his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Help me lift my belly up.”

Drew blinked, processing your request.

“Help you what?”

“Lift my belly up. It’s so heavy I can’t even bend down without feeling like I’m about to fall.”

Without hesitation, Drew stepped forward and carefully placed his hands under the curve of your belly. With a gentle but firm lift, he raised it just enough to relieve the pressure. The moment he did, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body instantly feeling lighter.

Drew’s eyes widened.

“Holy babe, this is way heavier than I thought.”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

He adjusted his hold slightly, marveling at the weight.

“I don’t know how you’re walking around carrying all this. No wonder you’re exhausted.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned into the feeling.

“This feels so good. I swear I could stay like this forever.”

Drew chuckled, his grip still steady.

“I’d hold it up all day if I could. Anything to make this easier for you.”

His voice was filled with admiration, and when you opened your eyes, you saw the way he was looking at you with pure love, awe, and maybe a little guilt for not realizing just how much strain you were under.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I already knew that, but this just proves it even more.”

Tears pricked your eyes not just from hormones, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him.

“I love you, you know that?”

Drew grinned. “I know. And I love you and our little girl so much.”

He held your belly up a few seconds longer before gently lowering it, his hands immediately rubbing soothing circles over your skin.

“Alright, whenever you need me to do that again, just say the word.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch.

“You’re gonna be an even better girl dad than you already are with Rustyn.”

Drew smirked. “Well, with a wife like you, how could I be anything less?”

And just like that, the weight didn’t seem as unbearable anymore.

[okwonyo]

CALL ME YOURS

boyfriend!jake x fem!rea 9OO marriage proposal ◜ᯅ◝ kissing skinship ⎯⎯ bookshe𝒍f

骚人 ܃ for my junicat mwah happy belated birthday 🎀 ily

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

“pookie.”

the bedroom is silent for a moment. no one moves except the sunlight peeking through the window to reach the bed. the warmth is there, not because of the sun however. you lay so close to your boyfriend that it won’t take much time before you melt into him.

staring at jake, as he pulls you closer absentmindedly, your press your lips together at the sound of that new found pet-name he has for you. he has been testing new ones for over thirty minutes now and you don’t understand why ‘baby’ or ‘my love’ are not enough anymore.

there is only a short period of time, a few seconds passing before your giggles break the claustral silence.

“don’t laugh!” jake exclaims, although he is giggling too. he lets you hide your face in his chest as you make fun of him. “this is a serious matter!”

you take a moment before deciding to have mercy on him. in a satisfied sigh, you stop hiding from your lover and say, “this is stupid.”

the man whines, turning his head to the side. he looks as if he heard the most devastating news in his life. you laugh again at his dramatic actions.

“princess—” he starts, a smile unable to wipe off on his lips. you cut him off immediately, your index finger on his soft lips.

“this one!” jake, wide eyed, brings his hand to your finger as you continue, “i like this one.”

he moves your hand away from his mouth after giving it a quick peck, he doesn’t let go and rests both of your hands on his heart instead.

“it’s an old one,” it’s an understatement. jake has never called you anything but that or ‘my love’ since you met each other. “we need a new one.

you fake a pout, “why? are you getting bored of me?”

jake sputters. “no! i would never get bored of you, my love.” his lips kiss the crown of your head tenderly. the tone of his sounds pained, like the suggestion deeply offends him. he squeezes you tight. “i just thought of new pet-names like..”

you wait for him to continue. you press when he doesn’t. “like what?”

his features tighten for a split second. he chews the inside of his cheek, his gaze drifts away from yours, obviously considering something. it is like a tension setting on his chest, scared of something you can’t quite pinpoint.

“wife.” his chest relaxes as he says in a breath. he manages to say it again, more confident, more sure; “i want you to call you my wife.”

quietude makes its appearance again. underneath your holding hands, jake’s heart beats strongly. your mouth falls agape, a constellation of emotions fills your heart and blurs your mind. under your heavy blank stare, he blushes, looking like his highschool self again.

“you—” the building tension is broken in it’s growth by you. there’s a rush of cold hair when you sit up suddenly, the covers sliding off your body. jake follows immediately. “did you just— jake!” you muffle under the hand that covers your mouth. “i’m not even well dressed.”

it’s true. you are not in a fancy outfit or clothes you’d wear outside. his shirt hugging your body is loose, well too big on you, and lets your collarbone be admired by your lover.

you are wearing one of his sweatpants and your hair is as messy as it was when you wake up. but he doesn’t care, he wants to be able to look at you being dressed in his clothes forever.

“you’re beautiful,” he immediately tells you. and you beat his shoulder with your free hand. “what? i want to marry you!”

“jake.” it’s your turn to whine now. your voice is wobbly, your pretty eyes are filled with tears threatening to fall.

your soon-to-be husband is hit with a wave of fondness. he leans over the side of the bed and rummages through his nightstand, procuring the ring box from the one place he knew you’d never care to explore: a box of expired ramyeon. jake pops the box open. the golden band he chose for you presents itself, the diamond sitting perfectly in the middle.

he takes a deep, shaky breath before staring. “you are it for me.” he does his best to not cry. “i want to spend everyday with you. i want you. i choose you. i want to give you everything that you want—no matter what it is.

you sob. the back of your hand wipes your tears, but jake’s are hitching to do it for you.

“i’ll give you the world.” he declares. “let me be lucky enough to call you my wife.”

through your tears and loud beating heart, you smile, “you can call me anything that you want.”

he calls your name softly. his gentle eyes are full of stars as he asks, “will you be my wife?”

before giving him an answer, you cup his face. your lips are salty, you can feel it, but you kiss him anyway. then says against his mouth, “yes, i will.”

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[verricherri]

I have smth, someone walking in on reader and rhett but it's secret relationship and no hanky panky just like cuddling or reader is sleeping !!

Yours, Officially

A/N: THIS IS MAD CUTE AND I DEFINITELY WENT A LITTLE OVERBOARD 😭 but honestly, Outer Range doesn’t give us nearly enough sweet family moments — so I took matters into my own hands. Warnings: this one’s gonna pull you deeper into Rhett spiralling territory… you will fall for him. again. harder. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated  ☀️

The light coming through the cracks in the old barn wall was soft and golden, spilling faint stripes across the daybed. Dust floated in the air like something out of a dream, and the only sound in the room was the slow, even rhythm of Rhett’s breathing.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

You remembered the late drive through the backroads, headlights bouncing along the dirt, Rhett drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the radio. You remembered his voice, low and lazy, saying, “Ain’t no sense sending you home this late. I’ve got a setup in the barn. S’quiet. No one’ll know.”

You remembered thinking: he makes it sound like hiding you’s something sacred.

And now here you were.

Wrapped in a blanket that smelled like hay and cedar and him. One arm thrown over the pillow. The other—

The other was tangled with Rhett’s.

He’d slid into the daybed sometime during the night. Big body curled into yours, one leg draped over your calves, hand resting at your waist. He was warm, shirt rumpled, hat tipped low over his face, the edge of his jaw brushing the crown of your head.

You should’ve moved. You really should’ve.

Instead, you stayed there. Let the moment settle. Let the silence stretch. Let yourself feel, just for a second, like you belonged to something that wasn’t allowed yet.

“Y’awake?” he murmured, voice still gravelled with sleep. You blinked, nose brushing his flannel. “I am now.” His fingers tightened just slightly at your side. “Wasn’t sure. You didn’t elbow me once all night.” “Miracle,” you yawned, shifting just enough to look at him. “This your idea of hospitality?” Rhett tipped his hat back with one hand, looking down at you with a sleepy half-smile. “Could’ve let you sleep in the truck.” “You almost did,” you reminded him, voice soft. “Then you got all... chivalrous on me.” He smirked. “I ain’t chivalrous.” “You dragged a whole daybed into your man cave.” “It was already here,” he mumbled. You raised a brow. “In your secret barn hideout?” He looked at you for a beat. Shrugged. “Maybe I like the quiet. Maybe I like having somewhere to go when the house feels too damn loud.” You reached up, brushed a strand of his hair back. “Maybe you like having somewhere to bring me.”

Rhett didn’t answer. Just leaned down a little, forehead nudging yours, and let out a slow breath.

Neither of you said it, but it hung there — soft and weightless and dangerous.

You liked this too much.

And it couldn’t stay secret forever.

---

You shifted slightly beneath the blanket, propping yourself up on one elbow as Rhett swung his legs off the daybed and stretched. The hem of his t-shirt lifted just enough to flash the waistband of his jeans, and yes — even half-asleep, the man still had the audacity to look good.

He ran a hand through his hair and reached for the dented thermos on the shelf behind him.

“Want some?”

You nodded, watching as he poured into one of two chipped mugs sitting on the tiny workbench-turned-nightstand.

“You always keep two mugs in your man cave?” you teased. “One’s mine,” he said, offering you the other. “Other one’s for when Amy hangs out here. Or, y’know, emergency cuddling.” You snorted into the cup. “Emergency cuddling? That a regular occurrence?” Rhett sat back down at the edge of the daybed, his thigh warm against yours. “Wouldn’t call it regular,” he muttered, “but I’m not complainin’.” You smiled over your mug. “You’re getting soft, Abbott.” He raised a brow. “Pretty sure you’re the one who fell asleep curled into me like a damn koala.” You jabbed a finger at his side. “You were the one who pulled me in.” “You were shivering.” “You were touch-starved.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shrugged. “Still am.”

The quiet settled again. Not awkward. Just full of everything unsaid.

“I like it here,” you said finally, sipping slow. “It’s peaceful.”

Rhett glanced around the room — the stacked boxes, the folded saddle blankets, the one window with a crack running through it and dust caught in the glass.

“It ain’t much.” “It’s yours,” you said. “And you let me in.”

His jaw clenched, just barely. That familiar flicker — protectiveness, pride, fear — moved behind his eyes.

Then, softer: “You make it too damn easy to fall, you know that?”

You blinked.

“Uncle—”

The door creaked.

Both of you froze.

He set his mug down like it was a ticking bomb. “Did you lock it?” “I thought you locked it!” “I told you to—”

A light patter of steps.

Then a tiny voice: “Uncle Rhett?”

Your eyes went wide.

“Oh no.” “Shit,” Rhett muttered, already scrambling to block your view with his back as the barn door creaked open.

Amy stood in the doorway, hugging a jacket to her chest. Her expression was suspicious at best.

“You weren’t in your room,” she announced. “Grandma said maybe you were feedin’ the chickens, but you don’t even like chickens—”

Rhett stood so fast he nearly knocked his mug over.

“Hey—Amy,” he barked. “Don’t come in.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you—what are you standing in front of—?”

She shifted on her toes, trying to peek around him.

In one smooth, near-desperate motion, Rhett yanked the blanket higher over your legs and backed up until he was fully blocking you like a damn brick wall.

“Amy,” he said, low and urgent. “Turn around. Right now.” Her head tilted. “Are you… hiding something?” “Nope. Just—privacy. Adult privacy.” “What does that even mean—?”

And then she caught a glimpse. The edge of your face behind his shoulder. Your very obvious bed hair. His flannel sleeve half-wrapped around your arm.

Amy’s jaw dropped.

“OH MY GOD,” she gasped, hoodie slipping to the ground. “UNCLE RHETT—IS THERE A GIRL IN YOUR BARN?!” “Amy,” he warned, already too late. “YOU HAVE A GIRL IN YOUR BARN!!!”

She turned and bolted like her life depended on it.

“*GRAAAAAANDMAAAAAAAA—UNCLE RHETT IS HIDING A GIRL IN THE BARN—AND THEY’RE—THEY’RE DATING OR CUDDLING OR—*BOTH!!”

Rhett groaned, hands on his hips, looking like he aged ten years in two seconds.

You flopped backward onto the daybed and dragged the blanket over your face. “I am never showing my face.”

He didn’t respond at first.

Just stared at the door Amy had burst through, then turned to look at the mess of blankets, the mugs, and his damn flannel wrapped around your arm.

Then he deadpanned:

“I should’ve let you sleep in the damn truck.”

---

You barely made it five steps out of the barn before you heard it — the slam of the back door.

Cecilia stood on the porch with a coffee mug in hand, robe cinched tight, and the kind of expression that could drop a grown man to his knees.

You could just make out Royal through the screen door, sitting at the kitchen table like it was any other morning — newspaper in hand, unbothered by the chaos brewing around him. And somewhere deeper inside the house—

“Amy!” Perry’s voice rang out. “What do you mean ‘with a girl in the barn’?! What the hell did you just say?!”

You and Rhett exchanged a look.

“Should we run?” you whispered. Rhett muttered, “You think we’d make it to the truck?” “Nope.” Cecilia took one long, slow sip of coffee. “Well,” she said calmly, looking you up and down, “I suppose this is the part where someone starts explaining.”

You tugged Rhett’s flannel tighter around yourself, painfully aware of your bed hair, crinkled clothes, and complete lack of an escape plan.

Cecilia didn’t miss it.

“Why don’t you head inside and wash up a little, sweetheart?” she said, not unkindly. “There’s a mirror in the downstairs bathroom. I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You blinked. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

You bolted inside like your life depended on it.

---

You didn’t even get the tap fully running before you heard the next wave of yelling.

“They weren’t doing anything!” Amy insisted, indignant. “But she was totally in there, and Uncle Rhett was standing in front of her like a guard dog, and he had a blanket and everything!” Perry’s voice now: “Wait, what kind of blanket?” “Like a snuggle blanket! The one he keeps on the chair!”

Back in the kitchen, Rhett looked like someone had parked a tractor on his chest.

Cecilia leaned one hip against the counter. “Well,” she said, “this explains the two mugs I found in the sink.” “It’s not what it looked like,” Rhett said quickly. “Oh?” she replied. “So you weren’t in the barn with a girl, alone, in the early morning, and acting like you were guarding Fort Knox?” Rhett groaned. “I was—I—she was tired, okay? We’d been out late. I told her she could crash on the daybed. She fell asleep. That’s all.” Amy piped up proudly. “Yeah, but you were standing in front of her all weird, like you didn’t want me to see!” Perry walked in, coffee halfway poured. “So, just to clarify... no pants came off, but you still got caught red-handed?” “Perry!” Rhett snapped. “What? It’s a valid question.” “She was asleep, man.” Amy blinked. “She looked very awake when I saw her.” “You screamed.” Rhett rubbed his face. “Everyone would look awake after that.” Cecilia looked amused. “And you’ve been seeing each other for how long?”

You reappeared in the doorway, now slightly more presentable, hair brushed and face flushed.

“Awhile,” you said honestly. Royal finally turned a page. “Could’ve just told us.” “We weren’t ready for it to be a thing,” Rhett said. “Didn’t want the noise.” “Well,” Royal said, not looking up, “now you got it.” Perry took a loud sip of his coffee. “At least tell me it wasn’t my flannel she was wearing.” Cecilia ignored him. “I made pancakes,” she said instead, her tone flipping from cool matriarch to warm grandma in a heartbeat. “Sit. Eat. You can be embarrassed with food in your mouth like the rest of us.”

You glanced at Rhett.

He looked like he’d aged twenty years.

“I’ll set the plates,” you whispered, trying not to laugh. “God help me,” he muttered, trailing after you. Behind you, Amy whispered to Perry: “Told you she was his girlfriend.” Perry leaned in, smirking. “Yeah. And last month you said the chicken coop was haunted.” Amy crossed her arms. “It sounded haunted.” Perry chuckled. “Bet Rhett wishes the barn was haunted instead.”

---

You sat at the kitchen table, sandwiched between Cecilia’s warm judgment and Amy’s smug little grin.

Rhett was right beside you — back straight, jaw clenched, chewing his pancakes like each bite was a personal punishment.

“So,” Perry said around a mouthful of syrup, “how long we talkin’? Weeks? Months? Biblical ages?”

Rhett didn’t answer.

Amy did. “I bet they’ve been sneaking around forever.” Cecilia calmly refilled your coffee. “I figured something was going on when you started washing your hair more often.” “I always wash my hair,” Rhett grumbled. “Not in a way that involved cologne,” she replied smoothly. Royal didn’t look up from his newspaper. “You told me she was ‘helping out with horses.’” “She was,” Rhett said defensively. “With her face two inches from yours?” Amy chirped.

Rhett groaned and dropped his fork.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Alright,” Rhett said, pushing his chair back. “I’m done being interrogated.” “Don’t forget your dishes,” Cecilia called after him. He waved a hand without turning around. “She’s got ’em.” You blinked. “I do?” “Please?” he added, glancing back at you with something halfway between guilt and pleading. You sighed dramatically, grabbed two plates, and stood. “Only because you took the fall.” Amy gasped. “So you were hiding!” Rhett opened the screen door. “I’m going to stand in the sun and pretend none of you exist.” “Love you too,” Cecilia called sweetly.

---

You found him leaning against the barn wall, half in the sun, half in the shade. His coffee was long gone, but he still held the mug like he needed something to do with his hands. Shirt sleeves rolled up, hair messier than usual, the kind of quiet that settled around Rhett when his thoughts got too loud.

You passed him the plate wordlessly. Two pancakes. No syrup.

“Figured you didn’t wanna sit through another Perry monologue.” He looked at you, that quiet warmth already softening the edge of his scowl. “You read my damn mind.”

You slid down beside him, shoulder brushing his.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Rhett said after a long silence. “What I said earlier. About not wanting it to be a thing.”

You looked up at him.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to hide you,” he went on. “I just… didn’t wanna share you yet. I liked it better when it was just us. Felt safer.” You reached out, brushing your fingers along the seam of his jeans. “I know what you meant. And I liked it too. But I don’t mind this, either.” He let out a breath — not quite a laugh. “You don’t mind Amy screaming it from the rooftops?” “She screamed dating or cuddling or both, Rhett. I feel like we got off easy.”

He smiled at that. Not just with his mouth — with his eyes, too. That rare, quiet smile like something unguarded cracked open inside him.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re doin’ anything wrong,” you added. “We’re two grown adults sharing a daybed in a barn. Fully clothed. With coffee mugs.” “Romantic as hell,” he muttered, nudging your knee. “I’m serious.” “I know.” You paused. “Do you wish we could go back to hiding it?” Rhett shook his head, slow. “Nah. I just wish I’d kissed you before Amy walked in.”

Your heart did a little somersault.

You leaned into him, pressing your head to his shoulder. “We got time.”

He set the plate down beside him, turned slightly toward you. One hand came up to your cheek — warm, careful, thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“You still got syrup on your lip,” he murmured. “I didn’t eat any syrup.” “Guess I imagined it,” he said, and kissed you anyway.

It was unhurried. Soft. Familiar in that new kind of way. Like it belonged in this moment. Like it always belonged here.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“So,” he whispered, “you wanna come back tonight?” You smirked. “You mean sneak into the barn and frighten Amy again?” “Nope. I mean…” He glanced toward the house. “You can stay in my room this time. Save me the heart attack.” You looked up at him, eyes warm. “Only if you promise not to stand in front of me like a human shield again.” He laughed. “No promises. I panicked.” “I know. It was kinda hot.” “Shut up.”

You kissed him again just to prove the point — and this time, neither of you moved when the screen door creaked open.

Because now?

You weren’t hiding.

----

[EXTRA]

When Rhett knocked on your door, he wasn’t wearing his usual scowl. He looked… nervous.

Hat in one hand. Shoulders tense. Like he was about to ask you for something important.

Which, to be fair, he was.

“I know you already met everyone,” he said, voice low, eyes flicking down to his boots. “But I wanna do it right. Y’know. A proper dinner. Not… the barn thing.” You raised an eyebrow. “You mean not with Amy shrieking and your mum's sipping judgment through a coffee mug?” “Exactly,” he muttered. “I made Mom cook something she doesn’t hate. There’s pie.” You grinned. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to get pie?” He looked up, finally. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a multitasking situation.”

---

Dinner was surprisingly… nice.

The table was actually set. Cecilia used the cloth one — the good one, the one she only pulled out for holidays and suspiciously formal guests. Royal had even changed his shirt. Perry was still Perry, but slightly less feral. Amy was writing in a notebook. You chose not to ask.

When everyone settled at the table, Rhett cleared his throat and stood up — stiff-backed, clearly uncomfortable but determined.

“Alright,” he muttered. “I know y’all met her already, but… that wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to happen.”

He glanced down at his plate, then back up — eyes landing on you first, then his family.

“This is her. She means a hell of a lot to me. And I want you to know her the way I do — not just some girl caught in the barn, not a joke. She’s someone I care about. A lot.”

A beat of silence.

Then, awkwardly, “So… be decent.”

Cecilia smiled into her wine.

Perry muttered, “You rehearsed that, didn’t you.” Amy whispered, “He definitely rehearsed it.”

----

You survived the meal.

Barely.

Amy got through eleven questions. Perry made three jokes about eloping. Rhett kicked him under the table twice. Cecilia beamed the entire time like she was already planning a wedding in her head. And Royal, in the quietest moment of the night, looked at you and said:

“You make him better.”

That was it. No ceremony. No explanation.

Just four words.

But they landed.

Even Rhett went quiet for a second, like someone had knocked the wind out of him. And when he looked at you again, it was with that same damn softness you were starting to crave.

---

Afterward, you and Rhett ended up in the kitchen, elbow to elbow, rinsing dishes.

“So,” you said, bumping his hip gently. “Was this what you pictured? Your grand introduction?” “Nope.” “Better or worse?” He looked over. “Better. Way better.” You smiled. “Thanks for letting me be part of it.” “You were always part of it,” he said, setting down the last plate.

You reached for a towel, heart doing that stupid little ache-thing it did every time he said something like that.

Then, without looking up, you asked, casual as ever:

“So… next dinner, you gonna let me hold your hand?”

He froze for half a beat.

Then reached over — slow, quiet, sure — and laced his fingers through yours.

“Next dinner,” he murmured, “you’re sittin’ in my lap.”

[xoxotiamathh]

Seeing You Naked For The First Time: FS AND NEXT PARTNER

Note: NO MINOR. Hi angels! There's 2 topics here, one for FS and one for your Next Partner, you can choose both Piles one after the other. Paid Readings 15 slots are open right now! Please like and Reblog if you like.

FS 1 -> 2 -> 3 | Next Partner A -> B -> C

Masterlist | Paid Readings • Paid Feedback

FS 1 2 3

Next Partner A B C

FS

Pile 1

They may feel a little insecure about themselves after seeing you naked for the first time. They could feel like they are not attractive enough or pretty enough somehow, and it could sow seeds of insecurity in them as well, there is a vibe about feeling inferior to you here as their very first thought because of how attractive you are. After this, their second thought will be related to wanting to pick you up and spin you around, it switches very fast from inferiority to elation, wanting to do anything for you, put the world at your feet and worship you, this is so CUTE I feel giddy as I channel this I feel just free and light and these may be feelings they will be having too, where they feel closer to you and grounded like "wow this is really happening". They would feel like they want a future with you like they will start setting goals I am seeing gowns and tuxes and celebration, possibly thinking about marriage and how beautiful you would look if and when the both of you get married, I am also getting for some of you this could be after you get married, and that is the first time you see each other fully in the nude. They would start feeling protective over you and also very shaken like they could in general be someone who is very rational and structured and in control of themselves but as soon as they see you all of that is going to melt away, they will not know what to do with themselves like they will not know what to do with their hands or how to touch you, for them, you will feel like something that is so out of their world, like your body will be, I am getting pious? idk pious for them, they will not want to touch you because of the fear that they will end up "ruining" or "dirtying" you in some way like they just do not feel like they deserve to touch you almost.

xoxo

Pile 2

Oh they are going to be in ruins when they see you naked for the first time, like they will be like putty in your hands I also heard salivating and salvation, so both are applicable here. They will feel like what they feared most has come true, the fear being they will never be able to keep their hands off of you and that they do not want to let you out of their sight for even a second. You will awaken this primal need for touch and skinship within them that they may not be used to, or they may not have felt in the past. They could also additionally feel like you are their ruin, you are their end, and you will be the one who will they will dedicate their life to with all the passion in the world. I am also getting a strong dominant energy here, extremely fiery and passionate. They will probably end up on top of you or caging you in their arms as soon as they see you in the nude like they cannot resist themselves here, they could also want to frame you in that pose/way for forever because they would feel like they will never ever be tired of seeing you in that way. They will instantly feel this strong need to show off in front of you lol, it's cute actually, and it's also related to showing off how strong they are so they would probably start like picking you up and rolling around with you, I heard "manhandle" but like it's not gender based they would just want to show off how easily they can carry both yours and their weight, I also heard "gym". Lastly, they would feel like they need to spend on you, maybe buy you sexy lingerie or wanting to take off your clothes themselves.

xoxo

Pile 3

As soon as they see you naked, they will want to court you all over again. Like the only thing going on in their head will be the need to bring you flowers, get on their knees and ask you to be their partner all over again. There are a lot of emotions here, they may find themselves come to tears because of how overwhelmed they may feel. Extra information but they may be the one who would have taken your clothes off, and it would be a very sensual moment where the both of you stare into each other's eyes while they touch you, they may still be clothed in that moment. They will feel a psychic connection with you and a warmth spreading through their abdomen as they see you move. It will make them feel like water, flimsy and unable to do anything because of how mesmerised they will be as they just keep staring at you. They will also feel a sort of pain however, like there is a sense of loss here where they could feel like they will never be able to get the moment back again where they see you naked for the first time which will make them feel a little sad, it's like the thing where you watch a movie, and it is so good that you feel sad that you will never be able to watch it for the first time ever again. They will feel like you are above them, I am getting Knight and Queen energy, they will feel as if they are just there to serve you or help you out, you have healed them just by blessing them with your nude form this is very much in the same lane of like putting you on the pedestal here.

ooo

Next Partner

Pile A

Heavy earth energy here, they will feel like you represent nature or everything natural. When they see you naked for the first time, they will feel a little scared, it will make things very real for them. They may feel like now they will have to take more steps and be better than they were previously, sex for them could be something that is very intimate and spiritual, and because they may be flighty in general, as soon as the clothes come off, so does their mask of flightiness. This moment will make them fully committed to you. They will feel like they need to spoil you with luxury, they will also, and I am also getting that they will instantly feel at home with you and want you to take care of them, they would want to lay their head on your lap and want you to lull you to sleep, you naked form makes them feel safe and warm and comfortable. They would just want to hold you there is not a lot of sexual passion here, where it's like fiery, but it is more grounded, they want to go slow with you and take their time. Furthermore, they will feel like they need to cherish you and savour every moment with you, which is why they will not rush into anything and may seem sluggish initially when they see you naked for the first time. They will feel like they have gotten very lucky to have you and that it was destiny that the two of you even met, maybe it was fated to be, and they may feel this intense connection towards you when they see you for the first time and they may wonder if you were a part of their past life, maybe a soulmate from another time that they have had the fortune to meet again.

xoxo

Pile B

Oh, they could be a little judgemental not in a bad way just sizing you up where you may feel small or scrutinised under their gaze, but they would probably just be admiring you or watching you because they will not know what else to do like they will almost be stunned or not know what to do. Even though you will feel trapped under their gaze, they will feel trapped as well because of their inability to move. They will feel a strong need to release and let go, and by release I mean cumming, they will feel a strong need to fuck. They will also feel like their wish has been fulfilled when they see you naked, not only because they will find you stunning and like everything they have ever wished for, but they could also feel like they have been very fortunate they will feel abundant and prosperous, feeling confident that they can provide for you whatever you want and whatever you need. A soon as they get out of their trance, which may feel like years, but I am getting it will only be a few minutes, also a vision is coming through that you will have to break them out of their trance, they may be sitting on a chair, and you will have to go up to them and peer down at them for them to realise they are mobile again. After this they will feel themselves reach a breaking point, as soon as they are out of that they will become greedy for you wanting to consume each part of you with their eyes of course and also go down on you, they want to take all of you in and will not hesitate to pounce you wanting to be subservient both ways.

xoxo

Pile C

Fireeee firey energy they will feel triumphant, they will feel like they have won you over and that this has been won of the biggest victories of their life that they are someone you are comfortable enough with. That you are allowing them to see you in such a vulnerable and raw state, they will also feel like cheering you on. I heard "I'm your biggest fan" oh they will probably cheer you on and maybe holler while you get naked, it's very playful and flirty not as serious as the other piles. They will feel this need to please you and praise you, they will be very vocal and praise your body and you and will probably ask you to pose for them like "give me a twirl". This is so cute, they will get this feeling of relief and a release of pain by seeing you naked because they may be aware of your hesitancy when it comes to bearing yourself to others in that way, and they would feel proud of you as well. A lot of suppressed memories they may have had from their past relationships could also resurface, where they could end up, unconsciously comparing you to an ex of theirs who may have hurt them deeply. There is strong Knight and service energy here too I also saw someone getting on their knees to propose which could be relevant, anyways with the Knight energy I am feeling they may want you to ride them while they are fully clothed as well, they will get turned on by the contrast of you being fully vulnerable while they do not need to, however this could also be related to them being a little scared of you maybe scrutinising or judging their appearance because that could have been a point of contention in their previous relationships.

DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, REPHRASE, REPOST MY CONTENT ALL RIGHTS RESERVED xoxotiamathh

[missgraylock]

My Ride or Die

Summary: Late one night, you're attacked outside the library—your bag stolen and safety shattered. But someone saw everything. A mysterious stranger steps in to recover what was lost. What begins as a random rescue soon hints at deeper intentions and unexpected connections.

‿‿‿‿

This one-shot is inspired by biker Wonwoo in the Thunder MV (swoon). It's not proof read, and English is not my first language.

I would love to get feedback, so feel free to leave it in the comments!

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: romance, slow burn (kinda), smut word count: 5k rating: 18+ minors dni warnings: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (babygirl, beautiful), spanking, hair pulling, possessiveness.

divider by: @cafekitsune

Masterlist

“Hey Y/n, I’m about to leave so you’ll be the last one here, take care of yourself ok?” Your friend Emily patted your back softly. 

“Don’t worry,” you stretched your arms groaning “I just have to finish this chapter and then I’m heading home.” You did your best to give her a reassuring smile, even though you’re clearly running out of steam. 

“Alright, text me when you’re home,” Emily swung her backpack over her shoulders and headed for the exit, “stay safe!”.

The library was dead silent now, and dusk was quickly settling outside.

After staring at the screen for 10 more minutes, you capitulated. “Aish, I don’t have another word in me” you whispered to yourself, slamming the laptop cover shut and packing your crossbody bag. 

You exit the university library only to meet a wall of heavy and humid air. It’s so thick you could’ve cut it with a knife. 

The bus stop is gratefully only a short walk down the street, as you can feel your exhaustion setting in. Your mind is buzzing with scientific terms and theories. You’re currently writing an essay about individuals growing up in high-crime environments like organized crime groups, and the barriers they face trying to leave that lifestyle behind. You always found offender rehabilitation fascinating work, and it’s what you’ve set your mind on as your future career. 

A loud growl from an engine revving breaks through the dense air, and you barely manage to turn around before you flinch as a motorbike almost hits your sides. You feel a hard tug as the unidentifiable shape of the rider reaches for your bag strap.

“Hey! Get the fuck off of me!” You yell as his bike comes to a short stop on the sidewalk, he’s clearly surprised that you’re not forfeiting your bag that easily. You can’t see his face through the dark visor of his helmet, and he’s pulling frantically and with a force you just can’t match.

You suddenly tumble over hard on your knees as he snatches the entire bag from you, your skin breaking on the rough concrete, skin poking out through your ripped jeans. 

You’re quickly trying a different strategy, now pleading. “Please, I need my laptop and my keys!”. He’s already fully back on his bike, revving up. You try to get up, but your knees hurt too much. You’re kneeling in a defeated pose as he disappears down the street.

Your whole body is tense, but you can feel the rush of adrenaline subsiding now. Tears well in your eyes, and you can feel the painful sting of your bloodied knees. Your only consolation is that your phone is still in your jeans back pocket, unschated from the whole ordeal.

You scroll through your contacts, finding Emily. It rings for a couple of seconds.

“Y/n? Are you back home?” She asks you casually.

“Actually uhm, I need a place to stay tonight - and I probably have to call the police”. 

—---

Wonwoo’s perspective

Tonight’s heat is taking him by surprise, small droplets of sweat uncomfortable settling underneath the helmet and his leather jacket. 

“Just one more job, and I’m done. Forever” he whispers to himself. 

Traffic has halted in an unusual evening gridlock down the street, and he’s scouting for opportunities to weave his wave through the lines of cars. 

He finds a narrow path along the sidewalk, just wide enough for a motorbike, and elegantly navigates towards it. 

His ears suddenly perk up as an engine is revving loudly further down the street, right outside the university grounds. 

His eyes follow a small motorbike speeding up, dangerously close to the sidewalk. He gasps as the rider abruptly reaches out towards a lone girl, who seems completely unaware of the danger she’s in.

Wonwoo’s mind is racing. “I need to help her”, but the narrow path ahead is suddenly blocked by a car wavering to the side. He’s trapped. 

He quickly straightens his legs to get a bird’s eye view of the rider’s attack against you. He sees that you’re putting up a fight for your bag. “Let go, you’ll get hurt”, he whispers to himself. 

As he sees you fall over, he focuses on the rider now with your bag slung over his own shoulder. “Green and yellow. Black helmet”, he loudly notes.  

The path ahead finally opens as the thieving rider disappears in the dark. It’s time for Wonwoo to rev his engine now, determined to hunt down the thief. 

As he passes your kneeling shape on the sidewalk, he throws you a quick glance. It’s only for a couple of seconds, but he can tell by your expression that you’re devastated. 

He soars through the traffic, until yet another gridlock appears. As he tries to get a better view of the vehicles up ahead, he spots a green and yellow bike. It has to be the thief.

Wonwoo weaves through the cars to get closer, but the rider suddenly steers his bike off the street and into an alleyway. 

Trying to keep a discreet appearance, Wonwoo slowly guides his large bike to a wall close to the alleyway. He slides his helmet off, quickly ruffling his damp, long hair in an attempt to relieve his overheating body. The maroon leather gloves stay on. 

He peeks around the corner into the dark alleyway. Only a couple of meters away, the thief has his back turned against the street, unexpectedly rummaging through several bags on the ground. 

“Leave them”, Wonwoo’s voice is deep and assertive. The thief startles and turns around. 

“And who the fuck are you?” His voice has an aggressive and desperate tone. 

“It doesn’t matter, you’re going to drop the bags and leave before it’s too late” Wonwoo states coolly. The thief is dwarfed by Wonwoo’s height. The alleway is somewhat blocked by his broad back and wide stance. His arms are crossed in front of him, creating a threatening and unrelenting aura. 

“The hell I won’t!” The thief suddenly lunges for Wonwoo. With a lightning move, Wonwoo curls his fingers around his neck. He’s thrown to the ground, face planted on the hard concrete below. 

“I said, leave before it’s too late”. The thief wriggles against Wonwoo’s tightening grip. He’s clearly struggling to get enough air in his lungs in this position. They stay like this for a moment, but the culprit's body suddenly relaxes. 

“Let go of me, I’ll leave the fucking bags. There’s nothing good in there anyway”. Wonwoo loosens his grip, and the thief is fast on his feet, bolting for his green and yellow bike on the sidewalk. Wonwoo sighs, and grabs the bags. He pops the little storage compartment lid on his own bike, storing the bags safely as he makes his way home, the thief long gone with his tail between his legs. 

Back home in the somewhat stuffy two-bedroom apartment, Wonwoo empties one of the bags on the kitchen counter. Its contents are three Burt’s Bees lip balms, a set of keys barely visible around a heavy key chain, featuring a small, purple wolf plushie, a tiny frame around what looks like a male celebrity of some sort (Wonwoo snorts at the overly cute peace sign he’s doing), and an assortment of small trinkets and bows tied to the main chain. There’s also a beat up laptop. This isn’t what he’s looking for though. He sticks his hand back into the bag, finding a small compartment closed with a zipper. “There we go”, he says as he’s unzipping it, finding a small card holder inside. He goes through the stack of cards until he sees your SNU student card. A bright and rather cute face lights up the frame. “This must have been taken at the start of the term,” he smiles faintly, “she looks optimistic”. In the box next to your portrait, it says your full name and which department you study at. “Criminology huh,” he says to himself with a huff of amusement. Wonwoo’s got a new mission now. 

—---

It’s been a few days since the attack, but you’re determined to not let it ruin your momentum in your undergraduate studies. You’re back at campus, with a replacement laptop safely stored in a backpack you’ve borrowed from Emily. She figured it would be harder to steal that way. 

“I can’t believe how useless the police are, are we making a mistake studying criminology?” Emily frowns and chuckles besides you. You don a tight smile, sighing loudly. 

“But someone has to make it better?” Your other friend Yon chimes in enthusiastically.

The three of you are approaching the sidewalk when you spot a large man in front of you, leaning on a black and silver motorbike. You come to a stop, all three of you taking in sharp breaths at his striking appearance. He’s got a sharp jawline, his hair tousled in waves, perfectly framing his long but beautifully defined features. 

His eyes catching yours with an intensity that makes you instantly flustered. 

“Y/n?”. Emily clutches her chest dramatically from the sound of his deep voice. 

“I- yes?” You stutter, heat rising in your cheeks. “I think I’ve found something that belongs to you”, he doesn’t wait for your response before he pops a lid and reaches for something inside. All three of you stand frozen in awe in front of the handsome stranger. 

You cock your head slightly and can see that he’s fishing out your beat up crossbody bag from the compartment. Yon grabs your forearm tightly, her jaw almost fully on the floor now. Wonwoo hands you the bag, with a relaxed and somewhat unreadable expression on his face. You’re stunned. “I can’t believe this! Where did you find it?”, your eyes meet his again. “Just somewhere I parked a couple of blocks from here. It was left on the sidewalk.” Your face turns into a big grin. “I don’t know how to thank you! I don’t think most people would bother returning this to me”. You’re suddenly feeling grateful for the stranger’s kindness. The fact that he’s incredibly attractive doesn’t help. “It’s no big deal, really” he says coolly, reaching for the gloves on his motorbike’s seat. You realize that he’s preparing to leave. Yon starts to tug hard on your sleeve now, and Emily joins in nodding towards you, trying to give you a hint. 

As he’s slipping on his gloves, you go for it. “What’s your name by the way?”. He looks up at you now, hesitating slightly. “It’s Wonwoo”, he says after a pause. You swear you could hear Yon do a low whine next to you. You do a sharp intake of air, preparing yourself for what’s to come next. “I really want to pay you back Wonwoo, can I take you for a drink?”. You can tell he’s surprised now. It’s not that common for a woman to ask a man out like this. “I completely understand if it’s weird and you don’t want to, I-” You’re floundering. He suddenly interrupts you, smirking slightly. “Hmm, why not. Hand me your phone” he says assertively. You unlock your phone, and hand it to him. Emily and Yon are positively bouncing at your sides now, barely able to contain their excitement. He slides his gloves back off, and inputs his number, calling it so he also has yours. As he hands your phone back to you, his fingers slide carefully over yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll be seeing you then, Y/n”, he casually states as he’s pulling his gloves and his helmet back on. “Yeah, see you soon Wonwoo!” You respond way too enthusiastically, earning a giggle from your two friends. You’re all basically swooning as he pulls out on the street, disappearing among the cars ahead. 

“Holy shit” Emily finally says. You’re still too stunned to speak. “Y/n, I’m so proud of you, where the hell did that confidence come from?”. All you could do was shake your head, as you exhaled and started to laugh. You were all soon hysterically laughing, cheering on the sidewalk. 

—---

You hadn’t had the best luck with men. After a string of disappointments you had decided to decenter it all and just focus on your friends and your studies. Your current feelings therefore surprised you, Wonwoo on your mind 24/7. There was something about his gesture of returning your things to you that spoke so loudly. He’s clearly a selfless guy, doing something like that for a stranger. After such a harrowing experience, his actions healed something in you. You tried telling yourself that you’re nurturing a fantasy about a guy you barely know, but the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the crush was in full swing. 

A few days had passed and you hadn’t heard from him, admitting to yourself that it was you who had invited him out, and that you probably should contact him first. You were lying in your bed late at night, overthinking your next step as your phone lit up. He’s calling you. Your pulse suddenly quickens. 

“Hi it’s Y/n?”, you answer. 

“Hi Y/n, it’s Wonwoo”, he says in a husky voice “is it too late to talk?”. His voice sounds so good, you feel your eyes flutter. 

“Not at all, I’m really awake”, you emphasise. “Oh, is there something on your mind?”. Your cheeks heat up at his question. 

“Maybe… I’m thinking about someone”, you have a coy tone to your voice now, and it’s very deliberate. There’s a little pause between you. 

“Really, tell me about this someone”, he’s playing along. 

“Well, he’s quite tall”, you’re nervously twirling a lock of your hair now “and kinda handsome, I guess” Wonwoo snickers lowly. 

You’re flirting back and forth for a while, and it’s all so effortless. It’s like you’ve known him for ages. There’s no awkwardness in your flowing conversation. You decide to switch it up before you both get carried away. 

“Wonwoo, I feel like it’s a bit unfair that you know more about me than I know about you”. There’s a beat of silence.

“Alright babygirl, ask away”. The nickname throws you for a loop, but you’re set on reeling yourself in and focusing on the task at hand. 

“Well, what do you do for work?”, you try to keep your voice steady. 

“I collect and deliver stuff”, he doesn’t elaborate further. 

“Oh, like for a delivery service?” you ask. 

“Yeah, something like that”. 

Your instincts tell you that there’s more to the story, but you don’t want to press it - yet. There’s something about his secretive aura that tingles your spider senses, and it just makes you even more fascinated by him. A faint alarm goes off in the back of your mind though. You decide to change the subject, and your conversation flows again, talking about music and movies you both like, and how you’re imagining the future. It feels safe and intimate. You can’t help but feel a bond slowly but surely forming between you. You’ve been talking for hours when you’re suddenly yawning. “You need to rest babygirl, can I come pick you up tomorrow evening?”, he asks.

“Sounds good, do I need to bring something?”, you feel the excitement bubbling in your chest now. “A warm jacket, since you’ll be behind me on the bike”. Your jaw drops, imagining how it’s going to feel to wrap your arms around him as you swerve through traffic. “Alright, see you tomorrow Wonwoo”, you smile. “See you soon beautiful”. As he hangs up, you get to your feet and jump around carefully on your bedroom floor, squealing. 

—---

You exit your apartment building excitedly, wearing a skater skirt that ends right above your knees, a loose t-shirt tucked into it and a leather jacket. He’s already waiting for you, leaning against his bike, helmet in hand. He’s wearing long black jeans, a white t-shirt and his signature maroon leather jacket. He’s even more handsome than you remembered, and you bite your lip instinctively. He looks up and smiles as he sees you. As you close in on him, you lean up on your toes and place a quick peck on his cheek. His smile broadens even more.

“I’ve got something for you”, he reaches back and picks up another helmet, slightly smaller than his. 

“You’ll need this”. You reach out to take it, but he’s already placing it carefully on your head, making sure it’s secured properly. 

“I’m a bit worried about your bare legs, but you’ll just have to tuck them close to mine”, he smirks. You’re almost completely made of jelly now from his words and actions, and you haven’t even left yet. 

He puts on his own helmet now, and swings his leg across the seat. You do the same, settling behind him. You make sure to tuck your legs next to his, and you lean forward against his broad back. As your arms reach around his waist and you clasp your fingers at the front, he rolls out on the street. 

You drive for what seems like at least an hour, exiting the city and finding smaller roads. It’s silent and intimate between you, as you find yourself relaxing against his body as if you’d done it a hundred times before. There’s suddenly craggy hills surrounding you, as you roll down a narrow path. You can make out what looks like sand and water ahead, as the tangy smell of the ocean hits your senses. 

A wide beach opens up ahead, with a few buildings scattered along it. 

As you roll up outside one of the larger buildings with a B&B sign outside, Wonwoo stops and sets the motorbike in park. 

You lift yourself slowly off of the bike, feeling a stiffness in your limbs after the long ride. 

He closes in on you, and lifts the helmet off of your head, doing his own next. 

You look around and take in the calm and serene landscape, small waves crashing against the shore. It’s a quiet and warm evening, but the fresh oceanside breeze is a welcome respite from the humid city air. 

“This place is so pretty”, you say, as you feel him reaching for your hand. 

You close your fingers around his. 

“Come, let’s get something to drink”, he says in his usual calm but assertive tone. 

You get a couple of non-alcoholic drinks as Wonwoo’s driving, and you find a secluded bench on the porch outside, overlooking the wide and empty beach in front of you. You sit next to each other, your thighs ghosting each other. The drink is refreshing, the temperature is comfortable and it’s still not cold, even though dusk is settling.  

Wonwoo wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him lightly.

“Y/n, there’s something you need to know about me”, you look up at him expectedly now. “I want to be completely honest with you, so you can choose to walk away if that’s what you want”. You feel a tinge of anxiety in your chest now. 

“Ok, what is it?”. He hesitates for a bit. He explains how he grew up in a broken home, with a mother who was drinking and a father that was gambling. His father made one of the biggest mistakes you can do, as he took out a loan from an infamous gang to cover his gambling debts. When he couldn’t pay back, loan sharks started showing up at his family’s door and the threats escalated. 

“I figured I had the solution, so I offered to help them collect and deliver drugs and weapons across the city, in exchange for my father’s debt”. This territory is not unfamiliar for you, but you had never really known anyone involved in these kinds of activities. Maybe you were naive to trust him, but he hadn’t given you any reasons to doubt his values and inner motivations. His circumstances weren't his fault. 

His fingers tighten around your shoulder now, pulling you even closer.

“I understand if this is too much for you. I’m almost out now, but I’m fully responsible for what I’ve chosen to involve myself in”.

You look up at him, and your eyes meet tenderly. You can sense sorrow and regret there, buried deep somewhere in him. 

“Wonwoo, I can tell who you are. And I still want you just like you are”. 

The air between you is thick with emotion, and there’s almost a crackle in the air.

You lean into him, catching his lips in a careful kiss, testing the waters. 

He responds immediately, cupping your check with his other hand. He deepens the kiss, both of your eyes fluttering shut from the passion and heat you’re sharing. You can’t help but let out a sigh, the intensity between you igniting a need deep in your body. He notices it, and it just spurs him on. 

He suddenly lifts you into his lap, and you wrap an arm around behind his broad shoulder, and the other one across his chest. 

The rhythmic sound of waves crashing in the otherwise silent night is hypnotic, while you pull each other even closer. 

Wonwoo’s hand slips from your cheek and down towards your thigh, bare under your skirt.

“Can I?” He asks ardently, you whisper yes, and he slides his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips gently scraping your skin. You can feel a heat pooling in your core, as his touches make you increasingly needy. 

He stops just shy of your core, and rubs your inner thigh gently. Your kisses have gone from slow and passionate to borderline animalistic now. 

He suddenly leans back from you slightly.

“We should stop babygirl, I want to make this better for you”. 

You whine slightly at the loss of his lips, but you agree. It’s getting cold and dark outside. 

You expect him to lift you off of his lap, but he’s hoisting you up instead, carrying you bridal style. 

You can’t stop giggling, as his large frame envelops you and he’s carrying you effortlessly towards the lobby. You can’t help but preen at his strength, nuzzling your nose against his neck and taking in his delicious, masculine scent. 

He doesn’t even put you down as he asks for a vacant room, making the clerk rather flustered as he tries to keep a professional tone with the two of you. Wonwoo however seems completely unaffected, clearly a man yet again on a mission. 

As soon as you’re in the spacious room, he slides you down to the floor so you’re standing flush against his chest. You’re immediately on his lips again, and the kisses are deep and desperate.

“Can I undress you babygirl?”, you nod, and he slides his hands underneath your t-shirt, lifting it off of you. His eyes trail down to your pink lace bra, your nipples already visibly stiff under the thin fabric.

He draws in a sharp breath.

“God, you look delicious, I’m going to take my sweet time with you,” he leans forward as his lips ghost your ear, “all night”. 

You can’t hope but moan at the implications of his words. You marvel at your current situation, lost in the countryside with the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s clearly down bad for you as well.

He reaches around your back unclasping your bra, and throws it carefully behind him. He stops for a beat to fully take in your undressed curves.

“So pretty”, he bites his lower lip as his gaze is fixed on your plump and bare chest. 

His hands slide up your sides now, deliberately stroking your hard nipples as he’s softly kissing and sucking a pattern down your neck. You whine slightly as he’s sucking harder on the point where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Just marking you as mine”, he says in a husky voice. He continues to trail kisses down to your breast, creating another small bruise on your soft flesh. 

As you pull him closer, you can feel his hard bulge pressing against your belly. It’s unsurprisingly massive. 

He wraps his hands around your waist now, and lifts you towards the end of the bed, carefully laying you down on your back against the mattress.  

Your face is a light pink flush. You breathe heavily, and you can feel slick pooling in your lacy panties. 

Wonwoo stands before you, pulling his t-shirt off to reveal the most chiseled set of abs you’ve ever seen. He catches your lingering gaze, and smirks. 

The tension in the room is hot and heavy, and your skin feels like it’s on fire as he crawls towards you. He settles his bulge directly on your core, his elbows on each side of your head. 

“Did I tell you that you’re beautiful?”, his lips yet again crashes into yours before you can answer, as you feel the weight of his body on you. 

He suddenly sits back, kneeling between your legs. His large hands find purchase on each of your thighs, slowly sliding downwards to your core.

“Can I take care of you babygirl?”

You whimper and nod, and his fingers reach for your drenched panties, pulling them off completely. He wraps your skirt over your belly, fully exposing your slicked up slit. 

“Look at the state you’re in, did I do this?” He smirks teasingly at you, but you can only whine needily now. 

He puts two fingers close to your wet hole, and slides his fingers slowly upwards your slit. He places his other hand right above your pubic bone, pressing slightly. 

You gasp as his fingertips find your clit, putting pressure against it as he starts a circular motion. 

“I’m going to play with you all night, having this pretty pussy come for me over and over again”, his dirty words make your eyes roll back as you moan. 

He leans further down, and you can feel his hot breath on your inner thighs now. 

His tongue swipes your slit as he removes his fingers from your bud, and puts two of them inside you instead. His mouth soon covers your bud, flicking it and sucking with an increasing intensity. You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut as your body starts to tense up with pleasure. 

He starts to slide his fingers in and out of you now, continuing his rhythmic licking and sucking.

“Come for me babygirl, I’m going to fuck you so good after this”, the thought of his big cock sliding in and out of you instead of his fingers finally sends you over your edge. Your toes curl and your body convulses in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. He keeps the steady rhythm, making sure your orgasm continues for as long as possible. He’s lapping at your juices now, letting out a moan. 

“I can’t believe how wet and tight you are. Just so perfect for me.” Even though you just came, you can already feel a neediness building in your core. 

As he sits up, he’s reaching to unzip your skirt. You stop him and do it yourself.

“You get those pants off please”, you bite your lip expectedly. 

He rises from the bed, unbuckling his belt and pulls down both his jeans and shorts in one go. You inhale sharply as his huge cock slaps against his stomach. It’s hard and slightly red, with a bead of precum on the tip. 

He looks at you with a hungry gaze now, and you instinctively crawl backwards on the bed.

He kneels in front of you again, placing his hands on your hips and turns you around in a quick motion. You find yourself with your face against the pillow. 

“Open up wide for me now babygirl”, he says as his hands spread your thighs to the side. 

You’re trembling with anticipation.

“Wonwoo please”, you whine.

“Please what, beautiful?” you hear from behind you.

“Please, I need your cock in me” you’re begging now, and he snickers.

A loud moan escapes you as you feel his tip against your slit, his large frame heavy against your back. 

His lips meet your ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for me and take everything I give you, alright?”. His tip still lingers at your entrance.

“Yes yes! I promise I’ll be good!” you whine, and he’s pushing in now. 

You moan as you feel his wide cock stretch you out deliciously. He’s slowly sliding it in and out of you, making sure you adjust to his size without any pain. 

“Harder, I need it hard and fast” you cry at him. 

He suddenly pulls you up by the hips so you’re on all fours. 

His hand reaches for your long locks, pulling you back against him, his cock still placed firmly inside you. 

Your back is flush against his chest now, your back arching to make sure he stays in its place.

“Do you know the light system babygirl?”, he whispers in your ear.

“Uhu, I’m really green” you stutter, feeling his hard cock twitch inside you.

“Good”, he leans you forward again, but he keeps a firm grip on your hair. 

He suddenly starts slamming in and out of you again. The pace is punishing but not painful. You can’t help but scream in pleasure.

You suddenly feel a sharp sting on your ass, making you scream even louder. He slaps you again, your skin reddening from the abuse. 

He lets go of your hair now, snaking his hand down underneath your belly to your bud. He starts massaging it in a determined rhythm. 

“Yes, make me cum again Wonwoo”, he moans at your words and applies even more pressure. 

You yet again spill over the edge as he coaxes another orgasm from you, leaving you shaking on his cock, the orgasm still lingering.

“I want you to cum in me, please” you’re pleading again.

“You want me to fill up this pretty pussy? Make you completely mine?” He grunts possessively.

“Please, I want to be yours, want your cum dripping out of me”. At your final plea his cock twitches hard and he cums deep in your pussy. You feel load after load of hot, warm cum fill you up in small thrusts. Wonwoo moans as he empties himself in you fully, sweat trickling down his forehead. 

He collapses beside you, wrapping an arm around your back. He pulls you close, nuzzling his nose against yours. Both of your eyes close as you exhale from the dwindling intensity. Your bodies feel spent and soft from all the pleasure.

After a while, he opens his eyes. 

“Hey, so guess what”, he asks. 

You run your fingers through his damp hair, basking in his naked closeness.

“What?”

“You’re my girl now”. You giggle at his words, suddenly feeling emotional as you snuggle closer to your lover. 

・❥・

Masterlist Wonwoo x reader // Fallout AU

[hongjoongspoetry]

Hi!!! Thank you so much for writing the march event- the soulmate au's, They were all really wonderful; As a writer myself, I know that it can take SO MUCH to just put down a couple words on a blank document but you guys managed to create so many wonderful stories- it's mind blowing.

Thank you so much for letting us, readers, see this masterpiece💗💗

Hello!!!!! 🩷 Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m so happy you liked it 🥹 A lot of thought and time went into this event, so it truly means a lot to know people enjoyed it!

And you're 100% right. I don’t think people always realize how exhausting writing can be. Just coming up with a plot is hard enough, and bringing it to life is a whole other challenge 😭 But honestly, without readers like you, I don’t think many of us would keep going. So thank you so much for reading and taking the time to share your thoughts. As a fellow writer, I know you understand just how much it means to hear someone connect with your work, so really, thank you 🩷

Also!! Since you’re a writer too, I’d love to be mutuals or friends 😭 if you’re comfortable with that, of course!!

Btw since you are a writer yourself, I would love to become mutuals/friends 😭 if youre comfortable with it, of course!!

[reidrum]

one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[marvelouslymarly]

Middle of the Night (Bob Reynolds x female!reader)

This is part 2 to my After Midnight fic with Bob Reynolds - read part 1 here

Masterlist

Rated: E for Explicit! MDNI!!!

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x female!reader

Summary: After having you for the first time, Bob can't seem to stop thinking about having you again.

CW: as always mild thunderbolts spoiler warning since this is set after the events of the film; 90% of this is pure smut (horny Bob (like, it's bad how needy he is); fingering; unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it, guys :*); choking; the smallest hint at cockwarming right at the end there...); some angst and a little bit of fluff... But mostly just pure and filthy smut, again: MDNI :) [not beta-read bc I wanted to get this out to you asap]

Word count: 4.6k

Hope you enjoy!!! Reblogs and feedback appreciated <3

You felt secure with Bob’s hands resting on your tummy, your chest rising and falling softly, no reason to be scared or tense with him holding you close. There was no activity in the Watchtower apart from the two of you cuddling, enjoying each other’s company without the need to speak. After the events of the evening, your body had felt tired in a different way. It was a physical exhaustion that you weren’t used to. A satisfied fatigue leaving your limbs heavy, your core still sending tiny aftershocks through your extremities. There was a pleasant warmth emanating from Bob, his chest brushing against your back softly with every inhale. Your brain had quieted, no haunting thoughts running through your brain, only the sound of Bob’s calm breaths and the occasional kiss on your shoulder or the slope of your neck. His fingers were drawing lazy patterns on your skin and your own were running up and down his arms. 

“I wanna stay like this forever,” your voice was low, scared that if you talked too loudly this serene moment would dissolve.

You took his hand and kissed the back of it, your fingers playing with his for a second before intertwining. Laying with him felt like second nature. Your bodies fit together perfectly, his the perfect big spoon to your little one. Your legs were tangled lazily, just as if this was how you were supposed to exist. With Bob by your side, your skin pressed up to his. As if everything that had happened in your life was leading you to this moment, leading you to Bob.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he agreed quietly, his voice already laced with sleep. He nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent, a content hum falling from his lips. “You smell so good, love. Like summer rain and heaven.”

You smiled to yourself and turned around slowly, your leg slipping over his side and your hand moving up to cup his cheek. You kissed him softly, your eyes fluttering shut when your lips met his, and he pulled you even closer. He deepened the kiss, one of his hands in your hair, the other on the small of your back and you slipped your tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t a hungry and eager kiss like the ones before, it was slow and reverent, both of you too tired to ravish the other one. You tasted each other, teeth sinking into the other’s bottom lip slowly. Your hands held onto each other, digging into the other’s skin with soft determination as if to memorise the hills and valleys of the other’s figure.

When you pulled apart again, his hand was on your cheek, holding you in place, his forehead resting against yours, while you caught your breaths. There were content smiles on your lips, kiss-bitten and full.

Bob rolled onto his back, pulling you with him to rest against his side. Your head moved to lie on his chest and you closed your eyes, listening to the soft thump of his heart beating rhythmically under your ear. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then put his cheek to it, holding you close.

You drifted off like this, his right arm slung over your hip and his left hand holding yours, your fingers intertwined. Your dreams were calm ones, of easy times and comfortable moments. Of moments like this one. Lazy weekends spent lounging and reading on the couch with him. Sunset strolls on the river bank, holding hands and laughing at small things. Coffee dates at your favourite café down the street.

When you woke up a little later, Bob had turned away from you, whimpers leaving his lips. You put out your hand, looking for the switch of the bedside lamp, and then you turned it on, giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the bright light. Your eyes searched the bed, and you let out a sad sigh when you saw Bob, lying on the edge of the bed, his back turned to you, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. 

“Hey, Bob, I’m here. It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered, moving up to him and carefully placing your hand on his shoulder before turning him onto his back. His mouth was hanging open a little and his brows were furrowed in what you interpreted was fear. But then his brows pulled up and a low moan left his mouth, his hand running over his leg and to his hardening dick. Your cheeks heated and your heart calmed down, realising what he must’ve been dreaming about. 

His arm moved to cover his eyes and his hips bucked into his own touch. Your name rolled off his tongue in a low growl and you covered your mouth, biting down on your lip at the sight in front of you, arousal starting to build between your legs. Bob’s hand ran through his hair and his teeth sank his into his lip, a heavy breath leaving his flared nostrils.

“Mhm, just like that, babe…”

He palmed at himself a few times, groaning and whimpering, the veins on his forearms popping. Your free hand made its way between your legs, and then he startled awake, sitting up straight and his eyes wide. His gaze flitted around frantically and then met yours, his Adam’s apple bopping in a heavy gulp.

“Hi,” you chuckled, your hand falling from your mouth.

His cheeks turned a bright pink and Bob fell backwards, covering his face with both of his hands, groaning embarrassed.

“Oh, god,” he mumbled from behind his hands and turned on his stomach, trying to hide his shame from you. “I am so sorry, [y/n].”

“What for,” you asked and laid across his back, kissing his shoulder blade softly. You ran your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and tried to catch a peek at his face.

“That you had to witness… that,” he grumbled and turned his face to the side. “And that I woke you up.”

“Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about this!” You smiled at him sincerely and kissed his cheek gently. “I think it's kinda sweet that you were dreaming about me.”

“‘Sweet?’ Oh, great,” he complained and turned his face away from you again.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed and pouted. “I just meant that… I’ve never… seen someone have a sex dream about me,” you added and sat back down on your side of the bed.

This made Bob turn around, pulling up his leg to hide his hard-on while sitting up as well, looking at you confused.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m serious.” You shrugged and let your eyes travel over his naked body. “Is there something you want me to do?”

You let your fingers walk up his leg and pushed him back down onto the mattress, hovering over him. Bob looked up at you, your hair falling around your face, and he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin. His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed his lips together in a thin lip while your fingers ran up the inside of his thigh.

“Maybe you could tell me what we did in that dream of yours,” you offered, your voice sultry and low as you leaned down to him.

When his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown, most of the blue taken over by the black of his pupils, and you smirked, brushing the tip of your nose against his. He pulled you down, closing the distance and crashing his lips to yours before turning you over. His left leg slotted between yours, his hard dick pressing against your thigh and you gasped into the kiss at his weight on top of you.

“I’d rather show you,” he muttered and dropped his face to the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the pulsating spot under your ear. He leaned on his fist by your side and his free hand slipped between your legs, a low chuckle leaving his lips, sending vibrations down your spine. “So wet already, doll?”

You turned your face to the side, giving him more access to your neck, and nodded in agreement, your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his fingers running through your folds. His thumb moved to your clit and your hips met his touch eagerly.

Bob burrowed his face in your hair, his middle finger slipping into your hole easily with a wet squelch, and a smug groan rolled off his tongue. “So needy, huh?”

“I want you so bad, Bob,” you breathed, already a little light-headed. You were still a little tender from the rounds earlier that night, so when he slipped in a second finger with the next thrust of his hand, you yelped a little, one of your hands moving to his wrist.

“You okay, baby?” He purred into your ear and then moved to look into your eyes, not moving his fingers until you looked at him, too. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” There was softness to the low gravel of his voice and his eyebrows knitted together in a furrow.

“No, it’s ok,” you assured and nodded, smiling at the tenderness in his eyes. “I’m ok.”

“Tell me if I should stop,” he told you and kissed you, his lips moving against yours masterfully. 

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and slowly started to move his fingers again. The movements were cautious but deliberate, his fingers curling at the right moment before slipping back in deeper again. The pain you’d felt at first slowly turned into pleasure, your breath hitching when his fingertips brushed against the spot deep inside of you. His lips split into a smirk against yours and you simply nodded, your brain foggy from kissing him and the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“That’s it, baby.”

You looked down at where his hand was between your legs, another moan escaping you, and you let go of his wrist, your hand running up his arm and clawing at his shoulder when his hips started to grind into your leg.

“Take me,” you whimpered into his ear when his forehead fell to your shoulder, the familiar feeling of your nearing orgasm spreading through your lower stomach. Your free hand moved between your bodies and wrapped around his erection, pumping up and down his length.

“Are you sure?” His voice was but a whimper at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his dick and his fingers slipped out of you, leaving you feeling empty again.

You nodded, your hips twisting to his, and kissed him hungrily. Bob moved on top of you, your hand slipping from around his dick and his hips positioning themselves between your legs, and you moaned when his dick brushed against your sensitive cunt. He looked down between you and, without any warning, pushed into you, his hand covering your mouth in anticipation of the loud gasp leaving you.

“Shhh, baby. We gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t want the others to find out what we’re doing, right?” He placed a kiss on your cheek and then rolled his hips back, almost pulling his erection all the way out of you, only to thrust back in a second later.

Your back arched against his chest and your head lolled back at the feeling of him filling you up so well.

“You feel so good around my cock, doll,” he groaned into your ear, the grip of his hand on your hip getting tighter, his restraint from drilling into you waning with everything second. “So wet and fucking tight.” You could hear the pride in his voice and when you met his gaze from the corner of your eyes, you made out the tiniest hint of gold gleaming in his dark eyes.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter and rolled your hips against his, making him slip into you further and feeling his balls at your ass. His head fell down against your shoulder again and you let out a chuckle, his hand still covering your mouth and muffling the sound.

“Oh, you think this is funny, love?” His hand moved to your chin and he turned your head, making you look at him. The gold had fully taken over what was left of the blue around his pupils and you gulped, unable to hide the smirk on your face. Bob pulled his hips back, sliding out of you completely, and he flipped you over. His hand moved to your wrists and he held them tight, while he pulled you up onto your knees to have your hips meet his, your face buried in the pillow.

You tried to look over your shoulder but then he thrust into you again, harder than before and bottoming out, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing through the room. Your eyes squeezed shut against the sweet pain and you bit into the pillow, muffling the moan you couldn’t control. His hand wrapped around your hip and he started thrusting into you relentlessly. The tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot and you arched your back, pushing your hips into his desperate to get even more friction.

“You take me so well, baby,” he groaned into your ear, leaning over your back and drilling you into the mattress. You struggled against the grip on your wrists and he let go a little, allowing you to dig your fingers into the bedsheets before putting his hand on yours. Your other hand snaked around his head and you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his head close to yours, so he could hear the sweet noises he was evoking from you.

“You like that,” he growled, his voice turning up at the end in a question, and the hand that had previously sat on his hip moved around to your front, the pad of his middle finger connecting with your swollen clit.

A high-pitched moan slipped past your lips and you met his movements, your orgasm approaching fast at the pace of his thrusts. Your legs started to shake and he chuckled, adjusting his arm to carry more of your weight and supporting you better.

“Can you hold on for a moment longer, love, mhm?” His voice was hot against your ear and you shook your head, already feeling the first wave of your orgasm about to hit.

“You feel too good, Bob,” you whimpered, and the grip on his locks tightened when his dick brushed against your g-spot once more, your orgasm washing over you. Your walls clenched around his length and you could feel tears running down the bridge of your nose at the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“That’s it, baby.” The movements of his hips grew sloppier, letting you know that he wasn’t far behind. 

He rode out your orgasm and then his hips stopped suddenly, his dick buried deep inside you, while he came, a string of swear words falling from his lips. You could feel his warm cum trickle down the back of your thigh while he continued to thrust in and out of you, riding the highs of his own climax, while his fingers were working on your clit, sending sparks through your entire body.

When he was done, he collapsed next to you after placing you on the mattress softly, and then pulled you close to him again. You curled up against his front and pulled his hand up to kiss his fingers one at a time, trying to catch your breath. His other hand ran through your hair and then trailed down your arm, his touch soft and lovingly.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes, a content hum leaving your lips. “No, it was just right.”

Bob placed tiny kisses on the top of your shoulder, slowly moving up the slope of your neck and then he buried his head in your neck again.

“God, you smell absolutely divine right now,” he mumbled against your ear, and inhaled again, his hand flattening on your tummy, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in his arms, sleep trying to pull you back into dreamland. Before your eyelids grew too heavy, you turned your head a little and started:

“Hey, Bob?”

He moved against your back and grumbled sleepily before kissing your cheek and telling you he’s awake.

“I don’t want you to feel bad for… you know…” You stopped for a second, fighting sleep and rubbing your eyes. “For having sex dreams about me or getting yourself off, ok?” You turned around and cuddled up against his chest, looking up at him from under your lashes and going on: “Or you can always wake me up if you need something, yeah?”

He averted his gaze, his cheeks turning pink again and you ran your finger over his cheek. After a moment of considering what you said, he nodded and then met your eyes again, something heavy lingering behind them.

“What’s up, love?” Your smile fell and you moved up a little to be on the same level with him.

“It’s just that… ever since the trial…”, he trailed off, his gaze wandering through the room for a moment before he closed his eyes. He scratched the side of his face with the back of his hand and then took a deep breath, his chin quivering a little. 

“Ever since the trial, every feeling I had… It’s just all so much more intense and my brain - it gets so loud. Like… It did that before, too, you know? But now, it’s like the dials have all been turned up to a hundred. And it’s constant,” he explained and his eyes opened again, tears brimming at his bottom lid.

“Oh, Bob.” You sat up and pulled the pillow you had claimed up to rest your back against, before placing his in your lap. You patted the pillow softly, motioning for him to put his head in your lap, and when he did, your fingers started to run through his dark locks, brushing them out of his face and smoothing them down the back of his head.

“And I feel like, now that I’ve had you… You’re all I can think about. How you taste… how you sound and how you feel.” He looked at you, a lonely tear running down his cheek. “And god, it makes me feel so… like there’s something wrong with me.” His voice broke at the end there and his shoulders started to quake, a sob breaking from his lips.

“There isn’t anything wrong with you, Bob.” Your thumb ran over his cheek, brushing away the tears rolling down the hills of his face, and you pulled up the covers, tucking him in a little. “I don’t mind, really.” His eyes flitted to yours as if to say that he didn’t believe you and he turned his head, facing away from you.

“I know, your brain is probably telling you the opposite right now…”, you tried, your fingers running over his shoulder and down his arm to take his hand in yours, and then continued: “but I don’t get anything from lying to you about this… I don’t want you to beat yourself up about the fact that you get a little horny about me from time to time.”

“Oh, if it was only ‘from time to time’,” he scoffed and wiped away the tears, sitting up next to me. He looked at you then, searching for any sign that you weren’t telling the truth. When he couldn’t find any, he sighed and nodded, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Well, like I said, if there’s ever anything I can help you with…” You leaned over to him, wrapping your fingers around his chin and lifting it a little to make him meet your eyes. “You can always come to me or wake me up. If you need a cuddle… or a shoulder to cry on… or, whatever, I’ll always be there for you!” 

You kissed him softly, the salty taste of tears on his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His hands held onto you, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your shoulders, as sobs broke from him.

You had worried about this when you’d seen the gold in his eyes earlier, knowing that if the Sentry came out, the Void wouldn’t be far behind. You’d seen him struggle with this a few times in the last months since moving into the Watchtower but this meltdown broke your heart even more. You’d never been this close to him during a bad episode since that group hug in the lab-shame room. You’d never felt his body shake like this against your own, his nails leaving halfmoon shapes in your skin. And hearing the whimpers and cries leaving his lips tore at your heart.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly, shushing him softly, and pulled him into your lap, rocking back and forth.

~~~

When you woke up the next time, his lips were on your shoulder blade, fluttering over your skin, leaving behind soft, open-mouth kisses, while his fingers were dancing up your bare legs. His hard dick was pressing up against your ass, and he groaned against your back, his fingers digging into your thigh, while he tried to keep his hips from grinding into you. Burrowing his head in your hair, he sank his teeth into your neck, his breathing heavy already.

“Babe, are you awake,” he asked, his voice barely a whisper and you nodded, still half asleep. “God, I’m so sorry,” he grunted and bucked his hips, his length brushing against your core. You moaned sleepily, arching your back a little, and felt yourself getting wet again.

“I don’t know how to…”, he whimpered and his left hand slipped between your thighs while the other one glided under the shirt he’d given you to sleep in. “I need you…” His voice was filled with desperation, with need, and it went straight to your core.

His right hand cupped your breast and squeezed it, the pad of his thumb drawing circles over your hardening nipple. Your body, still sensitive from the last round and those before, reacted by sending sparks through you, the arousal pooling between your legs in anticipation while his fingers were playing with your clit. His movements were sloppier than before but it didn’t matter because your nerve endings felt like they were on fire, every stroke over your clit waking you up a little more from the slumber clinging to your brain.

“Can I…” He started carefully, his hips stationary behind you, his cock waiting patienty. His fingers slid through your folds with an obscenely wet squelch, and he moaned into your ear. You nodded again, your eyes fluttering shut from both exhaustion and pleasure.

You weren’t used to feeling this needy yourself, your past relationships barely lasting long enough to offer the possibility of multiple rounds in one night. Before, having sex with someone was about taking the edge off, it wasn’t about being with the person you were fucking. It didn’t matter who they were, just that they could get you that relief you needed so badly. 

But with Bob, something had changed. Even with multiple orgasms in one night, you still felt the need burning deep inside of you. You needed to feel him. His fingers. His tongue. His teeth. You needed him to fill you up, balls deep inside of you and fucking you senseless. And you needed him to do it over and over again. You needed to moan his name, knowing that he was yours and that you were his.

His arm snaked around your hip tighter, changing the angle at which his hand slid between your thighs, and you buried your face when his fingers slipped into you. This time, he didn’t wait to add the second one but pushed it in right with the first one. A breathy moan fell from your lips and your hand moved down, fingers digging into his arm. His fingers thrusted into you, wet sounds filled the room and you could feel your cheeks heat at how soaked you were for him.

“Fuck, you sound so good, all wet and slick,” he groaned into your ear and kissed your neck, his fingers keeping the pace of pumping in and out of you and curling at the right moment.

When he felt that you were prepared enough, he pulled his fingers out again, and brought them up to his mouth, licking off your juices, one finger at a time. “You taste so good, so sweet, baby,” he purred, his voice dark with lust.

A satisfied hum fell from his lips and he kissed your shoulder blade again, his hand moving between you to line his dick up with your pussy. He pushed his hips forward, slipping in a little before he pulled back out and angled your hips a little. With his next thrust, his dick glided into you in one go, his balls settling against your ass, and Bob buried his head in your hair, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He tried to catch his breath for a moment, his grip on your hip holding you in place, before he pulled back his hips again slowly. The hand on your breast moved up your chest, pushing up the shirt, and then his fingers wrapped around your throat carefully, making sure to not push too hard on your larynx.

Bob thrusted back in and you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder. He got started with a steady pace and every time a moan dared to fall from your lips, his hand would close a little more around your throat. Your head was getting foggy from the pleasure of his dick filling you to the brim, and you moved your hip against his, trying to get more friction, your climax building quickly.

“So fucking good, baby,” he whimpered and picked up speed, his movements growing sloppier as he was approaching his own release.

Your hand moved between your legs and you bit down on your lower lip when the tip of his dick brushed against your g-spot right as your finger connected with your clit.

“Love it when you touch yourself while I fuck you, doll.”

His teeth sank into your ear lobe and you let out a choked yelp, feeling the first sparks of your orgasm rushing through your body. His cock twitched inside you as your walls clamped around his length, and you stilled, the intensity of your high too much for you. Bob chuckled deeply behind you and held onto you tightly, his warm cum coating the inside of your pussy once more, while he kept rutting into you.

Once he was done riding out your shared climax, his right hand fell from around your throat and caressed the spots his fingers had dug into your skin. Bob covered your shoulder in hot, open-mouthed kisses and massaged your shaking legs with his left hand, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He didn’t motion to pull his half-erect dick out of you, just nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck as his hand reached over to the bedside table to get a tissue for cleaning you up from your mixed arousal leaking out of you. His touch was soft, as to not overstimulate you any further, and your eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion hitting you hard all of a sudden.

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt his fingers run through your hair and heard his voice near your ear, a soft ‘sleep well, love’ followed by a kiss to your cheek sending you off to a calm and dreamless slumber.

[1800titz]

TWO

The one where Y/N and Harry are neighbors in an apartment complex, he's got a bunny called Snuggles, he makes softcore porn spanking people (it's a REALLY LOUD HOBBY), and Y/N has definitely called the police for a domestic disturbance next door.

HI. This is the second part of the early access spanko fic!! Definitely read part one first if you already haven’t (otherwise this has like 0 context LOL). Reblogs/feedback always super appreciated. If you like a fic, sharing the work with the reblog button and leaving a comment/sending an anon keeps writers motivated to keep posting on this platform for free! (ꈍ◡ꈍ) <3

FETISH masterlist : PATREON masterlist (293.7K+ words of content and updating) : MAIN masterlist

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Y/N being a researcher™ (Harry makes porn and she can’t stop herself— but personally I can’t blame miss girl), spanking, impact play, dom/sub dynamics, sexual undertones/smutty insinuations

WC: 7.5K

There is no correct way to process the fact that your next-door neighbor has a cult following dedicated to the way he punishes women.

Frankly, Y/N believes this is a societal oversight. 

No self-help book, no forum of anonymous witnesses crowdsourcing coping advice (there are, however, online symposiums dedicated to the opposite end of the spectrum, Y/N quickly discovers, feverish warmth blistering across her cheeks). But there are literally zero guidelines delineating the proper protocol to navigate the realization that the man that lives next door (one she’d falsely accused of utilizing the patriarchy’s favorite party trick— nice one) is, in fact, just a beloved authority on consensual suffering. A guy who rearranges a bad attitude with his hands, or whatever is folded up between his fingers. The face— or lack thereof (the wide cut of his shoulders, the broad line of his splayed thighs, the practiced, capable ease of his hands, immortalized in 1080p)— of recreational corporal punishment.

And there are things about a next-door neighbor that one should not, under any circumstances, ever discover— how long, exactly, his refractory period lasts; what kind of guttural, wrecked sound crawls from the pit of his chest mid-orgasm; the way his inky, toned forearm looks, flexing, right before he plants a bruising smack to someone’s ass, punctuating the reciprocal whimper with a low, devious hum. 

Unfortunately, Y/N is now acquainted with all three— two by forcible default and one by self-destructive curiosity. 

These are the kinds of revelations that seep into the marrow and rearrange something fundamental— settling things back into place in a way that will never quite be the same. Epiphanies like finally learning the family lore, only to discover an unaired true crime documentary tangled into the roots of the tree. Or manually coming to the conclusion that the crush someone had to a talking animated animal during childhood actually translates to their adulthood taste in men. The way the young woman handles the situation involves seeing things she will never unsee— things which will shape her perception on the rest of everything forever. 

It’s all Harry’s fault, really. 

It starts like this: true to his word, he keeps the volume of his nightlife antics to a minimum. It’s a new standard born from the figurative ashes of that night— and perhaps the ashes of a charred kitchenette in an apartment on the eleventh floor, as far as the rumors she’s heard detail. The walls no longer rock under the grind of his headboard. The obscene, lazy drawl of his voice, curled at the edges with sex, tapers into nothingness. 

It’s serene. 

So blissfully silent that Y/N no longer spends her nights with her pillow tucked over her chest, contemplating voluntary asphyxiation. 

And the quiet tastes metallic. Heavy, wrong. It’s not the peace that makes her uneasy so much as the means behind it, and the weight of her regret sits like an anvil across her chest when she lays flat on her back and stares up at the popcorn ceiling. This is a pyrrhic victory.

Nobody ever told her how to recover from falsely accusing an innocent man of violent crime either, by the way, and definitely not if she were to do it in a packed parking lot, like she was vocally denouncing androcentrism and domestic abuse through a megaphone. She’s publicly shamed a man of integrity (and obscenely active dick game), and she’s become the unwitting villain of an erotic tragedy in the process.

Y/N drums her fingers over her knuckles, forearms pasted to her tummy, as she lays flat on her back across the mattress. The fan whirs. The rich culture of willing sadomasochism and honey-drenched moans has been bulldozed. In its place resides an unnatural, guilt-soaked silence.

She’s gentrified his sex life.

There’s this eerie, monk-like devotion to abstinence now. The walls used to be alive with sound: the breathless little whimpers, the unfiltered, incomprehensible praise spilling from his mouth in a voice dipped in something warm and ruined. Now? Nothing. The auditory depravity she once resented is now a phantom limb. She didn’t realize how accustomed she’d become to the rhythm of his vices until they were gone; like a street that used to be full of neon-lit sin, now sanitized into a vegan brunch spot with really shitty, overpriced sandwiches. 

Anyways, in theory, there are worse things Y/N could be doing at midnight. 

Cutting her own bangs, for example. Cyberstalking an ex that ghosted her in 2017 (kicking off the trail of breadcrumbs with a google search and then LinkedIn, maybe, because she suspects she might still be blocked on Instagram). She spent one night falling down a forum rabbit hole cataloging a conspiracy on how birds aren’t real. There is a vast variety of terrible decisions the young woman could be making. Nothing, however, quite contends using her designated sleeping hours to surf through an archive of her soft-eyed, tragically beautiful neighbor using his hands to fold women into a state of obedience as if practicing origami. 

She tells herself it’s a form of research. A yearning to be more… open-minded (given that the whole celibacy streak has her feeling like one of those PTA moms lobbying for romance book bans). Besides, the curly-haired brunette had practically invited her to take a look into his hobbies— opened up the page and showed her, casually said words like “you can look into domestic discipline… if you wanted to understand a bit better.” And really— what better way to take accountability, foster crucial character growth within herself, and accept her neighbor for what he is, with open arms, than to take a deep dive into his self-published porno collection?

Maybe part of it is guilt. The knowledge that she’s not only humiliated a man and basically twisted his arm into outing his NSFW extracurriculars in front of a crowd, but somehow managed to kneecap his entire operation in the process. At the very least, if his dick isn’t just out of commission altogether, he’s certainly not entertaining… the other thing. It’s too quiet. Maybe part of it is the shame bubbling up as she chews into the slick inside of her cheek, sprawled on her back. But the other part? 

That’s pure, unadulterated fascination. The morbid kind of curiosity that gnaws in, the kind that should probably be dispelled and left unentertained— the depraved kind that ripples at Harry’s cherubic locks, wide-set shoulders, toned arms, hulking palms. Curiosity killed the cat— that’s how the expression goes. It’s a good thing then, Y/N thinks wryly, the tip of her pointer dragging along the trackpad, that she’s not a feline. 

There are a few thoughts that smack Y/N as soon as she opens the webpage, one of the first being: the catalog of thumbnails feels like a violent act against her very sense of propriety. It’s an extensive panoply, to say the least. The filthy, rectangular display images, stacked in rows upon one another, all showcase women and an oddly familiar torso, a set of legs, usually coated by another body. Some are shot from the same angle, and others from another; women strewn over a knee with underwear bunched to the crooks at the backs of their knees, a handful of different shades. Different contours to their shapes, different hair that drapes over their downturned faces—

The breath Y/N sucks in chills her teeth. 

One thing remains consistent across the visual library— Harry exists in almost all of them. The pictures are cropped right across the tops of his shoulders, all of them, the young woman supposes for the sake of protecting his identity. But the rings are the same. The tar-shaded medley of tattoos branded across his arms is the same. In one photo, his palm rests across a faceless woman’s hip, as if to keep her slotted in place, fingers digging divots into soft flesh, and Y/N makes out one eagle wing peering out along his forearm; on the opposite side, a trio of nails that peek out from beneath the sleeve of his tee, the anatomical heart. 

Amongst the sordid array of half-naked silhouettes in vulnerable positions, the shape of her groggy-eyed reflection ghosting over the glowing screen of her laptop sits like an omen. It feels like an intrusion. Something so public, not meant for her eyes to see, and yet…

She clicks on one of the videos; a random selection made from the middle of the page, however far down she’s managed to scroll. 

Very quickly, Y/N discovers that Harry— her neighbor, Harry, the same man who occasionally knocks on her door to swap a misdelivered set of envelopes, who Y/N ogles from the end of the hallway like a longingly-observed-from-a-distance, unattainable rom-com love interest— has made an entire pastime out of turning women into docile, whining things with nothing but a palm full of deliberate, measured strength and a voice like a warm brand. Harry, as it turns out, does not just… spank— he undoes. He peels women apart at the seams, bends them over his lap into willing angles, like they are little more than deserving vessels for discipline, and leaves them so thoroughly wrecked they wear their surrender in a film like a second skin.

The video starts off simple enough, with an empty screen— lens of the camera twisted to face the foot of an empty bed. Teak frame, hardly raised off the floor on its legs, with a crisp, white comforter tucked up under the corners of the mattress. If not for the content matter— the awareness that this angle is purposeful, that the bed serves as some ominous cog in a raunchy, disciplinary mechanism— Y/N would spend an interesting amount of time admiring his bedroom decor. 

The aesthetics absorption is short-lived. A woman with burnt umber hair enters the frame from the periphery, her back facing the camera and a bleary splotch coating her side profile for the brief increment that she turns enough for the lens to catch her face— a manually added edit for identity-protection. She’s manhandled by the scruff of her neck from whatever corner the offscreen debauchery was occurring prior, and her steps are sloppy, like her feet are working on overtime to keep up with the pressure of the man pressing nearly flush to her back, his own feet nearly kicking practiced, languid steps between her clumsy soles. Harry.

He twists, sitting back onto the foot of the mattress (the angle changes, zooms, crops, as he moves, until he’s only an impersonal figure— wide shoulders, big hands, a set of legs), and his meaty thighs, draped in cozy gray sweats, splay wide apart. The posture takes up space in this all-too-casual, easy way, like a confidently relaxed implementation of innate power. Y/N blinks, chewing into her index nail. The girl on the screen lingers in the spot where his touch abandoned her nape, not quite tucking into the place between his knees (so obviously reserved for her), like she’s hesitating, until he lifts his forearm and wriggles four fingers on one palm into a universal motion meaning come hither.

Y/N is still coping with the injustice of his posture by the time the girl on the screen snakes between his open legs. First of all, there is no reason— none, whatsoever— for him to be sitting like that. Chiseled thighs— but soft enough to feel a bit of give, she’s stared long enough at him in shorts to assess (to notch her teeth into, feel the soft layer of tissue before unyielding muscle, she imagines)— split obscenely wide. One massive, ring-hugged hand coming to rest easy across her hip, over her denim shorts, the other draped nonchalantly over his own thigh, palm down. Fingers decorated in gold bands, loose. Patient. The image is so artless— effortless— and inherently such an indisputable display of dominance; of authority. An absolute certainty that if he says to bend, something (or someone) will fold.

It makes the young woman’s head feel fuzzy. Something warm bubbles deep in the pit of tummy, that soft spot of her underbelly, and a dirty thrill clambers up along the knobs of her spine. The visual of her neighbor, a man she doesn’t know well enough— who exists like a misplaced cherub, or a picturesque romantic heartthrob with nice forearms— manspreading and petting over another woman’s hip like a gentle prelude before full demolition mode—

It’s a lot. It’s freaky, in all senses of the word, and her thoughts on the matter feel tangled like a set of wired earbuds crammed into the bottom of a tote bag. Y/N is not a prude, and she’s not naïve, either— most people, usually the ones you anticipate the least, have far filthier penchants behind closed doors than imagined. Fetishes— it’s all just part of the human experience. But seeing Harry, elbows flaring as he undoes the buttons on the girl’s shorts, not gently (all deliberate), and hearing what curls into his voice when he says “Tell me why we’re doing this.” makes Y/N’s stomach feel funny.

His voice is a low purr that rattles the cheap, built-in speaker on her laptop, and the sheer volume alone has Y/N’s shoulders flinching and her fingers stretching forward to lower it. There’s that blip of shame coiling up in her chest, making her lungs feel a little tight. Squeezing thin between her teeth as she tightens her jaw. This is something Y/N probably shouldn’t be watching, but the thought gets suffocated by a heat that licks at the edges of her consciousness, spreads through the soft tissue of her, dense and seeping. 

Curiosity, after all, is a mighty incentive, and morality, at this moment in time, is a weak deterrent.

The faceless silhouette between his knees— all silky drapes of dark hair, soft, unfamiliar lines— rolls forward on the balls of her feet, and then back, like she can’t stand still. 

Something curls into the edges of her voice when she answers, “Because… I had an attitude,” too.

“Because you had an attitude—“

The picture across the screen is dirty in this soft-toned, nuanced way, like a fuck-me set of lace against skin or a hand that lingers too close. A kiss with just a little tongue; it’s not outright, but it’s lewd in a thick undertone.

“That’s right.”

His thumbs tuck under the sides of the (now) unbuttoned shorts, and the way his voice bleeds into Y/N’s ears has her mouth feeling dry. He slips the denim down the girl’s thighs, unceremoniously letting them slide the last bit down her calves until the article pools around her ankles. It’s almost like a dance— a second-nature choreography; his palms settle on her hips, and her hands over his shoulders when she steps out. Then, he nudges the article out of the way, coasting it across the floor with a socked foot. 

With only the thickening heaviness of the empty silence and the imminence puddling in the space between them, zappling like a charge, Y/N chews into her lower lip. His hand lifts, then lands along the side of the girl’s hip— one benign pat. The faceless woman bends over one of his legs; first bracing her weight onto her palms, planting them onto the mattress, then lowering herself into a comfortable position, diagonally stretched out with her chest flat against the sheets and her hips slung out over one of his thighs, her legs stretched out in that empty space, toes curling—

His other leg cages those, rising and then pinning over the backs of her knees in a way that’ll surely prevent motion.

Y/N feels lightheaded. He presses her down like she’s something breakable; something his.

“We’ve had this problem before, haven’t we?”

Besides the curly-headed brunette’s (camera currently angled to sever this aspect of his appearance out) posture, there’s his tone. His voice is hard, but it’s not harsh; shaded in tinges of firmness, but not scathing. It’s a display of unyielding dominance, of control— a secondhand confirmation, as if the placement of leg and the way he coasts his fingertips up the back of the young woman’s bare thigh don’t embody that power enough. His words are soaked in condescension, too. A subtle, delicate note that manifests hand-in-hand with the pose, the hint of raw humiliation there, the way he digs his fingertips lightly into the dimpled flesh under his grip like he expects a verbal answer to such a patronizing question. 

The woman points her toes, balls of her feet dug into the carpet, and rolls forward on her feet, hiking her hips with what little range of motion she can, folded over his leg and barred by the placement of his other. A soft grunt seeps from her mouth when he lets up and grazes his fingertips from just above the back of her knee. The sensitive spot makes her wriggle, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“…Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Then, of course, there are his hands. They’re capable, massive things; long, lithe fingers coated in the same assortment of chunky rings he dons as he hands off their mismatched mail. The same fingers that brush her own cruise up the back of a naked thigh, plucking at the edges of the woman’s panties. They’re not racy; nothing special— just a practical pair of yellow cotton blotted in blue flowers, like the kind someone wears to be comfortable around the house, or the kind worn to exercise, and the subtle detail adds to the domesticity of the ambiance; reaffirms the thought that this is something almost too personal, too private, to watch. His fingers fix the placement, tucking the fabric up just a little higher. 

“…Yes, we’ve had this problem before.”

It’s the devastating way they brush over skin, the new light Y/N sees them in at the grounding press in the beat of silence— a kind of imminent calm before a storm— that makes her stomach ache. Y/N anticipates the punishing smack when it comes, on one hand, but the sudden swat in the recording still makes her jolt. It has her pulse stuttering, then kicking hard against her ribs at the sharp sound of skin-on-skin breaking apart the silence. 

“Yes, Sir,” Harry corrects, a measured edge of stern authority creeping into his tone as he lets his hand rest loosely right below the area he struck. “You know better than that. Are you going to give me a hard time today? Do you need a reminder of what happened the last time you did that?”

There’s no window for the opportunity to respond, because he plants another blow to the spot where his hand had settled as he talked, palm snapping harshly against the sensitive skin along the back of her thigh. A pink splotch blooms in the shape of his hand over one of her asscheeks— one ruddy handprint from the initial admonishing smack, and the second slap, aimed lower along the same side, has the woman’s legs tensing as her torso twists a smidge and a muffled “ouch” spilling from her. 

“Tha’s right. Ouch. This is what happens when you’re a brat—“

Slowly, Y/N’s fingertips scroll over the trackpad, and she clicks forward, further into the video. The cursor lands somewhere three-quarters into the video. What paints her laptop screen is a new image; the camera angle is still set in the same way, only now, the two have repositioned. Her neighbor, no longer sitting at the foot of the bed, lingers up against the wall now, bracing his weight in a relaxed posture with one shoulder pressed to the plaster. With the angle, the lens captures a bit of his side— his back, his legs in those devastating, low slung sweats— and the way his attention is directed to the woman, who’s twisted to face the same drywall. 

It’s not their stances or the change of scenery so much that make Y/N’s cheeks burn, as it is the circumstances. That yellow fabric Harry had tucked up over her curves sits low now, cuffed around her knees, and her backside has been smeared in swatches of a less-saturated cerise; the kind that looks like it packs heat like a furnace over the surface of the skin. The young woman can practically feel it through the screen, glowy and warm in this feverish way, and her face heats like it’s imitating the observation through pure osmosis. 

The set-up feels like a raunchy scene from one of those school-girl punishment roleplay pornos— the panties bunched over her knees, the way she stands there, facing the wall, fingers interlocked ahead of her, dangling in the empty space. 

The faceless woman is in a half-slouch. Shoulder pressed to the wall, camera bifurcating the shot right below her throat (clipping three-quarters of the way across Harry’s shoulder blades in the process), one ankle crossed behind the other. It’s only then, with the new framing, that Y/N recognizes the size difference— the height difference. The way he nearly looms over the other woman (almost too similar to the way he towers over her). Given that the majority of the last vantage point involved sitting and being folded over, the detail wasn’t as obvious, but with a different perspective, it’s so much more blatant. In a way, it makes something squirm in her stomach— the clear discrepancy between their sizes, the thick coat of dominance across his shoulders, the way his hands seem to dwarf everything in sheer width, planting punishingly onto soft, raw areas, squeezing, touching. Her posture mirrors his, only it radiates less of the relaxed, self-assured air that glaze’s the man’s— instead, it’s broody and sulking. 

The screencap takes a moment to load into motion, but the sound of Harry’s low, patient cadence oozes through the speaker, along with the subsequent, nonchalant sniff from the girl in the silence. Y/N’s not sure how far into the lecture the video has skipped— what more preluded the clip, how the video had unraveled from point A to point B. But when the video keeps going, all Y/N knows is that it soaks up her attention like a deviant sponge. 

“What did I tell you to do?” Harry muses, calm and soft, arms crossed over his chest. The phrase is molded like a question, but sounds too close to a command to be misconstrued.

“To…” the woman rolls her shoulder, shifting on her feet, “stand in the corner.”

“To stand in the corner,” Harry echoes. The sound of skin fabric brushing plaster— a hard sound, like a weight shifting— permeates the quiet gap as he moves a touch, “Did I tell you to slouch and pout in the corner?”

Y/N blinks. Whatever the woman says is incoherent and low, unable to be picked up by the speaker, but it doesn’t matter, because Harry doesn’t seem to quite catch it either. He steps a smidge closer, the tone of his voice shifting.

“What was that?”

The girl sighs; it’s this loud, theatrically excessive noise, steeped in the aggravation that she’s obviously been muscling down, and her shoulders sag forward as she teeters on one foot to face him more.

“No, Sir.”

“So stand up straight,” Harry advises, ignoring the obvious bite in the response, and then tacks on like an afterthought, upper body swelling with the breath he takes, “And fix the attitude while you’re at it— no, don’t give me those eyes.”

The woman huffs, her motions emphatic and sluggish, before she straightens out, only to slouch back down and murmur something that the camera doesn’t pick up, once again. 

“Pardon?”

Y/N’s hand stretches forward on its own accord, fingertips toggling over the keys to slightly raise the volume. Her speech is still significantly quieter than Harry’s clear tone, like a mutter under her breath, but it’s much easier to pick up on with the altered settings when she expresses, “I just don’t understand why I have to stand here.”

There’s this beat of silence then, oddly reminiscent of that calm before the storm when the gears in his head had rotated as she was pressed over his lap. One of his arms slinks from the muscly cage they’d built over his chest, and his palm settles over his hip instead— still leisurely given the context, but the words come out a little sharper, hinted with exasperation.

“You— Because I told you to do it,” her neighbor states, the quiet range of his voice failing to lessen the careful intensity the phrase teems with. It’s a kind of juxtaposition that warps Y/N’s mind— seeing Harry, typically so soft-natured, now, so matter-of-fact and chock-full of inflexible authority. An irate note wheedles into the otherwise molasses-smooth, hard tone, his accent thick with scolding, “You know very well how this goes, you know very well why you’re standing here. So don’t get smart with me, yeah?”

“I’m not getting smart with you.” 

“No? What’s happening right now?”

To an outsider, the terse way he talks might come off uncomfortable. Demeaning, even, to the naked eye. And it does, a little bit, to Y/N— but those degrees of domesticity she’d noted earlier, the subtle shadings that vignette their back and forth, push the impression into another territory. He’s stern, yes— doesn’t raise his voice for the dominance there to crowd his inflection and highlight his point— and the way he talks to her intentionally seems to ride along that degrading ledge of condescension. But just as comfortable as he seems to be, one shoulder planted to the plaster he’d steered her toward, she also seems to be, volleying back quiet quips. Annoyance-laced complaints, disagreeing— and it’s just as intentional on her behalf when she argues back, high-pitched and higher in volume (borderline whining), “I’m standing here, like you told me to, and I asked a valid question—“

For whatever it’s worth, although Y/N is a stranger to practically both people onscreen; although this type of dynamic is unfamiliar to her in its entirety; although most of her comprehension on the video thus far has been based on blind context clues (given the sharp fast-forward over the material)… she can tell that what’s going on is entirely consensual. The foundation between them is riddled with intention, cemented in a kind of trust that you wouldn’t interpret upon first glance. 

So really, it’s less daunting and more of an anticipatory surprise (as the detail-oriented viewer, at the very least), when Harry’s palm strays from his hip and cups over one of her asscheeks, the way he pets and squeezes deceivingly gentle, before he cuffs loosely over her upper arm and takes a long, languid step back. “Well, let me give you a more valid answer, then. I’ve decided we’re not quite done.”

Walking her back by the grip— not tight, just controlled— over her limb and twisting her to face the bed, Harry leaves her huffing as he steps offscreen. Instead of folding over the bed, her shoulder turns, as if she’s looking back over it, and then she stretches forward and reaches down to the panties tucked around her knees, shimmying them up over her thighs. As she slides them back into place, she pulls her shirt down over them (as much as it will reach, at the very least; pink still blooms out below it, daubing her asscheeks, a bit of skin along the backs of her thighs), and then she pivots on her feet to face whatever direction Harry went into. Whatever the sight is, obscured from the lens, it peels a girlish groan out of her and a resultant, dry huff of half-laughter from him as he ambles back into view. With his palm wrapped over the stem of the object and the other end making soft taps against the other palm, the devious, half-amused hum, and the easy gait, he almost looks like a villainous correctionist. 

Whatever… tool resides in his grasp stays a cryptic inside joke between the pair as the woman on the screen steps toward him, her arms stretching out and her hands snaking against his sides.  

“You know this one, don’t you?” Harry muses, a note of exaggerated glee shaping his tone as she curls her fingers over his ribs loosely, pressing close. A nervous peal of laughter bubbles up from her, and Harry hums, swaying on his feet a little as she teeters closer. Then, he makes this mirthy sound, like a gust of air expelled from his nose, before he murmurs, “What’s funny?”

There’s another beat of silence, but this one is less charged, like the tension has been fractured a little (if only for a short while) as the edges chisel into something softer and the veil slips. 

“Why…” another bout of giggles garbles her tone as she clings onto him, “do you have that in there?”

“Just for you,” the man responds matter-of-factly, breathily, “I know, y’don’t have to tell me, I’m so thoughtful.”

When his hand (the one not currently wrapped over the handle of whatever interestingly-stored implement he’s procured) slinks to cup over her heated hip, however, the discovery drains a bit of the playfulness from his drawl. “Who told you to put your panties back on?” 

Instead of answering the question, she rocks forward onto her toes, hands slinking from his sides to rest up on his shoulders. 

“Pull them back down.”

The tone he uses is glazed with no-nonsense, but simultaneously manages to land like a dare to be challenged. Once more, in place of abiding by his order, the woman groans quietly. 

“Pull them down,” Harry repeats, deceptively soft-toned, “I didn’t tell you to do that.” 

She hums, and her voice sounds small and coy when she prods, “Why don’t you pull them down?”

“You don’t want me to have to pull them down.”

From the way her hair dangles, Y/N can tell she’s thrown her head back. She sighs, punctuating the subsequent silence to her quip with a giggle. “Why don’t you pull yours down?”

Despite the way she clings onto him, by the sound of his voice, it’s evident that any teasing lightheartedness has dwindled off. The hand that had cupped over her hip reaches to lock over her forearm, stretched up to his shoulder, and he physically removes the touch, “M’serious. Stop it. We’re not done yet… put that lip away.”

A long sigh seeps out of her as he coaxes her off of him, and with the same sluggish motions that she’d straightened her shoulders with earlier, she takes a step back and tucks her thumbs into the sides of her underwear. She hesitates. Harry sighs and crosses his arms.

“Go on.”

Slipping them down only a tad doesn’t seem to please him in the way she’d hoped. 

“All the way.” 

They sit at an awkward half-ride, slung low on her hips (only slightly more indecorous than his own sweats), and she makes another begrudged sound of protest before giving in and shimmying them back down to settle mid-thigh. 

“Thank you,” Harry tells her, sarky and dry, and then he waves out to her— between them— with whatever’s in his hand, “It’s your very favorite.”

The uncertainty in response to his statement manifests as reluctance to her body language as she slinks closer again, palms pressing up against his tummy. “Hmm, no…”

“No?”

One side of her dark hair hangs lower over her chest as she cocks her head. “Naaah…”

Unwinding from her embrace, the man makes his way back to the bed. He grasps a pillow that’d been propped up against the headboard, only to set it onto the foot of the bed. Then, he hikes one knee onto the mattress over the comforter and unceremoniously unveils what he’s been holding in his hand all along by tapping it over the spot onto the pillow beside him. 

It’s a wooden spoon. A staple in kitchens; the kind that lives innocently in a drawer, crammed between metal spatulas, and whisks, and tangled salad tongs. The kind that’s meant for cooking. And now? The tool’s been repurposed— made into something ideal for sauces, soups, and (evidently) scaring incorrigible brats into obedience.

“Come on,” Harry drawls, holding his arm out and pulling her in when she slowly takes his hand, “Over here.” He knocks the same area with the shallow bowl on the end, snorting when she stalls, “…All fucking— lovey-dovey, now.”

In spite of the way the man’s words themselves are almost mean, they’re said in this soft, teasing way that suggests they wear a smile, and the emphasis lies in the way his fingertips trace up from the back of her hand, across her forearm. Up to her elbow. It’s an oddly fond touch. She mirrors the action, her own fingers climbing smoothly across the sensitive, soft skin along his own forearm, only it’s along the other side, palm up. Then, she squeezes her fingers into his thick bicep, over his sleeve. 

“Yes,” her voice comes out stained with a whine, and sounds small and petulant, from the unanticipated shift in plans, “because we were done.”

He tuts, and lets go, patting at her hip with the wider end of the rebranded kitchen utensil when she doesn’t immediately fold over, crossing her arms and cupping her elbows like the lack of physical engagement has left her cold. 

“C’mere. Don’t make it worse.”

It’s when she’s stretched forward over the foot of the bed, flat on her tummy with her ass propped up and her legs angled out, ankles crossed, that Y/N gnaws into her bottom lip until the skin nearly turns white under her teeth. 

Because Harry smooths his massive palm over the bruised skin, and then picks the spoon up and drags it in a little circle over one side, voice low and drenched in something that scrapes too close to sex to ignore, “Yeah, you know this one, but I don’t think you remember. So let’s jog that memory. See what this one feels like again, hm?”

The first smack makes this deafening crack sound that eclipses the reverberating thud his palm had made, and a galvanized spark ripples up Y/N’s spinal column, just hearing it. The response is instantaneous— the woman makes this wounded noise into the sheets, like an unintelligible swear someone would make stubbing their toe, or slamming their knee into the corner of a coffee table, and her whole lower half coils and contorts as she twists her hips away, and then sinks back into place. 

Instead of soothing and petting over the spot where the implement had swatted, he digs the rounded edge into the small of her back pointedly.

“Pretty rough, huh?” Harry comments quietly, “…I think we’re getting back up to speed.”

She makes another garbled noise into the comforter and then says something that sounds an awful lot like, “That’s not nice.”

He snaps at the other side with the implement— hard enough for her whimper to come out as this brittle, squeaky breath that sounds squeezed out of her throat. Then again, low on her thigh, where a small, raspberry-tinged spot in its shape flares as consequence.

“I know it’s not nice,” Harry agrees, and then he tips forward a tad to caress one fleshy globe (it’s really just a ruse— an examination of the marks disguised as affection, tugging the skin taut under the flats of his fingers) before he lets go and plants another blow against that little crease where ass meets thigh, drawing a squeak and a hitch forward of her hips. “But it’s not nice when you make your bratty, little remarks, either.”

Y/N swallows. 

It’s almost overwhelming— well, not almost. It is overwhelming; watching the emotional rollercoaster, the way the route along the tracks shifts starkly somewhere between the playfulness and the way the man starts hammering in, coaxing little, breathy grunts and hisses, like her ass has personally wronged him in a past life. Y/N is just a bystander watching a playback and she’s ready to apologize. Maybe, partly for witnessing moments that so clearly belong behind closed doors, not broadcast across her laptop screen. The sexual charge, even despite the lack of actual fucking, fingering, and/or fellatio, is so present. Unmistakeable. Loud, actually— the kind of atmosphere that says give it fifteen minutes, maybe ten, and he’s going to be digging his fingers into her ruddily bruised hips like they’re malleable handlebars and fucking into her from behind as if the only things more important than staunch obedience are the noises he can pry as he bottoms out. It’s still pornographic, raunchy, before it even gets to that point— and the little are-you-18+-are-you-lying-to-us, double pop-up the young woman had encountered entering the website checks out. 

What’s worse is that— as if the cosm is testing her fragile sanity by all measures— the shape of his cock has actually, physically started straining into a surprise guest appearance. The thickened, swollen outline of it shamelessly sits up under the cotton, impossible to ignore (which is a whole other series of revelations to unpack). It’s not even the main focus of the video, all things considered, but it sits there like it’s under a glowing spotlight. 

Y/N isn’t twelve— she’s seen the outline of a dick before. She’s watched porn. She’s had sex. The kicker here isn’t the phallus imprint, so much so that it’s… Harry’s. Her neighbor, Harry— rococo fever dream with operational legs, the kind of man you’d make unintended eye contact with in a coffee shop and lose the next seven months of your love life to. She has to look at him after this. Run into him in the hallway, coexist, accept whatever misfiled mail he hands off, and pretend. 

And it’s big. Lying fat and heavy against his right thigh, straining the soft gray fabric taut. Because this gets him off. This is something he does, just an average, casual form of sadomasochistic foreplay on a Wednesday night, and then he probably fucks whoever he is doing this to—

With each harsh smack, the woman’s foot has hitched a little higher, higher, knee bending back, heel making little, incremental jolts up like a reflex. Her face is buried into the sheets, hair cascaded in wild clusters around her, arms tucked up under her head. Little mewls and stuttery noises that sound stretched somewhere between a laugh and cry flood like muzzled pleas. It’s one particularly stinging hit that makes her whole body tense; she rolls up onto the toes of one foot, the other folded back enough to impede further impact, and a grunt that sounds sealed behind her teeth slips and then morphs into an oh that sounds an awful lot like knocking your funny bone against a hard surface. 

“Ugh— Sir—“

“I’m not done,” Harry states pointedly, “I don’t think the lesson’s sunk in yet— put that foot down,” and then he pats back at her calf with the flat edge, sighing.

She rocks forward, whining, but slowly lowers her foot, kicking it back up instinctively when he smooths the face of the spoon over that crease where ass meets thigh again. 

“Why?”

He pauses, no laughter in his tone despite the words— only concentration— before he catches her ankle in his palm (alongside the stem of the spoon) and manually pushes it down, “Why? Did you just ask me why?”

“Yes.”

The thing is, it’s one thing to know. To live in proximity to something and learn its weight through osmosis; to absorb through walls, through muffled moans and rhythmic headboard squeals and creaks, the velvet-soft sound of incomprehensible pleas and praises. It is another thing entirely, however, to see it. To witness the mechanical rhythm of it. The choreography.

It’s another thing to watch Harry— Harry from next door, with the nice hair, and the nice dimples, and the nice forearms, who has stood, damp from a post-shower haze, smiling like he isn't a threat—  currently pixelated on her screen, sleeves pushed to his elbows, one knee hiked up on the bed, voice buttery and cruel as he says, “Because it’s in the way.”

She starts to argue, laughter coloring her tone, “That’s not—“

Only, her sentence becomes punctuated (and cut short) by the next round of blows, seamless and merciless, prying a high groan instead and a stray hand as she untucks it from under her head and waves it back. The motion causes the man to pause again, and this time, he sounds far more sober (words low, serious), as he catches her wrist in the other hand and pins it to the small of her back.

“Do not bring your hand back again,” Harry orders, quiet and low. Under the way he’s got her arm pressed back, Y/N can see the faint way the young woman’s back rises and falls as she breathes quietly. “Do you understand me?”

The words are almost imperceptible, but she picks up on the quiet “yes, Sir,” the girl amends with, her fingers flexing loosely. Harry lets up, unclasping the grip over the joint and shifting on his knee as the woman slowly tucks her arm back under her.

“You don’t do that,” he reaffirms. 

And then he continues. 

Watching the unconventional practice is one thing— despite the dirty thrill that’s been pin-balling up her spine for the duration of the video, everything feels detached, in a way. Removed could be the right word— this is an …exercise that these people partake in, apparently habitually, but it feels entirely separate from Y/N and her life. Almost. Because the moment something threads into Harry’s voice again, dripping sultry in a way that shouldn’t be— probably isn’t meant to— Y/N recognizes that her body’s been responding. 

When he speaks over the woman’s frantic whimpers, tone laced with borderline vulgar authority, and asks, “Are you going to be a good girl?” and she rocks forward, mewling, “yes, Sir.”

A searing flush works up across Y/N’s cheekbones and she sucks in a soft breath through the tight gap between her teeth, eyes dry and aching from how long she’s kept them open without realizing. There’s a warm hum in the trench of her belly that feels almost electric, all too familiar, and a tender pang sits between her thighs. Perhaps the most overwhelming revelation amongst all of this is that by some seedy, twisted volition unbeknownst to Y/N— she’s turned on. Horribly. Ravenously. Turned on by the firmness saturating his voice, discipline clinging to every word, the way his hands look, his forearms, the sharpness of his swing, the effortless, quiet sense of power that’s molded around the shape of him. And it’s a difficult epiphany to grapple with to say the least. When the young woman’s hazy mind catches up with the rest of her body, the thought webs along her skull like an invasive crawler plant and nearly makes her flinch; she’s undeniably, unequivocally aroused by the view of the man next door— all boy-next-door charm, revised— pressing soft-colored, surface-level bruises into the woman beneath him with a kitchen utensil. Tension dusting his knuckles, rings bold and shimmering when they catch in the light, deep rubescent hues kissing her skin and blooming out wide across the full slope. 

And Y/N is wet. The heat licks along her core in quiet devastation before she recognizes she’s been clenching her thighs. It’s in a way that suggests Y/N wants to take her place, and it’s something she’s unwilling to admit to herself. 

“Say it,” Harry demands, unfazed by the sharp gasp from her that swells in the midst of his statement, “‘I’m going to behave, Sir.’”

A soft swear gets tangled in the woman’s throat, webbing up in the soft, flexing tissue, overthrown by another heaving breath. 

“I’ll behave—“

This man is— brief, longing glances from across the hall, bunnies, anfractuous glances before the elevator doors slot together that feel almost book-bound in this rose-tinted-glasses, can’t-grapple-with-the-concept-of-the-way-your-attractiveness-makes-me-feel way. The guy you definitely have post-breakup-sex with, but in a wholesome, I miss you because it was right-person-wrong-time and you-were-really-good-in-bed-and-to-my-soul kind of way, rather than a drunk spiral you regret in the morning. Soft, wet hair when he stops by her door to hand off misplaced mail from his hybridized collection.

Y/N slams her laptop shut. 

Technically, the screencap will still taunt her the next time she props it open and turns the device on, but the heat lapping over her psyche and body feels too stuffy and suffocating, so it’s a problem for another day. If she touched her face, she’s sure she’d feel something too similar to the sear of the sun. And if she reached between her legs? 

Well, that’d be a problem for the next few months.

Next part here

[norrisainz33]

Girl Dad || LS2

☆ summary: Logan’s longtime partner is a single parent and he absolutely loves being a girl dad

☆ pairing: logan sargeant x parent!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes - changed it a little bit but hope you like! haven’t written about kids and family before so i did my best! thank you so very much for taking the time to request 🫶🏻

a/n: y/d/n = your daughters name

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, carmenmundt, georgerussell63, yourbff, williamsracing and 324,345 others

ynuser: family time with my favorite people! oh what i wouldn’t give for summer break to last forever 🤍

view all 253 comments

lilymhe: summer break is fun and all but i miss you and y/d/n 😫

ynuser: we miss you too lils

alex_albon: the break literally just started and you saw each other yesterday

lilymhe: wondering who it was that asked you?

user1: logie bear and his girls 🥹

user2: mother is mothering

user3: it can since ur man has no job

user4: i mean this with full disrespect- f u 🖕🏻

logansargeant: it could last forever if we moved to florida 😉

ynuser: you know i love you logan but i will not be moving to florida

yourbff: little lady is getting so big omg i have to visit soon

ynuser: yes pls come visit!!

user5: looking forward to all the logan dad content this break

logansargeant has made a post

liked by ynuser, williamsracing, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxvertsappen1, lilymhe, and 678,436 others

logansargeant: boo ya baby

view all 654 comments

user18: frat boy and dad logan all in one post im going to combust

user19: i love how he posts y/d/n more than y/n , he do be loving the honorary dad life

ynuser: cowabunga!

logansargeant: ❤️🏄‍♀️

williamsracing: hope you are enjoying summer break logan!

oscarpiastri: with what skills are you teaching y/d/n to surf?

logansargeant: i’ll have you know im quite good

ynuser: that is generous logan

user23: logan is so dilf coded this makes so much sense

user27: do we wanna take bets on how long it is till he proposes?

user44: gotta be before the end of the season. i’m thinking summer break is the perfect time

ynuser has made a post

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, carmenmundt, logansargeant, williamsracing, and 345,657 others

ynuser: pictured: pretty princess logie bear treating his two girls right

view all 689 comments

user88: PRETTY PRINCESS LOGIE BEAR

user28: princess logan was not on my bingo card but i am so here for it

logansargeant: i love both of my pretty princesses so much

logansargeant: (i thought we agreed you wouldn’t post these pictures of me and y/d/n)

ynuser: but they’re just so cute 🥹

alex_albon: oh look at this big softie

ynuser: he’s the biggest softie

logansargeant: please i have an image to protect

alex_albon: no you don’t

oscarpiastri: ok twinkle toes

ynuser: don’t make me pull up the pictures of you at y/d/n’s tea party

oscarpiastri: uncle oscar will be quiet

landonorris: SIMP

logansargeant: guilty

user29: he’s not the step father,,, he’s the father who stepped up 🗣️

user13: they’re not even married

user29: YET user13 YET

user34: seeing logan with y/d/n is so healing. we stan a man who loves his kids (even if they’re not his kids just his beautiful partners kids)

logansargeant has posted to his story

view all story replies

user43: don’t mind me screaming my head off rn

user89: logan hunter sargeant the man that you are

landonorris: post anything other than y/n or y/d/n challenge failed

logansargeant: hey the second photo is just me!

ynuser: you have no business looking that good at the gym

logansargeant: sorry baby 😉

lilymhe: no matter how cute the pic is, socks with sandals is criminal

logansargeant: thanks for the feedback lily 😭

user42: i think these 2 pics might be the death of me

user46: thank you for feeding us papa sarge

ynuser has made a post

liked by yourbff, lilymhe, logansargeant, williamsracing, lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, maxveratappen1 and 876,346 others

ynuser: y/d/n says she wants to drive logan’s f1 car one time and now he’s got her out here with her own kart. she’s a fast one tho just like her favorite guy 🤍

view all 456 comments

user33: project sargeant is a go

user55: honestly y/d/n could drive the williams f1 car.. it may as well be a tractor at this point

logansargeant: had to make sure my girl could follow her dreams!

ynuser: she does want to be just like you 🥹

user76: i am going to lay in the road this is so

lilymhe: i miss little my race car driver!! also im obsessed with her pink helmet

ynuser: we can’t wait to see you in a couple days🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: love to see it! if she needs any pointers, i’d be happy to help 😉

ynuser: you and p should come by! she misses you both (and the cats too)

maxverstappen1: when you’re in monaco next we will get together!

user56: this just in - y/d/n is arrow mclarens next driver!

user38: f1 academy’s newest star

logansargeant has made a post

liked by ynuser, alex_albon, williamsracing, oscarpiastri, yourbff, maxverstappen1, lilyzneimer, and 673,234 others

logansargeant: surprise! we’re getting married and we’re expecting! baby sargeant coming spring 2025. we love you so much already little one 🤍

view all 879 comments

user88: just fell to my knees in this walmart parking lot

user46: i’ve never been more happy for two people in my whole life

ynuser: can’t wait to be your wife and meet our little bundle of joy 🫶🏻

logansargeant: i could not be more excited 💙

lilymhe: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

ynuser: same

alex_albon: my two favorite people are going to get married and have a baby wow

ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹

user34: logan is already the best dad to y/d/n , ik he’s gonna be the best to this little one too 😭

user76: RAHHHHH BABY AMERICA 🇺🇸🦅🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: congratulations you too. big love to you both 🧡

ynuser: we love you uncle oscar

logansargeant: thanks osc 💙

lilyzneimer: YAYY!!!! beyond excited for you both. love love love love you 🧡

ynuser: love you more ms maid of honor 🤍

user75: if y/nlogan have no fans then i am dead

user27: sargenation won with this. our boy is so happy and that’s all that matters

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! working my way through my requests so please be patient. likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform