#especially bc it makes more sense that his would be something red/pink as a nod to the whole drinking red thing

[fruigity]

Y’ALL

“Where does a chocolate dipped strawberry go to meet a cupcake anyway?”

[moonctzeny]

Promotion

This is technically a part 2 of my fic Work for it but it can be enjoyed on its own!

pairing: supervisor !johnny x intern ! female reader x assistant !haechan

genre: smutty goodness (this will send me to hell vip)

word count: almost 14k

summary: “After you fuck the Sales’ department supervisor, Johnny Suh in your office during an overtime, you’re left to deal with the unavoidable lingering emotions that come with getting his dick on the regular. At the same time, his assistant and your best work buddy, Donghyuck, who initially helped you with getting with his boss, realises his growing crush on you that is too big to be ignored at this point. With their masterful skills in seduction, you’ve ended up tangled in a sexual game with the both of them, all the while trying to move up from an intern to a permanent worker in the company”

warnings: threesome w/ two doms, alcohol consumption, mention of food (meat, lettuce, eggs), oral, overstimulation, thigh job, at some point- reader borrows a shirt from haechan and it’s mentioned that it’s ‘too big on the shoulders’, thigh riding, office sex, pussy slapping, choking, fingering, sir kink thrown in there at some point, a little degradation bc this is my fic we’re talking about

a/n: omg it’s finally done! I really love this so I hope you guys like it as well :)

taglist:  @rainodanna​, @markresonates​, @unknown5tar​, @yoongsicles​

For every other worker in the office, virtually nothing had changed. 

They relive the same mundane routine, Monday after Monday, the same excruciating 8 hours and short cigarette breaks. The same trees, stuck in their ceramic imprisonment would greet them in the company’s entrance. Rigid and dusty and reeking of cheap plastic. It’s not like they’d come alive, open their little mouths on their thylakoid membranes and tell everyone you fucked mr. Suh, the Sales Department’s supervisor, in your office during your overtime. No, that’s not possible, you reminded yourself when you pass by them every morning, giving them a side eye for good measure, as if that would scare them off their zombie state.

And you were the same too, completing your tasks and meeting your deadlines. Blending in with the rest of the company’s human resource, with the exception of the occasional double take of some tactless male worker here and there.

Donghyuck, however, said supervisor’s assistant and your best friend, wasn’t your typical office worker. He noticed the extra layer of cherry lip gloss coating your lips. He noticed your new perfume, sweeter than the one you used to wear. He noticed the knowing smiles between you and his boss, the heat of your body when you were around him. And it wasn’t just because he was sharp overall.

He was the one who practically got you together, planted the seed in Johnny’s head about the cute new intern of the Financial Department. He was the one who convinced him to finally make a move on you, tired of seeing you trying over and over again to seduce the supervisor to your bed. 

And when that seed finally sprouted, in the form of Johnny spitting in your mouth and taking you on your office chair like you were his last fuck on earth (according to the hair-raising description you gave Donghyuck the morning after), he should’ve been happy, right? 

It didn’t really affect his life in the slightest.

You were just y/n. His friend, his work buddy. The person whom he was close enough to let you know you had a piece of lettuce stuck on your teeth from that sandwich you had on your break. The person who texted him funny gifs of pandas falling asleep during the most boring of meetings. With your nerdy glasses and that ugly brown suit you loved wearing so much. The person he dreamt of fucking every time he fell asleep.

When you told Donghyuck you had a crush on his boss he wasn’t shocked, but the stinging buzz in his guts surprised him. He would see you waltz right past his office all perked up and pretty, to see the person you really came for, nervous as you hung from every word that left Johnny’s mouth. He’d put up with the sound of you giggling over every stupid joke that left the older man’s mouth patiently, just to wait until he’d smell your sweet perfume as you’d walk past him again. To tease you over something that would make you mad enough to notice him, glare at him, maybe even hit him.

And Donghyuck wanted to hate Johnny, he really did. His stupid boss who asked for his coffee specifically made, who was rude and cranky on Monday mornings and got the credit for all his hard work, yet Johnny was nothing of the sort. He was helpful, and kind and let him off early. He was funny and good looking and taller than him and had a six pack, damn it. If Donghyuck was being honest, he didn’t just like his boss, he admired him. It was pathetic, he thought. Most days he’d live vicariously through him. 

Sometimes he would lay on his bed at night, picturing himself to be the second lead of a romance drama that would sweep you off your feet. Everyone gets second lead fever, right? In his rem cycles, he’s handsome and hilarious and much more interesting than the main actor. He would imagine himself stretching out his rays, like the full, rising sun that he was, until they overcame the big mountain that was Johnny and reached your skin. So hot against it that you’d have to undress, remove the clothes sticking on your sweaty skin to embrace him. 

He thought about your body a hundred times too many for it to be considered healthy. The curve of your ass in your pencil skirts, the little hairs on the nape of your neck that stuck out from your tight ponytails. The runs on your tights that he wished were caused by the sharpness of his fingernails. He listened to your voice carefully, all 90 Hz of it, and played it inside his head as if it was an instrument. Putting together chords and harmonies, composing a music piece of all the ways his name would sound like coming out of your lips.

Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck

“Earth to Donghyuck? Are you listening to me?”

It was unlike him to be out of it, especially when he was around you. He blames it on skipping coffee this morning or the shade of red of your blouse that fits you so well. Either way, he had to respond, and keep the pink from flooding his cheeks further. There’s no way you could’ve known what was going on inside his head.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. So, let me get this straight. Weren’t you the one who didn’t want a relationship?”

You were upset, he could tell. After the night of the overtime, you and Johnny had indulged in a few more nights of each other’s presence, but had kept it at that. Sex. Delicious, mind blowing, porno worthy sex, but nothing more than that. And you were starting to itch for a little bit more.

Donghyuck was right, of course. You were the one who told Johnny that this wasn’t the right time in your life for any sort of commitment, especially with someone in the workplace. This was your internship, and you were determined to get a permanent position soon, that should be your first priority. Get the bag and go. There were men everywhere. But why was your heart aching for that particular one with the long hair and the caramel eyes and the flower tattoos? 

“I just don’t want people at work to gossip about us, you know how they get. But seeing him so nonchalant about it gets on my nerves.”

Leaving his apartment at 2 am when he was sprawled out on his bed, in just pyjama pants and the light layer of sweat from the athletic sex you just had, hurt enough. It was a sight so beautifully hidden under his work attire that it soon became addictive, the withdrawal symptoms too intense for you to have your dose only once a week. 

Donghyuck scowled when you first let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes pitifully following his boss’s silhouette around. He knew you’d never really complain about it, you were set on that promotion and you deserved it too, but it was hard not to get angry. Everything he ever wanted stood willing and ready for taking in front of Johnny’s lap, how could he not claim you?

He hated seeing you sad.

“Let’s go for a drink. I think you need it.”

Even he surprised himself with the sudden proposition, blinking back at you to gauge your reaction. You were best work buddies, sure, but you never hung out after office hours alone. It would make sense for you to refuse, Donghyuck told himself, trying to soften the blow of a potential rejection. You’re probably tired from working, or maybe you’d feel awkward to be alone with him for so long. Maybe you hated to drink, or maybe you hated him. Oh God, what if you hated him? What if you only spent time with him out of social obligat-

“Sure, sounds good. Pick me up after you’re done? Since you’re on the top floor.”

Donghyuck nodded back at you, too eagerly for his liking, the gears in his brain already trying to figure out where he should take you. You excused yourself back to your office, the small pat you gave his shoulder making him grin like an idiot.

This is not a date, he reminded himself. 

He had dreamt of this moment for months now. He thought about you every time he walked past that korean bbq place, promising himself that one day he’d muster the courage to finally ask you out. This wasn’t exactly the case today, but it was as close to his imagination as possible. This is not a date.

He repeated that phrase over and over again, let it resonate inside his head. This is not a date because he is a coward and you like someone else. Was he a bad person for taking you out today? Was he taking advantage of your slight disappointment? Was that why you ever said yes in the first place? The self deprecating thoughts lit a fire in his belly and he tried to extinguish it with every shot of clear liquid that disappeared from between his full lips. Like he expected, you weren’t far behind on the drinking either, enjoying the grilled pieces of meat blissfully, moaning in satisfaction with every delicious bite.

You looked pretty before, but now, through the pink coloured glasses of intoxication, you were stunning. There was a halo of bright light surrounding you, making you look so celestial chomping on that piece of lettuce. If it was anyone else, he would pull a face of repugnance at the sight, yet Dongyuck thought that you just looked so cute, so content in that little moment and he wished he could just lean in and leave a kiss over your filled cheeks.

No, that was a dangerous thought. This is not a date, pull it together.

Donghyuck desperately tried to focus his attention somewhere else, anywhere but you would suffice. His eyes finally landed on a bowl of marinated eggs on the table, and it reminded him of the three boiled eggs he makes for breakfast every morning. He was a man of habit, following the same routine until he’d see you and you’d colour between the lines of his life, making it interesting finally. Donghyuck would fill the pot with more water than needed, just enough so that it doesn’t overflow. He liked to be closer to you than he could handle, close enough but never touching you.

Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t realise that he hasn’t talked in minutes. And when you touch his hand lightly with yours to bring him out of it, he almost feels the boiling water burning his skin.

“You’re so quiet”, you say with a chuckle, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to add this harmony to his composition, “you got drunk before I did? Are you really Lee Donghyuck?”

“Well see, I drank all this soju, so I wish I was someone else for the night.”

The statement saddened you, and you withered a little in your seat. Why did Donghyuck drink so much tonight? You came here for you to cheer up, didn’t you? Or were you so caught up in your little personal drama - that you caused yourself - that you missed hearing about his cat dying? You must offer your condolences. Did he even have a cat?

You don’t want to bring up his dead cat in case he did so you just lift your hand next to his head, and weave your fingers through his locks. He has been growing out his hair for months now, and the look might not be the most corporate-professional but it sure fit him. The ash blonde shade that he decided to colour it, brought out the tan of his skin nicely, and the hair itself though bleached was still soft to the touch. 

You see him react to the work of your fingers instantly, his expression shocking you. His mouth is hanging open in a loose ‘O’ shape, small wrinkles forming on the space between his eyebrows. You pick out small pieces of hair, one by one, letting gravity do the rest by allowing the individual hairs to return to their previous state. 

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask so softly it’s almost a whisper, and Donghyuck can only sigh.

YOU, he wants to scream, you’re in my mind all day long and I think I’m going crazy! He is full on staring at you now and there’s nothing in the world that can take his eyes off of you, off your worried eyes that seem to hold all the stars in the sky, or the soft skin of your neck that he wants to kiss and suck and break so badly. But he doesn’t, and the soju calls him a coward for it, so he settles for the next best thing.

“You are pretty”

It was just three words but they sent your mind in a frenzy. Why did it matter so much to you that Donghyuck found you pleasing to look at? He has complimented you before, even flirted with you a lot of times, yet it was always said half-jokingly, followed by a diss. But this time he was serious, no signs of alcohol clouding his eyes. He was so solemn in fact, that those three words made the heat burn on the skin of your cheeks, rising up your throat and hindering you from responding with a human sound. 

He takes one more shot, washing away the embarrassment of his sudden confession and offers to order one more fatty dish to sober up, then take a walk in the city.

The walk was relatively quiet, less awkward than it was 30 minutes ago but Donghyuck was still being uncharacteristically silent.

“I thought you said that alcohol doesn’t make you red”, you say teasingly, trying to spark conversation. 

It doesn’t actually. You were the culprit of the wash of burgundy all over his skin, accumulating even more pigmented around his ears and the freckles of his nose. You were walking side by side now, and Donghyuck thought that for the passersby you two must look like lovers. He let his brain entertain that fantasy, his hand itching to hold yours. He’d intertwine your fingers together, give your palm a little rub with his thumb. Then he’d lift the bundle of fingers on his lips, kiss the thin skin of your wrist and make the aunties that are looking at you now coo in adoration.

“Says you. You look so fucked right now.”, he jokes and you’re relieved to see him go back to his teasing self. You don’t know if it’s the chilly night, but you’re overly aware of the heat his body emits, and the smell of his cologne makes your head spin just a bit more. You’ve been sitting so close to him this entire time that you can list off most, if not all, the ingredients in his perfume. Rose, chilly pepper, orange blossom, lavender. 

“Donghyuck, I will step on you.”

“Mmm, tempting”

You shove his arm playfully and he reciprocates, but his strength is not as controlled as he thinks. The heels of your boots, slippery against the wet floor that the drizzle caused earlier, make you trip on your steps, and Hyuck is luckily there. With his quick reflexes he catches your elbows first, pulling you up against his chest and you grab his left bicep to support your weight. 

You take a deep breath, to register that you did not fall head first on the floor, and that’s when you realise how close Donghyuck is to you. His bangs are tickling your forehead, your deep pants fanning them apart. You admire his glowing skin, the wrinkles of his lips, the two moles lined parallelly with the bridge of his nose. You’re not sure what comes to you, but you raise your free hand and place it over his hot cheek, your thumb connecting those two moles with an invisible line. A raindrop, fresh out of the sky and signifying the start of a new drizzle, falls on his face and follows the trail that a tear would, his voice weak and breaking when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry”

He dips down his head then, connecting your lips and letting the plumpness of his mouth reel you in. You’re over the initial shock almost immediately and kiss him back in vigor, surprised with the heat his kiss has spread to your chest and belly. It was an ember at first, glowing in the very depth of your insides but it was soon starting to spark up uncontrollably, and you were scared of how rapidly it was fueling up. This was your friend you were kissing. So where did all this hunger for him come from?

You pull back when you realise you’re in a road full of people, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. Donghyuck looks disheveled and anxious, and he apologizes again before he urges you to keep walking with him.

“It’s starting to rain. We should get home.”

You walk next to him in complete silence now, stealing quick glances of his reflexion at every surface that made it possible -  the windows of the parked cars, the puddles of water on the sidewalk, a passersby’s glasses. The look on his face is unreadable, pensive if anything else, and it’s rare for the expressive Donghyuck you’re used to dealing with. Your homes are towards the same direction, his a little closer than yours, and it doesn’t take too long for you to reach the entrance of his building, your clothes not even half wet from walking without umbrellas.

Donghyuck fumbles to find his keys, his hands shaking from the adrenaline his body released from the kiss earlier, the feeling still too fresh against his lips. He stresses thinking of what to do next. Should he hug you goodnight? Apologize again for kissing you? Unlock the entrance without a word and never speak to you again? 

“I’m here”, he states dumbly, as if you’d sit at the porch of a strange house and he avoids your eyes as if you were Medusa, “Goodnight.”

You smile back awkwardly at him, waving with a hand made of clay as you wish him the same. He has turned around to unlock the door, key already at the keyhole and you turn to leave too when his voice stills you in place.

“He’s an idiot.” His back is still facing you, and when he turns to look at you his eyes finally lock with yours, as honest and earnest as ever. “Johnny. If it were me, hell, if you wanted me like that I would grab that opportunity- grab you in an instant, convince you to be mine any way I could.”

You’re stuck looking at him like a fool, trying to comprehend what he’s saying and the complications of it. He puffs out through his nose, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Goodnight y/n.”

Donghyuck is half inside the entrance now and your body suddenly exits its frozen state, blocking the door from closing with your boot. He’s shocked with the sudden movement and he opens up the door further for you. You get inside the little hall without thinking, sitting firmly in front of him, a puzzled look on his face. 

“What if I told you he hasn’t even crossed my mind this whole time we were out? What if I told you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you kissed me? Would it matter then?”

He opens his mouth momentarily, as if to speak but decides to stay silent. He already said everything he needed. It’s up to you now.

And you aren’t ready to leave yet.

You take a step forward to close the distance between you, your chests touching and you pick up the distinct smell of soju in his breath. You’re not sure if it’s that smell or the proximity but you feel drunk all over again, the yellow light of the hall shining disturbingly bright down at you and urging you to do something.

You plant a kiss over his neck, leaving a trace of the remnants of the pink lipstick you applied at the start of the workday. It was tentative, but you could still feel his raging pulse from under your lips. You could feel it get faster too, the rhythm going higher along with his body temperature and you decide on a path. A path of kisses starting from the same spot you’ve turned glittery pink, up his jawline and all the way to his earlobe.

Donghyuck clenches his jawline, you feel that too, and something snaps inside him. He just can’t take it anymore, having you so close to him, your lips on his neck and doing nothing about it. The boiling water finally spilled over the pot, hot and overflowing, and he doesn’t care if he gets burned.

You feel the cool wood against your back before you taste his tongue a second after. He has pushed you up against the entrance door, you realize, but it’s hard to comprehend anything around you when he kisses you like that. It’s the steamy, purposeful continuation of the kiss you shared earlier, and with the lack of prying eyes Donghyuck has a good idea of where he wants it to lead.

He shows you too, pushing his knee between your thighs and he feels your heat almost melt the rough fabric of his jeans. There are so many things he wants to do, so many lines he wants to cross but there is one thing he must ensure.

“Tell me you want this.”

You glide your hands upwards from his pecks to the slope of his neck and wrap them around his neck. Your body seems to act up on its own, and you feel yourself grinding down his leg that is still positioned against the wall. It feels dirty, the desperation of it all, and you connect your chest with his again before answering him.

“Lee Donghyuck. I want you to make me cum” 

You grab his hand before he gets to respond, the cool silver of his watch digging against your fingers, and you drag him to the elevator door. As if the universe had sensed your urgency, you find it waiting for you at the bottom floor, and you pull him inside with a tug of his tie.

In no time you find yourself pushed up against the wall again, and you can’t see much beyond Donghyuck’s lips, but you do catch him clumsily pressing the button to his floor with your peripheral vision. Once the elevator is in motion you feel like you can finally submerge yourself in his lips and the way his kisses take your breath away, not sure if the funny feeling in your stomach is from the sudden change in altitude or the arousal. You’re already taking his clothes off, removing the jacket of his suit off his shoulders and working the top buttons of his shirt open.

It’s him that drags you to his apartment this time, urging you out of the elevator as soon as the robotic declaim of his floor number rips through the wet sounds of you kissing. His keys are already easily accessible in his front pocket from your conversation earlier, and when he manages to unlock the entrance with trembling hands you walk inside as if you own the place.

It’s small and cozy, decorated minimally. The first thing you notice is that it smells like Donghyuck, something that should be obvious but it still overwhelms you. It’s maybe a bit stuffy from the hours he was gone yet this is the smell still lingering in your nose from his skin you were sucking just moments ago, trying to distract him from the easy task of opening the door. It’s addictive and you want it stuck on yours.

And Donghyuck does stick on your skin, discarding his tie on the floor with a strong pull and finishing the task of unbuttoning his shirt that you started in the elevator. His movements are impatient and soon he’s half naked, and you barely have time to admire his caramel skin before his hands are all over you. They start safely at the dimples of your waist, then sliding upwards to your ribcage and copping a feel of the underside of your boobs by sneaking his thumbs under the wire of your bra. You want to feel more, encourage his probing fingers so you reach to the clasp on your back, unfastening the garment and removing it through the hem of your blouse. 

Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off your chest, nipples hardened from your arousal and poking through the thin fabric. He takes his thumbs, the same thumbs that lit a fire in your belly earlier and flips the bud, toying it around and rubbing circles around it. The response from you is immediate, moans that start off soft and build up to a crescendo bouncing off the walls of his apartment.

It drives you crazy, a little bit, that smirk he has on his face now. It’s so familiar in between his features, you’ve seen it countless of times, especially during his typical teasings of you, yet is carries so much newfound weight now, so much sex appeal. He’s already giving you what you need but the climaxing is too slow for your liking, you want more and you want it now. You want what you asked him for in the lobby of this building.

Donghyuck can either read your mind or read through the increased frequency of your moans because he undresses down to his boxers, forming a trail of clothes from his living room to his bedroom, where he has led you. He doesn’t even bother to open the lights, relying on the moonlight from his window for lighting and pushing you down on his bedsheets. 

He climbs up with you, hovering over you and you move back a bit so that your head rests comfortably over his pillows. If the smile he gave you earlier had affected you, then the hungry look on his face right now almost makes you come untouched, his eyes raking up and down your body as if he doesn’t know where to start.

He decides on your calves, kissing them and moving upwards slowly and sensually, not missing the sensitive skin on the side of your knees and paying extra attention to your inner thighs. He’s still at it a minute and a half later, and you can’t tell in the dark but you’re sure they must be decorated by bite marks by now, his close proximity to the source of your pleasure making you squirm in his hold.  

It feels like ages since you last felt his fingers when he grips the soft meat of your thighs and spreads them apart. They soon move up to the hem of your skirt, rolling the fabric upwards and over your ass. You feel his breath against your pussy, making it tingle and twitch even more than it already has, and the wait feels like a new level of hell in Dante’s Inferno. 

A single finger pets you over your underwear, drawing lines over the damp fabric from your clit down to your entrance and then up again. You whimper and whine at the sensation that is half a step from what you consider satisfactory and he hooks a finger on the black lace, moving it to the side and letting you experience the cool air of the room all over again. The full exposure brings heat to your face and you breathe through the embarrassment that arouses you even more.

“Hey, Donghyuck?”

“Yes?”

“Is your cat still alive?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He licks one long stripe over your entrance, and you feel the goosebumps spreading all over your arms and legs. Nimble fingers spread your folds apart, and you hold your breath as he lets his cool spit drip from his lips and land onto your lower ones, then starts sucking over your clit. His tongue is wet and his breath is hot, the combination driving you insane. You grip the comforter, digging into it with your nails to keep yourself grounded.

“Oh my god, yes, right there”

The praise motivates him to keep trying hard, not that it will take a lot of effort to make you come undone. Donghyuck’s unprecedented touches and the newfound sexual tension they have ignited had already worked you up, his skill in oral accelerating the build up to your climax even more. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better than this he starts a series of kitten licks right over your clit, each one sending a wave of pleasure stronger than the one before.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

You’re grinding on his face, trying to find the right pace when you finally come undone, thighs shaking and desperately trying to push his hands away to cover up your sensitivity again. His hold is steady and he continues to lick you keenly, the lewd sound of him slurping your wetness filling the room. Your eyes open wide and you can only stare at his white ceiling during your overstimulation, the cracks and crumbling plaster caused from humidity looking like constellations in your orgasm-drunk mind. The second climax hits you suddenly but forcefully, unable to control the volume of your voice, not that you can hear yourself clearly in your daze. It’s an array of moans and screams and tiny whimpers of Donghyuck’s name, his beautiful symphony coming to life.

His appetite for you is finally satiated, and he decides to take mercy on you and remove his lips from your pulsating heat. You look so beautiful right now, he thinks, skin illuminated by the pale moonlight that is reflected on the wetness dripping from your pussy. He hovers over you again, pulling you into another kiss and you lazily reciprocate. His member is painfully hard, sliding over your slickness. You squirm and yelp everytime the fabric of his underwear grazes against your clit, your nerve endings screaming in sensitivity.

“I don’t have a condom on me”, you whisper against his lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue engaging you in the kiss again.

“I’m too tired to fuck you like you deserve anyways”

It would be criminal from you to leave him untouched like that. He looks so hot over you, messy hair and chin glistening in your juices. You absentmindedly place your nails on his collarbones, then scratch your way down over his navel. Donghyuck hisses at the numb stinging of pain, hips buckling against your pussy in the pursuit of some sort of friction. 

You move your hand even lower, slipping your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. You move past the bristles you find and grasp his member, that is not too long but an impressive girth. You manage to free it from his underwear, and you can’t really tell in the dim lighting but you bet it must have turned a purple-ish red colour. It’s leaking.

“But we don’t have a condom”

You take one of his hands in yours, giving it a kiss to calm him down, then place it over your left boob. He toys with the mound of your chest, squeezing the softness. You had other plans for him.

Connecting your knees together, you let the softness of your thighs connect, with only maybe a slither of space between them. Your hands are still on Donghyuck’s cock and you reach to hold his balls, massaging them slightly and pulling him towards you.

He takes your cue and leans forward, sliding himself between your thighs. The moan he lets out is guttural and elongated, laced with the beautiful metallic tone of his voice. He lets go of your breasts and wraps his arms around your knees, putting your calves on each of his shoulders and continues to rut his hips against you. 

“Fuck. This feels so good”

You look up to see Donghyuck’s face, contorted in a frown that can only be described as desperate, his lips puffy and red from all the licking and kissing and sucking. 

He looks painfully sexy, and you momentarily imagine all the things you would do to him if the serotonin of your double orgasm and the alcohol in your belly weren’t weighing you down. You’d gladly stay up all night for him, tugging on his long hair as you’d let him bend you in any position he wanted. You bet that thickness would feel amazing stretching you out and you moan at the thought, your thighs flexing involuntarily and making him moan even more. 

Soon he has picked up his pace, the tip of his cock reappearing between your thighs more frequently and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

“Fuck fuck, I’m coming”

He suddenly pushes forward, almost collapsing on top of you as a string of satisfactory groans leave his lips. His hips still with a stagger and you entrancingly watch the ropes of white dripping from his cock and landing on your blouse. It was a mess, but you can worry about it in the morning.

Donghyuck fucks your thighs slowly for a little longer, elongating his pleasure for as long as he can and soothing the crescent moons his nails formed on your skin with his fingertips. He reaches one hand to his bedroom floor where he finds a -what you hope is- clean t-shirt, and pats his cum off your blouse as best as he could.

It has gotten late and you’re both exhausted, Donghyuck’s comfortable weight on top of you lulling you to sleep. He’s hugging your hips now, head resting on your stomach and occasionally kissing your hip bones tenderly. You’re not sure when you slip out of consciousness but you do hear Donghyuck mumble something against your skin, something the kiss of Morpheus doesn’t allow you to make out.

You wake up to a white ceiling. Not just any white ceiling- a cracked, full of moisture pockets ceiling and you wonder when you let the humidity mess up your apartment this much. The culprit of your awakening, the morning sun rays that shine right on your eyes; way too bright than what you’re used to, force your eyelids to open, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the abundant light. This isn’t your apartment.

The sight of a man that greets your barely recovered rentinas shocks you, and you rub your eyes just in case you’re stuck in a lucid dream or something. You see the mess of ash blonde hair and the pile of work clothes discarded on the floor and your mind soon is flooded with last night’s events, buzzed out in your foggy memory. You sense another buzz as well, a physical one this time and you wiggle in place when you feel something hard and metallic digging in your butt. You prod a little with your fingers, trying not to wake up Donghyuck too abruptly and you realise that yes, you’ve been sitting on a phone all night.

Shouldn’t it be a Tuesday today? It’s very bright for it to be that early but surely Donghyuck must have set an alarm for the both of you last night. You yawn involuntarily, deciding to play with your phone until he wakes up as well when the bright white display pulls all the blood from your face.

8:40. You have to be at work in 20 minutes.

“Donghyuck! Hyuck!”

You didn’t care to make your touches light. They were shoves, really, pushing at his shoulders frantically to get him off of you and pull him out of his slumber. He wakes up with a gasp, trying desperately to keep his balance and failing, to then fall unceremoniously on the floor.

“What the hell?”, he groans out with a hoarse, groggy version of his voice, “My head is pounding”

“It will hurt even more once I’m done with you! You didn’t set an alarm last night? Today’s a work day!’

With his eyes bulging, he launches himself forward, grabbing the phone from your hands. 

“Shit, shit, shit”. He’s fully awake now, hands rubbing his face to come up with the next logical steps to take, in order to have you both at work on time and looking presentable. “I have a mouthwash and hairbrush in my bathroom, I’ll get ready here”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

“Yesterday’s clothes? Are you really that concerned about recycling an outfit right now?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your blouse down and dragging his comforter off your body. 

“Did you forget about this?”

You straighten out the fabric for him to see, and the big, grossly dried out cum stains aren’t hard to notice. His face looks worried, but not necessarily apologetic, and you can almost see the scenes from the sex you shared last night play through his eyes like a porn film. 

“Your skirt is fine, right? I’ll find a shirt that fits you”

You’re spitting out the fluorescent blue liquid when he timorously walks in the bathroom to leave the piece of clothing he promised. It smells heavily of those moth-repellent sachets and looks slightly wrinkled, like something he pulled out from the depths of his closet but you don’t really have the privilege of playing Suzy Menkes right now. You pull and tuck the fabric in creative ways, in order to style the garment into something you might walk into work wearing one day, yet it’s painfully obvious to you how misfitted it is; too big around the shoulders as one would expect from a man’s shirt.

You exit the bathroom after giving up, pressed by the limited time and the sound of Donghyuck’s uneasy steps through the door. You let him freshen up as well and use the time to collect your things that are scattered all over his place - he was kind enough to bring you your bra that was discarded in his living room floor along with his shirt - and soon you were rushing out of his house and into separate cabs so as not to raise suspicion.

The rest of the day was normal, well- according to this new definition of normalcy for you. Where everything and everyone seems to follow this movie script of what a typical company must look like, while you worry that someone will probe uninvitedly into your thoughts. God knows what they would fish out. A broken record player of Donghyuck’s moans when he cums, the burn of his thick sex rubbing against your thighs, the paths of his neck veins you memorized by heart. 

You shake your head to clear it from the intrusive thoughts, and click the refresh button of your emails. The sound of keys being tapped and printers being put to use lands you back to reality, and you calmly click on the new incoming message from the Sales Department.

It was Johnny.

You’d think that after having his dick down your throat for about half a minute, getting butterflies in your stomach from the mere sight of his email address would stop being a recurring event for you. But alas, here they were, tapping their little wings in a flutter that turns into a hurricane of anxiety, and you sarcastically thank the universe for having to deal with Johnny while looking like an 80’s librarian.

You walk up the stairs like your ankle’s dragging a ball and a chain, the piece of paper in your hands getting slightly ripped from the abuse of your nervous fingers. It was a stupid document, barely half filled with any valuable information and you think it can’t be worth the calories you burned with that trip. It certainly wasn’t worth entering hell, aka mr. Suh’s office, and just the thought of him waiting for you in his fitted suit and gelled back hair is making you light headed. If Johnny was Hades then Donghyuck definitely was Cerberus, guarding his boss with his three heads and his big dick.

You leave a breath out when you realise he isn’t there, making your way onto Johnny’s office with lighter feet. He smiles brightly when he sees you, handsome as ever, and you carefully leave the document on his messy desk.

“Well, isn’t it my favourite intern”

You laugh at his sing-song tone, enjoying how warm he was being today.

“You used to avoid me like the plague and now I’m your favourite?”

“You always were my favourite”, he winks, and pushes back his hair like he knows the effect it has on you, “If someone is avoiding anyone like the plague that’s Donghyuck. I would have sent him to you but I can’t find him anywhere.”

You gulp dryly at his words, an invisible awl pinching your chest. You could feel Donghyuck slipping away from every place that you might share, in a very subtle way, but still noticeable from you. He left the kitchen hastily when you walked in to make your coffee, excused himself out of the lunch break through which you always kept him company, and now he was gone as well. Was last night such a big mistake in his point of view?

“I’m kidding, I just wanted to see you.”

He motions you to come closer and you timidly oblige, serenaded by the sound of his voice but not missing the hunger his eyes hold. He’s still seated in his big leather office chair, thighs spread out in a way that turned you on embarrassingly much, and you fit yourself in the space between his long legs. 

“He is very jumpy though, Donghyuck. Do you know what happened to him?”

Your whole body tenses up, muscles hardening defensively. “Why would I know?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that you guys are so close.”

Close. Close as in having his knee between your thighs, close as in being pushed up against his chest and the elevator mirror. Close as in knowing how his tongue feels massaging your clit. 

“Have I seen you in that before?”

You’re confused with the sudden question and when you search for the context you realise he’s talking about your- Donghyuck’s shirt. Did he smell the sex on you? The overwhelming scent of pheromones and Donghyuck’s cologne that your nose just couldn’t ignore?

“I don’t think so”, you try to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “it’s new.”

“No”, Johnny insists, and pinches the fabric with his fingers. He’s very knowledgeable about fashion, always complimenting you on your outfit choices and you know he wouldn’t let this one go so easily. “I’m sure I’ve seen this before.”

You follow his line of sight towards the ivory fabric too, as if you expected there to be written “YOUR ASSISTANT GAVE ME THE BEST HEAD OF MY LIFE LAST NIGHT”, in a bright red marker. It was a prison, in the form of 99% cotton and 1% pure anxiety, and you know you had to distract Johnny out of this subject one way or the other.

“You like it?”, you ask seductively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

“I’d like you better without it.”

With just one strong, yet calculated pull he has you sat over the length of his thigh. Your hands land on his chest for stability, right over his pecks that fill your palms easily. There’s nothing you want more than to suck on those perfectly sculpted lips of his, but you’re not too faithful on Donghyuck’s mouthwash so you settle for the earlobe that isn’t pierced instead.

He loves the feeling, the activation of his erogenous area and the suction of your lips that resembles one of your favourite activities together.

“I like this shirt”, he starts, unbuttoning your chest into plain view, “and I love this skirt”

He runs his big hands over the plumpless of your ass, squeezing it then retracting his fingers back on your thighs. They’re cold against your burning skin and the contrast causes goosebumps to erupt in the shape of his handprint.

“You love all my skirts Johnny”

“I do. Because I can do this”

His fingers roll the hem of your skirt up your thigh, the only thing separating your heat with the smooth fabric of his slacks being your skimpy underwear. You’re pretty sure the wetness must be transferring to it already, your thoughts of Donghyuck and all the things he could do with you having you desperate for a release. Johnny pets your clit over your panties then, just a light graze of his finger that elicits a moan from you.

Your hips move on their own, slowly humping his thigh that flexes from under you. You grab his tie to help your movement when your pace picks up, enjoying his body heat that coated you. 

“Someone might see us.”

His desk chair was large, sure, but so was Johnny, and even though his back was facing the door of his office, no one could mistake the sight of you riding him as anything else. 

“I told you, Donghyuck keeps disappearing. And it seems like it won’t take you too long to cum with the way you moan like that, right babe?”

“Johnny…”

You were a whiny mess at this point, humping his leg to reach your high. He was nice enough to help you, his hands guiding you as you mess up all over him, lips stuck on the patch of skin right under your ear.

“You know, I kind of miss you calling me Mr. Suh.” he whispers as he’s sucking on your neck, and you shiver at the tone of his voice, “What do I have to do next time you come over to have you call me like that?”

You can’t contain your whimpers anymore, the stinging tears of arousal threatening to roll down your face, so you close your eyes to keep the moisture in. Everything is just too much, the pleasure of your clit rubbing on him, his nails that dig in the flesh of your hips, the heavy suggestions in his words; your orgasm was hanging by a thread and it was a matter of seconds for it to snap. And it did snap, with a bite on your neck, and along with it your eyes snapped open as well.

Donghyuck was staring right back at you.

Your eyes crossed in pleasure, blurry vision making it hard to focus on him. You were falling apart over Johnny’s body, legs shaking and insides melting with his praise. Donghyuck took the sight in from the opened door, eyes studying your face of pleasure and bare chest decorated with Johnny’s kisses peeking from his own shirt. You’d be lying had you dismissed the fact that his presence intensified your orgasm times a hundred. The exposure of your act, the naughtiness of getting caught and by him of all people. You watched as he retreated outside from the office with silent steps, to give you privacy or recover from the embarrassment or both.

And Donghyuck would be lying too, had he said he didn’t like the sight. The mere memory of your face all fucked out flushed his own in crimson red. He remembered it all clearly, from your plush lips to Johnny’s mess of a hair, to the tremble of your body. It refused to leave his mind, the scene of you getting satisfaction from another man, but not because he wanted to erase it. He thought he fit right in, right in that scene between you and his boss.  

You texted him later that day, apologizing for what he had to witness and promising him you would return the shirt as soon as you washed it. He politely allowed you to keep it, not at all acknowledging the incident from earlier, nor the night you spent together. You didn’t have the guts to ask, for you didn’t know that Donghyuck didn’t regard last night as a mistake, like you thought. He was tired of boiling in the guilt of his feelings, selfishly admitting to himself that he did not regret a single thing. He was into you, he meant every word that came out of his mouth, so why was he avoiding you all day yesterday? He was still the fucking coward.

The next day came rolling along, and with it came a long list of things you wanted to avoid. The first one was arguably dealing with your best friend, the lengthy paperwork you had to fill out being a close second.  

Your mind was occupied with a plethora of thoughts, with Johnny holding the main spot. You’d seen him in your sleep last night, starring in the extremely detailed wet dream your brain fabricated for you, hot breaths and deep thrusts forcing you into the disappointing consciousness of today’s morning.

And the pictures he had sent you right after you decided to get up weren’t helping either. His tall, half naked build occupied most of the shot, skin glistening in the after-shower steam. His toothbrush was hanging from his foamy mouth, in an attempt to make the picture look nonchalant, yet you knew his motives. You let your eyes drink up the sight of his defined abdomen, then moved downwards along the dark happy trail that peeked from the towel, loosely hanging from his waist. Hip bones teasing you and all. Just drop the fucking towel Johnny.

Needless to say, you were a mess when you arrived at the office. The cats in heat outside of your window, the phallic shaped baguette your baker generously treated you with this morning; everything seemed to remind you of the heat between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore. You tried rubbing your thighs, drowning in the paperwork, even locking your phone in one of your drawers so as not to be tempted to look at Johnny’s thirst trap again. But he had won.

You grab a bunch of documents that seemed important enough, shove them in your favourite binder, and make your way to Johnny’s office upstairs. 

You knew you had to deal with Donghyuck. It was the unavoidable repercussion of messing up your life like that, getting men that were too good looking for this boring ass company tangled up in what seemed to be a simple internship. Taking a deep breath, then two more for good measure, you start to strut confidently in a straight line that led to Johnny’s office door.

“He’s on call, come back later.”

Your head instinctively turns to the source of the sound, to find Donghyuck staring at the display of his laptop that seemed to be much more interesting than you. The matter-of-fact way he formed his sentences was not unlike him, yet something in you begged for a little bit of attention. Blame it on how horny you’ve been all morning, or the fact that now that you’ve seen him naked, the strict tone affects you much more than it should.

Bothered by your thoughts and thinking about having to sit back at your office for the rest of the work day, you let the binder slip from your hands and drop on the wooden floor. You lean down to collect the scattered pieces of paper, your heels making it hard for you to keep your balance easily, and soon enough you sense a movement from behind you.

“No panties huh?”

It was supposed to be a surprise. Payback for the dirty thoughts Johnny planted in your head this morning. You’d walk in all innocently, sit right across his desk and give him a little Basic Instinct Sharon Stone moment. Then leave him high and dry again, while mentally keeping a note to clear out all your plans for the weekend. But see, he couldn’t give you what you wanted after all, and your resolve started to break. Whatever it was you wanted, you wanted it now.

You get up, unfolding your body slowly and refusing to look at Donghyuck, much like he did when you walked inside. The smirk playing on your lips couldn’t be concealed through your voice.

“Like what you see?”

You gasp as he presses up against you, the only contact you have with one another being his hard-on that nudges your ass. Following your body’s orders, you push back against him too, and you can tell the breath he lets out is ragged and full of tension.

He reaches for your binder with an arm around you, flipping through the pages as he sucks his teeth in disapproval.

“These are last week’s reports. Are you really here for these or are you looking for another quickie with Johnny?” A moan escapes you then, and the little thrust that Donghyuck allows himself drives you both crazy. “Thought so. How insatiable are you? I made you cum two nights ago, Johnny helped you out yesterday. If you really are that desperate you could’ve just come to me for help, doll”

His soft palm rests on the front of your thigh, slowly sliding his way under your skirt. You squirm in his hold in anticipation, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in the noises that threaten to leave you. 

“Donghyuck, Johnny is sitting right through that door. He could come out any minute now and see us”

“And?”

“Your boss is sitting right through that door. You could get fired”

“I could die after this”

His thumb ficks your clit swiftly, and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to slip his other one inside your gaping mouth.

“But-“

“Shh. Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby”

You’re melting in his hold at this point, your back still resting against his chest, lips sucking his digit. The scent of his cologne that you’ve grown so familiar with overwhelms you, painting all your surroundings in a red tint of lust.

“Spread your legs for me”. You oblige with his orders immediately, your arousal not allowing you to keep him waiting. “Wider”.

You take a quick look behind your shoulder to check that the door is still, indeed, closed, only to be met face to face with Donghyuck. His breath is hot against your face, eyes locked on his thumb toying with your lower lip and you completely forget what you initially turned around for. The kiss was natural, your lips melding easily with his ones. The need for him washes over you like a heatwave and you lift your skirt to urge him to continue before you go insane. 

He gets the hint and moves his hand lower, middle finger tracing your opening ever so slightly. It makes you shiver and you realise how quiet the room has fallen, the only source of sound coming muffled through the closed door to Johnny’s office. It excites you and it must show through the wetness between your lower lips, and Donghyuck patiently collects it all. He transfers the moisture over the bud of your clit, his finger smoothly massaging the sensitive skin. It feels divine and there’s no way you’d ask him to stop yet you know there’s something else Donghyuck is after, the sweet tightness that he didn’t get to experience that night at his apartment.

It was a bit much to fuck you out there like that, even for his exhibitionistic tendencies, but nothing could stop him from feeling the next best thing. 

His first finger enters you unhurriedly, careful of your reactions. You moan out his name and he moans at how tight you are, soft pussy practically sucking his finger in. He soon enters his ring finger as well, slowly moving them inside you until you feel every stretch and curl. Your wetness starts to drip at this point, coating his fingers with your juices.

“Such a dirty girl, making all this mess at my office”

The leisure pace ruins you, your eyes shut close in search of patience. You feel his other palm move from under your skirt as well, resting flat against your lower abdomen. He wants to feel himself inside you.

“Donghyuck, please. More”

A chuckle is heard from your left ear, and you can vividly imagine how his face must look like now. The cocky smirk, the tongue poking the inside of his cheek. The next pump has you muffling your whimpers with the back of your fist, his fingers curling just right and fucking straight into your g-spot. 

“More? Look at you. Pretty slut.” 

He’s full on finger fucking you now, and swallowing your moans is gradually becoming more and more difficult. The world crumbles from under your feet and you let yourself get carried away in the intense pleasure, the fast pumping making your legs shake.

“You’re gonna cum?”, he whispers again, and you can only respond with a nod, “That’s my fucking girl”

The orgasm’s intense, shaking you as you bite your hand and hold onto Donghyuck for extra support. He continues to move his fingers afterwards, drawing out your euphoria for as long as he can, then finally leaves you empty once your moans have died down. You immediately cover yourself up again once you sober up from your high, suddenly embarrassed by Donghyuck’s intense stare. He’s moving his eyes through all the features of your face, only for them to fall frozen on your lips, and lifts his hand up to rest his two fingers over them. You get his initiative and put them in your mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“Unless you want us both to get fired I think you should go back to your office. I don’t think I can contain myself around you”

You release his digits with a pop, your eyes full of seduction.  

“What would you do to me?”

Donghyuck growls at your question, turning you around so that you’re fully face to face and chest to chest. 

“You’d look so pretty on your knees, mouth full of cock”. He grabs a handful of your ass, bringing you flush against him and proceeds to grind his painfully hard dick between your thighs. Your noses touch and you feel dizzy at the proximity; the words he mutters against your cum coated lips. “I’d peel those clothes off of you, find the nearest mirror. Stretch you out against the glass so that you see how good you take it.”

You shiver as a response, then force yourself to put some distance between you before you do something stupid. He kindly helps you collect your things in silence, those useless documents that were laying scattered on the floor, and in a moment of weakness you let him pin you against the wall right before you go.There was something so addictive about him and your chemistry, and your lips burn at the memory of his kisses. You’re not sure how much longer you can contain that hunger anymore.

The end of a shift and the beginning of another overtime. It felt like deja vu at this point, after all the countless extra hours you’ve put into the internship, seeing people grab their briefcases and their car keys as they empty the space around you. You take a moment to appreciate the view of the setting sun from the small window of your office, inhaling deeply as you wrap the hair that’s been bothering you in a ponytail. Your neck hurts and the tension of your body is translating into a dull pain, so you stretch it a little, bobbing your head from side to side.

You jump a little in your seat when you feel a set of hands on your shoulder blades. They massage the sore spots, treating the muscle knots and helping your blood flow freely. It was obvious Donghyuck didn’t have enough of you earlier, and you pout at having to turn down another visit to his apartment because of your overtime duties. 

You were ready to scold him off, tell him you’re busy and that you promise to make it up for him another time, when you feel his soft lips kissing the most sensitive spot on the slope of your neck. You let out a long sigh, subconsciously exposing your neck more for him, and a high pitched whine rumbles in your chest. It’s released as a moan of Donghyuck’s name.

“Donghyuck?!”

You freeze in the uncomfortable arch, your ears confused by the deepness of the voice belonging to the man behind you. Not even the confusion laced in it can cover up the lack of airiness and clarity you’re used to when it comes to Donghyuck’s tone. It’s Johnny.

“I… We-“

You’re left speechless, clueless as to what to say next. You know you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s not like you and Johnny are exclusive. Yet his shocked face at the sound of his assistant’s name coming so lewdly off your lips has your brain scrambling to find some sort of explanation. Thankfully, he’d interrupt your panic in a second.

“The big boss wants you upstairs. I offered to come get you.”

He doesn’t sound angry or upset, nor disappointed. It’s a fresh air of relief before you realize that this is not what you should worry about right now. What the hell does the CEO of the company want to talk to you about? Are you getting the boot? It must be it, but why? Your numbers have been great, you’re always on time - except that one morning, but technically it was Donghyuck’s fault - and you’ve been praised by your supervisor numerous times during your internship.

Unless- What if there’s cameras in the office? 

You start to panic at the thought of an involuntary sex tape become the cause of your dismissal, so caught up in your thoughts that you’re completely unaware you’ve spent the entire trip up the stairs with Johnny in silence. When you enter the CEO’s office, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears, you notice that all of the department’s supervisors are present in the impromptu meeting as well. You sit next to Johnny, in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you see the head of your department send you an encouraging smile.

“Shall we start?”

A briefing of your work in the company ensued, numbers and graphs that wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than the people in the room. Thirty minutes have passed and no surveillance tape has been whipped out, turning you more confused than ever. The numbers were good, the words from your supervisor are complimentary, so why would they fire you? 

“That is all for the briefing. After seeing your progress and the contribution you’ve made to the company, we’ve decided to offer you a permanent position, if you’d be interested of course”

Oh my god. You can’t believe this day finally came. Your face was glowing, and you tried to convince yourself to stay calm while you talked about your new position and the raise in salary that came with it. With shaky hands you sign the documents, and your boss congratulates you once again, dismissing you off your overtime. 

You waited for everyone to leave the hallway before jumping in Johnny’s arms. He caught you easily, strong build supporting you and lifting your feet off the ground before landing you safely again.

“Good job intern, I’m so proud of you”

“Hey, I’m not an intern anymore!”, you complain by bumping his chest with your fist and he pats your head lovingly in return.

“Why did you have to be in the room as well? Did you know about my promotion?”

“No, actually, they just told me an hour ago. It was hard to keep myself from telling you everything right away.”

The excitement coursed through you, and a sudden urge to kiss him until your lips were numb overwhelmed you. You were ready to turn your thoughts into reality, when you saw Donghyuck from the corner of your eye, instinctively smiling at your obvious happiness.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I got promoted!”

Donghyuck gasped, a huge smile spreading across his face. Your excitement’s contentious so he tackles you without a second thought, his embrace so tight that you can barely breathe. You can see that he’s trying his best to contain a kiss, his glance moving back and forth between you and Johnny. He still kept a possessive hand around your waist once he let you down however, a gesture that could seem innocent yet you knew better.

Johnny smirks at the sight of you two, confidence dripping off his body and making you shiver. You get dizzy at the thought of Donghyuck not knowing that Johnny knows about you, yet Donghyuck knowing about Johnny but not giving a fuck.

“So how do we celebrate?”, the older man asks, with a playful tone that might as well be your active imagination.

“Wanna go for a drink?”, Donghyuck suggests, boldly keeping his eyes at you only while he does so.

You pout in thought, humming pensively when an idea pops into your head. 

“How about you come over my place for one?”

You should have thought this through more thoroughly, is all you can think about as you’re trapped between Johnny and Hyuck on your couch. Well, not really- there is a sizable distance between you three, yet the atmosphere in the room is so dense it’s nearly palpable. Three glasses, half-full of the alcohol of their choice are sitting on the coffee table in front of you, and you awkwardly stare at the sweat that falls from your glass and forms rings on the wooden surface. 

Your body has loosened up from your drink yet your heart can’t stop racing, not when Donghyuck is looking at you like that. He looks like a man starved for days while you’re the meal presented deliciously in his arm’s reach, and he can’t wait to have you alone and curve his growing appetite. And you ignore Johnny’s cheeky smiles and flirtatious winks as well, carrying on a conversation that doesn’t belong in the inescapable tone of the room but flows easily, until it ends and you’re met with heavy silence and the ticking analog clock on your wall again.

You ask them if they would like some water, getting up before you receive an answer, and you yelp a little when you feel a strong arm halting your trip to the kitchen before it even started. You lose your balance and wobble a little in your spot before unceremoniously landing on Johnny’s lap.

He doesn’t help you up, but loops and arm around your waist instead, holding you in place. In circumstances other than the ones that have already made their mark on your sexual history, staying in this position with his assistant still in the room would be highly inappropriate.

“You’re all we need”, he reassures you with a voice made of silk, then repositions you with a jerk of his knee, your heat grinding right against his half hard member.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

You open and close your mouth sequentially like a fish out of water, choking out a reply after the insistent tick-tock that resonates through the room and gives a tempo to your anxiety.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know what I’m talking about. A little birdy told me I’m not the only one enjoying this perfect little body. Is that right Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck’s eyes bulged out of his skull, almost choking in the sip of the drink he was enjoying when the unexpected question hit him. Sizzling heat floods your face as he stares at you sternly, and you shake your head defensively.

“I didn’t tell him-“

“Well no, not exactly”, Johnny interrupts and places his big hands over your thighs, “I was just kissing her neck, trying to get her to relax, and lo and behold, she starts moaning your name like its a fucking reflex. You’ve really gotten into her head, apparently”

Donghyuck swells up in pride, that much is evident, yet he’s way too distracted to say anything in response, too busy staring at Johnny’s fingers spreading your thighs apart to expose your damp underwear. Johnny’s lips are planted on your neck, teeth nibbling on your earlobe and you wince when you feel the sharp sting of a slap on your inner thigh.

“You aren’t being a good hostess, baby. Open up your legs more, let Hyuck see your pretty pussy. You remember what word to say when you want me to stop, right?” You whimper the designated safe word while opening your thighs further, digging the heels of your feet in the couch’s pillows. “Good girl”

He dips a hand through the band of your underwear, busying his fingers under the fabric. You moan as they slide through the wetness and he smiles a cocky smile when he sees Donghyuck palming himself through his slacks. He removes the skimpy thong with the help of your hips moving to assist him, to then push the fabric inside your mouth with little to no resistance from you.

“Isn’t this pussy divine? I swear when I bottomed out inside of her the first time I thought I lost my damn mind”

He toys with your opening, only dipping half a finger in to challenge Donghyuck to pay attention.

“We haven’t actually…”

“She only let you play with her?”, Johnny teases him, then pushes his point and middle finger all the way inside you, making his assistant’s imagination run wild at what your pussy must feel like sucking him in. “You’re missing out man”

“I’ve made her cum probably twice as many times as you’ve ever have”

You chuckle at his smart remark and Johnny glares at you, softly slapping your pussy to keep you at bay.

“No one addressed you. You’ll get to make all the noise you want in a sec, baby”

You squirm in place, letting out a muffled apology through your gag and Donghyuck looks seriously affected by the sight.

“Isn’t she obedient?”, Johnny asks while grazing your g-spot, and you moan from both the praise and the stimulation.

Hyuck unbuttons his pants at the lewd sound, pulling his dick from the slit of his boxers and you admire his impressive girth. He lets his body decline comfortably on the pillows behind him, spreading his own legs at shoulder-length. The mouth-watering sight of him jerking himself slowly with the aid of his precum clouds your vision; you’re just as needy for him as he is for you.

“She’s a little brat”

“I guess I know how to make her listen”. Johnny lifts your dress over your hips, then helps you off of it through the hem. With a rehearsed flick of his fingers he discards your bra as well, leaving you completely naked for Donghyuck’s eyes to feast on. His hands immediately grope your breasts, playing with the mounds and putting on a show. “I could undress you over and over and over again”

You feel his fingers retract from inside your pussy to form a ‘V’ over your lower lips, making your hole even more visible along with the wetness that’s dripping out of it.

“Will you let Donghyuck use your pussy baby? I feel a little greedy using it all on my own”

You groan in the anticipation and let your head fall back on Johnny’s shoulder, nodding pathetically and mumbling through your thong.

“Oh god, yes, yes, yes”

Donghyuck has heard enough, and with Johnny urging him on he’s standing half naked in front of you in seconds. His boxers are discarded next to his trousers on the floor, tie hanging loosely from the collar. He still has a hand wrapped around his angry sex, red tip and veiny details making you swoon.

“Go on”, Johnny encourages him, “she’s more than wet enough”

Donghyuck rests his left knee on the cushion of the couch, right between your foot and Johnny’s thigh. A little foiled square is getting ripped by his nimble fingers and you bewitchedly watch him wrap up his cock. He slaps it over your entrance a couple times, coming in contact with the other man’s fingers that are still keeping you fully exposed, then finally thrusts himself inside you. A conglomerate of what seems like three different curses leave his lips, eyebrows furrowed in a pleasureful expression.

“Fuck”

“Tight, isn’t she?”

“So fucking tight baby, damn”

Johnny may have a cock so lengthy that most men are envious of, yet Donghyuck’s girth is really something else. It stretches you out more than you've had in months, dull pain getting numb with every release of serotonin from your brain. You almost cry when he removes the entire thing out of you.

“I have to feel that again”

And indeed he does, submerging himself in the tightness of your walls only his fingers had the privilege of experiencing thus far. You feel amazing wrapped up around him, pussy hot and burning in desire as he dips himself further inside you, pushing you up against Johnny’s chest. You hiss in the sting and whimper softly, prompting the man behind you to ungag you finally.

“What is it baby? Hyuckie’s dick is too big for your tight little hole?”

You nod affirmatively while keeping eye contact with the man mentioned, big glossy eyes awakening something dark inside him. He wants to ruin you.

“Maybe you don’t fuck her hard enough”

You can’t see Johnny from the way you’re seated but you know he must have a smile on his face, well aware of the confidence he possesses for his own abilities in the bedroom. His big hands leave your labia and make their way over to your calves, bending you in a way that is almost painful.

“How about you show me how it’s done, then?”

Donghyuck is always up for a challenge, so he wraps a hand loosely around your throat so as to gain leverage. He pulls his hips backwards, gaining momentum, then slaps them forcefully against your own. You moan loudly at the depth, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to as he’s nailing you against the couch. Johnny’s there to catch your sounds with his lips, eating them up eagerly as he slips his tongue inside you and continues to play with your nipples. 

“Is that hard enough for you?”

Continuing his brutal pace restlessly, Donghyuck tightens his grasp around your neck, enough to hamper your blood flow and drool around the other man’s mouth. You’re so out of it at this point, dirty sound after another leaving your lips and you gasp at Johnny’s fingers that are suddenly circling around your clit.

“I’m close, please”, you manage to whimper from between them, Hyuck’s pace only fastening in the sound of your plea. The tip of his cock, thick like the rest of him, grazes against your sensitive spot again and again, not missing a single thrust. He digs a thumb in the softness of your cheek, pulling you away from Johnny and connecting his forehead with yours. By the sounds of his grunts it won’t take long until he comes as well.

“Made just for me”, he whispers against your lips, and you gasp when you feel the heat overflowing in your sex area, vision blurry as you let go and scream in complete pleasure. Donghyuck basks in the confirmation of how good he’s made you feel, hips stuttering as he empties his cum in you and inside the condom. His thigh muscles may be contracting in tiredness yet he doesn’t halt his movements, milking your orgasm for all its worth. You’re basically putty in Johnny’s lap at this point, sex drunk and high from your release.  

“Not bad”, he admits, even though he had some credit to claim with the fast fingerwork he showed earlier. He holds your thighs again, closing them up to help you relax and you wince at the pain in your haunch, the result of staying in a flexibility-demanding position for so long.

You wait until your heartbeat slows down, turning around to face Johnny as Donghyuck ties up and discards the used condom. He sends you a warm smile, petting the messy hair out of your line of sight and you relax in the feeling of safety, batting your eyes up at him cutely.

“What about you?”, you practically meow, moaning softly as you feel his boner twitching from beneath his trousers.

“What about me? Didn’t you have enough?” 

He knows your appetite, knows there’s no way you’d be satisfied by one round only. And how could you, when he sits so deliciously from under you, his big body reeling you in. You know what he wants to hear.

“Please, Johnny”, you plead, playing with the thin tie still neatly keeping his shirt in place. “I need you”

“You need what?”, he growls against your lips, trying to coax as much desperation out of you as possible.

“I need your big cock inside me, please”

“Ass up”

You get up from your seat, complying with his commands and getting on your knees before your tired legs betray you and leave you a mess on the floor.  His hands cup your ass in admiration, giving it a little spank before he slides them over your dorsals. A careful push forces you to arch your back even more, and your cheeks burn at the eager position he has bent you in. You shiver when his cock enters you halfway.

“You’re still not used to me babe?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking big, Johnny”

“Then maybe I should stay still? Since you can’t take it?”

“No!”, you oppose, tears of frustration threatening to spill out of their ducts, “I can take it, just move!”

You howl as he bottoms out, his long length making you lose your mind. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything more than his fingers and you’ve missed the way he fits inside of you. You hear shuffling from behind you and soon he’s bending over you, wrapping his tie around your neck. With a pull you’re flush against his chest again, and the buttons of his shirt are already leaving little indentations on your skin. You wish it bruises.

“Do you remember what I wanted you to call me the other day?”, he whispers next to the shell of your ear, dark tone sending shivers down your spine.

“Mr. Suh”

“Exactly. Now will you let me fuck you the way I want?”

“Yes sir”

“What a good girl”

Johnny slams into you fully, every pull of his hips resulting in the restriction of your airflow. A game of wanting more of him and sacrificing your oxygen for it begins, and it doesn’t take long for you to turn completely into a submissive mess for him. He’s whispering filth in your ears, hips keeping their inhuman tempo until you’re all out of energy and fall nonvocal. Donghyuck gets hard again at the sight.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, who is more than willing to share your body for the pleasure he’s after- at least part of it. He waits until the younger man’s dick is fully solid in his grasp, standing tall and red right in front of you and he lets go of the constraint of your neck without notice.

You fall face first on Donghyuck’s thick thighs, his quick reflexes catching you from a harder impact. His member is twitching right next to your face, tip grazing against your left temple and he helps your head up by wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail that his fingers hold together. You wrap your lips around his tip obediently, twirling your tongue around his member until you reach his hairy base. He tastes a bit rubbery from the condom earlier but you choose to ignore it, focusing on hollowing your cheeks around him instead.

Every hard thrust of Johnny’s propels you forward onto Donghyuck’s cock, the bobbing motion natural yet you struggle to take them both inside you. Donghyuck enjoys the vibrations of the moans you make when the other man hits a deep spot in your pussy, Johnny groans when you clench around him as Donghyuck abuses your throat. It’s a give and take of intense pleasure and you know you can’t take much more, the men’s moans growing louder with every thrust. 

“Do you like Hyuck’s cock needy baby? Have you finally had enough?”

He punctuates each word with a slam, one harder than the other, and the rope inside your belly snaps with the arrival of your second orgasm. You try your hardest to stay in place, beg your thighs not to let you collapse as you let Johnny drive you into overstimuation.

“Yes, sir. I love it”

Johnny grunts at the sound of his title, so dirty coming muffled by another man’s dick that it’s enough to send him over the edge. You feel the hot cum filling up the condom inside you, and his spurts take so long that the little tweaks coax another orgasm from you.

Donghyuck drinks up the scene unveiling in front of him, a steady hand forcing your jaw open as he starts to jerk off quickly over your face.

“I want to see your tongue covered in my cum”

You lick your lips seductively in response, opening your mouth up to welcome his ropes of white liquid that leave his slit a second after. They fill your mouth little by little, painting the inside of it and you hold your tongue out to show him his creation, a couple of drops dripping from the corners before you swallow as much as you can. He collects whatever’s left on your jaw, pushing it in and letting you suckle on his thumb dumbly before letting go.

You collapse on the couch, exhausted after giving all that your body could handle after a work day, and you sit in silence as Johnny massages your feet and Donghyuck kisses your neck to calm you down. Your head hurts from the sex and the possibilities that this new combination can bring to your love life, belly tingling in excitement at the same time. You don’t know where this will lead, or when will be the next time you’ll indulge in the company of the both of them stuck on your body. All that you know is that this promotion, at least the celebration of it, tastes really, really sweet. 

thank you for reading ❤ feedback is much appreciated! If you liked Promotion you can check out Work for it to see where it all started! :) 

[harrysweasleys]

Fake Kisses

Synopsis: Weasley!Reader (same year as Ron but ten months younger) is dating Malfoy and her family is not on board. So, the twins take matters into their own hands and use polyjuice potion to transform into Draco and kiss Pansy. When reader sees, she breaks up with who she thinks is the real him. But the real Draco is very confused.

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: I did my Pottermore quiz five years ago and got Slytherin and so for years now I’ve been telling people I was Slytherin. I just made a new account bc I forgot my old one and I’m now Gryffindor. my life has drastically changed. 

-

Dating Draco Malfoy was hard. There was no beating around the bush, not for Y/N Weasley. She knew it’d be difficult, but she loved the platinum headed Slytherin prince, and she had for a lot longer than she’d care to admit, especially to her family.

Because they do not approve.

She had been dating Draco for about two weeks before finally telling Ginny, who she had hoped would be supportive and hold onto the secret, but she ended up turning around and telling all of their brothers, resulting in a good week of chaos. Ron didn't talk to her for about nearly ten days, and the twins gave Malfoy constant glares that were harsh enough to pierce glass.

They eventually came around to her after giving her the cold shoulder for what felt like weeks. She was their sister after all. But they still hated Malfoy and his entire family with fiery passion, and nothing was going to change that.

They had set ground rules — absolutely no forms of PDA while they were around to see, and no hanging out past curfew. Y/N found the rules ridiculous, she was her own person, and smart enough to make her own decisions, but she respected and loved her family enough to follow them.

“I’ll see you after Defense Against the Dark Arts, yeah?” Draco smiled at Y/N, his arm firm around her waist as the two made their way out of potions together.

“I don’t know why you’re skipping again,” Y/N smirked up at him, clutching her textbooks to her chest, “But yes, I’ll see you after class.”

Draco pressed a light kiss to her forehead and made his way through the crowded corridor, maneuvering his way around students until his blond hair was no longer visible. Y/N pushed her way through the chaos, trying her best to get to Defense class on time so she didn’t get any sort of detention or punishment from Umbridge herself.

She finally made it to class, only a minute to spare, and sat down next to a dark haired Ravenclaw girl who was chewing her gum with her mouth wide open. Y/N groaned to herself, hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with the ainfuriating sound all class.

Umbridge walked in, the clicking of her pink heels rendering the class silent as she made her way to the front, holding her wand in her evil little hands and smirking.

“Today we’ll be talking about our upcoming exams!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, taking out her quill and ready to take down notes.

-

Elsewhere in the castle, Fred and George were sitting in the Common Room, their other sister Ginny mindlessly levitating a feather as the two boys joked around and wrote down ideas for their upcoming joke shop.

“What if we made a chocolate bar that turned your burps into fire?” Fred asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

George nodded, “Oh, yeah, and we can call them… Bars of Fire.”

“That’s a stupid name.” Ginny dropped the feather, facing her siblings with her chin leaning in her hand. She wore an unimpressed expression, as if her mind was elsewhere.

“Bet you wouldn’t find it as stupid if we fed one to Malfoy.” George’s eyebrows wiggled as he looked between his two siblings. Fred’s eyes widened as a grin spread on his face, whereas Ginny just rolled her eyes.

“Drop it, just leave the two of them alone.” she stood up off of the chair, making her way up the stairs and into her room without another word. The twins looked at each other with the same confused expression, but brushed it off and went back to their plan. Ginny had been moody lately always now that she knew Harry and Cho were kind of a thing.

“No — seriously, what if we pranked Malfoy and made them break up?” George asked again, plotting the scenario in his head already.

“What kind of prank could we pull?” Fred asked, placing his fingers against his chin, “We should have her break up with him, because if it’s the other way around she might be really heartbroken and we don’t want that.”

George nodded, “You’re right. What if we made Y/N think Draco had done something completely awful?”

Fred’s head perked up, “Oh, so she’d be mad instead of sad. Very clever, Georgie.”

The two brothers tried to think of a way to get their sister to break up with her boyfriend without breaking her heart too much, but couldn’t come up with a solution.

“If only we could become Malfoy for like, ten minutes.” George pondered, tapping his finger against his nose.

“George, that’s it,” Fred stood up, arms in the air, “Polyjuice potion!”

-

As Y/N made her way out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, thanking the heavens that class ended early because she was about to snap at the gum-chewing girl next to her, she made her way to the courtyard where she knew Draco would be waiting for her.

She made her way through the crowd and landed in the opening, the sunlight hitting her skin and blinding her for a quick second before her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.

She spotted the blond head sitting on a bench on the other side of the field and walked over, smiling at him from a distance. He noticed her and grinned, sliding over to one side of the bench so she could sit next to him.

“How was class?” he asked her, placing arm around around her and pulling her closer to him. She leaned into his touch, a smile ghosting on her lips.

“It was fine. I’ve got notes if ever you want to look over what we’ve done, mister I-Skip-Class-To-Tease-First-Years.” she poked his side, eyebrow raised.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “I deal with Umbridge enough to not want to go to class anymore. Besides, she loves Slytherin so I can do no wrong.” He puffed out his chest as if he were proud of his lack of care.

She pulled away, “Hm, is that so? Guess it’s unfortunate I’m just a lousy Gryffindor, huh?”

“It is unfortunate,” he smirked, “But it’s alright, I still like you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms playfully, “Like me? That’s it?”

He grinned, pulling her close once more, “Oh, you know I love you.” She felt a light kiss on her forehead, his arms wrapped around her as if to claim her as his. Students walked by, almost thrown off at Draco’s openly affectionate demeanour, he wasn’t exactly the most ‘caring’ person in the world towards others, but since him and Y/N started dating he had changed quite a bit. His bitter, rude remarks towards innocent students had started to go down (with the exception of teasing first year students who got lost, of course), and he even smiled around his friends. He had changed for the better because of her.

Y/N was about to turn around and place a kiss on his cheek, but a flash of red hair caught her eye. Fred and George were watching the two of them from behind a pillar. Once her eyes landed on them, they had scattered off as if they were just wandering aimlessly.

She squinted, watching them retreat down the hall and out of sight.

“What is it?” Draco asked her, turning his head to face the direction she was also facing.

“Oh — nothing,” she turned back to face him, her mind slightly distracted trying to figure out why her brothers might have been spying on her. She grinned up at him and opened her notebook, going over the things they had discussed in class that day, making sure to emphasize the importance of the exams they'd be having in three weeks’ time.

-

That night, after dinner, Y/N sat in the Common Room by the fire, her nose in a book and the crackling of the log being the only noise in the room. Most students had gone off to bed since tomorrow morning there was an early Quidditch game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but Y/N had no intention of going. She had plans to go walk the grounds with Draco.

Sure, Y/N liked Quidditch, but she took all the alone time with her boyfriend that she could get — it was hard getting privacy at Hogwarts.

She found herself dozing off slightly, but was quickly startled awake as Fred and George crept into the room high-fiving each other.

“What’s got you two so thrilled?” Y/N slammed her book shut. The two boys’ smiled dropped as they looked towards their younger sister, who they really hoped wasn’t awake.

“We, uh, pranked Umbridge.” Fred said through gritted teeth, elbowing George in the side to make sure he lied along with him.

“Yeah — puking pastilles.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forwards, “Why’d you spy on me today?”

Fred was speechless, but lucky for him, George stepped up, “I saw Angelina. You know how Fred fancies her. She was with a guy and we wanted to make sure it was only platonic. We didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah,” Fred spoke up, “Angelina. And then we saw you — and you saw us. So we ran.”

Y/N shook her head, “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you run when I saw you if you weren’t even looking at me in the first place?” The book fell to the floor as she uncrossed her legs, but she didn’t lean over to pick it up, keeping her eyes on the mischievous boys in front of her, the fire making all of their hair appear as if it were glowing.

“Come on, little sister,” Fred plopped down on the couch, wrapping his arm around her, “Why do you think so lowly of us? We’re not always doing something evil.”

Y/N felt a pinch on her shoulder but brushed it off, squinting at her brothers, “Fine.”

The two brothers sighed in relief, bidding her a goodnight and rushing off to their rooms. Once they were out of sight, Fred turned to George with a wicked grin.

“I got the hair off her robes.”

-

The next morning, Y/N woke up to an empty dorm room. Everyone had already left for the Quidditch game, so she could take her time getting up. She got out of bed and changed into a baggy sweatshirt and some leggings, also putting on a pair warm socks and her shoes. She tied her red hair back into a ponytail and made her way down to the Great Hall. There weren’t a lot of people around apart from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses, so Y/N had free range for all the leftover food on the Gryffindor table. She made her way over, smiling over at Draco, who didn’t even look up when she had walked in.

She brushed it off, sitting down and grabbing a plate. She ate some quick breakfast, saying hi to the other Gryffindors who also skipped the game — only seeing Fred (who said he was staying behind to ‘brainstorm’ which Y/N thought was weird as they usually did that together), and walked over to the Slytherin table. Her eyes scanned all along the benches, but couldn’t spot her boyfriend anywhere. It’s not like he blended in, exactly. His hair was enough to make him stand out in a crowd of a thousand. He must have taken off already.

She looked over and noticed that none of Draco’s friends were there either.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and made her way out to the courtyard, their usual meet up spot, and searched for him there. He wasn't on their usual bench, nor was he on the bridge.

I wonder where he could be, she pondered in her head, entering the bright corridors of the castle, the morning sunlight illuminating every archway and column as if she was in the most magical place in the world. Which she kind of was, actually.

She made her way down to the dungeons, hoping that maybe they’d be lurking around in their Slytherin territory. She came down the long staircase, hearing quiet voices and quickening her pace.

In the dark, Crabbe and Goyle stood whispering and waving their hands in an exaggerated manner not five feet from the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room.

“Hey!” Y/N called out to them, waving her hand, “Have you two seen Draco?”

Goyle seemed nervous as he answered her, “Uh, no — I think he’s in the Common Room.”

Y/N’s smile dropped, wondering why he was in there when he told her he’d spend the morning with her, “Oh, can you tell him I’m here?”

“You — uh…” Crabbe stuttered before being knocked over the back of the head by Goyle. The two boys shared a strange look, piquing Y/N’s curiosity even more.

“What is it?”

Before any of them could answer, the Slytherin portal swung open and two people wearing green robes walked out, so Y/N took her chance and walked over, attempting to sneak in despite the fact that she had the Gryffindor logo on her sweater — a gift from her mother in third year.

She snuck past them, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle following after her, and stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes landed on her boyfriend.

Not only her boyfriend, but his lips pressed up against those of pug-faced Pansy Parkinson.

Y/N’s heart dropped, bile rising in her throat as her eyes stayed glued on them. She felt frozen in her step, unable to move as her heart continued sinking further and further, along with her pride.

What the hell?

She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, but she was not going to let that show. Her anger was overcoming her sadness.

Coughing to alert him off her presence, she raised her hand, flipped him off, and stormed out of the Slytherin Common Room, shoving Crabbe and Goyle out of her way with decent force. As she quickened her pace out of the dungeons, she could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes and flowing down her hot cheeks.

She ducked her head down, ignoring the stares people were giving her as she continued rushing to the Gryffindor Common Room, the tears flowing nearly non-stop by now. She got to the Common Room painting, practically shouting the password, and rushed in, collapsing on the couch in a fit of shakes and tears.

‘How dare he? That selfish ass’ Y/N repeated to herself in her mind, her blood boiling. She was so certain he cared about her, that he loved her, but she just caught him cheating on her and acted like she was the one in the wrong.

She glared up at the ceiling, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her sweater, mad at herself for falling for his lies and deceit. Her family warned her over and over again that the Malfoys were dangerous, but did she listen?

No.

She fell for his charm, his smile, his striking eyes, and he pushed her aside like she was nothing. Just yesterday, the two were sitting out in the courtyard enjoying each other’s company — was he thinking of stupid Pansy? How long had the two of them been a… thing?

Y/N felt like puking out her breakfast at the thought of them doing more than just kissing.

“Merlin’s beard, who killed your spirit?” A cheerful voice broke her devastating silence. She wiped her tears quickly, hiding her face in a pillow.

“Go away, Ginny.” Y/N muttered, her voice probably not even sounding like words through the thick feathers of the pillow.

“It’s the Common Room, I’m allowed to be here,” Ginny sassed, shoving Y/N’s legs off of the couch and sitting in their place, “Now, spill.”

So, Y/N did. She told Ginny all about what she had just seen.

Ginny’s face was red in anger, “That foul little git. I knew he was no good but this proves it.”

Y/N felt herself wanting to defend him, but she knew she shouldn’t. He probably wouldn't if it were the other way around. Despite the bitterness in her chest, she still wanted to know why. Why wasn't she good enough? Why did he need someone else when she was right there? Did she deserve this?

“And then he said ‘NOT TODAY, RAVENCLAW’!” Ron’s howling voice burst through the portal, his cheeks painted red and yellow in honour of the match that had just happened. Y/N guessed by the fire of excitement in his eyes that Gryffindor had won.

“Blimey, Harry’s the best seeker!” Dean Thomas clapped his hands, almost knocking the giant lion head on his chest to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked, sitting on the couch next to Y/N, immediately placing his hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

“Malfoy.” Ginny sneered, “That rat kissed another girl.”

Ron’s eyes went dark, “He what?! Good for nothing Slytherin, he is.”

Y/N had had enough of her siblings trashing him, despite his horrible actions, and rose to her feet with her hands on her hips, “Listen up you two. I get it, you’re upset. So am I. But the two of you bitching about him isn’t going to make me feel any better. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to my room.”

Y/N stormed off to her room, noticing the silence in the room. She had shouted it much louder than intended, so now everyone knew that something was up. She brushed off the thought and approached her bed, grabbing the pillow and shoving her face in it, muffling her silent sobs.

She was lucky it was a Saturday because she sure as hell didn’t feel like going to class today.

-

That evening, after sulking in her room all day (but being comforted by Ginny and Hermione), Y/N worked up the courage to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. Not that she didn't want to be seen, but because she knew she’d see Draco. She wasn’t sure if he even saw her barging in this morning, so there was a chance he’d act like nothing was wrong.

On the way down, Ginny stuck by her side and cracked lame jokes, occasionally making a small smile appear on Y/N’s face.

The Great Hall was busy, chit chat becoming the only sound you could hear upon entering. Y/N avoided looking over at the Slytherin table and beelined for the patch of ginger hair, seating herself between Ginny and Harry.

“Congrats on the win, Harry.” Y/N smiled, wanting to talk about something other than her current situation. Harry shot her a smile, thanking her silently, before picking at the potatoes on his plate.

Y/N looked around, not noticing Fred or George anywhere, which was strange as any time food was involved they were very much present. She brushed it off, thinking nothing of it, and continued on putting food on her plate. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but knew that her health was much more important than how her heart was feeling.

She could hear Pansy’s shrill laugh over all the noise in the hall, probably laughing at one of Draco’s cute jokes.

No, no.

His stupid jokes. Stupid.

Dinner was uneventful, there wasn't a constant flow of conversation, but the distraction was what Y/N needed to get her shoulders to stop slouching and the tears to stop flowing. She made her way out of the hall later on with Ron and Harry, who were deep in conversation about the upcoming Herbology exam — Ron’s plan was to cheat off of Neville’s paper.

Right as she was about to step out and into freedom, she was cut off by the voice she didn’t want to hear.

“Hey, Y/N, why didn’t you show up to the courtyard this morning? I slept in a little later than expected but then I went down and you weren’t there.” Draco jogged over, intercepting her before she could leave. Y/N felt Ron tense up from beside her, but she placed her hand on his shoulder to let him know to keep his cool.

“I saw you with Pansy, you git.” she spoke through gritted teeth, not daring to look into his eyes because she knew he’d render her weak with his piercing stare.

“Me and Pansy? What did me and Pansy do? I barely even saw her today.” he crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed as he looked to Y/N, who was still avoiding his gaze.

“Just… leave me alone, Malfoy.”

Draco felt a twinge of hurt in his chest. She had only called him Malfoy when she was pissed off. He was called Malfoy by everyone else, and she was the only one who called him Draco — he loved it, it was her thing. Draco remained oblivious to what he had done, but the fire in her eyes was dangerous.

“No, Y/N —,” Draco tried to reach out and grab her arm, but she turned away and speed-walked down the corridor with Ron and Harry by her side, who both looked back and glared at him as they walked.

Draco shook his head, trying to figure out what he’d done. He made his way back to the Slytherin table, trying to think of what he had done with Pansy that could have pissed off his girlfriend so much. He sat down next to Crabbe and Goyle, who looked up sadly at him.

“What are you two looking at?” he snapped, crossing his arms on the table.

Goyle spoke up first, “Well — we’re, uh, sorry we weren't able to keep Y/N out of the Slytherin Common Room this morning.”

“Wait,” Draco waved his hand, “When was she in the common room?” he thought back to that morning when he woke up, rushed out of bed and waited in the courtyard for thirty minutes. He didn’t remember ever seeing her anywhere near the dungeons.

Crabbe’s face flushed, “U-Uh, when you… when you were… you know, with Pansy.” Crabbe avoided eye contact, staring at the cup in front of him.

Draco was even more confused, “When I was what with Pansy?”

As if she heard her name, Pansy herself came and sat next to Draco, slinging her arm around him as if claiming him as hers. Draco shuddered, pushing her away. He wouldn’t mind if it was Y/N, but Pansy’s obsession with him was weird enough, he didn't want physical contact with her.

“Draco, did you miss me? Haven’t seen you since this morning.” she whispered lowly, closer to his ear than he would have liked.

“I didn’t even see you this morning.” he waved his arms, “I don't get what’s happening. Is this a joke?”

Pansy chuckled, her obnoxious laugh sounding through the hall once more. Draco rolled his eyes, just wanting answers. None of this made sense, and now Y/N had stormed away from him.

“A prank? What do you mean? It didn’t feel like a prank, that was a good kiss.” Pansy grinned, twirling her hair as she thought back to this morning.

“A kiss?” Draco felt colour drain from his face, his hands immediately going cold, “Who kissed?”

“We did,” Pansy stated as if it were obvious, “In the common room. Merlin, if you can’t even remember, how many girls did you kiss today?”

Draco felt like throwing up, “But I didn’t kiss you, I didn’t kiss anyone.” He knew his face was showing complete disgust, but he didn’t care whether he insulted her or not. He did not kiss her.

“Not to step in,” Goyle spoke up, voice cracking, “You did tell us to stand guard of the Common Room incase Y/N showed up because you wanted to… have ‘alone’ time with Parkinson. And then she walked in and saw you two snogging on the couch.”

“I never said that, you bloody idiot,” Draco snapped, forcing his first down against the table, “I didn’t kiss her. Sorry, Pansy, but I’d never kiss you.”

Pansy gasped, placing her hand dramatically over her chest as if she had been hit with a curse, “But you did.”

Draco shook his head, pissed off at everyone in the room. He glared at the three people around him and stormed out of the room and down to the dungeons, trying to think of what the hell just happened. Y/N saw him kissing Pansy, but he didn’t kiss Pansy. Which made no sense, so what could she have seen? Why was everyone saying that this had happened?

-

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Y/N laid in her bed with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Why Draco bothered denying the kiss was beyond her, but she saw it nonetheless. She hated thinking about how many times this had happened before.

No, don’t go there, her mind snapped at her.

“Does he think I’m stupid or something?” she asked to the two girls sitting the room with her.

“No — only an idiot would think you’re an idiot,” Hermione scoffed, sitting up suddenly, “Wait, maybe he does then.”

Y/N chuckled, tossing a little bouncy ball up and down, trying not to hit the drapes and topple the whole bed over.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t come near you, don’t worry.” Ginny grinned at her sister, clutching a pillow to her chest.

Y/N, however devastated, felt lucky she had two supportive best friends to help her out. She knew that the next few weeks would be tough, especially having to see Draco in class and during meals, but she’d act strong enough to make it seem like he wasn’t affecting her.

-

The rest of the weekend had gone by slowly. Y/N was partially grateful for that since she didn’t have to face anyone in class, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her chest. She hadn’t seen Draco at any of the meals and although most of her siblings were supportive, Fred and George — who she could always rely on to cheer her up — had also practically vanished. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were avoiding her.

But when Monday rolled around, everything changed.

Y/N rushed down to have breakfast before anyone else was awake, enjoying the peaceful sunshine streaming in through the windows of the hall. She hadn’t slept much, it was hard not to shake the image of her boyfriend — ex boyfriend — and Pansy from her mind. She could feel the bags under her eyes which earned herself a concerned smile from McGonagall as she munched quietly on breakfast.

She was also the first one in Potions that morning, sitting near the front of the class so she wouldn’t have to stare at a platinum head of hair all class. Snape walked in, slightly startled by how early she was, but he went on and did his own thing, only looking up every time another student walked in.

“Is this seat taken?”

Y/N’s face dropped, looking up at the boy who singlehandedly crushed her heart. He didn’t look any better than she did, his eyes were darker and more sunken in than usual and he seemed even paler, if that was possible.

“Before you say no, I’m going to sit.” he pulled the chair back and sat down, not even adjusting his wrinkled robes.

“Look — I don’t know what you saw,” he placed a finger on her lip before she could scold him, “I never, ever kissed Pansy. Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Y/N crossed her arms, “She’s been obsessed with you since first year. You’re an attention hog. You two go perfectly.” She wanted so hard to tell him off, yell at him until she had no more voice, but as she looked into his eyes she felt herself still clinging to his every word as if she believed him.

“Ok, never say her and I go perfectly ever again, I’d rather vomit and then eat it,” he held his hands up in defense, “Besides, why would I kiss someone else when I’ve got you? The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, “I saw you, Malfoy. Nothing can take that back.”

“But it wasn’t me,” he pleaded, eyes practically begging her for forgiveness.

“Go sit elsewhere, please.” Y/N turned away from him, facing the front of the class where Snape stood, glaring at them for speaking even when class hadn't started.

“Y/N—,”

“Please, just go.”

Draco’s face fell, heart dropping, but he stood up slowly and walked to the back of the class, shoving Goyle out of his seat and installing himself next to Crabbe. Y/N didn’t look back at him, only moving her head when Hermione sat next to her.

“Did he try talking to you?” Hermione whispered, opening her book and preparing herself for class.

“Yep.” Y/N mumbled, leaning her head in her hand and nearly jumping out of her skin when Snape announced class had begun.

It went by surprisingly quickly, but Y/N stayed back to avoid rushing by Draco on the way out. She stared at him in confusion when instead of leaving class, he made his way over to Snape and started whispering about something secretive.

Y/N ignored it and walked out of the dusty room, Hermione by her side.

-

Days went by before Draco spoke to her again — he was losing his mind. After he hung back from potions class to ask Snape about missing ingredients for polyjuice potion and got a confirmation that someone had taken stuff from his inventory, he was on a mission to find out who had done it. Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t stand being around him, his patience wearing thin and his attitude being through the roof, so he dealt with it alone.

He couldn't go storming up to Y/N without proof that it was polyjuice potion, she'd just tell him to bugger off again. So he made it his life’s mission (of the past few days) to hunt the person down — unfortunately, to no avail.

Y/N on the other hand was trying her damn hardest to keep her mind off of him, occupying herself by reading, walking the entire castle, and spending more time than usual with her family. She had eventually found Fred and George, who told her the only reason they’d been avoiding her was because they knew they wouldn’t be able to hold back the rude comments about him and didn’t want to hurt her further.

So, it came as a major surprise to Y/N when Draco stormed up to her during dinner and shoved her out of the way, pointing his finger at the twins, “You two…. you two ruined everything.”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” George crossed his arms, “You’re the one who went off snogging someone else.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Draco sneered, “It was one of you two.”

Y/N stepped up, placing her hand on Draco’s chest and turning him to face her, “Uh, I think you’ve lost your mind.”

“Let me explain,” Draco didn’t look at her, instead keeping his eyes on the twins, “First of all, when everyone started accusing me of snogging someone who I hadn’t even seen that day, I knew something was off. Then, it hit me, so I asked Snape if any of the ingredients for polyjuice potion had been stolen from his office, and he said yes. So I did some digging. One, I tried to check who was in the castle at that time that would have something against me — against my relationship with Y/N. My first thought was her family.”

“What if someone just fancied Parkinson?” Fred asked, also crossing his arms, eyebrows raised as if he were standing off against Draco.

“Not possible,” Draco continued, “So, process of elimination. She mentioned to me the night before that Ginny and Ron were going to the quidditch game — leaving you two. When I was sitting out in the courtyard, you two just happened to walk by and give me the dirtiest of stares, as if you already knew I had done something wrong. How would you have known about the kiss if you hadn’t seen me, nor Y/N?”

Y/N felt her heart sink and she looked over at her brothers, not even focusing on the fact that so many people were staring at them. Draco wasn’t exactly being quiet, but she didn’t seem to pay attention to that, her eyes trained on her family around her.

“Is this — is this true?” Y/N’s voice cracked as she looked at her brothers, “Did you use polyjuice potion to look like Draco to kiss Pansy so him and I would break up?”

Fred and George looked down to their little sister, their faces filled with sorry. She had her answer. She sat down on the bench, her legs giving in underneath her. Her own brothers lied. They crushed her heart. She had never done anything to them, and they ruined her relationship, probably finding it funny in the process.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry,” Fred knelt down, looking her in the eye, his face scanning hers for any sign of forgiveness. She could feel the anger and betrayal bubbling in her chest. George placed his hand on her shoulder, gripping ever so tightly as if his actions were speaking louder than his words. Which, in the end, they did.

“You arse! Both of you! You’re unbelievable.” she stood up, giving her brothers a good shove, “I knew you wouldn’t be happy with Draco and I, but this is low. Incredibly low. Even for you two.”

She glared at them and stormed out of the hall, her heart shattered even more than it had been days ago. Draco chased after her, not caring about the rest of her family as he caught up to her.

“Y/N, hold up,” Draco grabbed her arm, twisting her around to face him. The tears were pouring down her face, and he could feel his heart break as he took in her expression. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, rubbing her back slowly as she cried. He shielded her away from onlookers, cornering her behind a wall so they could be in private.

“I can’t believe them.” she sobbed, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes on her sleeve, “My brothers. They’re my family, they’re supposed to support me, no?”

Draco didn’t really know much about family support — in his mind, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy weren’t exactly winning any ‘parent of the year’ awards — but even he knew how close the Weasley family was, and how much that meant to her.

He continued soothing her, placing kisses on her forehead every now and then.

“Draco — I’m so sorry,” she looked up at him, “I’ve been avoiding you for days and I didn’t hear you out when you told me it wasn’t you. I was just so crushed. I was selfish, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Draco shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you. You saw what you saw. You handled it way better than I would have if the tables had been turned.”

Y/N giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist, “Thanks for figuring it out. It sucks, but I’m glad you didn’t actually cheat.”

He placed one of his hands under her chin, tilting her head up in the slightest so he could lean down and press his lips on hers. She leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck and lacing her fingers through his hair. It was tender, passionate, and every ounce of love these two had for each other could be felt through their gentle movements.

Reluctantly, Draco pulled away, “C’mon, why don’t we go for a walk to take your mind off of everything.”

Y/N grinned, nodding her head and interlacing her hand with his, walking outside into the brisk night air, stars shining brightly up above them, with Draco by her side again. She knew she’d end up forgiving her idiot brothers eventually, they were her family after all, but right now, all she could focus on was the pure bliss she felt from having her boyfriend back.

“I love you,” she smiled up at him as they continued walking at a slow pace, enjoying one another’s company.

“And I love you,” he gave her nose a light poke, smiling his dazzling smile as they stared up at the stars.

[yourfaceislikeabluemoon]

His Little Imp

Words: 4.5k

Warning: Finger sucking, blowjob, face-fucking, cum play/cum eating, handjob, slight exhibitionism (if you squint), usual dirty talk, and language.

A/N: soooo I haven’t posted something like this in ages 👀 like I haven’t done a member x member fic in a really long time. but this idea barged into my head while I was trying to fall asleep one night and it wouldn’t go away. plus, this is a favorite trope of mine heh heh. also, it is conveniently Felix’s birthday as I’m posting this (I swear that wasn’t actually intentional, it just worked out that way lol). this isn’t edited bc I kinda forgot and also I’m lazy 😂 anywho, I hope you enjoy - I sure enjoyed writing it hehe ❤

The whipped cream was distracting. Tasty, sure, but it was the tiny glob on the side of Felix's mouth that he had somehow missed when he licked his lips that kept grabbing Seungmin's attention. After a few moments of actively trying, and failing, to ignore it, Seungmin sighed exasperatedly and reached to thumb it away. "Lix, you have whipped cream on your face," he alerted the older boy before he swiped the offending substance off his skin.

Felix made a noise of recognition and leaned forward to give Seungmin better access. The younger gently scooped the cream off with his thumb but wasn't fast enough in retracting his hand; without warning, Felix sucked the whipped cream off and giggled as his cheeks tinged slightly pink. Seungmin stilled, lips parted and eyes wide, and he could only imagine how red his own face was. Felix shrugged and looked away as Seungmin finally let his hand drop to his own lap, "Couldn't let it go to waste."

Seungmin awkwardly cleared his throat and nodded stiffly, "Uh, yeah, of course."

And that was that. They both went back to what they were doing before the 'incident', Felix acting like nothing had happened. But Seungmin was still distracted, just not by the whipped cream anymore. He couldn't get the image of his thumb in Felix's mouth out of his head; those pillowy, raspberry-colored lips, how warm and wet his mouth was, the juxtaposition of innocence and mischief that glinted in the older boy's eyes when Seungmin finally tore his gaze away from Felix's mouth and made brief eye contact, and the faint blush that dusted over those freckled cheeks.

That moment replayed in Seungmin's head way more times than he would ever admit. Not that he would admit to thinking about Felix's mouth in the first place, absolutely not. Seungmin definitely didn't think about Felix's mouth when he was tucked away in bed that night, staring at the inside of his eyelids and willing himself to just go to sleep.

~

Days later, Seungmin was cooking something in the kitchen of the dorm, it being his idea instead of Felix's for once. He regretted that idea fairly quickly when he gracelessly elbowed a full bowl off the countertop and reflexively tried to catch it, making an even bigger mess in the process. Seungmin swore and threw his head back dramatically, groaning in frustration.

"Lix, I made a mess again."

Felix shuffled into the kitchen already laughing even before he saw the state the younger boy was in, "How many times are you gonna tell me that exact thing in our lifetimes?"

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and held up both hands, one of which was dripping with the sauce from the bowl, and stared down, past his sauce-streaked apron, at the liquid covering the floor surrounding and all over his feet. Felix tip-toed closer, avoiding the splatters and various sized puddles, and grabbed Seungmin's wrist which startled him. He looked over just in time to see Felix's plump lips closing around two fingers. The texture of Felix's tongue sliding against the pads of his fingertips, ridding them of the sauce, also rid his brain of anything and everything; his mind was just static. His entire body felt like static, too. The only place that had any feeling left was the hand in Felix's grasp and mouth. Jolts of electricity transferred from Felix's taste buds down Seungmin's wrist into the numbness of his arm while Seungmin stood motionless, mouth agape and something akin to disbelief etched into his expression.

Felix dragged the fingers from his mouth and looked off into the distance as he licked his lips, "Needs more salt."

Apparently, even when his entire body is in some weird form of hibernation, Seungmin's knack for sarcasm is completely unharmed, working as usual despite the lack of function everywhere else. So he said the first thing that barged into his empty brain, "Oh, well, hand me the salt shaker. I'll just sprinkle some on the floor here."

Felix snorted and doubled over with laughter, his tiny hands clutching his knees, "Sorry. Sorry, that, yeah, never mind." He wiped at his eyes and straightened up, "Let's clean up."

Seungmin nodded in agreement and looked disdainfully at his feet, "I really need to change my socks." Felix followed his gaze and cringed before busting out laughing again.

And just like that, they acted like nothing happened. Again. Only this time, Seungmin had a new image brandished into the back of his eyelids when he struggled to sleep that night. And this time when Seungmin replayed the moment in his mind, there was definitely no trace of innocence in Felix's eyes.

~

Now that his brain had so thoughtfully provided him with a new fixation, all Seungmin could think about was Felix's plush lips and warm, wet mouth. His eyes found Felix's face far too often and lingered on his lips for far too long. It was getting bad and he really hoped that no one noticed, especially Felix. But, alas, luck was not on his side -- it never was when it came to this 'situation'.

"Minnie, you're staring again," Felix pointed out from his spot on the couch, legs draped over the back and his head dangling with his attention fixed on his phone.

Seungmin grunted in acknowledgement and blinked rapidly. In his defense, he admittedly had been staring at Felix's mouth but sometime before his brain alerted him to look away after an unsuspicious amount of time, his thoughts wandered and he ended up staring off into space, deep in contemplation. "Sorry," he apologized and squirmed in his seat across from Felix, "Just thinking, didn't even know I was staring."

Felix hummed and spun himself around so he was sitting like a normal human being before patting the place next to him for Seungmin to come sit. "But, unconsciously or not, you've been staring at me a lot." Felix watched the younger make his way over, frowning when he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He quickly crawled over to Seungmin and sat back on his heels, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "Is something wrong, Minnie? Did I do something wrong?" The pout was evident both in his tone and on those lips of his that Seungmin caught himself gawking at yet again.

Seungmin vehemently shook his head and tried to back away but was blocked by the armrest, "No! No, not at all! Everything's fine!"

Felix hummed again, squinting suspiciously as he eyed the younger boy before his expression morphed into one of smugness and teasing. "Like what you see?"

Snapping his eyes up from where they had been watching Felix speak, Seungmin swallowed thickly, "Uh, is that a trick question?"

Felix shook his head slowly and bit at his bottom lip. "Oh, come on. There must be something keeping your attention or else you wouldn't be staring at me every waking moment!"

Seungmin floundered, unable to come up with an answer. What was he supposed to do? Tell him the truth? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Felix. I just have this super weird fascination with your mouth and it's all I can think about. Not just during the day, I can't even sleep at night because I keep imagining your mouth. I want you to suck on my fingers again just to feel you, nothing major. Yeah, like that was gonna happen. That would go over so well.

"Am I really that pretty you can't keep your eyes off me?"

Seungmin was abruptly wrenched from his thoughts by the boy that was still kneeling on the couch next to him. He was all too aware of the fact that they were sitting too close to each other, so much so that Felix's bare knees were pressed up against Seungmin's thigh. Seungmin's brain finally processed the question he had just been asked but before he could stop himself, he breathed out his answer.

"Yes."

Felix's eyes became hooded and dark and he leaned in closer, a smirk curving his lips. "Tell me, what's your favorite feature of mine?" It should have sounded extremely narcissistic but something in the tone of Felix's voice, a bit contemptuous with just a hint of genuine curiosity, made Seungmin heat up, surely blushing a brilliant shade of red under Felix's enticing gaze.

Seungmin's mouth went dry and he found himself swallowing again as he fumbled for another answer, but Felix held up a finger to halt him. "Wait, let me guess! Could it be my tiny hands?" He wiggled his fingers and scrunched up his nose cutely.

"Oh, maybe it's my eyes," Felix tilted forward again, batting his lashes seductively and looked up at Seungmin through them.

The older suddenly sat up on his knees and lifted his shirt, causing panic to rise in Seungmin and something else. "Probably my itty-bitty waist, right? Wanna grab at it with your big, strong hands?" Felix teased as Seungmin's eyes wandered over the expanse of skin directly in front of him, defined abs, deep v-lines, and that tiny waist.

Seungmin was sweating. Or maybe that was drool. Probably both. And he wanted to touch. Bad.

He instantly glanced up when Felix started talking again, "But that wouldn't make any sense." He dropped his shirt and plopped back down, pouting because he hadn't guessed correctly yet. "You've been staring at my face this whole time." Realization washed over Felix's face and the smirk made its way back onto his plush, tempting lips.

And it was in that moment that Seungmin knew he was fucked.

Felix had known the whole time. He was just having fun riling Seungmin up, making him sweat, making him want him even more, the little devil. "I know," Felix licked his lips, seemingly in slow motion, "It's my mouth you like, isn't it, Minnie?"

Seungmin's sharp intake of air was answer enough. Felix nodded once, "You can touch if you want."

The younger gulped and hesitantly lifted his hand to the other boy's face. When he got within an inch, Felix snarled and snapped his teeth. Seungmin practically jumped out of his skin, eyes like saucers and his breathing labored and panting.

Felix giggled. He giggled. "I'm just kidding, Minnie! I won't bite. Unless you want me to." Felix winked and sucked in his bottom lip to bite down on it. When it popped free from his mouth, the wet flesh glistened in the light and Seungmin threw all fear out the window, grasping the side of the older boy's face before slowly sliding his thumb over Felix's bottom lip and lightly tugging it down. Felix poked his tongue out impishly and hummed, giving Seungmin permission for whatever he wanted to do next.

The younger boy's stare flicked from Felix's mouth, up to his eyes, and back down again. Seungmin retracted his hand only slightly to rest two of his fingertips against the pillowiness of Felix's lips. Tongue peeking out again, Felix gently licked at Seungmin's fingers, watching him intently and gauging his reaction, and when the younger gasped and his eyes fluttered but stayed open, Felix took both fingers into his mouth and sucked.

The faintest moan slipped from Seungmin and he breathed heavily, "Lix."

Felix hummed and smiled around the digits in his mouth, laving his tongue against the fingertips and sucking diligently. He found himself leaning in even further, hands resting on the couch in front of him and his ass perked out, an elegant curve to his spine.

Felix could feel his sense of control slipping and he almost lost it completely when Seungmin pushed his fingers in further and pressed down on the back of his tongue, causing him to gag a bit. Seungmin groaned in response, free hand snaking up to rest at the nape of Felix's neck as he slid down further into the couch.

Felix took the opportunity to move his hands from the sofa seat to rest one hand on each of the younger boy's thighs. Seungmin jolted minutely at the contact but smiled weakly as he pulled his fingers from the older's mouth, a single strand of saliva connecting them like spider silk sparkling in the light. Felix pouted at the emptiness and started to lean backwards but Seungmin stopped him with both hands on his waist. Quirking an eyebrow, Felix leaned back in as Seungmin tugged him forward.

"C'mere," he slurred and pulled the older into his lap. Felix fell against him from the force and chuckled as he situated himself in Seungmin's lap, thighs resting on either side and his arms draped over the younger boy's shoulders. Seungmin stared up at him, completely entranced, eyes wandering over every facial feature, stopping at every freckle and marveling at the beauty in front of him.

Felix giggled, "Minnie?"

"Huh?" Seungmin grunted, immediately making eye contact, pupils already blown.

A coy little grin playing over Felix's face, he leaned in a trifle closer and whispered, "Aren't you gonna kiss me?"

Seungmin was well and truly fucked.

He gulped and wet his lips, steeling himself in preparation. Not that he didn't want to kiss Felix -- boy did he ever! But this was something that had only played out in fantasies behind his eyelids when he let his mind spin things just enough while he was in that space between awake and unconsciousness when he laid in bed at night. This wasn't something he ever expected to happen outside of his daydreams, so to say Felix's question caught him off guard was the understatement of the century.

Felix saw the brief flicker of panic in Seungmin's eyes and he couldn't help but frown, fearing that he had somehow made the younger uncomfortable. "Minnie, if you don't want to kiss me-"

"No! It's not that at all, believe me!" Seungmin reassured as he soothed his hands up and down Felix's sides. He chuckled despite himself, "I just- I've thought about this so much but I guess I never really thought it would happen in real life?" He winced slightly at how lame he sounded but Felix was beaming and Seungmin could see the older boy's desire to tease sparkling in his dark eyes.

"I'm curious," Felix paused to bite at his lip playfully, "How did it go in your daydreams -- us kissing?"

Seungmin yet again explored his deserted brain for an answer and came up empty handed. The twinkle in Felix's eyes somehow became even more mischievous and he scrunched his nose a little before laughing breathily, "Why don't you just show me?"

The younger nodded dumbly, a hesitant palm resting on Felix's hip while the other shakily reached for the side of his face, thumbing at his bottom lip once again. Seungmin delicately guided Felix forward, noses brushing and fingers trembling.

The closer they got, the more Felix could feel his own nervousness thrumming in his chest and he wondered if Seungmin could hear how fast his heart was racing. But, he assumed, Seungmin's heart was most likely beating wildly, too. Their breaths mingled and jolts of electricity went through them both when their lips barely grazed each other's. Felix was yearning to just dive in and kiss him hard, no second thoughts, but he wanted Seungmin to take the lead and do whatever he was comfortable with.

After what felt like ages, Seungmin softly pressed his lips against Felix's and quickly pulled back a little bit. The older couldn't help the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Seemingly just testing the waters with that initial peck, Seungmin searched Felix's eyes for any sort of hesitation or discomfort and when he found nothing but ardor and rascality, he leaned back in. So gently, so carefully, so sweetly, Seungmin kissed Felix and drew him in closer, chests pressed together.

Seungmin was in heaven -- Felix's lips were somehow even softer than they looked or how he'd imagined, the feeling of holding him was the definition of blissful, and he couldn't get enough.

Felix was going insane -- he felt like a madman and he felt bad about it because all he wanted to do was kiss Seungmin senseless but darling, charming Seungmin was kissing him so innocently.

A few cautious pecks later, Felix calmly pulled away and smiled warmly. "I know I'm small but you don't have to be so careful with me, Minnie. I won't break. And I don't mind if you're a little rougher with me." The older couldn't help the blush that crept onto his cheeks, "I actually kinda like it. A lot."

That was all Seungmin needed; his gaze immediately darkened and his chest rumbled in a sort of growl before pulling Felix back in. His kiss had gone from gentle and pure to searing and sinful at the drop of a hat. He was stealing Felix's breath and the older found himself gripping onto Seungmin's shirt to stabilize himself to some extent.

Seungmin bit and nipped at Felix's pillowy lips, occasionally sucking the lower into his own mouth. He licked at the seam, silently asking for permission, which Felix unabashedly gave instantly.

Felix's jaw went slack and his eyes practically rolled to the back of his head when Seungmin's tongue finally tangled with his own. He whined lewdly when Seungmin sucked in his tongue and, at the same time, squeezed his ass firmly, yanking him in even closer. Felix couldn't help but roll his hips, grinding down in Seungmin's lap and relishing in the low moan the younger let out when their clothed erections brushed against each other.

"Want you in my mouth. Wanna taste you," Felix whimpered against Seungmin's lips when they paused to breathe.

Seungmin chuckled, "Isn't that what we're doing?"

Panting, Felix shook his head and pouted, "Wanna suck you off. Please?"

Breath caught in his throat, Seungmin stared at the boy in his lap. "Any of the guys could come out or come home and see us, we're on the communal couch," he hissed, panicking.

Felix pouted more and punctuated his begging by grinding down again, "Please, want you in my mouth. Please?"

Throwing caution to the wind, Seungmin groaned and tossed his head back before nodding, "Fuck. Yeah, OK. Fuck yes."

Eagerly clambering out of Seungmin's lap and onto the floor in front of him between his legs, Felix clutched at the strong thighs next to him in anticipation. He nosed at Seungmin's clothed length, humming contentedly while the younger squirmed under him.

Seungmin's hips canted and he couldn't help but moan deeply as Felix palmed him and mumbled into his thigh, "You want my mouth just as much as I want your cock, don't you?"

"Ngh, yes. Please, Lix," he groaned at the ceiling. Felix toyed with his zipper, still keen to tease despite being desperate himself. "Please," another whispered imploration. The eldest smiled softly and obliged him, undoing his jeans and tugged them down with bated breath. Seungmin lifted his hips to make it easier, resting back into the couch when Felix had pulled them partway down his legs.

The younger was straining against his briefs, his cock having already leaked enough pre-cum for it to leave a dark spot on the front. Felix whined when he noticed it and pressed gentle kisses along the still covered shaft before sucking at the head through the material, tiny hands kneading at the meat of his thighs, fingertips occasionally slipping under the hem to rile the younger up even more. Seungmin was gripping onto the couch like his life depended on it, drunk off the pleasure regardless of the fact that he was still in his briefs.

Felix quickly solved that problem, fingers dipping under the waistband to slide down the offending item of clothing. His breath hitched when Seungmin's hard cock slapped against his lower stomach and his eyes flicked up to the younger's, mouth agape and watering. Seungmin chuckled huskily and took the perfect opportunity to throw Felix's words back in his face, "Like what you see?"

Felix blinked torpidly and nodded, unable to hide the blush that dusted his cheeks when he registered the question. Without preamble, he leaned in to suck at Seungmin's balls. "Oh!" Seungmin shuddered, gasping at the sudden contact. Felix hummed and lapped at the supple flesh before licking up to the head of his cock. There he suckled tenderly, the tip of his tongue sporadically dipping into the slit, and made eye contact with Seungmin who looked close to passing out.

Panting and squirming, it was Seungmin's turn to whimper, "Shit, Lix! You look so fucking pretty! God!"

Felix fluttered his lashes in response and sunk down on Seungmin's dick, lips stretching obscenely around his girth. He moaned at the feeling of the younger boy hot and heavy on his tongue; his eyes rolled back and drool dripped from the corners of his mouth. Seungmin moaned right along with him, throwing his head back and anchored himself so as not to thrust wildly into Felix's tight, wet throat.

"Lixie, so pretty for me," he brushed strands of hair from Felix's eyes as the older looked up at him again and rested his hand against one freckled cheek, feeling it bulge and hollow as Felix fervently sucked. "Fuck, your pretty mouth was made for my cock, wasn't it?"

Felix whined and nodded in agreement, easing more of Seungmin down with each bob of his head. When he reached the base, he swallowed tightly, tears pooling in his eyes from the discomfort. Seungmin whimpered above him, getting lost in the pleasure. "How can someone be that pretty even when they cry?" he whispered, not really intending for Felix to hear, but the older heard and preened nonetheless.

With one last lave of his tongue over the bulging veins in the underside of Seungmin's cock, Felix pulled up slowly, the head falling from his lips with a filthy pop. He pumped the length with his hand, all the saliva making the slide slippery and smooth. "I know you're close, Minnie," Felix arched an eyebrow, "Are you holding out on me?"

Seungmin's hips pitched forward ever so slightly, dick twitching in the older's grasp, "Ngh, you feel too good. Wanna feel you for as long as I can. Don't wanna stop."

"Oh, baby! I'm not going anywhere! You can have my mouth again whenever you want, don't you worry about that!" Felix placed a single kiss on the head of his cock, seemingly sealing his promise, before smiling up at Seungmin, a dash of feigned pity behind his eyes. "Besides, it must hurt to hold it in so long like this." He tutted and shook his head, "No, that won't do. I know what'll make you cum, baby." Seungmin's hips shot forward at the pet name and Felix snickered meanly, "Here, fuck my mouth. I know you want to."

Seungmin whined and whimpered and writhed. He did want to. So badly. But he didn't want to hurt Felix. The eldest noticed the hesitation and smiled genuinely, "It's ok! I like it rough, remember?" Seungmin nodded tentatively and Felix took him back into his mouth, bracing himself against the strong thighs at his sides. The younger shyly thrusted once, again testing the waters, but when Felix's throat accommodated him so well, he sighed and reached to tangle his fingers in the older's hair before beginning to shallowly thrust. Felix moaned around the cock in his mouth, loving the feeling of his throat being abused as Seungmin's pace quickened and his strokes strengthened.

The older was a whimpering mess being used for Seungmin's pleasure and that got Felix more turned on than he's possibly ever been in his life. He reached down with one hand to grip at his dick over his shorts, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but he ended up pulling out his cock to thrust into his own hand, chasing the blinding satisfaction that he was on the very cusp of.

Seungmin was scorching hot, belly burning with his release so close, "Lix, I'm- I can't last anymore." Felix hummed in encouragement, quickening his own pace on his leaking length. "Lix, can I- I wanna cum on your face. You'd look so fucking pretty with my cum on your face. Can I, please?" Felix was eagerly nodding the entire time Seungmin was begging, or nodding as best he could while choking on his cock.

The younger whispered 'thank you's over and over again as he tugged Felix off by his hair and started to jerk at his sensitive dick. Felix obediently held his mouth open, tongue lolling out in wait, and seconds later, streaks of white painted his lips. A few shot up to land across his freckled cheeks and nose, narrowly missing his eyes, which he was thankful for because he could fully see Seungmin's reaction to his face covered in his cum. And god it was beautiful. So was Felix in Seungmin's eyes. And he told him so.

"Gorgeous," Seungmin breathed, smearing his cockhead in the cum covering Felix's bottom lip. The eldest moaned and smiled, lashes fluttering closed before he suckled any leftover drops of cum from Seungmin's cock and licked his lips. He dragged his fingertips across his face, scooping up all the cum, and sucked it from his fingers, making sure to look Seungmin in the eye as he did.

"Fuck, you're filthy," Seungmin smirked and tugged him back up into his lap, "C'mere." Felix clumsily scampered up, still hard cock bouncing against his own stomach when he sat down. Seungmin glanced down, smirk widening, and took Felix into his hand. "Good. Wanted to see you cum all over yourself anyway."

Felix whined, "And you said I was the dirty one."

Seungmin smiled naughtily before leaning in closer and started to tug at Felix's cute, pink cock. "Gonna make you even dirtier." The older keened and surged forward to kiss Seungmin again. Seungmin groaned when he tasted himself on Felix's tongue but made no effort to move away which made Felix twitch in his grasp. The younger twisted his hand and thumbed at his frenulum, making Felix gasp into his mouth. He swallowed his moans and jerked him to completion, cum spilling over his hand and shooting up the front of Felix's shirt. "Looks like you made the mess this time, Lix," Seungmin whispered against his mouth. Felix punched him in the arm and giggled as he came down from his high.

The two heard a noise and Felix turned around just in time to see Hyunjin, jaw on the floor, slap a hand over his eyes, immediately do a 180, and made a beeline out of the room, presumably in the direction from which he came. Felix giggled while Seungmin groaned, "I knew we'd get caught! You're gonna pay for this, you little incubus!"

~

Later that night, far past midnight, there was a soft knock on Seungmin's bedroom door. He opened it to find his little imp smiling sweetly, already batting his lashes.

"Can I help you, demon?" Seungmin asked with a raised eyebrow.

Felix clasped his hands in front of himself and cutely twisted in place, his big t-shirt billowing out around him made him look even tinier than usual. "I believe you promised me a punishment."

Seungmin scoffed before glancing the older up and down and growled, "This time, I'm shoving my fingers down your throat while I suck you off."

Felix feigned shock as he closed the door behind himself, "Minnie, how scandalous!"

[vanchlo]

Effervescent

Blurb Synopsis: During your break, instead of going to the stuffy staff break room, you wander outside into the cool air by the waterpark. Unbeknownst to you, there you meet a bubbly stranger in the hot tub, and never again is your life the same. 

Genre: 2015 Harry, fluff, and romance.  

Word Count: 4.6k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Champagne Supernova by Oasis (click to listen bc I love this song and it fits the theme I think?)

P.S. - Funny story, I found this in my Notes and I had started writing this in 2016. Crazy. I liked rereading it and figured I’d finish it, so don’t be too hard on me, please. Enjoy! ;) 

It was the dead of winter, but you couldn’t spend any more time inside, or in that lousy closet of a break room with your coworkers for another minute. They were well past getting on your last nerve, and you weren’t going to let them ruin your one slice of ‘me time’ today. 

Squeaky children’s voices and the sound of water hits your ears as you take a shortcut. The door opens with a little punch! when you press on the horizontal bar. Cold air meets your clammy skin quickly, refreshing you. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as your sweaty back meets the cold surface of the glass door. Pebbles grind beneath your feet and birds caw in the distance. When you turn to look around like any regular human being, you almost run right back into the door when you see the head of brown hair a few feet away, bobbing out of the water. 

“Didn’ mean t’ scare ya, love, ‘m sorry,” the mannish-boy says, pushing his long wet hair off of his face with his ringed fingers. 

“N-No it’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude, I’ll just-.”

“No, ’s okay. Ya gonna have a smoke or sumthin’?” he questions. Your head goes from side to side in answer. Meanwhile, he nods as steam rises from around him out of the round bubbling hot tub he sits alone in. His tattooed arms float on the surface, moving with the water slowly. 

“I was just getting some air on my break. I couldn’t stand to be in the break room not getting a minute to myself alone.”

“Ah, I can’ blame ya. I hate people like that when ‘m not in tha mood, they’re bloody annoying. Neva shut up, it seems,” he quips, his long pink lips spreading into his flawless white smile. 

“Yeah, you have no idea.”

He continues to smile at you, and the nagging thoughts poking at your mind all day are gone for a moment. “Why dontcha come over here? Gimme some company, how ‘bout?” he suggests, trying to wave you over. Water falls fast and long from his tall round bicep. Yeah, nope.

“I don’t think I should,” you respond, but those words couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Ah c’mon, love, ‘m bored as fook by meself out ‘ere. Come talk t’ me, will you?” he says, moving slowly. Part by small part, you see more of his tan chest as he sits on the underwater bench with his back against the dark tiles. Black swallows fly under his collarbones, and a gleaming silver necklace surrounding his throat dangles down his chest. 

“I don’t want to get in trouble, or something.”

“Yer not gonna cuz yer not botherin’ me. Even if somebody said anythin’, why would I have any reason t’ back ‘em up, huh? Yer not causin’ me any harm, and I wann’ talk t’ ya,” he continues, and it’s hard to refuse. He’s a good negotiator, and you’re slowly becoming an icicle second by second. 

“Aren’t you here with anybody?” you ask as your feet slowly pad on the gray cement over to him. He leans forward absentmindedly playing with the bubbles, while still keeping eye contact. 

“No,” he answers softly with a helpful shake of his head. Your eyes follow his hands that cup some of the bubbly foam in his long fingers. 

You sink to your knees and then your butt when he gives you a look. His green eyes hold a question as his thick brown eyebrows furrow along with his rose lips. Wincing when your butt touches the cold cement, you cross your legs as your arms go around your tall legs. 

“Here,” he mumbles out of nowhere. A fluffy white hotel towel lands at your side in a blink. “Don’ wantcha t’ freeze yer bum off.”

Your lips drop a short ‘thanks’ as you awkwardly place it under your bottom to ward off the cold. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes and you giggle a rosy cheeked laugh. 

“Wha’?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh with the laugh beginning to wear off, cheeks pinched with red and warmth. 

“Ya got a pretty smile, ya know that?”

“You’re so cliche, do you know that?” you reply and he scoffs, with a held out ‘ruuuude’ leaving his happy lips. “But thank you.”

The hot water bubbles against the side only inches away, so close and yet so far away. Your sweaty Converses and gross socks covering your clammy feet itch to join him. A black polo shirt and khaki skinnies don the rest of your shivering body. A tinge of awkwardness hangs in the air between you and this stranger. Frequent shared glances holding tiny smiles and questions you know the both of you want to ask float between you. 

“How long have ya worked here?” 

“Too long,” you quip, and his lips turn up again. You realize that you really like it when you make him smile, no matter how little. He has a pretty smile, and it goes past the chill and warms you up to the bone. 

Water droplets cling to his skin every place and everywhere. The heat in the water flushes his skin, especially his cheeks which remain a soft pink. It doesn’t compare to the warm pink of his lips that he plays with, with both his tongue and his fingers. Please never wake me up from this dream. 

You play with the frayed laces on your black low tops, the muffled screams from inside tickling your ears along with the somewhat calming sound of the bubbling water. It invites you in, more and more. 

“C’mon, you,” he mumbles. You look up, startled to find him sitting before you, floating in the water. His wet hands wrap around the tan ankles of your pants, and you nearly yelp. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Get yer shoes off already, at least dip yer toes in. Makin’ me feel all bad, cuz ya look like yer freezin’ yer bits off sittin’ there. I wish ya could  come in with me,” he replies. By now, he’s already worked one of your shoes off. 

“No, please. You don’t want to do that.”

“Yesssss, I do. They’re jus’ feet, darlin’, we all have ‘em,” he titters, flinging the shoe to the side and then the other one. That leaves you in a mismatched pair of ankle socks; blue and red stripes on the left and a Batman one donning your other foot. 

He makes a grinning comment about ‘your cute socks’ as his warm fingers tickle the sliver of skin between your pant leg and socks. 

“Alright, buddy,” you tell him, trying to pull your legs away. His hands encircle both of your ankles and he looks back at you, grinning with his tongue poking out between his teeth. 

“No, jus’ dip yer feet in, pleaseeee.”

“Okay fine, just let me take them off myself. I don’t need a stranger getting comfy feeling up my nasty feet,” you joke, looking up briefly to catch his reaction. The cute as fuck dimples in the middle of his cheeks are beginning to fall and grow deeper before a laugh rumbles through his chest. 

How cute can he get?

“Suit yerself. I woulda taken up tha offer, but tha’s jus’ me.”

“That’s because you’re a weirdo,” you answer, voice breaking into a laugh as you roll up the socks into one ball and set them to the side. You thank your past self for getting that cheap ass manicure the other day. 

“Takes one t’ know one,” he comments, holding his hands up like you’d do when you say ‘I don’t know’ as his wet hair begins to curl at the end. It’s long and almost touches his broad shoulders, and you continue to have a hard time believing this shit is real. That he’s real, and talking to you. 

It takes a second to get used to the water when you dive in, well the few inches that swallows up your feet, give or take. You admit it feels good, but you wouldn’t admit it out loud to him, because it’d only fuel his witty fire. 

He splashes water at you, but you get him back quickly. He even blows bubbles with his mouth and then spits the water at you. You retaliate by jabbing him in the side with your feet under the water. Uncalled for jokes fly from him, and sometimes good comebacks from you. These float into aloud thoughts about favorite foods, ranging from cold ice cream, to slushies, and to chocolate cake. Begging comes from his side about you ditching the rest of work and joining him for real. 

It all sounded so good, and it was so good. 

He’s humming some song you know but can’t put a name to, making little noises with his lips. His fingers tickle the bottom of your feet, every now and then. When you rarely take your eyes off him, you notice more about him. His skin remains flushed, and when your eyes fall to your watch, you feel yours flush too. You sense your heart drop inside your chest, which makes you feel dramatic and lame, but you can feel it there hanging heavily a little lower. 

You look back to him, sitting close to you with his head leaned back on the edge of the fake rock surface. His eyes are closed and lips humming a song again. With a quiet sigh, you draw your feet back and out, drying them with the towel, trying to leave it still usable for him. Slipping your socks back on is a sticky process with grunting. At the sound of the second or third one, his swimming green eyes open and dart to you questioningly.

“What, where’re you goin’?” he asks, sitting up and turning towards me.

“I have to go back to work, my break is up.”

“What, no,” he frowns and you giggle. He’s funny, but you know he doesn’t mean it. You hardly know him, and he doesn’t even know you. It was fun while it lasted, a nice little distraction, but now you have to go back to reality. 

“I’m sorry.”

“’s okay,” he replies, looking away from you and down, playing with the foamy bubbles with his pruney fingers. 

“Thanks for . . I don’t know what to thank you for really.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it. Thank ya, too,” he smiles at you as you stand up. Maneuvering your heel into your right shoe, that’s always the tricky one, it slips in after a few seconds of trying as he stares up at you. Although an understatement, it pains you to leave. 

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” you mumble quietly, walking to the door and stealing one last look at him as you open it and step inside. You’re granted to never see him again - the cute and sweet hot tub guy. No, don’t go making up nicknames for him now. 

You wish that you could thank him, but you don’t even know his name. 

*

The day dragged on, turning up rooms and putting them back together. You cleaned this and that, and everything in between. At times, you were sweating like a whore in church, and your back and feet ached constantly. 

By the time your shift ended, it had grown dark and the stars were peeking out from the black of the sky. Getting off the elevator, you walk down the hall and find the lobby. Suddenly, your feet bring you somewhere else, through the emptying water park and to the fogged up door. Your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar and you prepare yourself, or try to.  

What will you say? What will you do?

Slowly opening the door, you realize those few seconds talking yourself up were futile because the hot water is still. The lights in the water shine clear against the dark night with no disturbance. Because he's gone.

Turning around and walking back inside, you try to hide your frown as you go to clock out and leave. Disappointment floods your veins, making you feel stupid and pathetic. With a sigh, you walk out the doors into the cold trying to remember his laugh, and his smile. 

Ones that you’ll never see again, and you hate how awful knowing that makes you feel.

*

The next day when you showed up for another exhausting day of work, a light shown at the end of the tunnel. Although your shift was tiring, the only good thing about getting up early was to get off early. That fact kept you sane throughout most of the day, despite the thoughts that have been nagging at you to quit this lousy housekeeping job that you’ve stuck with for far too long. Sure, it paid alright, but it was hard on your body and some of the things you had to endure were ridiculous, you thought. 

Before you knew it, you were bypassing the employee break room and walking through the lobby. The keys on your lanyard jangled and only were silent when you used them to open your car. Now with a jacket around your shoulders, your steps were covered in snow on the way back to the sliding doors, that is until you heard a voice. A voice calling your name. It took you a second to realize where it was coming from, but when your eyes ventured to the left side of the building, it all clicked when you saw the steam rising into the air. 

“‘s you, innit? I thought so! Hey, two days inn’a row. Come say hi, love. ‘m here all in me lonesome ‘gain,” the stranger calls to you from across the parking lot. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, but your words leak of lies as a smile curls among your lips. “I guess, but I don’t want you touching my feet again!” 

“Deal, but ya gotta take off yer shoes yerself then, or else ya can’t come!” 

Luckily, the hotel doesn’t have a fence or barricade around the outside hot tub like most do. Instead, a low rock wall shields it from view, but you’ve always found it tacky and worthless. 

“On our break again, are we?” he hums from the confines of the hot tub as you approach him, glad for your jacket this time. You nod a reply as you grab the plastic chair somebody had dragged out here and left, both things they weren’t supposed to do. “Noooo, don’t sit so far away from me. Come dip yer toes in again, please,” he whines, waving a wet hand at you. 

You relent and begin to toe off your shoes as he giggles from his spot across from you, leaning against the edge of the tub. The sight makes you feel warmer than you actually are in the December air. More tattoos peek out amongst the glistening skin of his arms spread out on the lip of the tub, resting there. 

“Do you do anything besides sit in here?” you question, rolling your two socks into a ball before he hits you in the chest with a towel. 

“Not really. ‘s too bloody loud inside with all tha kids, and my hotel room ‘s too quiet.”

“Wow, it sounds like you have such a rough life,” you joke, the temperature of the water surprising you when you dip a foot in. His revelation does as well, although you’re not sure why. Regardless, it still causes you to wonder if you’ve been into his room recently if only to deliver towels. 

“Oh, so rough,” he confesses dramatically, arms falling into the water when he sinks down into it. You laugh at how he becomes a noodle in the water, and soon the sound is stolen away when he drifts over to you. His warm hand comes around your ankle and tickles along the bottom of your foot. 

“That’s whatcha get fer bein’ mean, make me sound all shallow and that rubbish,” he teases while loud laughs and protests jump from your lips. 

“Stop!” you repeat again and again until he relents, but your right foot remains in his hand as he seemingly kneels on the bottom of the hot tub. 

“Hmmmm, blue toes. That’s a new one,” he hums, running a finger over one of your painted toenails that you painted teal last night. 

“I said I didn’t want you touching my feet, you weirdo. Do you have a foot fetish or something?” 

“No, don’t be bloody rude. I can’t comprehend how people get that kinda satisfaction from feet, sumthin’ must be wrong with ‘em,” he tsks, shaking his head of drying curls as he releases your foot. Your agreeing smile is replaced with a sad one when he disappears under the water with a groan, appearing seconds later with a tense face. “Sumtimes wish I could spend forevea unda there.”

“You must be a water bug, like me,” you note aloud, savoring the sight of his thick arms reaching to his head, pushing back his long wet hair back. Now, it touches his shoulders with the help of the balmy water. 

“Think so, always loved swimmin’ since I was a kid. ‘d be in tha pool if a dozen kids weren’t hoggin’ it, and if tha winter didn’t make me feel so damn cold all tha time,” he remarks with a smile as you slip your other foot in, letting the water reach to the middle of your lower legs. “Yer a water bug too, huh?”

“Yeah, I swam competitively all throughout high school. I feel at home in it.”

“Hmmm, sounds like some kinda psychology theory t’ me. ‘m sure it’d say somethin’ happened in yer brain through all o’ that, y’know ya been in tha water so much ya feel at home in it, blah blah,” he says, bringing his golden arms to the edge of the hot tub to your right where he lays them. His stubbly chin comes to rest on them as you accidentally touch his ribs with your foot, but he doesn’t even notice, it seems. 

“Thank you for the lecture, professor, it was really fascinating,” you respond, fake dramatics shining in your voice as you clap your hands. He rolls his eyes before splashing warm water at you. “Hey, I have to go back to work in these clothes, so you better not get them as wet as you did last night.”

“Ya? What’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, love?” 

You reply with a tight-lipped sigh that elicits sing-song laughter from his rose-colored lips that await below you. Your eyes trail to his long torso and legs blurry under the water, short yellow swim trunks donning his waist. 

The thoughts that bloom inside of your mind, like wondering how tall he is and what the rest of him looks like out of the water, escape you when you see the time. 

“Noooo, don’ leave ‘gain, we jus’ got talkin’,” he whimpers when you tell him, sticking his bottom lip out at you. 

“I can’t not go back to work,” you explain, drawing your feet from the warmth only to return to the chill. 

A sad noise sounds behind his frowning lips, and a matching expression paints his flushed face. You wish you knew his name when he won’t let go of your leg, making you suddenly glad you had shaved them again last night after your run-in with him. 

“When d’ya get off?”

“Eight,” you respond, earning a nod from him. 

“Alrighty, well stop by again, I might be here.”

“Okay,” you answer simply as you slip your shoes back on, a feeling growing in your gut unpleasantly. 

“Have a good day,” he smiles at you as you walk away. “And smile, cuz ya have a pretty one!” 

*

The hallways were quiet with few guests remaining outside of their rooms, and the parties occupying the waterpark now over. The big slides and arcade were closed by the time you slipped back into the emptying cavernous room. You forced smiles at lifeguards and the coworker behind the food bar on your way to the door leading outside. The entire way there after clocking out, you seethed with regret from forgetting a swimsuit earlier today. When your feet take you outside to the fluorescent lights playing along the chlorinated water, you’re unsure which you regret worse - forgetting to bring a swimsuit, or getting your hopes up only to find his messy head of brown hair to be missing from the hot tub. Again. 

*

You had the next day off from work, which had you thanking the high heavens to be free from that prison. You were brimming with thankfulness, and yet you found yourself standing in the hotel lobby the next morning, a bag over your shoulder holding a swimsuit and towel. Once you had gotten a day pass from a coworker, although not free as you had hoped, you wandered into the deafening waterpark. The foggy door across the large room called your name, and soon you found your palm pressed to the warm metal pushbar once again. The brisk winter air is a shock when you enter it, and you find your mission to be fruitless when the bubbling water is empty.

Your tennis shoes squeak on the slippery cement as you turn to leave. Thoughts muddle your mind, and your day depressingly empty of any plans pulls you back to the singing water. After sliding off your shoes and stepping out of your clothes, the water welcomes you in your bathing suit. At first, you’re grateful that you’re alone and no noisy kids are interrupting your peace and quiet, but it doesn’t last long. You spend the time playing on your phone and replying to text messages, even playing a game or watching a YouTube video. 

Half an hour or so had passed already, and by then you had moved around the large space. This included sitting on the varying height of steps when you grew too warm, perched on the ledge with only your legs in, or sometimes almost sitting on the bottom of the tub. 

Tucked in the corner near the little opening to swim in from the inside hot tub, you hear the outside door open. The first smile of your day tickles at your lips when you watch who the door spits out. He doesn’t notice you at first surprisingly, consumed by his phone in his hands. The same couldn’t be said for you as you marvel at the sight of him, and how normal of one it is. The water seems to grow hotter by the second while you watch him peel off his Fleetwood Mac shirt to leave him in those same banana colored shorts. A shotty whistle leaves your lips before a giggle follows it, and you’re graced with the arrival of his smile when he turns around to find you there. 

“Hey, stranger, funny meeting you here,” you mumble, a jet of water pounding against your spine. Dimples collapse into his cheeks as his smile grows, his long chestnut hair tickling his face. 

“Hullo, love. Looks like I finally got me wish,” he says, setting down his phone on the nearby glass table, right across from your own. 

“Really, what’s that?”

“This,” he answers, nodding at you as he turns to face you. He sure is a sight for sore eyes, you wonder as your eyes run over his long body painted with black ink. “I can splash you all I want now,” he finishes, kicking a foot towards you as he saunters down the stairs, a spray of water hitting you square in the face. 

“Hey!” you exclaim, dragging your hand through the water to hit him in the chest with it. 

“So ‘s gonna be that way, huh?” he argues, dipping both hands into the rolling bubbles to drench the rest of your dry hair. 

You groan loudly, and it doesn’t end when your arms go around his toned waist to yank him into the water. He falls but catches himself too late, getting dunked into the water. The chuckle leaves your lips that very second and grows louder when he emerges from the water, a disappointed look on his face as he moves his hair off his face. 

“Yer a feisty one, arentcha?” he quips, wagging a finger at you, receiving your nod. “Silly me.”

The giggle dies down when nerves overcome you as he sits down beside you on the underwater concrete bench, his leg brushing yours. 

“You never told me your name,” you mutter quietly, crossing and then uncrossing your legs anxiously. 

“Dunno why I should afta all that,” he responds lightheartedly, still fixing his hair that refuses to cooperate much to your amusement. “‘s Harry, if ya must know.”

“Harry, hmm, that fits you,” you hum, finding the dark and light speckles in his green irises that sit so close to yours. Dark stubble lines his cheeks all over, you notice, as well as the tiny tattoos that hide amongst the larger ones claiming his body. 

Your name flows from your lips and he mocks you, saying something about how you look like your name. The sound of the rolling bubbles and jets fills your absence of conversation as you lean your head back. 

“How many days are you here for, Harry?” you inquire, admiring the tiny snowflakes that begin to fall, immediately melting when they hit the water. 

“A couple mo’.”

A few greasy pepperoni pizzas, cherry slushies, stale tortilla chips with goopy nacho cheese, and over buttered popcorn fill the rest of your day. A few appearances on the waterslides and in the pool occupy your time, as well as him throwing you in more than once. The laughs never seemed to be shy to either of your lips, whether on the tube slide or in the corner of the hot tub. 

The sun had set long ago, and your skin had grown pruney far before then. You were both exhausted after your day spent in the waterpark and in the hot tub you had returned to, the chlorinated water always seeming to get the best of you no matter your age, like now. Harry’s eyes were closed beside you, and they didn’t open when you tapped his nose with your finger. A raspy question escapes his smirking lips, and when you don’t answer them, you find tiredness adorning his greens. 

“The waterpark closes soon,” you murmur, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He nods as his long fingers card through his dark locks. He lifts a finger and inches it towards himself, calling you to him. “What?” you ask, feigning annoyance. 

“Wanna tell ya sumthin,” he whispers, the sugary smell of his second cherry slushie tickling your nose. You relent and scooch closer to him, until your thigh is flush against his. “Think we could do this again t’morrow, and tha day afta that, and afta that?” he asks, a smile transforming his blushing face only inches from yours. A nod shakes the wet tendrils of your hair automatically, and quickly the prickly nervousness that had disappeared hours before, returns. 

“Good, I can’t wait. Wanna go sumwhere t’ get dinna, ‘m starvin’?” 

“Yeah, we should go then, the attendants will be shutting off stuff in a few minutes,” you insist, but all thoughts fleet you when his hand settles on your arm. 

“That’s okay, I only need a few minutes t’ do one last thing,” he murmurs, and your eyebrows raise in question. 

They remain stuck there as he nears you, and only do they relax a few seconds into the kiss he plants on your lips. The sickeningly sweet taste of artificial cherries graces your lips as yours move with his. Your cheek tingles when his hand brushes against it, drawing you nearer to him when it finds a place there. He giggles into your mouth as he knocks a foot against yours while his fingers explore your hair. His taut arm is slick under your touch and yet it feels better than you could have imagined, eliciting another titter from him when he flexes it on purpose. When he begins to pull away, your hand drifts to his sloping back. Your fingers press against his warm skin there until the taste of cherries consumes your lips once again, drowning out his name. 

Maybe this job isn’t too bad, after all. 

[the-black-birb]

scars [kuroo]

Pairing: Inked!Kuroo Tetsurou x Tattoo artist!Reader

Summary: Kuroo still holds on to the memories of his high school romance.

A/N: I wanted to write this piece as a birthday gift for @heccingdead bc she writes some of the best angst I’ve read!! But I feel like it got a little out of hand ahflashfslfakslfk also this was highkey inspired by @allywritesimagines and the idea of philophobia

Warnings: implied abuse, minor Kuroo x Daishou, strong language

Kuroo had always been proud of his tattoos, dancing over his body like a mosaic. In the year following high school, he’d gathered so many that at times he wondered if he had more ink than skin.

It was almost addicting, the feel of the needle buzzing over his skin leaving his senses numb. At parties they kept him grounded, always a topic of conversation. He’d trained himself to recall the stories of each – just enough that it wasn’t too personal – without even thinking about it.

He was always delighted to talk about his tattoos – in part because it meant talking about you. At first, it was just normal praise for the artist. “She’s amazing!” he’d tell his friends. “I definitely recommend her; she’s done all of mine.” Of course, he’d gush and fawn over the person who helped him garner so much attention.

But recently, his commentary was becoming a bit different. “She kicked my ass at mario kart,” he told Kenma, who just groaned. Beating Kuroo at mario kart didn’t mean much.

“Her rice cakes taste amazing,” he beamed when him and Bokuto got their weekly brunch. “She taught me how to make them but I can’t get them quite right…”

Bokuto nodded solemnly, taking in all of Kuroo’s excitement. “So, you’re whipped?” was his conclusion after the fourth brunch in a row Kuroo brought up his escapades with you.

“Huh?” Kuroo looked up from his omelet to Bokuto’s owlish eyes. “Nah, man,” he laughed. “She’s just a cool person, you know? Not many people can be artists and bakers and-“

“Gamers,” Bokuto finished, smirking at Kuroo. “You’ve said.”

Before Kuroo could protest once again, Bokuto (to his friend’s relief) changed the subject to ease Kuroo’s discomfort. But the words still lingered in his mind.

You were a lot of things to Kuroo. A business acquaintance at first (and the only tattoo artist near him that he could afford fresh out of high school) but recently a friend and confidant as well. It couldn’t be helped; if you were to hand draw each and everyone of his tattoos and hear his stories full and uncensored you were bound to become close with him.

But he knew there was more to it than that. He’d been drawn to you from the start.

“So why do you want to get a tattoo?” you’d asked him when he first went to consult you. At the time he had no idea who you were, or rather what you would become to him, and he had nothing to lose, really. Assuming this tattoo would be his last and he’d never have to worry about you again, he gave you the honest truth.

“I wanted to cover this up,” he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his forearm and the large scar that adorned it. He expected you to wince at how ugly it was or at least show some sort of pity (people usually did, it was why he covered it up), but instead you stared at it like a painting. You didn’t have to say anything to him, for your eyes screamed beautiful as you gazed upon him like a miner finally striking gold. He wanted to shrink under your gaze, to become smaller and smaller. But you were so passionate he couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never done a tattoo over a scar,” you admitted (which wasn’t particularly surprising considering you were his age). “But I’d like to give it a shot. If you don’t mind me asking, how did this happen?” You didn’t miss the way Kuroo flinched away from you when you asked, but were polite enough not to bother him over it.

“Well, I got into a knife fight…” he started teasingly, deflecting the question. If he came up with enough funny stories, usually whoever asked would stop bothering him.

“Hilarious,” you cut him off with a straight face. “Give me the real story or don’t bother,” you asked, cleaning your supplies. There was certainly no fooling you. Kuroo swallowed, chest tight at the memory. Well, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose, except pride.

“There was an incident with a clothing iron,” he explained slowly, thinking back to it. “I got into an argument with my ex…” He tripped over his words. The scars was old news but his relationship status was still fresh in his mind. “…while I was doing laundry and lost track of the iron.” His voice trailed off as he gulped. You’d probably laugh at him or pity him or say something that made him want to get up and leave immediately, all ideas of a tattoo forgotten.

Instead, you kept rummaging through your supplies without faltering. “Must’ve hurt like a bitch,” you hummed, unfazed.

“So what tattoo were you thinking of?” you inquired, sitting in front of him with a blank paper and pencil and an excited smile that Kuroo would never forget. “Let’s talk.”

It was the start of an unlikely friendship. His first tattoo (a beautiful chain of red flowers, each representing one of his teammates from his old volleyball team) was gorgeous, so much so that he found himself coming back for more. To his surprise, you always asked him why he wanted a tattoo (although he supposed you already had to know the meaning in order to draw it so there wasn’t much use in asking) and he never hesitated to answer.

Except for one time, when he asked for a small semi-colon on the area behind his ear. He’d asked you for it out of the blue, knowing it was simple enough for you to sit him down and do it quickly. But his pale face and blown out eyes had you skipping the usual questions and consultations, choosing instead of make him wait until after you got off work to drag him back to your apartment where you could listen to him in the peace and quiet of a home.

He supposed that was when you two become more than just an artist and customer. You were eerily perceptive and so you’d already known plenty about Kuroo; you’d etched his whole identity into his body after all, but this was the first time the two of you allowed it to leave the workplace.

At such a brutally slow pace he hadn’t even realized it, you had seeped into all the cracks in his perfect exterior. In all his ramblings to you about this tattoo and that tattoo and what they all meant, you’d somehow become his crutch to hold him up while he fell apart.

It was his fault, after all, that he’d trust you with so much information. Every tattoo had a story, and he knew most of them weren’t pretty. Yet you always took them in stride, never making him feel like any less of a person.

He wanted (read: wished) that were reason enough to love you, but he knew that wasn’t true. He was a sob story in the making and you were electric. Your eyes made him feel like he was on fire, as if the world he’d been living in was a shitty blockbuster movie and you were about to make it an award-winning novel. You were addicting and loving and you made Kuroo hopeful. But he’d long given up on waiting for a happy ending. Even if Bokuto was right, you deserved better than him.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in your friendship (or your rice cakes). A casual friendship was safe; he could laugh and joke and pretend you didn’t know why he still covered his arm with the scar even after covering it up or why he’d never quite see volleyball the same way again. As friends and away from your workplace, none of that mattered.

And so, he hadn’t hesitated in welcoming you into his home that same night even as Bokuto’s words bounced around in his head (he couldn’t skip out on movie night, after all. It was tradition!).

“What’d you bring tonight?” he asked teasingly. It was routine: after you’d found out Kuroo had yet so see a single one of your shitty rom coms, you took responsibility to make sure he saw every single one. You’d supply the movie; he’d supply the snacks. It was normal for you at this point.

“Ten Things I Hate About You,” you grinned, smile so infectious he felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“It better be than the last one,” Kuroo quipped (the last one was pretty in pink and Kuroo just couldn’t wrap his head around why Ducky didn’t get the girl), but before you could retort he was off to his kitchen to prepare the popcorn.

Without invitation, you made quick work of setting his living room up for movie night. This, too, was part of your unspoken agreement, especially when he started leaving extra blankets and pillows out for you to work with. When he entered back in with cinnamon-coated popcorn (it was your favorite), you’d already had everything up.

He whistled, settling in beside you. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he observed. As always you grinned up at him, curling up into his side as he held the bowl for you to share.

“You gave me more to work with,” you responded, grabbing the remote to set up the movie.

Kuroo tried his best to relax next to you, but Bokuto’s words were still swarming in his head. He couldn’t like you, it was too dangerous. You were already everywhere, all over his body and in the food, he ate and the shows he watched. If he were to fall for you and if anything were to end badly, he’d be heart broken.

Too soon Kuroo’s mind was brought back to the end of high school, talking with Nohebi’s captain. Deciding to never talk to him again, covering up all traces of him from his body. Getting tattoo after tattoo to forget him and rid his body of all traces of him.

“You should leave.” Kuroo was speaking but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

You turned towards him, looking hurt but unsurprised. “What’s wrong?” you asked, hand squeezing his forearm supportively. He hated the look way your eyes looked at him. He wished you’d look at him with pity like everyone else did. It would’ve been so much easier if you looked at him like he was only a ghost of the past, the same way Kenma and Bokuto did whenever they stopped themselves from mention “taboo topics.” Like volleyball and Daishou and clothing irons.

But you didn’t pity him or baby him. Your eyes weren’t scared at his sudden outburst or worried to approach him. All he saw was understanding. You knew. Of-fucking-course you knew. You, who helped him cover up all his scars. You, who let him stay at your apartment whenever his started to feel too big for one person. You, who suggested he got a tattoo to remind him to breathe (4-7-8, written in your handwriting) and he took it.

Kuroo wanted to be proud of his tattoos, that covered his body as his own personal shield. He wanted to admire your handiwork and relish in the way he could forget about who he had been before them. But he knew they were simply reminders of unseen scars. He swore he was healing while he bled out, haunted by memories of the past.

“Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” you told him, voice like a promise. He knew it was true, that he could tell you and you’d coddle him while he cried and make him feel like the only person in the entire world. He knew you were magic; you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that something was wrong. Your electric eyes saw him.

But all he could think about was a steaming hot iron and the apologies that followed. He pictured empty apology after empty promise and letting it excuse pain and tears too many times. He could barely recall how difficult it was to unwind himself from a web of being loved only when it was convenient, how it took him months to realize something was wrong.

Kuroo knew being with you would make him feel loved, but he was so damn scared he couldn’t love you back. He couldn’t bare the thought of using you in the same way he had been used.

“You should leave,” he repeated, pulling his arm away from your touch. He wished he could linger in it, but he was certain too much and he’d be addicted.

He wanted (read: hoped) you would argue with him just a bit. Tell him you wouldn’t leave him alone like this and pull him towards you like they always did in your shitty rom coms. But they were actors who knew what came next, and you were real. So real that he could reach out and hold you close and so selfless that you knew when it was time to leave.

You didn’t say anything to him as you backed away, grabbing your things. Kuroo was frozen in place, worried if he moved that he would forget the warmth of your hand on his arm. He knew he fucked up, but he could handle that. He made mistakes all the time. It was easier this way, he was sure.

Until you were one foot out of the door, looking back at him. “You know,” you whispered, eyes looking somewhere far away from his apartment. “You’re not the only one with baggage.” Your voice trembled. “Even if you were, it’s lighter to carry it together.”

Kuroo wished you had slammed the door shut behind you so he didn’t have to sit up straight, only to see you were gone. Even without you in the apartment, your presence was everywhere. All over his body and in his damned pillow fort and in the cinnamon spread over his popcorn. Even when you were gone, he was still with you.

He rolled his head back, not sure what to do. Numbly, he found his way to his phone to send a quick text to Bokuto.

You were right.

Right about now he’d usually think about getting a new tattoo, maybe text you to spitball an idea. He sighed as he leaned back into the blankets you had so gleefully set up for them to share. “I guess that’s not an option anymore.”

None of it made sense to Kuroo. His last breakup was liberating, like a breath fresh of air, and here was on a Saturday night about to watch a romcom to forget about you. He was certain it was some sort of cruel irony that it was only now he was starting to realize how hurt and in love he’d been.

He wondered (read: prayed) if he’d find salvation in you yet again.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Ice Cream (Bakugou X Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: FLUFF!!! WHY DO I KEEP FLUFFING MYSELF TO DEVASTATION!!

Summary: Bakugou and you are coworkers at a summer job in a department store.  Both of you have feelings for each other but don’t know how to confess.

Word count: 1,918

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: Based on a true story.  Seriously this was me about 3 and a half years ago. Except the first part, that was filler’s sake and to show off tsundere baby Katsuki.  I’ve been neglecting him, he deserves better.  So I hope you all combust from fluff uwu bc the next one might be baku angst

"Ah, it's so hot," I groan, fanning myself.  "I almost wanna turn around and go back to work just to stay in the air conditioning."

"Tch, speak for yourself.  I've had enough for the day," Bakugou huffs.  He's unbuttoned his black polo shirt.  "You can't pay me enough to go back there."

"It's really not that bad, I don't know why you're complaining," I shrug.

"Says the one who gets to sit in the storage room sorting those stupid colored things all day."  He pushes his shoulder into me.  "I'm like the stupid lackey.  Every stupid errand the manager needs done, I have to do.  I don't get paid enough for this sh-"

"Let's get ice cream, Bakugou!" I interrupt, spotting an ice cream shop across the street.  "Come on, it'll cheer you up, crabby pants."   I grab his arm and pull him towards cold heaven.

Once we get inside the shop, I immediately fly to the window, scanning over the flavor selection.  I'm not exactly sure what I want to get, whether I'm craving something summery like cherry or lemon or if I want a classic like cookies and cream.

I catch myself flipping my head back and forth between the two sides, still unable to make a decision.  "Hey Bakugou, what are you getting?"  When I don't hear an answer, I flip around.  "Baku-?"

For the smallest moment after I look at him, I catch him staring at me blankly before whipping his head down to the window.  "Probably just chocolate," he answers quickly.

My heart skips a beat, but I tell myself to calm down.  It's not the first time I've caught Bakugou staring at me.  Sometimes at work, he'll be passing by and he always somehow seems to find me in the sea of clothes while I'm rearranging the hangers.  There are even some rare times when he comes to the back room while I'm in the middle of sorting the size beads and helps me before the manager summons him to do something else.

I shake myself out of my thoughts.  "I'm feeling something fruity.  Lemon is really calling out to me, but so is cherry."

I end up getting one scoop of each and Bakugou gets two scoops of chocolate.  We take our cups to go as we walk down to the train station together.

"Bakugou, what the actual hell?!"  My eyes widen in bewilderment at what he's just done.

"What?" he growls, "This is how I usually eat ice cream!"

My eye twitches.  "Y-You...bite...ice cream?  You have some deep rooted issues, dude."

"Shut up!  I'm not weird!"  Though he's defensive about it, the blond starts eating with the spoon the shop gave him.  "You're the one eating fruit flavored ice cream.  At least get something unhealthy like you're supposed to!"

I huff in response.  "There's nothing wrong with trying to make your junk food as healthy as possible."

"Come on, you know that's something Deku would have."

"And what about it?"

Bakugou makes a face at me and says nothing else about it.  "You can have a taste of mine if you want.  One bite won't kill you, and I'm fine with sharing."

My heart throbs again.  "Sure, I guess.  Is it good?"

He answers by sticking his dessert-filled spoon in my mouth, catching me off guard.  His crimson eyes bore into mine as I let the treat melt in my mouth, the rich chocolate encompassing my taste buds.  "How is it?"

I don't trust my voice to answer without shaking, so I take my time to swallow.  "Delicious."

The boy smirks.  "See?  You can't go wrong with the classics."  He takes another bite of his before side-eyeing me.  "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to try something different," he mumbles.

I'm still stunned from what he just did, the remaining chocolate still an aftertaste in my mouth.  "You think?"  I think I know what he's implying, but I didn't want to initiate it just in case he's not.  I wish I was more confident in my flirting skills, I think as I scoop another bite into the little spoon.

"Hey."

Bakugou grasps my wrist with my spoon and takes the bite for himself.  We lock eyes with each other as he tastes my ice cream, my heart hammering like a drum.  O-Oh.

His eyebrow quirks in interest.  "Couldn't you tell I wanted to be fed?  Mmm, this is actually pretty good for summer."

I find my voice again, "R-Right?  Told you so!  It's refreshing and not too heavy."

We continue our walk in silence, which is uncharacteristic for Bakugou.  He always has some random thing to talk about, which is something I like about him.  He's not necessarily an open book, but he can talk about anything without making it sound weird, able to fill the awkward pauses in our conversations.

I sneak a peak at his face to find his cheeks dusted slightly pink to match my own.

Our relationship is admittedly in some kind of limbo.  Ever since we met each other at our job orientation almost 3 weeks ago, we've been pretty inseparable.  After hitting it off immediately, we exchanged numbers and text each other nonstop even after work, sometimes late into the night.  And he always texts me in the  morning, teasing me to wake up or else I won't be productive and he'll have to cover for me.  We take our lunch breaks together every day, and we take the same train to the same station before transferring to go our separate ways.  My coworkers tease me because they thought we were already a couple coming into the job.  It seems so obvious to them that Bakugou and I like each other, but neither of us have made a move yet.

Truthfully, I haven't done anything because I don't know how to initiate anything.  He's the first person I've had a crush on that actually reciprocates my feelings, I don't want to mess it up.  Though, he's also mentioned that he hasn't dated anyone either.  We would be each other's firsts.

We finish our ice creams and finally get to our train station, swiping in and catching the train right before almost leaves us behind.  The car is thankfully somewhat empty, so we manage to find some seats.

Bakugou pulls out his earbuds and plugs it into his phone, handling me one side so I can put it in my ear.

This blond head listens to hard rock and metalcore.  Is it really that surprising though, being how aggressive he is?

I'm open to anything as long as I like the lyrics, so I don't mind listening to it.  When the music starts playing, I throw my legs over his lap like I usually do and lay my head on his shoulder.  "You're shoulder is so bony, it's uncomfortable," I tease.

"Then don't rest your head there if it's so uncomfortable," he scowls, placing a hand on my knee.  Out of the blue, Bakugou snorts.  "It's so funny how we have to wear all black and you're wearing these bright red Vans."

"Hey, the manager said we can wear any color shoes we want as long as it's closed toe," I point out defensively, closing my eyes while the shaking of the train hypnotizes me into calm.

I feel his head shift towards me.  "Didn't sleep well?" he asks, just loud enough for me to hear over the rattling.

I shake my head, not bothering to verbalize my answer.  I have this strange talent of being able to sleep anytime and anywhere, especially when there's ambient noise and rocking.

Bakugou leaves me alone to my relaxation until we're about to reach our stop.  "We have to get off soon.  Get up."

"I don't wanna," I nuzzle myself into his warmth.

There's a pause.  "Does that mean I need to carry you out?"

My eyes shoot open.  Oh.  But as I'm about to protest, something makes me stop.  "Sure."  I realize I'm only half joking.

The doors open.  "Okay then," he shrugs.

I don't have any time to retract my statement.  Bakugou tucks one arm under my knees and the other around my back as he stands up, my body cradled in his arms.  My heart loses all sense of rhythm and blood rushes to my ears.  I barely hear the sound of some guy whistle and say, "Wow, look at these two!"

He walks off the train as if this is the most normal thing in the world.  Other passengers glance and smile to themselves when they see us, but my vision is too blurry to focus on any of them.  I bury my head in Bakugou's chest in shame.  "Okay, you can put me down now, Bakugou," my voice comes out feebly.

"Just a little more, I want to get you to the front of the train," he responds with a hint of teasing.

"N-No, please put me down."  Before I die of shame and all these people see us like this.

Bakugou obliges, setting me down on shaky legs near a pole and I shift away from him.  "Isn't that what you wanted?"

I don't know if it's the adrenaline, the nerves, or the act of Bakugou exhibiting real boyfriend behavior towards me for the first time, but I build up the courage before I can stop myself from saying, "See?  T-This is why everyone thinks we're dating."

A moment of pause.  "Well, we can try, if you want."

I finally spare a glance at his face.  Everywhere from his cheeks to his ears up his forehead is burning red as my shoes, and he's rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly to try and keep his cool.

My heart thumps in my ears seeing Bakugou this flustered and bothered.  It's happening.  "I'd like that."

The sight of his smile melts all my anxiety.  He closes the distance between us, grabs my shoulder, and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

I shiver at his breath caressing my face and nod before he presses his lips to mine, crushing our noses together and sending waves of weightlessness in my stomach.  His hand moves up to cup my face before pulling away with a smirk.  "I've been wanting to do that for a while.  I think you did too."

I avert my eyes from his teasing gaze.  "Maybe."

He pulls me back in for another kiss, this one more needy as his lips move quicker, almost like he wants to devour me.  Time seems to slow down around us, not caring if people are watching.  Bakugou's other hand grips my waist just as my train rushes through the station.  He parts our lips but keeps our foreheads together.  "Your train doesn't want us together," he chuckles before placing another quick kiss on my nose.  "Go on, I'll see you Monday."

I nod, still dazed as I board my train and grab the nearest pole for support.  The train pulls out of the station and I'm speechless and shaking, still tasting the faint chocolate from his kiss against my lips.

I sit in a chair and slump down, my heart rate coming down and the adrenaline wearing off.  My phone vibrates when I get a text.

You taste sweet ;)  Can't wait to see you again

Babe

I almost choke hearing his voice say that inside my head, but I can't stop the smile from splitting my face open.  I'm mentally kicking myself for confessing on a Friday.

[jimmymcgools]

Idk if you’re still doing the fic meme but would love to hear your commentary on the afternoon scene at white sands!

i definitely am! ♥️♥️♥️ and so excited to get to talk about white sands. this turned into an extra long one, too, so brace yourself.  

fic commentary meme and my answers 🙌

this whole afternoon i’ve been trying to remember how i picked white sands. it must’ve been looking through photos of new mexico on tumblr? i can’t think of any fun origin story for it at least, and i definitely had no idea that it’d end up being such a turning point in the story. white sands! it stands in for so much now.  

He realizes that the haze he saw from afar was actually the white sand of the dunes, picked up by the wind and left hanging in the air like a fine fog. this specific detail is something i noticed on google streetview more than any photos 

so hazy!

The artwork in the visitor’s center had depicted mammoths and giant sloths in the grasslands around the lake, lush and vibrant. there’s a bunch of those streetview bubble things actually inside the white sands visitor’s center, so i snooped around in there. zooming in and reading all the info boards like a tragic version of a real tourist. 

It’s finer than any sand he’s ever felt—more like flour than anything, and it’s completely cool to the touch despite the afternoon sun.  i really wanted to capture the tactile feeling of being in this place, and luckily a bunch of tripadvisor reviews had described the feeling of the sand well enough that i could give it my best shot! 

“So I guess there used to be a big lake here,” Kim says, staring out over the edge of the dune. alternate take: kim and jimmy visit camp green lake and dig holes every day and eat raw onions. 

He wiggles his bare toes in the sand. “Fists with your toes,” he says. Kim chuckles. “Better than a shower and a cup of coffee.” kim and jimmy the movie nerds! jimmy probably should’ve done this as soon as he landed in abq, huh? at least he’s doing it now. the secret to surviving.  

“I wonder if Chuck’s ever been out here,” he says gonna go ahead and make that a definite “no”, jimbo. 

The first time I was just dumb and eighteen,” Jimmy says. “I was off and on with her all through high school ahh the infamous marriages. i wanted to preserve the vibes of like, stupid romantic-at-heart jimmy, especially because by now i had settled pretty firmly into an acb jimmy who looks at kim wistfully like 😍24/7, so i needed continuity with that. i think i actually included them in the cicero chapter, but “mr and mrs kimberly wexler” “do you make 25 foot signs? no!?” legal pad boy 100% seems like someone who was filling notebooks with a girl’s name in high school. 

i like the idea that he did some dumb, grand, drunken, romantic gesture while they’re all cutting loose in vegas. something that doesn’t look nearly as cool as he thinks it does.  

i have a little timeline for jimmy’s life, and so i knew that i could sync this marriage up with roughly the era his father loses the store and then dies. i liked the idea that this and other circumstantial changes happened and the teenaged relationship just couldn’t weather it. 

“College of DuPage,” Jimmy says, and he holds up his fist. “Go Chaps!” jimmy’s college years!! this is so interesting to me! did someone in his family really encourage this? was this an earlier attempt to get on the straight and narrow? all food for thought. either way, he didn’t go far from home, unlike chuck. 

Me and Lisa…we were pretty good. For a long time. She did theater jimmy should’ve just been a theater kid. get in a spotlight, get those eyeballs on him.  

“And the worst part is, I introduced them! Because he was dating Mom,” Jimmy spits i think i saw someone else use this somewhere, and i wish i could remember who, but as a way to tie in the step-dad thing from brba it appealed to me. i think ruth has that same playful/theatrical side to her as jimmy, so i liked that connection here, too. also it’s just so horrible and dividing

She folds her lips inwards and studies him, then tilts her head and gives a little smile. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this in your stupid sombrero hat.”  i hadn’t planned this at all when i had jimmy buy the dumb hat in the last chapter, but it ended up working well -- kim deflecting from the serious moment with some lively hat talk, jimmy loves hat talk, the perfect distraction

The white sands seem almost to reflect it, becoming nacreous with pink and yellow and orange, taking on the color of the world above.  as a little metaphor for jimmy, here. he’s just reflecting everyone around him. 

The brim of the hat casts a diagonal stripe of blue shadow over her face. ahaha oh god i had forgotten i’d included this sledgehammer-subtle parking garage scene reference

“I’m not ashamed of being from there,” Kim says crisply. She shakes her head as if to shake that thought of her mind. “Not at all. But I wanted a blank slate. i always go into writing a scene like this planning for her to reveal more than she does, but it never feels believable. but i wanted to make that distinction between her hiding red cloud and her being ashamed of where she was born. i don’t think it makes sense for kim to be the latter. 

“I guess they just wanted somebody to listen to them. But it bugged me. Like they expected me to fix the weather for for them, too, in between bagging their groceries.” this seems like a very kim trait to me. that rather than just listening and nodding along to these farmer’s chatty complaints, she feels like it’s on her to fix everything, when of course it isn’t, and i doubt any of these customers would expect it to be.   “There was a time when I thought I could get married,” she says. “It even seemed almost inevitable. Like getting wound up so tight and then released on a path. i think it was a friend who made this connection, but imo kim does this in bcs too. especially when you think about her career path at HHM and how it’s going in s1/s2, or her time with mesa verde. to her credit, she breaks off the rails eventually in those situations, but she does seem to ride these tracks long past the point when it’s clear she’s not on a good route. i guess you could say that about her relationship with jimmy, too? depending on how fatalistic (and maybe reductive?) you want to be. 

The sky around it glows amber. West, he thinks. “But you weren’t stuck in Red Cloud,” he says.   and kennedy’s head faces west, faces the future.  

he pauses for a moment, eyes drawn to the long shadows cast backward by the two of them, rippling over the white dunes. They stretch away so far they seem to vanish before they end.  something about this image seems perfect for the two of them. maybe that’s just the dumb jimmy romantic in me talking. kim and jimmy’s shadows dipping over the curve of the dunes, out of sight, before they end. 

hell, this got LONG! i’ll end with this quote i took a screenshot of in the visitor’s center. better call saul, anybody?

[bitterlemonwater]

Would you ever consider writing something with Stephen Strange and Peter? 🥺 The rarepair is truly lacking and I feel like you could make something perfectly smutty out of post-Endgame taking Peter under Stephen's (magical) wing, or doctor AU

Endg*me who? I don’t know her. Smutty non-powered doctor au (that’s much more of a club au than a proper doctor au) it is. I’ve only written Stephen x Peter once before so?? Hope you like it anon bby

Peter’s age is unspecified, Strange has post-Sorcerer Supreme facial hair bc I said so, hand jobs, non-graphic but explicitly mentioned violence (Peter gets mugged in the beginning), clubbing, inaccurate medical procedures?? i’m not a doctor and have never worked in a hospital lol. 5k

—-

Peter wakes up in a hospital bed. 

He remembers leaving his apartment. He remembers zipping his wallet into one jacket pocket and slipping his phone into the other, his hand wrapped around it. He remembers turning all the right corners and dodging a cyclist and sniffling in the chilly weather. 

He doesn’t remember why or how he—

Oh, no, wait. Yeah. He remembers that.

The three thugs that had caught him by the hood of his jacket and yanked him into a murky alleyway between two run down hole-in-the-walls, both of which were closed for the night by the time Peter finally had time to run his errands. Milk and printer paper from a 24/7 Target hadn’t seemed like they would be a problem, but. That’s a sketchy neighborhood in New York, he supposes. 

He���d handed over his wallet without a fight (because contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t actually have a death wish) and was giving up his phone when May started calling him. 

Apparently the buzzing and loud ringtone (what? He has unfortunately selective hearing—sometimes it just gets tuned out and he needs volume to catch his attention) and potential red alert freaked the guys out, because one swatted his phone out of his grip and before he could raise his hands in surrender, someone decked him in the face.

And now he’s in a hospital bed. 

The window shades are half opened but there’s no light coming in, and the light in the room is off, only a dim lamp illuminating everything—so it must still be nighttime. Hopefully the same night, but Peter won’t push his luck. 

His head throbs like hell and he sits up slowly. The chair beside his bed keeps his shoes and jacket in reassuring view, but other than that, he’s been blessed to keep his regular clothes on. (Definitely the same night, then. Maybe he’ll only have been out for a few hours?)

For a few minutes, Peter just sits still on the bed, breathing, rubbing his temples. He really hopes he doesn’t have a concussion. This one hospital visit is going to suck to pay off—especially if he was brought in by an ambulance—and he’d rather not add follow up appointments to the bill. 

It’s not long before a nurse stops by. He turns on the lights and it makes Peter cringe, but not as awfully as he’s heard concussions usually make bright lights. There’s still hope, then.

The nurse asks him how he’s feeling and if he’s in any pain, then takes down his information, explains that he’s only been out for three hours and that it’s currently one in the morning. Peter tells him about getting mugged and he responds by saying they’ll have an officer come down to talk to him after he is released from care. 

The nurse finishes by asking if there’s anyone Peter would like to call. Peter debates saying no, but he can already hear May yelling at him if he tries to walk himself home after this, so he gives them Ned’s number and lays back down. 

“Alright. Doctor Strange will be here look you over in a moment.” The nurse says. Doctor Strange? Doctor, Strange. Strange. Why does that sound familiar?

While the nurse gives him two pills for the pain, Peter tries to recall where he’s heard that name before, wracking his brain and only coming up with incomplete thoughts and almost-resurrected memories. He knows he’s heard that before. He just can’t figure out where.

He’s already decided to awkwardly ask the doctor if they’ve met before when the door opens again.

In steps a man half turned away from him, tall and not quite broad but definitely fit and muscled under his white coat. He’s wearing pale blue scrubs and has a stethoscope around his neck, clipboard in his hands. His hair is brown with the slightest bit of grey, that much Peter can see, with killer cheekbones.

It’s not until the guy finishes whatever quiet conversation he was having and turns towards Peter, uncapping a pen and finally facing the younger that it clicks. 

Shit.

Three weeks earlier

Usually after a rough week of classes and work, Peter is exhausted. He’s tired and he just wants to sleep for fourteen hours, then have food delivered directly to his bed so he doesn’t have to get up for a full twenty four. 

This week it is the opposite. He’s keyed up and anxious to do something. He feels a little detached from himself, and he wants to do something outrageous. He wants an adrenaline rush that will take all his extra energy with it once it fades.

MJ suggests partaking in a protest somewhere, but a quick search tells him there aren’t any nearby that night, and not that Peter doesn’t feel just as passionate about good causes and taking action, but standing with a sign and chanting with a crowd isn’t really the thrill he’s looking for to vent how wound up he is. 

Ned suggests clubbing. Peter likes that idea a lot better. 

He loses his best friend within the first twenty minutes they spend at the bar. It’s not too high end that it actually requires an entrance fee, but it’s a respectable enough place that they definitely wouldn’t have been able to afford more than two drinks.

Which is why they got plenty tipsy before they went into the club. 

Which is why after attractive strangers keep buying Peter shots and sweet bubbly things (as if he can’t handle his liquor, but whatever, he won’t say no to free alcohol) he’s hammered. 

Not black-out wasted, of course. Peter knows his limits well enough to know exactly when he’s having fun, but not too clumsy or cloudy to get in real trouble. But he’s definitely drunk. Definitely, definitely drunk.

Normally Peter isn’t the type to be comfortable in a crowded club full of sweaty bodies, everyone in short dresses and tight button ups that show off all the round and firm parts.

On that note, he hadn’t really had much for a “sexy” outfit other than a blush pink satin t-shirt that MJ said made him look “fuckable” and fitted black chinos. 

But normally Peter doesn’t feel like he’ll explode if he doesn’t find some way to work off pent up nerves. So when girls put their hands on his shoulders and roll and sway their hips, and random guys grab him by the waist and pull his ass flush to their fronts—he laughs and grinds back. 

He flits between partners for the better part of an hour, really only stopping to get free water from the bar or have various old fashioned, rocks, shot, and cocktail glasses slid his way—or to go to the bathroom.

He sees Ned a couple times, always across the room with a girl practically melting into him. Ned’s always had a better sense of rhythm than Peter, but that’s the nice thing about club music. 

You don’t really need rhythm. You just have to move and you’ll either fit the song anyways or someone else will help you along. 

He only takes a few sips of each drink he’s offered, and some he does refuse with a cheeky smile about not getting drunk, even though he’s very drunk already.

Peter’s just left a man (and a half empty glass) at the bar, one who’s already bought him two very sparkling blue drinks and who definitely watches his ass each time he walks away, when he runs into someone. Literally, bumps into them, and though they’re barely thrown off balance and Peter is mid not-sexy-at-all apology, the person steadies both hands on his waist. 

They’re nice hands. Firm but not uncomfortably possessive or rough, pliable enough to move with the way Peter shifts and sways without letting even an ounce of space get under his grip. 

“Hello there,” the man says. Peter looks up and sees a goddamn devilishly handsome face, well trimmed facial hair and piercing grey-green eyes. Probably mid 30’s. Sharply defined cheekbones and jaw. Hot. 

“Hi,” Peter giggles. Giggles like a ditzy idiot, but the man doesn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He says, and he rakes his gaze up and down Peter’s body in the most shameless way. Peter grins and bites his lip, not shying away from eye contact when the man looks up again. 

“You’re not too bad lookin’ yourself.” 

The man grins, then tugs Peter forward by the waist. Peter doesn’t hesitate to grind forward, one hand on the guy’s chest and the other rising to a tall shoulder, swaying and stepping into the man’s space. 

It earns him a pleased smirk, and the guy drags him closer, walks him back into the messy crowd so they can dance. 

He’s hot, ok, and Peter’s been getting groped and felt up for the last hour and a half, so when he feels a sizable bulge press against him and moves flush with the solid body in front of, beside, behind him—sue him, he gets hard. Really hard. 

Really, really fucking hard. 

As in, he needs to get off in the bathroom right fucking now. 

“Having fun, baby?” The guy asks. His mouth is right next to Peter’s ear, hips rubbing against Peter’s ass, and one hand reaches down to boldly cup Peter’s clothed dick. 

Peter whines and nods, pulling off the guy, fully intending to abandon ship and jerk off in a hopefully not too gross toilet stall. The man grabs his wrist as he steps away, but doesn’t drag him back or try to guide him elsewhere. He just follows Peter through the crowd, landing them both in the bathroom. 

When Peter turns around with the goal of seductively asking if the man wants to help him out or not, he’s met by plush lips rushing to his own. The guy tastes like hard alcohol, like whiskey and bourbon and nothing like the marshmallow vodka Peter and Ned used to get tipsy or the sweet bubbly things Peter’s been offered all night. 

The man walks them through the bathroom door and locks it behind them, as if there aren’t stalls they could easily slip into. For some reason the lights are actually dimmer inside the restroom and the music has no problem slipping through the crack under the door, deafening outside but loud enough to mostly cover up the wet sounds of their kissing.

Peter kisses him hard and messy, wrapping his arms around the guy’s neck and grinding forward, trying to get some friction on his aching cock. The man smirks into the kiss, nipping at Peter’s bottom lip and licking from the bottom of his chin back into his mouth, one hand venturing downwards to cup his erection again.

The man’s hands are so steady, nothing sloppy or uncoordinated about him. He doesn’t tremble or slip up at all, doesn’t hold too tight, doesn’t move to fast but he doesn’t slow down for a second to let Peter breathe. He rubs at Peter’s dick through his slacks, fingers mapping out the shape and digging his palm right where the tip is, making Peter keen into the kiss. 

It doesn’t take long for the guy to get tired with feeling him up over his pants. He unbuttons the chinos easily and tugs down the zipper, slipping his hand under Peter’s boxers too. 

His hand isn’t particularly cold or hot but god does it feel good, having smooth, solid skin to rub against. The man strokes him with purpose a few times, not teasing him or trying to draw out any more of the moans that Peter graciously supplies. Flicking his wrist over the head, cupping and squeezing his balls, tight but not too tight, easing the way with precome. 

And then he stops, just holding, and with a desperate moan Peter picks up where he left off, grinding into the man’s fist, thrusting his hips up and forward into the friction.

He gets close embarrassingly fast (or it would be embarrassing if he could care), his legs shaking and arms tense and abdominal clenched as pressure and pleasure quickly pool in the pit of his stomach.

Peter whimpers into the kiss, all tongue and want, threading his fingers in the older man’s brown (possibly black? It’s dark in here) hair while he’s squeezed tightly against hard muscle by an arm around his waist. 

“Gonna-”

“Do it. Come on, baby, wanna see your pretty face when you do,” the man cuts him off. Peter nods, just nods and bites his lip and lets his head fall back, baring his neck and face to the world (or, really, just to the man jerking him off) as he tips over the edge. 

He moans so loudly that if someone was waiting on the other side of the door they’d hear him over the music. He doesn’t care, though. It’s one of the best orgasms he’s ever had, the build up and being pushed over by such dexterous hands with that deep voice groaning and whispering praise in his ear. 

He soaks his already precome-ruined boxers with release and slumps against the man, needing a second to breathe and collect himself. The guy lets him lean for a few moments, but then turns him around, drawing Peter’s back against him and pinning the smaller man between himself and the counter. 

It’s probably a gross counter, classy bar or otherwise. Peter doesn’t care. He folds his arms on it and rests his forehead on the backs of his hands, letting the man behind him grind into his ass. 

Bare, if Peter picks that up right, the hardly audible shuffle of a belt and zipper, the much more defined feeling cock rubbing against him. He doesn’t care about that, either. If his ass gets stained by this gorgeous Greek god’s come, then he can just borrow Ned’s jacket to wrap around his waist when they leave. 

Will it be embarrassing? Yes. Will Ned let him live it down? Not likely.

Will it be worth it? Yes. 

And it’s not that he’s not present and interested, but he’s definitely a little floaty and the songs outside get caught swimming in his head, and he has a feeling it takes the man longer to come than Peter thinks it does.

Either way, when the guy does climax, he pulls away from Peter and catches it in his hands, washing it away in the sink beside the younger’s nearly collapsed body. 

“You ok there?” The man asks. Even shouting over the music, his voice sounds soft and gentle. Peter nods. 

“‘m fine. Better than fine. That felt great, erm, thanks,” he laughs, standing straight and looking at the guy again. The man smiles at him and pecks his cheeks, then his lips, then smirks. 

“Made a mess of your underwear, though,” he quips.

Peter groans and wiggles around the guy, stealing some paper towels to try and clean up inside his pants (which would have been awkward and a little confusing, as for how much modesty he should take, if the guy didn’t plaster himself to Peter’s back once more, hook his chin over Peter’s shoulder and watch so intently that Peter started to get hard again) before zipping and buttoning back up. 

“I’m Stephen, by the way. Doctor Stephen Strange.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Doctor? Wow, that’s really impressive,” he drawls, not really believing the man. One of the first guys to buy him a drink had also claimed to be a doctor, but a few minutes later when his girlfriend showed up, she happened to mention his job at a grocery store. 

Not that Peter has anything against grocery store employees. Ned worked at Walmart before getting into his field and Peter has probably worked at every convenience store and gas station in Queens. 

(And not because he couldn’t hold one down, but because he needed five jobs at once over the summer to be able to pay for his first year of room and board.)

The guy just smiles, not confessing to being a liar but not taking offense that Peter implies he is. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

Peter hums. “Peter. I’m a photographer,” he winks at the man and unlocks the bathroom door. Stephen guides him by the wrist (and it would almost be annoying that he doesn’t hold Peter’s hand properly or let him walk on his own, if it wasn’t hot as fuck) back to the bar.

In place of ordering, Stephen just holds up two fingers towards the bartender. She nods at him and turns to grab two shot glasses, and Peter doesn’t have time to unpack why she knows what he wants. 

“Photography, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“Oh, it is. Nothing as exciting as taking pictures of other people doing exciting things.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Doctor, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you a real doctor?”

“I am.”

Peter swivels on his bar stool, staring the man down. It would be more interrogating and honest to his attempt to read the man if simply looking at Stephen didn’t make his lips twitch in a smile. “Where’d you go to school?” 

“Pre-med in NYU. The rest is a secret.” Stephen winks. Peter narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. 

“So, is that Peter with a last name?” Stephen adds as the drinks are delivered to them. Honey colored with no bubbles and perfect circles of ice in each. Peter takes a sip and lets it roll around his mouth.

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?”

“I told you I’m a doctor.”

“Perfect cover story,” Peter raises, making an exaggeratedly suspicious face. Stephen laughs at him, probably not because he’s actually amusing but because the man is also drunk. 

“Ok, what about Peter with a phone number?”

Peter can’t stop from smiling. A phone number? Like, a ‘we could totally hook up again and get further than a hand job in a bathroom’ kind of phone number? He tries to keep up the game of not acting as enthusiastic as he is, though. “Well, since I still don’t know if you’re a serial killer, maybe you should give me your number.”

“Really? After I got you off like that?”

“Well, actually I got me off, thanks,” Peter muses cheekily, “but… yep. Precautions.”

That earns him a fond laugh. “Alright, alright. ‘Precautions’. Here,” Stephen snatches a napkin from under his drink and a pen from over the counter of the bar, confirming Peter’s theory that they man is definitely a regular. 

“So you come here often?” Peter says. He realizes the joke a second later than Stephen does and blushes at his own cheesiness while the man shakes his head and laughs. 

“I do, yes.” 

“Hmm. Doctor’s salary and you go to bars that don’t overcharge you for everything? Sounds sketchy.” Peter quips. Stephen rolls his eyes and hands over the napkin, ten numbers in way too nice handwriting bleeding through.

“A friend of mine owns the place. I like to support her now and again.” He explains. Peter nods, accepting the reasoning. 

“That doesn’t explain why you have nice handwriting, though.” He continues, examining the napkin. Stephen laughs at him. 

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” 

Peter grins back.

They talk for almost an hour, broken up by breaks to dance or get more drinks—which are just water, for Peter. He knows when he’s hit his limit, thankfully—and by the time Ned is falling over Peter’s shoulder, leaning against the counter and saying he’s ready to go home and lament about the girl he’s just fallen in love with, Peter thinks he likes Stephen Strange quite a lot. 

He says so, as he’s leaving, and waves the napkin with the man’s number for emphasis. Stephen just grins, tilts his head and raises his glass and shouts over the crowd that he expects to hear from Peter soon.

It’s only when Peter decides “soon” can totally be three in the morning of that same night that he realizes he somehow managed to lose the napkin. 

He’s upset, but not devastated. Just disappointed. Ned tells him they can both get over their narrowly claimed soulmates (i.e. the girl he danced with all night who was leaving to go back to Germany the next morning) by having a star wars marathon and ordering take-out. 

Which, yeah. Was a pretty good remedy, and after a few days, Peter completely (or, mostly completely) forgot about Stephen Strange.

Present time

Peter’s brain stops processing. God, just the sight of the other man makes him antsy to move, having to consciously stop his hips from shifting. He wants to kill the awkwardness. “Uh-”“Peter.” Stephen beats him to it. He cringes slightly.

“Um, h-hi. Hi? How, uh, how are you?” 

That gets him a slightly confused, if amused, eyebrow raise. (Killer cheekbones and those lips Peter assumed he’d never see again) “The question is actually how are you, seeing as you’re the one in the hospital bed.” 

“Oh! Right, right. I’m good. Fine.” This is too awkward. This is kind of painful, actually. 

“Mhm,” the doctor couldn’t sound less convinced, “How’s your head? I’m sure the nurse told you, they did an emergency CT scan when you were first brought in, and you don’t seem to have any injuries beyond the couple of scrapes on your face and side. Let you keep your clothes on since the worst of it might be a minor concussion. Let’s check that over though, yeah?”

Peter just nods slowly. Stephen comes to sit beside him, using another chair opposite the one housing his jacket and shoes. 

He watches as Stephen writes in a few boxes on the paper on his clipboard, but all Peter can think about is that those careful, nimble hands had given him one of the best orgasms ever. 

“Are you in any pain? Any sensitivity to light, headache, confusion, dizziness? Are you nauseous at all? Any memory loss?” 

Peter responds dutifully to the questions. He has a slight headache, and the lights bothered him when they first turned on but overall he’s feeling a lot better. An ache on his whole left side, but he assumes that’s from how he fell and landed when he got knocked out. 

Stephen writes down all of his answers, checking and marking boxes. When he’s done, he sets the clipboard down and beckons Peter closer. He listens to the younger man’s heart, checks his eyes with a light, and peels off some bandages that Peter hadn’t even noticed on his cheek, reapplying fresh gauze and tape with a new layer of antibiotic cream. 

“Well, I’d say you’re in the clear for a concussion, but you’ll definitely need to take it easy for a week or so. Lots of fluids, lots of rest, as low stress as you can manage. No rigorous physical activity. You’re a lucky kid, Peter Parker.” 

Peter cringes, then lets his head loll to the side. He’s tired and the pain medication is making him a little loopy and he’d rather think about anything else than what his bill is going to be for all of this. 

“Well shit. You know my last name now. Hope you don’t serial murder me.” He hums. He reaches for his jacket and slips it on. Stephen has the decency (especially impressive considering he probably thinks Peter ditched him) to humor him.

“Still on about that? I thought you’d be convinced of my authenticity by now. I’ve got a white lab coat and everything. I’m wearing scrubs.” The man says, whispering scandalized at the end. It makes Peter giggle. He’s a little amazed, actually.

The man he met at the bar was nice, sure, but he’d also very clearly had the goal of getting into Peter’s pants. It’s odd to see the same man, who’d later taken such a serious, confident tone at the club still being playful.

“Speaking of, I thought you said you were a surgeon? Very impressive, very renowned, etcetera. Why are you giving me a… non, surgical check up?” Peter asks. He looks longingly at his shoes, kind of wishing they would just float over to his feet without him having to put them on.

Stephen doesn’t seem off put by Peter’s phrasing. “All of our neurologists are swamped at the moment. They called in some off duty general practitioners to cover, but a personal friend of mine, Christine, was supposed to see you and couldn’t, so she asked me.” He leans back in his chair, then, studying Peter in the same shameless, confident way (albeit, not in the lustful way) he had at the bar. 

“I must say, I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you here. Or again, at all.” His tone lilts, pressing Peter to explain why he never called after they hit it off (and got off). 

“Yeah, about that,” Peter mumbles. He grabs his sneakers but doesn’t put them on yet, figuring it would be rude to get up or turn his back while he’s explaining. “I’m sorry. I was honestly going to call you but, I uhm..” 

“Lost the napkin?”

Peter winces, then nods and hangs his head in defeat. “I lost the napkin.”

Stephen laughs, sitting forward again, and it surprises Peter. On the rare occasion he’s seen someone he’s (intentionally) turned down again, they’ve usually been… a lot more aggressive and unhappy. 

His confusion must show, because Stephen looks at him, all sharp features and unapologetically confident and somehow just soft enough to be sincere. “I figured it was something like that, considering you had a pretty good incentive to contact me.” 

Peter narrows his eyes, but it’s not real heat. “‘Pretty good incentive’ he says. My, you’re just full of yourself, huh? That’s gotta be some kind of doctor syndrome or something. There was a Criminal Minds episode like that.” Stephen groans at his response. 

“Criminal minds?”

“What? It’s a good show!” 

“It’s completely unrealistic. Every episode has the exact same plot.”

Peter gasps, offended. “They do not!” Stephen looks unimpressed.

“There’s a bad guy, he’s killed people in a particularly gruesome way and now he’s kidnapped some poor girl. Time crunch. He’s a white man between his 20’s and 40’s, one of the ‘agents’ has some dramatic personal tie, there are hints at a subplot, Reed says something quirky and beats them all at cards on the plane. Sound familiar?” 

Peter gapes at him for a solid three seconds before composing himself, crossing his arms and huffing. “It’s still entertaining..” he pouts, petulant. Stephan rolls his eyes but chuckles at the display. 

“Well, I’m sure it will keep you plenty entertained while you get your rest. And hydration. But try to steer clear of the strawberry daiquiris.” He says, smirking as he reorders the papers on his clipboard. Peter relents, sighing, and turns to put on his shoes.

“‘s not like I picked ‘em out and bought them all..” he grumbles quietly.

When he slowly rises from the bed, Stephen is still there. Standing on the opposite side of the cot, staring at him. Peter feels his cheeks flush and dear god, he cannot get hard thinking about the last time they were alone in a room together. 

He’s trying to think of some way to diffuse the tension, ask about leaving or paperwork (or the bill, dear god), the police report he needs to file or about his friend picking him up—but Stephen beats him to it. 

“Would you like to have dinner?” 

Peter stares. What was that?

“Huh?”

“I said, would you like to have dinner?” Stephen repeats, patient and unflinching, nothing modest or humorous to lighten the air. 

Peter stutters, then wets his lip and bites it, then shifts from foot to foot before nodding. 

“Yes. I’d like to have dinner with you.”

Stephen smiles. “Great.” He steps around the bed just as Peter does, bringing them closer together. “Now, technically I have your whole file right here, and I could just get your phone number off of that. But that’d be wholly unprofessional of me.”

Peter snorts, having to step back and cover his mouth so he can laugh at the man’s utter brashness. “Yeah, you’re completely correct. That would be very unprofessional. And probably illegal, I think.”

“Oh, definitely illegal.” 

Peter giggles, but then Stephen is handing him the pen he’d been writing with. Peter takes it, still grinning, yet furrows his brows in confusion. “I don’t have any paper.” 

Stephen smirks. Then he holds out his hand, palm up. When it clicks what he’s requesting and Peter snaps up to look at him, there’s a very calm, controlled smile, carefully containing a wild amount of self-satisfaction on Stephen’s face. 

“So I don’t lose it.” 

Peter rolls his eyes so dramatically it hurts, but he takes Stephen’s hand, reluctantly flattered, holding it steady in one of his own and writing with the other. Though it’s more like the older man’s one palm holds both of his stable with how unwavering it is. 

When he’s finished writing his number, he hands the pen back. “Make sure you don’t wash that hand,” he quips. Stephen hums, waving an arm past to guide Peter out of the room. 

“I promise I’ll take good care of it. The nurse will deliver your paperwork to the waiting room, and there will be an officer there as well. You’re very welcome to stay until your ride arrives.” He says. Before Peter can answer, the man is swooping down, planting a gentle kiss to his temple, and then before he can react, Stephen is disappearing down the hallway. 

Peter waits in a mildly comfortable chair and picks up his packet, report and bills and prescription of rest, all in a daze. He’s still in it when he files his report with officer Rogers and when he gets in Ned’s car around two thirty in the morning, answering a million questions and finally tipping his head back against the seat, relishing the dark and the busy quiet of New York late at night.

Two days later, after he’s got a new phone and a new wallet (and a loan in May’s good credit name to pay for his hospital visit), he gets a text that threatens to buzz out of the pocket which barely manages to muffle it.

Unknown: Dinner, Thursday. 8 o’clock. I’ll pick you up. Sound good?

Peter grins and makes a new contact.

You don’t know my address though?

Stephen: I’m sure you’ll tell me.

Fair enough. I can do Thursday at 8.

Stephen: Perfect.

Then, a moment later:

Stephen: Wear that pink shirt again, and I’ll let you pick the venue. Deal?

Peter blushes even though there’s no one there to see it, biting the inside of his cheek not to smile dumbly at his phone. 

Deal.

[7-wonders]

Thinking of Sin

Summary: Michael, having fully embraced his title as Antichrist and heir to the throne of Hell, invites you to join him as his father’s church, the Church of Night, celebrates one of their most sacred holidays: Lupercalia, the festival of passion. (a Chilling Adventures of Sabrina au!)

Word Count: 6374

A/N: (hello this is a re-upload bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags last time. if it continues to do this I think I’m gonna throw my computer out a window) This is, by far, the longest thing I’ve written for this blog. I’ve been very excited to write this, and I hope that you enjoy this take on Michael Langdon and Lupercalia! Reader is a human in this one, but I’ve got another version in the works where reader is a witch! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and if you liked this, I’d love if you left a like, comment, reblog, or note in my inbox! Enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, Satanism, mentions of Pagan rituals, oral (female receiving), fandom crossovers, blood mentions.

The small, 50’s-style diner is decorated with all varieties of traditional Valentine’s Day symbols: hearts and Cupids and bows and arrows, all in hues ranging from the blushiest of pinks to the deepest of reds. The fluorescent lighting, which normally washes patrons out, only serves to make the man sitting across from you look even more sculpted. He smirks when he catches you staring again, hooking his foot around your calf playfully from under the table.

Although a roadside diner might not be an obvious choice for a date, anything is better than yet another date spent on the grounds of the Hawthorne School, where Michael currently studies magic. The teachers are all extremely strict about their star pupil, which means that Michael usually sneaks you in in order to spend time with you. Today is different, however, with a prelude for some magical holiday warranting an early weekend for the students. While you don’t possess any magical abilities, it’s not at all difficult to skip a couple of classes on a Friday, allowing you a last-minute date with Michael.

“It’s so easy to tell when you’re not listening to me.” Michael teases, long fingers drumming on the table. “If you’re not staring at me, then it’s the far-away look in your eyes.”

“Who can blame me for not being able to focus when I have someone as beautiful as you sitting across from me?” You relish in the light blush that paints his cheeks, Michael obviously not being used to you turning the tables and complimenting him suddenly.

“Anyways, where did you zone out at?”

“Hmm, right after you started explaining why you get an early weekend. Lupus column or something?” Michael snickers, sipping his strawberry milkshake to avoid laughing loudly in the quiet diner.

“Lupercalia.” He corrects.

“Lupercalia, then. What exactly is Lupercalia?”

“Well, it’s an ancient festival, originally started by Roman witches and warlocks. It was instituted as a way to purify Rome and bring about health and fertility. It’s a very sacred holiday for us-”

“Even though you’re not just an average warlock.” You interrupt, winking conspiratorially.

You figured out Michael’s ‘secret’ pretty quickly after you saw Ms. Mead convulsing in the driveway next to yours. Not knowing that she was now a robot and was shorting out, you had assumed the woman was having a heart attack. When Michael had opened the door to your incessant knocking and you had barged in with the unconscious woman, the pentagram and vague smell of sulfur made you a little extremely suspicious. It was the sight of Michael being covered in blood that made you demand for him to tell you what was going on, or else you would call the police and have them investigate.

“Yes, even though I’m not an ‘average warlock,’” he agrees, “it’s still a sacred holiday for the witches and warlocks who worship my father.”

Being the Antichrist guarantees that Michael is treated like a prince at Hawthorne, which is directly ruled by the Church of Night. Michael’s treated like a prince at most of the ‘witchy’ places he takes you to, something that you’re still getting used to.

“I’m guessing it’s not like Valentine’s Day, though?”

“Not exactly. The Church, as you know, directly follows my father’s teachings. These include giving into your wants and desires, especially those of the…carnal nature.”

“The carnal nature? Oh! Ohhh…” Heat quickly rises to your cheeks, avoiding eye contact while Michael chuckles. “So it’s like a sex festival?” Your voice drops at the word ‘sex,’ even though there’s nobody within hearing range.

“Well nobody calls it that, but sort of.”

“What do you, uh, do to celebrate?”

“The festival’s made up of three different events. There’s the Matching, where witches dance with ribbons around what’s basically a Maypole and are paired with a random warlock once the music stops. After that is the Courting, where the couples participate in a ritual to ensure health and wellness. The last event is called the Hunt, where the witches hunt their warlocks. Once caught, they…” Michael’s voice breaks as he grimaces, making your eyes widen as you quickly realize what he means.

“Is this a mandatory holiday? Like, the underage witches and warlocks do it too?”

“No! No, it’s not mandatory, and nobody under the age of sixteen can participate.”

“So…you’ve participated in it before?” Although Michael’s always been deliberately vague on how old he truly is, you know that he’s at least 20, if not older. That means, considering he’s the heir to the throne of Hell, he’s probably been involved in his father’s festivals and holidays. It makes you mildly jealous to imagine him participating in something like this with a pretty, powerful witch.

“I haven’t. Last year was my first at Hawthorne, and I was still just trying to get the hang of being at a new school. I wasn’t sure if I would participate this year, which is why I wanted to ask you.”

“Michael, I’m not your mom. If you want my permission to be a part of Lupercalia, you really don’t need it.” You grumble, snatching a stray french fry from your plate and eating it to avoid showing that this bugs you. Since it’s Michael you’re sitting across from, though, he automatically knows.

“I was going to ask if you’d participate in Lupercalia with me, (Y/N).”

“Oh.” You avert your eyes, embarrassed at how blatantly jealous you got. “I thought you said the pairing-up of the witches and warlocks was random?”

“Leave that to me.” His eyes twinkle, and you just know that he’s going to use some sort of magic to rig the festival if you agree.

“Well, what about the fact that I’m a ‘mortal?’ I thought that the Church didn’t like mortals intermingling with you guys.”

“One, you’re not just a regular mortal, you’re my mortal.” To increase the sentiment, he reaches across the table and grips your hand in his. “And two, I’m not just a regular warlock. They sort of have to let me do what I want.”

“Bullying your teachers into letting you bring your mortal girlfriend to a dirty magical festival? You truly are your father’s son.” You joke.

“You’re stalling.” It’s not a question; you and he both know that you’re stalling. It’s not like you and Michael haven’t had sex before, but encroaching on this sacred festival that’s also extremely intimate makes you feel very hesitant.

“Promise we’ll get paired up?”

“Of course. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

You defeatedly sit back in your seat, grabbing your own milkshake and taking a hearty drink while Michael grins. Even though you’re pouting, you can’t deny the tiny butterflies of excitement starting to spring up in your stomach. You’re jumping headfirst into a world that’s dark, supernatural, and a little sexy. Who couldn’t be slightly excited for that?

The Matching

The Matching, which you assumed would be at Hawthorne, is actually at Hawthorne’s ‘sister school,’ the Academy of Unseen Arts. Michael had easily transmuted both of you to what had first appeared to be an abandoned train depot. Apparently, the old adage of “never judge a book by its’ cover” applies to buildings as well. The moment you stepped foot inside, you were taken aback by the large, gothic-style school. The walls are all a rich red, with a golden railing encircling the second level that overlooks the entryway. A giant statue of what you’re assuming is Satan is pushed to the back, a large Maypole with red, black, and white ribbons taking center stage. Witches and warlocks mill about, all bowing their heads respectfully whenever they pass Michael and speaking in hushed tones while sneaking glances at him.

You cling tightly to Michael, free hand tightly grasping the hem of your black dress that’s accented with white flowers. All of these witches are so dark and beautiful, looking at Michael from under their heavily-painted lids. You can practically feel the power oozing off of them, sending chills down your spine. Michael has a protective arm around your waist, sensing how nervous you are. In an effort to distract yourself while the host school gets everything set up, you glance up towards the ceiling.

The stained glass windows that act as a sun-roof are beautiful, but the longer you look at them, the more you can see the Satanic imagery that makes up a larger story. There’s flames, stakes, the goat-headed figure of Satan, and magic. There’s also a man with bright blue eyes and golden curls, standing amongst one set of flames while someone who looks almost like you (if you’re squinting hard enough, you try to convince yourself) stands at the man’s side. Casting your eyes slightly downwards, the teachers from the various schools and academies stand on the second floor. Michael’s professors were not exactly pleased that he was bringing his mortal girlfriend, but Father Blackwood, the so-called ‘High Priest’ of the Church, was more than welcoming.

“He has to be,” Michael had explained to you, “or else I’ll report back to my father. Blackwood’s on thin-enough ice as it is.”

When Michael stiffens beside you, you look away from the teachers and towards him.

“What’s wrong?” You’ve been with Michael long enough to know that something has to be extremely wrong for him to even have a reaction like this.

“Sabrina Spellman is what’s wrong.” You look in the direction that Michael’s glowering, only to see a small blonde girl chatting with her friends.

“She doesn’t look very threatening.” You tease, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Sabrina fled her dark baptism and abandoned the Church, while still trying to keep her powers. She fights Satan at every turn and is convinced that she’ll ‘take him down,’ whatever that means.” Michael says lowly, clenching his jaw.

“So, not your friend, got it.” You mutter.

You’re both startled by someone yelling for the men to take their places. A ring of chairs has been placed around the Maypole, backs facing the ribbons. Michael grabs the ribbon attached to the chair closest to him, unlooping it and handing the white fabric to you before he takes a seat. Your hands are still interlocked, and he smiles reassuringly at you while the same person starts giving directions.

“Alright ladies, you know the rules! When the music stops, take a seat on the warlock…or Antichrist…” he stops as everyone giggles, making you look at Michael with panicked eyes, “closest to you.”

“I’ve got it all under control, remember? Enjoy yourself.” He reminds you one last time, rubbing his thumb over the ring on your right index finger; an onyx band with blue and white stones forming starry constellations, given to you by Michael for your birthday.

The music starts up, the violinist playing a folksy tune. Michael grins at you one last time before you start moving in the same direction as the rest of the women. You don’t know this dance, and even if you did, there’s no way you’d look nearly as graceful as everyone else. Still, you try your hardest to copy the moves of the witch next to you, a redhead that has her eyes dead-set on Sabrina Spellman. Michael turns his head to watch you dance, smiling the entire time as you start to get the hang of things. It’s not that long of a song, you realize as the violinist plays one last, long note, and your heart thunders when you see that you’re all the way across the room from Michael.

He can sense your trepidation, winking at you before coughing into the crook of his elbow. The note continues to echo through the room, much to the confusion of the man no longer playing the instrument. The same tone continues to play until you’re right in front of Michael, stopping the moment he coughs again. You nearly fall into his lap, laying your forehead against his gratefully.

“Told you I had it all under control.” You giggle at his cocky statement, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I didn’t doubt you for one second.”

“Yeah right, I could practically taste your fear when you thought the last note was being played.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were planning on doing!” You argue playfully, not able to fight the large smile working onto your face.

“Was this as terrible as you thought it would be?” Michael asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Considering I ended up with you as my match, I’d say yes.”

“You brat!” Michael’s eyes gleam as he grabs your lower lip between his teeth and pulls, eliciting a squeal from you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sensuality of the festival itself, the intoxication that happens whenever you’re around someone whom you share feelings for, or if there was an actual spell being performed during that dance, but every couple in the room is currently engaged in various levels of PDA. And really, you can’t complain, since your gorgeous Antichrist is right under you.

The Courting

Silver light from the near-full moon peeks out between the gnarled tree branches forming a canopy above your head, bathing the group of teens and young adults in a soft light. It’s chilly out, a fog floating low towards the ground the only remaining sign that there was previously rain. You can still smell it, a fresh scent mixed in with the earthy smell that’s so prevalent in a forest. Breathing out through your mouth, you watch as your breath forms visibly in front of you. Michael’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the sight of his red leather gloves coupled with his black leather trench coat sending your heart racing. Your overcoat isn’t nearly as nice, but then again you didn’t expect to be making a fashion statement in the middle of the woods.

When Michael had told you that ‘the Courting’ was a ritual for health and wellness, you didn’t envision it taking place in a dark forest. That’s really your own fault, though, since nothing can ever just be normal when it comes to witches and warlocks (and a stray Antichrist).

“Witches, warlocks, Antichrist, and mortal,” the same man who played the violin at the Matching says, not even bothering to hide his smirk, “congratulations, you have been matched.”

Michael glances at you the same time that you look at him, both of you rolling your eyes at how clever this man thinks that he is.

“Tonight, you and your paramour shall go into the woods and re-enact the Courting. What that means is that each couple shall go into the woods and disrobe and anoint themselves and lie under this blessed Lupercalian moon, absorbing the potency of the Goddess Selene herself.”

Although Michael had explained to you that participants still kept their undergarments on, the idea of taking off any layer of clothing in this weather is not too appealing.

“Anoint ourselves with what?” You whisper to Michael.

“Patience is a virtuous skill, (Y/N).”

“And you’re one to lecture me on virtues.” You fire back, snickering when Michael lightly pinches your arm.

“Abstinence is encouraged….” The warlock emcee is interrupted by a chorus of boos from the people surrounding you, “…in anticipation of the powerful release that concludes Lupercalia.”

Michael looks at you when you stifle a laugh, winking at the innuendo.

“However, should couples be moved to unite, well, I’m sure the Dark Lord would not oppose.”

“Glad we have your dad’s unholy blessing to get it on tonight.” You mutter, making Michael bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Like that’s ever stopped us before.” He retorts, burying his face in your hair to hide his blush.

A beautiful dark-skinned girl with bleached, cropped hair produces baskets from behind a tree. You can’t see what’s under the blanket that tops each basket, but you can hear something clanking around inside.

“The milk and blood are for the purification, the oysters and figs are for fertility and virility. The cherries are for…popping.” The girl says, leaning in close to Sabrina Spellman in what you assume is a way to tease her.

“A word or two of caution.” Father Blackwood steps forward. “Each couple must stay together the entire night, and, above all, do not stray from the path. All manner of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during the Lupercalia. Now, with the Dark Lord’s blessing, let the Courting begin.”

A long, low note sounds from a horn, spurring the couples to all start moving down the path. Michael grabs your hand in his, and you can feel the chill of the cool leather through your own knitted glove.

“I can’t believe that this is how I die. From knowingly and willingly going into a scene that’s the beginning of a horror movie.” You lament, letting Michael lead you behind all of the others.

“We’re not going to die, (Y/N), don’t be so dramatic.”

“Are you kidding me? Imagine this as the synopsis: ‘A group of young adults jaunt off into various parts of the forest in order to participate in a carnal ritual, that is, if they can get past all of the hungry beasts that lurk just out of their eyesight.’” You say dramatically.

“How did you manage to successfully make a festival of passion into a horror movie?”

“It’s pretty easy when the material’s right in front of me.”

The deeper Michael leads you into the woods, the warmer it gets. Soon, you’re tugging off your gloves and unbuttoning your coat in an attempt to cool down.

“How is it suddenly so warm?” You wonder.

“The magic of the Lupercalian moon. The further into nature we get, the more potent the moon is.” He finds a clearing among the trees just off of the path, deeming it acceptable enough to set the basket down.

“So if you don’t want to have sex, the ever-rising temperature is still gonna force you to take your clothes off.” You grab the blanket out of the picnic basket, the bottles and other items knocking against each other. Unfolding it, you lay it on top of the earth, Michael straightening the other end out.

“It’s just a way for everybody to be able to fully enjoy Lupercalia, even if it is in the middle of February.” Michael unpacks the bottles, as well as two knives.

“What are the knives for?”

“We don’t actually cut ourselves, it’s just an easy way to get the anointing oils onto ourselves. You use the flat edge of the blade.” He explains, standing up once he’s satisfied.

The red gloves come off first, Michael removing them one finger at a time. After shrugging off his coat, he looks at you expectantly.

“Are you going to take your clothes off as well?”

“Oh, right!” You blush, letting your coat fall to the forest floor as Michael looks on with a wide grin.

After taking your clothes off, you’re left standing in your matching bra and panties (black, of course, just like everything when it involves witches and warlocks), and Michael in only his boxers. Although this is definitely not the first time that Michael’s seen you like this, you still avert your eyes and cross your arms over your chest in shyness. Michael’s skin almost glows under the light of the moon, his eyes looking nearly luminous while he reaches down to grab the first part of the ritual. Dipping a knife in the bottle of blood, he hands it to you before repeating the action for his own knife.

“Do you remember what to say?” He asks, not at all shocked when you shake your head. “‘By Lilith’s blood,’ okay?”

Twirling the knife in your hand, you grip the cool, ridged handle of the weapon that you’re supposed to use to sensually drag blood across your boyfriend’s forehead. You glance at him, waiting for him to nod before lifting the knife.

“By Lilith’s blood.” You recite, Michael breathing in deeply as the blood makes contact with his skin.

“By Lucifer’s love.” Michael lifts his own knife, and you wrinkle your nose as blood is applied to your forehead.

“Can I ask you a question?” You and Michael both sink to your knees, Michael dabbing a cloth with the provided milk.

“Of course.”

“Is the Lilith in the myths real? Like…Satan’s concubine and all that? The mother of demons?” Michael grimaces, rolling his eyes quickly.

“Basically, yes.”

“So is she sort of like your step-mom?”

“My father and Lilith aren’t married, (Y/N).” You giggle as Michael wipes the wet cloth across your forehead. “Good, keep laughing. We’re supposed to laugh during this part of the ritual.”

“Why?”

“I honestly have no clue.” You can’t stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the conversation, Michael handing you the cloth once he’s done. “But yes, you could say that she’s technically my stepmother.”

“But you’ve never met her.”

“No, not at all. Not that I’m complaining, though. I’d rather meet my father.” Michael laughs when you cross your eyes and stick your tongue out at him, taking the opportunity to wipe the blood off of him.

“Do you think you’ll get to meet him one day?” He’s never really talked about his ‘true’ family before, and the only time he’s ever mentioned the parents who were a part of his infernal conception was when you got him so drunk on Mike’s Hard Lemonades (who would have thought so-called ‘bitch beers’ would make the Antichrist a weepy drunk?) that he ended up setting his own hair on fire.

“I hope so. Here, eat.” He holds a fig up to your mouth, and you grimace while taking a bite of it.

“Eugh, that’s probably the grossest part of this whole thing.”

“But wait, there’s oysters too.” Michael eats the rest of the fig, winking while you shoot him a horrified look.

You just want to get eating an oyster over with, so you reach over and grab one. Taking a deep breath, you plug your nose before tossing your head back and swallowing it down like a shot. Shuddering, you stick your tongue out as the slimy texture forces you to choke back a gag. Michael knocks back the oyster far easier than you did, only slightly grimacing and pulling a face.

“So what do we do now?” You ask.

“We lay next to each other and soak up the light of the moon.”

“Now that’s something I can get behind.” Michael grips your hand, tugging you down on top of him easily.

You roll off of Michael, still not letting go of his hand. Looking up at the moon, your eyes widen at just how big and bright it is. You’ve never quite seen anything like it, and if it weren’t for Michael’s laughter you wouldn’t tear yourself away from the sight.

“What?”

“I’m just…extremely lucky to have you.” You let your head fall to the side, grinning at Michael.

“I’m lucky to have you, too.” He leans over and kisses you softly, the sounds of wind rustling through the trees and owls calling out to one another forming a symphony above your heads.

Sleep claims both of you before you can even think about progressing to anything beyond lazy kissing. When you wake up, the gray light of dawn paints the forest in a new light, one that’s much colder than it was last night. At some point during the night, Michael draped his large coat over your bodies, which is greatly appreciated right now. Michael sits up and runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the tangles.

“I’ve never seen your hair so out of place before.” You tease.

“This will be the last time you see it like this.” He warns, standing up and finding his clothes from where they were thrown last night.

“Sorry we fell asleep before either of us were ‘moved’ to unite.” You quote, catching the sweater Michael tosses your way with ease.

“That just means tonight is going to be even better.” Your heart jumps at the reminder, causing Michael to look up when he hears. “Are you nervous?”

“No, I just don’t know what to expect!  Seeing as how each ritual has just gotten more and more strange, I’m assuming that this one’s is going to be wild.” Michael smirks, helping you stand and wrapping you in your coat.

“Hmm, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I guess so.”

The Hunt

Your earlier suspicions were dead-on; not only are you back in the same area of the woods that are now lit with a bunch of torches, but you’re also wearing nothing but a white satin slip and a pair of black stockings under a red cape that makes you look like Little Red Riding Hood. A bright red lip completes the look, as it does for all the witches around you. For the first time since Lupercalia started, you don’t feel entirely out of place surrounded by all these mystical women. You’re all dressed the same, and you’re all here to participate in Lupercalia. Tonight, you have far more important things to worry about than judgemental witches.

When you first found Michael, your knees nearly gave out on the spot. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black jeans and a wolf’s pelt. The head of the pelt hangs over his forehead, acting as a sort of hat. He looks wild, uninhibited, and utterly happy; it makes your heart melt to see him so carefree. He couldn’t even stifle his grin when he had grabbed you to kiss you in greeting, too excited for the events to come to worry about keeping up the stern Antichrist demeanor.

“Welcome to the final night of the Lupercalia!” Ambrose (yes, you’ve finally learned his name) yells. “Hoods hunt wolves, witches hunt warlocks. The outcome of the Hunt shall determine the year ahead. Will it be bountiful or barren? Fruitful or fallow? Tonight, we hunt and are hunted, releasing our blessed magicks into the night. Warlocks, are you ready?”

The warlocks all howl and cheer in response, Michael included. The closer it gets to the start of the Hunt, the more excited you find yourself. Maybe the rituals of Lupercalia actually work, or maybe it’s just the fact that you haven’t slept with Michael in days and he looks particularly delicious in a wolf’s pelt.

Ambrose plays a long note on the same horn as last night, sending the warlocks running into the woods. You giggle as Michael darts off, pushing past the other men in an attempt to get as much of a head start as possible. Although it may not be a formal competition, Michael will always find a way to make some aspect of what he’s doing competitive.

“And witches, are you ready?” The women all around you yell, and you join them. When Ambrose plays another note, you dart off.

The woods are more disorienting than you remember them being last night. The fog makes it impossible for you to see more than thirty feet ahead of you, and the wolf heads all look the same from the back. Witches and warlocks sprint all around you, finding their partner and tackling them to the ground. You’re mildly impressed at how voracious some of these people are, going at it right on the ground and in the open. Your lungs burn as you continue to run further into the forest, hoping that soon the pack will thin out and you’ll be able to find Michael by the process of elimination.

You only stop when a stitch in your side forms, bending over and placing your hands on your knees while you try to catch a breath. There’s nobody around, everybody having already been reunited, and you can’t stop the disappointment that you feel. If you were a witch, surely this would have been much easier, you think to yourself. Standing up straight again, you start to walk back in the direction that you came from when a force grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against a tree.

You shriek breathlessly, panic gripping you until the eyes staring at you register as Michael’s. His eyes glimmer with lust and excitement, and he bites his lip while smiling widely. You roll your eyes and lightly slap his chest, hand lingering on the firm pec.

“Did I scare you?” His voice comes out raspy, and you have to stop yourself from letting your eyes roll back in your head.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who found you.”

“Hmm, I got bored waiting around.”

Leaning the weight of his body against yours, Michael traps you in place while he kisses you deeply. You throw your arms around his shoulders, the fur of the wolf pelt tickling your arms. His large, calloused hand grabs the cool skin of your upper thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. You’re sure that the rough bark of the tree is leaving scratches even through the thick material of the cloak you’re wearing, but that’s honestly the last thing on your mind right now.

“You look so sexy tonight.” Michael gasps out, only removing his lips far enough to be able to breathe. “You look sexy all the time, but you know what I mean. The red lipstick is a really good look on you.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Your heart skips a beat; Michael compliments you all the time, but usually on the emotional traits you possess: how smart you are, how strong, how funny. He often compliments your physical appearance too, but with sweet words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ and ‘stunning.’ If any other person were to refer to you as ‘sexy,’ you’d knock their teeth in. Michael’s use of the word, however, has your heart racing and blood pumping.

Michael nods eagerly, head falling to your collarbone as he sucks and bites the skin there.

“Absolutely. I always knew you’d look dangerous in a cloak, but this is beyond my wildest fantasies.”

“On that note, you should consider keeping the wolf’s pelt.” Michael raises an eyebrow at you before growling playfully, making you giggle loudly.

Those giggles quickly turn to a groan when Michael rips open your white slip, the soft fabric tearing easily under his grip. Your nipples immediately harden from the cool night air while you lift your hips away from the tree, allowing the now-ruined lingerie to pool around your ankles. The thin panties you’re wearing do nothing to hide your arousal, and Michael’s nostrils flare as his supernatural senses pick up on the heady scent.

The powers of this Lupercalian moon were hardly exaggerated. You can practically feel the magic of the light that you and Michael are being bathed in. It heightens everything you’re feeling, as well as acting as an aphrodisiac of sorts. In this moment, you’ve never wanted Michael more than you do now, and your legs are almost sticky with the arousal that’s starting to track down your thighs. He looks to be in the same state right now, eyes blown wide with lust and prominent bulge digging against your lower stomach.

Your hands go up to the silver clasps on your cloak, stopped when one of Michael’s large hands grips both of your wrists.

“Leave the rest on.” He says lowly, causing you to gasp as intense want curls in your stomach.

“Michael, I need you.”

Michael sinks to his knees in front of you, ghosting his lips down your body the entire way before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He can’t stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of your pussy, swollen and glistening right in front of him. The moment his hot breath hits your core, your hands lock into his hair in an attempt to stay upright as your knees buckle.

He immediately dives in, sucking and licking at your cunt like it’s his last meal. The sensation immediately sends shockwaves through your body that not even the jolt of pain from throwing your head back and smacking it against the tree bark can diminish. Michael wraps his hands around your thighs, hoisting you further up with preternatural strength. The heels you’re wearing dig into Michael’s shoulders, but if it bothers him he isn’t showing it.

Michael’s nails digging into your skin is the only thing keeping you grounded as his tongue draws shapes against your clit, stopping every so often so Michael can suck harshly on it. You’re a whimpering mess above him, legs shaking from the exertion of being held up off of the ground. He pulls away from you momentarily, licking your arousal off of his face while he surveys you to see just how close you are.

“What do you want, baby? Wanna cum in my mouth first, or do you want me inside you?”

You think for a moment. Although the idea of a near-instant release and gratification is tempting, you can’t deny the throbbing from your pussy that makes you want to be completely and utterly filled to the brim with Michael. The man in question, who has been listening to your inner dialogue the entire time, smirks when your lust-drunk brain comes to a decision. He keeps his grip on your legs as he stands again, wrapping them around his waist for you. Your ankles cross over one another, locking him in your grip. Michael doesn’t even bother to get undressed all of the way, pulling down his trousers and underwear just enough to free his cock.

You swoon at the sight of it, thick and veiny, already flushed red and dripping precum at the tip. His cock is one of your favorite things, and if both of you weren’t so desperate you’d fall to your knees and return the favor. He enters you as quickly as he can without hurting you, groaning loudly as your walls flutter around him while you adjust to his familiar size. Your hands, needing to find purchase on something, snake their way under Michael’s pelt and dig into the skin on his back.

He kisses you deeply, tongues tangling together while he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. Your body rocks up and down against the tree, working your hair into knots and wearing down parts of the cloak that you’re still wearing. You pull away from his lips only to fill your burning lungs with air, but by then Michael’s moved on to the smooth expanse of your neck, sucking bruises onto the clean canvas of your skin.

Michael is truly a sight to behold as his thrusts increase in speed, hitting deep right where you need him. His hair sticks damply to his forehead, the golden curls only looking more like a halo as they’re backlit by the moon. When his eyes focus on you again after being rolled in the back of his head, there’s only a thin blue ring surrounding the blown-out pupils. His lips are fuller than normal, swollen and red from the constant pressure being placed there by your own lips. His muscles ripple under the skin, trying to keep up with the brutal pace that he’s set. The sheer beauty of Michael Langdon would have Greek gods and goddesses weeping in both envy and want; Donatello and Michelangelo could only dream of sculpting something as perfect as him.

You cry out, hips snapping up in an attempt to match Michael’s thrusts. Your legs, which are already wrapped tightly around his torso, attempt to pull him in even closer. If that was even possible, you’re not sure there’s enough of you for him to fill. You can hear yourself speaking broken sentences, but you’re not sure if the words don’t make sense because your brain is too clouded or if you’re just so far gone that you can’t form actual words.

“Michael, I–please-” Your uneven breathing cuts you off, but Michael nods in understanding. He’s close too, thrusts becoming shaky and more erratic as he nears the edge of his own peak.

Your cunt clenches around him, making him groan lowly as he attempts to thrust deeper. The attempt works, and you can feel the fat head of his cock brushing against the the innermost, spongy part of your walls that has you releasing a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a scream. Michael doesn’t stop there, reaching a hand in between your connected bodies so he can rub harsh circles on your clit. There’s enough lubrication there, whether it be sweat or arousal, that your clit is already slick enough for him to easily manipulate.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re cumming with a shout, limbs seizing as the electricity of your orgasm runs through you. Your head swims, eyesight blurred from the intense pleasure as you try to watch Michael. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth shaped like an ‘O’ while he teeters on the verge of his own orgasm. You regain control of your body just enough to moan his name, purposefully clenching around him and allowing him to fall over the edge of ecstasy.

The sensation of his warm release coating your walls sends aftershocks through you, tightening your arms around Michael while he continues to ride out his orgasm with his head buried against your chest. When you’re both completely spent he pulls out of you, wrapping his arms under your ass while he lowers you both to the ground. The beautiful red cloak spreads out underneath you enough for both of you to lay on, neither of you caring about getting dirty.

“Y’know,” Michael says breathlessly, still spent from your previous activities, “I do believe that this is the best holiday I’ve ever participated in.”

“Ambrose was right when he said this was a blessed Lupercalian moon.” Michael hums from beside you, neither of you bothering to put any effort into actually moving your heads to look at each other.

“A blessed Lupercalia, indeed.”

Tag List: @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom@pastel-cloudz @sebastianshoe@nana15774@lichellaw@ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dandycandy75@trimbooohgodplsnoooo@alexcornerblog@everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern@jimmlangdon@langdonsdemon@langdonslove @kahhlo@omgsuperstarg 

[cynoirsure]

imagine | pjm

pairing — jimin x (older female!) reader

word count — 1,191

genre — fluff

summary — jimin wants to pamper and take care of you since he’s not busy, because he loves you

warnings/tags — none!

a/n — happy birthday paige (@praisingpjm)!

(a/n cont): this was inspired by the ariana grande song and at first i was just gonna write it and gift it to you out of nowhere bc you love both jimin & ari but i figured this would be better :-) sorry this fic doesn’t do the song justice or jimin at this point, hope your day is wonderful and filled with the wonderful maknaes of bts but especially the galaxy of stars that jimin holds in his eyes 💫

11:30 PM

[From: Chim ♡] Babe

[From: Chim ♡] Are you awake?

[From: Chim ♡] I have the day off tomorrow!!

[From: Chim ♡] So I wanna come over tonight and see you :(

[From: Chim ♡] I miss you :((

Your boyfriend’s insistent texting kept popping up on the corner of your screen, snapping you out of your paper. You were working on your essay due next week and you were suddenly feeling inspired to write it, but when his text tone started going off, you lost your train of thought. After a few minutes of trying to get it back, you really couldn’t think straight anymore. Not when your notifications had the small red button from your boyfriend’s messages.

11:38 PM

[To: Chim ♡] You just saw me two hours ago, what do you mean you miss me?

[From: Chim ♡] You mean you don’t miss me every second we’re apart?

[From: Chim ♡] How rude!! :(

[From: Chim ♡] I’m kidding!! But I miss you so

[From: Chim ♡] I’m coming over in 15 with pad thai :))

You rolled your eyes, a small smile coming to your face. He knew that you didn’t have work the next day, so it wasn’t a problem for either of you to hang out till he left. Not to mention, even if he had just distracted you from your work, Jimin is also good to work alongside when you wanted the time to study.

11:42 PM

[To: Chim ♡] As in the fine words of Mr. Offset

[To: Chim ♡] “y’all won”

[From: Chim ♡] :))))))))))))

[To: Chim ♡] Shouldn’t you be driving??

You shook your head, a grin appearing on your face from your last text. Jimin probably kept that as his automatic reply when he was driving, but it wasn’t impossible that it was written out by him. You shut your computer, getting your house semi-clean, even if he’s been over multiple times and told you all the time that it was okay if it was messy.

—

If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t remember what life was like before you began to sneak around with Jimin. Jimin’s personality was something super comforting to have around, especially during your hardest times. That’s probably how you two ended up together, through thick and thin.

As time progressed, you two had less and less time together, so even if you had just complained to him about the late notice of him coming over, you didn’t mind. Jimin had good intentions, especially about just pampering his girlfriend.

You appreciated it, you really did. You were so deep in thought about the small things that your boyfriend did that you didn’t even hear him come into your apartment, or even the rustling of the paper bag from your favorite Thai place down the street. It wasn’t until you felt arms snake around your waist that you snapped out of your trance, only to smile at the familiar warmth and lean back into him. Jimin’s melodious chuckles filled your ears and you couldn’t help but relax, listening to him hum for a little.

“I’m home~” Jimin sang into your ear, spinning you around in his arms and smiling brightly when you made eye contact with him. “And! I got your favorite, good thing that place is open till 4, right? Sadly, they ran out of the regular drinks, hopefully bubly is good? It’s better than La Croix, in my personal opinion.” You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend, hiding your face in his neck. He laughed at your sudden movement, combing his fingers through your hair.

You two spent the first hour of the next day eating your pad thai on the floor of your apartment and listening to the radio. Jimin always sang under his breath along with the radio, making you tune in and when you would perk up to him, he’d feed you the thin rice noodles that were under the two of you.

You kinda felt bad, though. You couldn’t fully focus on your boyfriend and he could sense your uncertainty. He closed the food, looking at you curiously. You shifted a little in place, looking up to his curious eyes.

“Do you wanna take a bath? You look tired.” Jimin said quite gently, reaching out to stroke your cheek. You leaned into his touch, pouting a little and nodding. Sometimes, you forgot that you were older than him, but the absence of honorifics was also to back up the fact that you forgot so often. Jimin smiled and kissed your cheek, getting up and going into the bathroom. You trailed behind quietly after cleaning up your floor, watching Jimin run a bath for you. He spun around after sensing you behind him, a smile on his face. Pulling you into the bathroom gently, he was humming a familiar song under his breath, giving you a quick kiss before he pulled away. He began to take off his clothes for the bath, completely unaware of you flushing the brightest red near him.

“Jimin! Why are you stripping? I thought this was a bath for me!” You yelped, rushing to the bath before it started to overflow. You only heard his squeaky laugh before he started tugging your clothes off as well.

“We’re both dirty, and I wanna take care of you!” Jimin exclaimed, making your mouth form a small “o” as he helped you out of your clothes. He snuck a few kisses here and there, and soon enough, you two were in the water, a loofah on your back while the warm water engulfed you and your boyfriend.

After the bath and washing off whatever was left of the dat, you kept catching glimpses of Jimin looking at you, a smile on his face after he’d see you. You two had gone to lie down in your bed, changed in some pajamas that you had reserved for nights when Jimin stayed over. Your head on his chest while he played with your hair, and for a split second, his hand stilled in your hair with a dreamy sigh escaping his mouth.

“You’re so pretty without makeup….” Jimin didn’t realize the words coming out his mouth till they tumbled out, him blushing a light pink. You laughed, kissing his neck once before nuzzling.

“Baby boy is tired, isn’t he? Let’s go to sleep, it’s almost 2 am…” You peered over at the clock near your bed. Jimin hummed once more, shifting so you could be more comfortable on his chest.

You fell asleep to his humming, and right before the slumber had hit you, you heard his declaration of love under his breath:

“I love you, you know that, noona? You’re the stars in my sky, even the sun shakes at how bright you shine in my life. I know we’ll be together in our next life, imagine a world like that, won’t you, noona?”

Jimin pressed his lips against the top of your head once he felt your breathing even out, leaning over and turning off the heart shaped lamp before pulling the warm comforter around you two.

[kettlewrites]

break my heart again — hjs

summary: when time passes, did the time just change or did we as well? (part two for where is the love?)

warning: angst, pisces energy and obviously feelies because you’ll walk out of this fic hating someone. [also in my usual au format bc my braincell can’t function enough to write regularly] 2.1K WORDS

autumn. the time when the leaves start to change colors and the days begin to get shorter

autumn, the season that han jisung held dearly to his heart and memories.

autumn, the time when he had fallen for you all those years ago

the memories of the golden trees and the brisk, cool nights reminded him of you

even if it had been several years,, the season had always taken him back to the fondest moments in his life. the moments in his life he had spent cherishing while still trying to get over you

“it’s not healthy to keep doing that jisung.” seungmin sighs, trying to beg jisung to stay at home

“it’s a tradition.” the older one would argue back, “it’s a routine to me, no feelings or anything.”

“doesn’t mean you should continue to do it… it’s been five years already.”

“almost five years.” jisung corrects before opening the door, “i’ll be fine.”

the air was chilly against jisung’s warm skin, his nose turning a soft pink during the walk down to that old music store

at first it was a way to get over you,, after you had broken up with him

he would frequent the store in hopes of trying to salvage those old memories he held,, afraid that they would disappear like the feelings you had for him

but then it turned into a routine,, one that made him feel incomplete if he had skipped it. he always had to go to the store on the first day of autumn

maybe it was because in the back of his mind he was in the hopes he would see you,, or it was the hopes that he could find love in the magical music store again

but every year it was the same,, he would spend hours browsing up and down the familiar aisles before taking himself home to let that empty feeling in his chest take over

however this year had been different

jisung entered the store,, his feet taking him to the aisle where he used to spend his breaks with you just listening to music

he browsed the new selections,, picking them and making his assessments on them before he felt a cd drop in front of him,, right between his legs causing him to look down at the floor

“i’m so sorry!” that familiar voice rang in his ears,, he was in total disbelief not wanting to look up because his heart would be crushed if his instincts were wrong

but he wasn’t

when he looked back up to hand the cd back,, his eyes were met with yours

his entire world stopped spinning,, those eyes he fell in love with were right in front of him

“y/n.” the name was nearly foreign to him,, yet still had it’s way of sliding off of his tongue like nothing ever happened between the two of you

“jisung.” your breath was caught in the middle of your chest,, somehow seeing his face again made you feel so at home

it had been five years since you’ve broken up with him in that cafe,, totally breaking his heart,,granted yours as well,, and cutting him off completely

you never looked back,, afraid that one day this would happen

and it was happening

you were face to face with the boy you spent an entire year crying over

“it’s been a while,” he smiles lightly, “i think this was yours.”

you apologize softly, taking the cd from his hand. you nod to his statement, it had been a while,, perhaps for a good reason

the both of you stood in an awkward silence,, although not uncomfortable,, almost soothing to be in front of each other like this

“what are you here for?” he asks, leaning against the display, knowing fully well of the rule against it

“just shopping around. i had to buy something for a friend.” you reply, showing off the other albums in your hand, “nothing much,, kind of like the reason why i met you in the first place.”

it made jisung’s heart skip a beat when he heard you joking the past,, it was almost like he was falling in love with you all over again

almost,, as if he never stopped in the first place

the two of you continued to make small talk,, asking about each other’s lives after splitting

it was enjoyable to be able to talk to each other again,, like before,, almost as if nothing had happened between the two of you

you could feel the pain in your heart,, it was faint but you knew that you had missed him

of course you did,, it would be a lie if you hadn’t missed someone you had grown with

and jisung could say the same

although he was in a completely different situation,, he felt his heart parachute off a cliff for you all over again

the way your eyes had a new sparkle in them,, the way you still laughed the same

it made him believe that maybe seungmin was right,, maybe it hadn’t been healthy for him to do this routine,, seeing as he hadn’t fully healed from the break up

as jisung was about to ask you about your current love life,, wholeheartedly expecting for you to say that you weren’t seeing anyone,, another familiar face shows up

the familiar person’s,, yet now stranger,, arm snaking his way around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck causing you to squirm around

something,, that jisung had done with you before

jisung watched in silence,, trying to take everything that was happening in

after what seemed to be a century,, however only about a minute or so,, jisung cleared his throat to announce that he was still in presence of the two of you

the stranger,,parts away from your body smiling at you with all the love in the world in his eyes before looking over to the one who made a noise

“oh,, hey jisung.” the taller one greeted, “it’s been a while hasn’t it?”

“yeah,, it has hyunjin.” the younger said with a forced smile

you could sense the tension between the two guys,, it made you uncomfortable to feel the thick atmosphere around you

“hey, why don’t you go purchase this? i think he wanted a poster to go with it.. i saw some over there.” you turn to say to hyunjin, who obediently nodded his head and went to the other direction

not before saying that he’d wait for you outside so that the two of you could finish catching up

because hyunjin knew that it was something you both needed

you turned back to face jisung,, who was facing the floor, the tips of his ears poking out from his hair that were already bright red

“so when did that start? you and him?” jisung’s tone had darkened completely,, almost as if he was upset with you

did he have the right to be upset? it wasn’t like you cheated on him,, you both were already broken up when you and hyunjin had gotten together

“a year after we split.” your voice had turned to almost a whisper, “i didn’t think it would happen-”

“you told me he was your best friend and i believed you.” his eyes started to let the tears stream down his face, “a year? you got over the two years we spent together that quickly?”

“jisung-”

“then it’s with him. it would’ve been a different story if it was a complete stranger, but to break up with me then go date your best friend a year later? for four years?”

jisung wouldn’t allow you to speak,, his anger had taken control of his heart and blinded his brain

all he did was continue to spit at you with his anger

“maybe you had feelings for him the entire time, didn’t you? is that why you broke up with me? did you even love me?”

“han jisung!” you hadn’t raised your voice with him in so long,, it reminded you of the months before you broke up with him

“stop.” you plead with him, “let me explain.”

your hands were shaking as you plead with him,, you couldn’t believe this was happening in the music store

just like it did before countless of other times

“fine.” he finally settled down,, although he was acting quite stubborn to actually listen to you

“hyunjin and i got together naturally.. after spending so much time together after our break up. i was broken and he helped me heal.” you start with a breath, “i never thought of him as more than a friend until a year after we broke up. so no, i didn’t have feelings for him during us. i can’t believe you would think i would ever do that to you jisung.”

you tried to shake your mind from the thoughts but you had to ask him,, or else it wouldn’t eaten at you for the rest of the day

“did you have doubts of me,,, the entire relationship?” your voice was shaking, you wanted to cry as well

your heart had twisted and turned inside your chest,, did he truly go the two years doubting your faithfulness to him?

“i didn’t mean for it to come out-”

“answer me jisung. did you not trust me?” the tears pool in your eyes,, your vision blurring before you blinked allowing them to rush down your face

“i.. did. i trusted you.” you heard the uncertainty in his voice, this was what broke your heart but you felt that this was the end of the conversation

as if the two of you continued,, it would just turn back into the months you both spent arguing back and forth over nonsense

“hey i’m sorry,, i overreacted.” he rushes to say,, afraid of hurting you

but he already did. he opened a new perspective for you,, that you didn’t even knew existed and maybe you didn’t want to know existed especially not five years later

“maybe it was better off with us not,,, seeing each other anymore.” you mumble, your voice shaking and your chest feeling completely hollow

“don’t say that y/n.” jisung begs

“look at us jisung. we weren’t meant to be.” you say with one final look at him

the boy who used to hold your heart in the palms of his hands,, the boy who took your breath away with one look into his eyes,, the boy who had you swept off the floor

who now became the boy who only made you cry and hurt

jisung tried to say another word,, but you had already walked away not wanting to turn back to hurt yourself more.

leaving jisung to realize his mistakes in the aisle of the music store.

“hey,, what happened in there?” hyunjin asks, noticing your newly quiet demeanor, “everything okay babe?”

you didn’t speak a word until you made it home, not wanting to break down in public again

the moment you stepped into your house,, that’s when you felt the weight of the world crash onto you

the load of the words pressing against your shoulders,, you couldn’t help but to start sobbing.

which causes hyunjin to quickly react,, and dropped his things to hold you

your tears causing him to cry along with you,, one thing that jisung didn’t do before

“he thought,, i didn’t love him at all.” you sobbed into hyunjin’s chest, “as if those two years meant nothing to me. as if i didn’t spend an entire year fighting myself from contacting him. as if i didn’t constantly blame myself for breaking his heart.”

you tried to collect yourself, but the harder you tried the more difficult it became

“as if i don’t call seungmin every year to secretly send him a birthday gift. as if i don’t call felix to see if he’s doing okay. it hurts hyunjin. it hurts so bad.”

and as you sobbed,, the pain had grown,, the pain of the wound that slowly opened itself again.

hyunjin held you in silence, rocking you back and forth as an attempt to calm you down

“it feels like my heart just broke all over again.”

and this time,, it wasn’t your fault. yet you still blamed yourself for it.

[whereiputtheotherstuff]

Requested by Anon:  hi I was wondering how u would feel about writing a newt x self harm reader fic I completely understand if u don't want to that's fine xxx but if u do then maybe no one knows that the reader self harms bc she feels insecure and has been picked on and called ugly ect and then newt accidentally finds out and realises what's going on and tries to stop them and comforts them and its all fluffy at the end and then maybe everyone else find out and helps the reader get through it all

(Gif not mine but writing is)

Don't Hide

You could not believe that you had managed to make it through six years at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry but there was only one year left to go. What was it that your parents told you all those years ago? 'Hogwarts are going to be the best years of your life'.  It had always been  tough for you. Sure you were smart and loved to learn but you were different. You did not particularly fit in with your house or with most of your classmates. Well all apart from one. 

Six months ago

"I can't believe that next year is going to be our last year at Hogwarts." a burly Gryffindor boy said to a Ravenclaw girl as he pushed past you in the hallway. The books that you were carrying were sent flying into the air before hitting the floor. You knew the pair that had left you in this state, walking past you as if nothing had happened. Silently you knelt to the floor about to reach for the books, to your surprise someone rushed towards you, knelt down and gathered the scattered books together, before handing them to you. 

"Thank you" you said shyly as you look up to see who had come to your aid. It was a boy who you recognised but you weren't sure from where. His eyes were green and shone through his messy reddish brown hair. His skin was pale and covered in freckles. Glancing at his yellow and black tie you could see that he was a Hufflepuff. He smiled at you, causing you to smile back before he stood up.  You shove the books into your schoolbag, as he reaches his hand to you and helps you up.  "Thank you." you say again as you could not believe that someone was actually helping you. 

To your surprise he looks at the floor, he must be as shy and nervous as you.  "You're welcome" he mutters, a smile creeping onto his face. Looking at you, he shuffles his feet nervously. Then a look of realisation appears on his face. "Hey, I know you, I have seen you in potions class. You're (Y/N)? The skills you have are incredible." A light blush begins to fill your cheeks.  "Oh thank you, it is very nice of you to say... Umm... I'm sorry I'm terrible with names." you say in embarrassment.  "Newt Scamander. Would it be ok if I walked with you to class?" he asked.  "Of course." you answered with a grin. 

Your friendship grew very quickly and you were pretty much inseparable. Apart from the odd occasion, you spent practically all of you time with each other. You wish that you had become friends with Newt sooner as not only was he great company but also incredibly supportive.  However despite how close the two of you were, there were some things you would not share with Newt. Like why you would sometimes turn in for the night early or unexpectedly would have to leave the room alone.  You did not want him to think less of you. Especially not the only friend that you had. 

Present Day

You loved potions class, it fascinated you how a few simple ingredients can be combined to make a powerful concoction. As you finished the potions, you looked over at Newt who was studying a book. He was always enthralled with how creatures could be used as components for potions. As you carried your cauldron to the back of the classroom you accidentally slipped, spilling a little bit of the potion onto a desk. Setting the cauldron down you turned around, jumping slightly as you were faced with three tall Slitherin boys. "Maybe if you concentrated more you would a make potion that would stop you from being a freak!" one of them yelled in your face, causing the other two to laugh.  Quickly an arm grabbed you, freeing you from the corner that the boys had trapped you in.  "Why don't you just leave her alone." Newt said to them with anger in his eyes.  "And what exactly are you going to do about it if we don't, freckles?"  the biggest one said back.  Gently, you tugged on Newt's arm, pulling him away before he would say something to them that he would regret. Sometimes no matter how hard he tried, you really thought that Newt did not have a bad bone in his body. You led him out into the corridor. 

"Thank you" you said smiling at him. Though your face quickly fell and you tried to look at the floor to hide it.  "Hey" said Newt making your sad eyes look up into his. "Don't listen to those idiots." he smiled. You managed to fake a smile even though the words of the Slitherin boy repeated themselves in your mind.  Newt furrowed his brows as stretched his arms out, pulling you into a hug. "Please" he soothed. You sighed as you nuzzled your face into his chest slightly. Newt always said such nice things to you and was a great friend. Slowly you pulled yourself free from his hold.  "I have just borrowed some new books from the school library. Perhaps we can sit outside and have a look?" Newt asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.  "That sounds great but first I need to... If you'll excuse me, I just need to pop to the bathroom. I'll catch up with you later." you answer quickly, with a sense of urgency in your voice.  After waving goodbye to Newt, you quickly walked to the girl's toilets. Walking into the stall furthest from the door you check to see if the coast was clear. Luckily the entire room was empty.  You sat there alone in that toilet cubicle, just like you been doing for the past two years. Every time you tell yourself that it is the last but you knew deep down it was not that simple. You needed to do it. The cruel words and the bad memories began to flood your mind again. With a trembling hand, you did what you had to do. 

Walking across the school grounds, you welcomed the cool breeze that hit your fade on this warm day. You sat next to Newt on the far field, under the shade of a tree. Occasionally a light pink blossom would fall from it. It looked like Newt had chosen yet another book on magical beasts. Looking at the creature book, the detailed illustrations and descriptions made it feel like the pages came to life. You giggled as you watch his face as he stared at the pages with curiosity.  To your surprise he looked up at you with a serious expression on his face.  "Are you ok?" he asked. The question took you by surprise, it was as if he knew.  "Yes of course, why do you ask?" you nervously laugh in reply.  "It was just that you were gone a while." he said with a lopsided smile. 

You sat next to Newt with complete contentment. Peaceful moments like these were the ones that you cherished the most. The cool breeze had stopped about a quarter of an hour ago and you were starting to feel hot as the sun continued to beat down. You took off your jumper, revealing your white blouse underneath. The movement had caused Newt to look up at you, in doing so his eyes widened in attention.  "(Y/N) are you alright? Your arm..." he says whilst carefully picking up your arm and examining a patch of blood on your sleeve. Oh no, you thought that you had waited enough time for the blood to dry before you rolled your sleeve down. You didn't want him to find out, not today. You start to pull your arm back towards you but he was holding onto it firmly with concern. 

Gently he rolled your sleeve up, revealing a large collection of scars on your arm. Including the fresh cuts that you had made today. You looked at the floor in disgust before looking back at Newt to see his reaction. He silently studied the scars before rolling up your other sleeve to reveal more.  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a quite voice whilst his now red tinged and slightly watery eyes looked at you.  "I didn't want you to see me like this, with the damage that I have done. I already think so little of myself and I did not want you to think less of me too." you admitted as tears started to fall down your cheeks.  "We both know that would never happen. How you I think less of you? You are amazing!" he replied with lopsided smile. You looked at him suspiciously.  "I would never lie to you." he chuckled.  He looked at your scars once more and slowly lifted one of your arms, bringing it towards his face. He looked up, staring into your eyes before saying "You are beautiful." Carefully he pressed his lips to your arm, gently kissing some of your scars.

Your face started to heat up as your cheeks began to blush. You knew that Newt was kind to you but this was different. You had never seen him acting so tenderly towards you. After moving his face away he released your arm. You stared at him with a smile that reflected his. Newt brought one of his hands to your cheek to wipe away your tears before pulling you into a hug. You held onto each other tightly. 

"Please let me help you." Newt whispered into you ear.  You nodded your head before burying your face into his chest. After all of the tough years, Newt really was the best thing to ever happen to you at Hogwarts. 

[m4rkshouse]

the final part of kid!myungjin is here!! i had so much fun writing this and really hope anyone who did read it enjoyed it! this part contains fluffy and v domestic myungjin and a bit of socky. (you can find part one here, and part two here). 

when jinwoo is 20.2, dongmin is 19, bin is 18.4, and minhyuk is 17.4:

they meet dongmin’s neighbour and best friend, yoon sanha

sanha is 16.2 and somehow the most adorable person all three boys have ever seen

jinwoo has met him once briefly when he visited dongmin a month earlier

bin and minhyuk are kinda shocked when they see him for the first time bc he has light pink hair, a loud laugh and likes to screech whenever things excite him (he also screeches when things make him anxious but the only person who can tell the difference between the two is dongmin)

minhyuk doesn’t speak for the first 5 minutes after they’re introduced bc he’s just in awe of the boy who’s a year and a bit younger than him

he finds him so interesting and becomes infatuated with getting to know him

sanha quickly becomes a permanent member of their friend group after they first meet him and he begins hanging around more and more often

now that bin is also attending their university, dongmin and jinwoo move out of the dorms and the three share an apartment 

with them not living on campus anymore, sanha and minhyuk take the train to visit them as often as they can

the apartment has four bedrooms despite the fact that only three people live in it bc they come to stay so often and keep saying that when they get to university, they’re going to move in

sanha and minhyuk come visit at their place nearly as often as the three go back home to visit the two boys

there’s rarely a weekend that all five boys don’t spend together in some capacity

the only time of year they don’t always see each other is during exam times

sanha and minhyuk don’t want to come visit during exam periods as often bc the apartment is a mess of stressed out university students

jinwoo stays up until all hours of the night (aka until dongmin reminds him to sleep) and doesn’t eat unless someone actually puts food in front of him and stays to make sure he eats it (this was initially bin’s job but after he ate the food once, dongmin told him he was fired)

dongmin takes care of both of his roommates bc he’s been ready for exams for weeks, way too organized to be freaking out the way they are; he’s stressed but manageably, and he likes waking up early to study anyways

bin is honestly just a mess, he’s the type of person who doesn’t need to study a lot for exams but he’s also the person who procrastinates studying until the day before so he’s perfectly chill up until said day before and then he begins to lose his mind a little

jinwoo, dongmin, and bin also slow down on visiting minhyuk and sanha during their exam periods

sanha’s entire vocabulary basically becomes various screeches with random sentences that make sense as he blurts out pieces of information he’s previously been studying

the only person who’s able to get him to relax at all is minhyuk 

it used to be dongmin but now anything he says to the 16 year old is useless at calming him down

no one knows exactly what minhyuk says to him but they’re thankful for whatever it may be bc trying to do anything while sanha’s like that is near impossible 

minhyuk is entirely different during exam periods

he just doesn’t talk at all, his head buried in books or doing practice problems

when minhyuk isn’t studying he’s probably sleeping on someone else’s shoulder bc he refuses to sleep before a major exam no matter how many times his hyungs insist he needs to get to sleep

the only person he’s ever listened to when they told him to go to sleep is sanha 

minhyuk claims this isn’t true whenever someone teases him about it but his red cheeks and stuttered words say otherwise

when jinwoo is 21.9, dongmin is 20.7, bin is 20, minhyuk is 19, and sanha is 17.9: 

jinwoo picks up a new part time job at a coffeeshop

now instead of spending all of their time in the apartment minhyuk now also lives in, they spend an awful lot of it studying at the table in the corner

it’s definitely not bc jinwoo gives them free coffee and food (even though dongmin places as much change as he has from working his own part time job into the tip jar each day to make up for said free stuff)

when jinwoo is on break he comes and joins them at their table

one day as he’s sitting with them in the corner, the door opens and he hears someone laugh somewhere around the shop and he swears he’s heard it before

it’s snow angels and space adventures and promises to stay together forever

and jinwoo immediately looks out the glass windows of the shop to try and spot the one person he’ll always look for no matter where he goes

dongmin catches him as his eyes quickly flit over the crowds of people surrounding the store, close enough for him to have heard their laughter, but to no avail

it’s not until he slumps down into his seat that bin and minhyuk stop their conversation and also notice that something is wrong

dongmin: “what is it?”

jinwoo: “it’s nothing, dongmin, don’t worry about it”

he puts on a fake smile and minhyuk rolls his eyes: “i know that smile hyung don’t try and pull that”

he’s a little shocked at minhyuk calling him out before he sees bin nodding beside him and dongmin grinning to himself

he sighs: “i thought i heard myungjun’s laugh”

and bin looks at him with sympathy playing in his eyes while dongmin and sanha just look confused

before anyone can have any real reaction, minhyuk has shot out of his seat and walks outside, pushing through some groups of people lingering on the sidewalk to try and find the source of that laugh

he doesn’t come back inside until bin goes to get him and he just sits down with a blank stare 

he doesn’t say it out loud but all he wanted was to have found myungjun bc he’s always hated seeing how jinwoo is happy but not as happy as he had been when myungjun was around

while dongmin was slightly confused, sanha is all kinds of lost (especially after minhyuk’s reaction)

he briefly recalls hearing the name from dongmin and even from jinwoo, bin, and minhyuk a few times but not with enough detail that he understands

he’s the first to speak after jinwoo’s admission and minhyuk’s return: “umm, who’s myungjun?”

jinwoo opens his mouth to explain but hears one of his coworkers calling him bc his break is done

he shrugs, promising to fill sanha and dongmin in later before getting up and leaving

both sanha and dongmin try to get bin and minhyuk to explain but they refuse to, knowing that it’s jinwoo’s story to tell and definitely not their place

later that night as they sit in the living room of the apartment which sanha will also soon move into in the fall, jinwoo explains

jinwoo tells sanha a story of his childhood best friend and the greatest cheerleader

the person with the biggest and brightest smile he’s ever seen and the most joyful laugh and the best artist jinwoo has ever met

his story then takes a much sadder turn as he shares that the only person he’d ever wanted to spend his whole life with left when he was 14 and though he may be 21 now he still cries thinking about how much he misses him

dongmin is slightly shocked bc he never realized how much myungjun’s leaving had hurt jinwoo

sure, he knew jinwoo was upset but had no idea about him crying every night for the first year after myungjun would call or the kiss when he left or anything else that jinwoo had gone through

bin and minhyuk just nod along with parts of the story, filling in when jinwoo looks about ready to cry

as they all head to sleep that night jinwoo tries to push the memory of that laugh earlier in the day out of his head

he can’t bc he would recognize that laugh even if he was old and it had been 50 years since he last heard it bc it’s his favourite sound on earth

he ends up climbing into bed with dongmin and allowing his friend to wrap his arms around him just like they had when they were kids during sleepovers

dongmin isn’t myungjun and jinwoo doesn’t want him to be, he just needs something that will remind him of his childhood

he may or may not sleep in dongmin’s bed for the next week, all tangled limbs and squished bodies bc he really can’t sleep alone

what jinwoo doesn’t know is that every time they leave the house, bin and minhyuk try and spot the boy who they only knew for just over a year but still loved fiercely

even sanha, after seeing some pictures around the apartment which he somehow never noticed before, begins looking for the stranger who can “make jinwoo hyung happy again” whenever he’s visiting

although he tries to be strong for jinwoo the idea of myungjun being so close also makes dongmin a little sad

he doesn’t know how to tell jinwoo that his calls with myungjun carried on longer than jinwoo’s had and only ended the year he went off to university

the two musketeers, in their shared, unvoiced sadness are as close as they’ve been in a few years, brought together over the missing body of their third musketeer every time they shut their eyes to sleep

when jinwoo is 22.2, dongmin is 21.2, bin is 20.4, minhyuk is 19.4, and sanha is 18.2:

all of the boys attend sanha’s graduation

they had done the same for bin’s and minhyuk’s graduations but sanha’s felt a little more special bc as bin puts it: “our final baby is growing up!!” (they definitely do not baby sanha and minhyuk, not at all)

on the morning of, they pile onto the train, backpacks stuffed with clothes to spend the weekend hanging around dongmin’s parents’/sanha’s parents’ apartments

jinwoo and dongmin are staying with dongmin’s parents bc they don’t mind sharing a bed (and jinwoo still sleeps with dongmin most nights) and bc dongmin’s parents want to see him for more than just the 20 minute visits they get when the boys come down to visit sanha next door

minhyuk and bin are staying with sanha’s parents bc they have the extra room from sanha’s older brothers (they’re definitely not staying with sanha bc before it was even said that they’d need to split up, minhyuk declared he was staying with sanha)

when they get off the train sanha is waiting for them as per usual and they easily spot the tall boy standing as he waves his long arms frantically at them

the walk to their apartment from the train station isn’t far and they’ve all done it before so they quickly make it there, dropping their stuff off and just hanging out for a bit bc the graduation isn’t until the evening

when it finally is time for his graduation though they all sit quietly next to each other throughout the ceremony

the second sanha’s name is called they jump out of their seats and give him a standing ovation, minhyuk definitely yells and sanha’s cheeks are crimson

when the ceremony ends they run to find him and wrap him in a giant group hug (and sanha’s parents definitely get pictures)

they take a thousand photos together for their various social media accounts and jinwoo the photographer makes sure all of them are perfect

they all post photos of them and sanha and group photos on instagram with varying captions

@/jin_jin: “congrats to my son on graduating. you’re growing up so fast 🎓👨‍👦”

@/lee_dongmin: “congratulations on your graduation @/ddana_00! 😁❤️”

@/bin.nie: “my beansprout is fully grown i’m so proud 🌱”

@/rocky_swag: “uni ‘bout to be lit 🍻😜 #congrats #sanhaswag”

sanha posts the photo of their group hug

@/ddana_00: “thank you for being the most supportive hyungs anyone could ask for, love you all lots 💜💜”

the boys then leave sanha alone with his family bc they know it’s important that he spend time with them too

they leave to get dinner with the promise that he can come hang out with them later

they choose a really good ramen place that dongmin knows about and after being seated in the booth they begin talking and laughing really loudly and just being bffs

they order and just like usual, bin begins taking everyone else’s food after he finishes his own

the only people he can successfully steal food from are dongmin bc he’s too nice to say no and minhyuk bc he’s been friends with bin for so long that he’s used to it

they take way too long to eat bc they’re talking too much and so sanha ends up joining them

they finally leave the restaurant and just walk around, joking and laughing and yelling as they walk around sanha and dongmin’s hometown

they find a playground and minhyuk, sanha and bin want to go play so jinwoo and dongmin, being the greatest parents, let them

all of them are playing on this playground, playing tag and hide and seek (even though they can see each other) and sanha is shrieking and everyone is laughing so hard

by the time they finally start to head back they’re just so warm and happy bc they’re surrounded by their favourite people on earth

for the first time in a long time, jinwoo doesn’t think about how myungjun is missing and just fully enjoys himself

when jinwoo is 23.6, dongmin is 22.4, bin is 21.8, minhyuk is 20.8, and sanha is 19.6: 

sanha comes back from work at the coffeeshop one day visibly flustered

everyone is a little shocked when sanha enters the apartment completely out of breath, cheeks red and sweat running down the side of his face

bin: “did you just run home from work??”

dongmin and jinwoo immediately go into parent mode and they try to get him to sit down but he refuses

he grabs jinwoo’s hand: “we need to go back to the cafe, quick, come on”

everyone is really confused like, sanha it’s okay you’re done your shift you can be at home now ??

he really won’t stop though: “no guys i’m not kidding around, we need to go back, please jinwoo hyung, please go back with me”

sanha manages to get everyone to leave the apartment and is quickly dragging them back to the coffeeshop

dongmin realizes when they’re nearly there that no one ever asked sanha why they needed to go back and finally does

sanha stops walking, causing jinwoo to nearly crash into him, and turns around to face the group: “myungjun is there, i’m sure it’s him, i know it is”

and then he nearly starts crying: “he came in just as i was finishing my shift and my phone is dead and we need to get back, okay? he needs to still be there when we get back”

all of them begin moving their feet a little quicker to try and get back to the coffeeshop as quickly as possible

when they get there, myungjun isn’t there and sanha actually does start crying: “it’s all my fault, i should’ve gone quicker… i should’ve brought him with me… i should’ve made sure he stayed somehow,”

he’s basically just losing it and rambling bc he feels so guilty over the fact that he wasn’t able to reunite jinwoo with myungjun

everyone tries to reassure him that its not his fault but he doesn’t really listen, not even when jinwoo says it

they do, however, manage to coax him into going home

he spends the evening still upset with his head in minhyuk’s lap, allowing the older boy to play with his hair in an attempt to calm him down

he ends up falling asleep with his head still in minhyuk’s lap, a few tears still staining his cheeks

minhyuk tries to stay where he is on the couch as long as possible but it hits 1:00am and he’s so tired bc he can’t fall asleep the way they’re positioned

he wakes up sanha and tells him that he should head to sleep in his room

sanha stubbornly shakes his head and insists minhyuk sleep with him, he can’t sleep alone bc he’ll think too much and he doesn’t wanna cry again

minhyuk sighs but agrees bc he knows sanha needs to sleep and also doesn’t want him to cry anymore

he follows sanha to his room and they climb into his bed next to one another

he lets sanha rest his head on his chest and plays with his hair when sanha asks him to

he doesn’t fall asleep until he hears sanha’s soft snores

when the other three wake up, they’re v confused bc bin tells them that minhyuk was not in his bed in their shared room

they go to sanha’s room to ask him if he knows where minhyuk went and find them sleeping, sanha’s head still on minhyuk’s chest

jinwoo coos silently bc its adorable and dongmin drags him and bin out with a smile on his face before they can take pictures of it

when jinwoo is 24, dongmin is 22.9, bin is 22.2, minhyuk is 21.2, and sanha is 20:

jinwoo and sanha are working a shift together at the cafe

the other 3 are in the corner studying

the bell on the door rings, signalling a customer and jinwoo is cleaning something so he tells sanha to help them

sanha: “no”

jinwoo, shook: “what do you mean ‘no’, sanha?”

sanha, also sounding shook: “i’m not doing it, you have to”

jinwoo turns around, slightly exasperated and his eyes immediately go wide and his hands begin shaking bc that’s myungjun standing at the cash??

dongmin, minhyuk, and bin haven’t noticed yet so as jinwoo makes his way to the register in a bit of a daze sanha picks up a random cloth and nearly runs to their table

he doesn’t even pretend to clean it, just sits down with them and quickly tells them before they all turn and face the register

jinwoo, eyes shining: “myungjun??”

myungjun, shocked: “jinwoo??”

and jinwoo just kinda half laughs half sobs: “is it really unprofessional if i jump over this counter and hug you??”

myungjun just laughs bc jinwoo really hasn’t changed and the sound makes jinwoo smile widely and he hops the counter bc why not

as soon as his feet hit the floor myungjun’s arms are around him

and jinwoo knows, he knows that he’s in love with myungjun

in that moment there’s not a single doubt in his mind that he loves myungjun with every fibre of his being

and myungjun has always kinda known that he was in love with jinwoo but this is confirming it

myungjun: “umm, you gave me something when i left and i never got a chance to return it”

jinwoo: “??”

suddenly myungjun’s lips are on jinwoo’s

it’s a good thing the cafe is dead aside from the group of friends bc this is even more unprofessional

speaking of the group of friends sitting in the corner, they are /shook/

sanha is ready to start shrieking from excitement, minhyuk is covering sanha’s mouth but smiling widely, dongmin and bin are looking at one another with wide eyes but are also smiling

when they finally pull away, the table in the corner is clapping

minhyuk mutters out a “finally”

sanha finally does shriek from excitement

bin whistles

and dongmin just laughs at his friends

jinwoo’s cheeks turn super red and myungjun’s cheeks turn less red bc he doesn’t realize who they are

upon getting closer though myungjun is also embarrassed bc he’s pretty sure dongmin, bin, minhyuk, and this adorable pink-haired kid just watched him lowkey makeout with jinwoo yikes

it’s okay though bc all of them are smiling and none of them seem that upset about it

dongmin, bin and minhyuk are standing up and wrapping their arms around him and telling him how much they missed him

sanha is introducing himself excitedly and telling myungjun how much he’s heard about him

jinwoo is standing quietly with myungjun’s hand still in his bc he let go when he was 14 and he’s definitely not going to let go of him now

myungjun can definitely sense this bc he can still read jinwoo like no one else can and he shakes his grip off: “go do your job, i’m not going anywhere”

jinwoo still looks a little wary so myungjun holds out his pinky: “i promise i’m not leaving without you this time”

so jinwoo wanders back behind the counter bc new customers have just come in and sanha is scurrying back close behind him

their shift is done in half an hour and it’s the longest half an hour of their lives

in that half an hour, myungjun learns that dongmin is studying astrophysics, bin is studying food and nutrition, and minhyuk is studying kinesiology and he smiles so widely bc that fits each of their personalities as he remembers them so well

he goes back to their apartment with them after he’s spent the time catching up with dongmin, bin, and minhyuk

which just leaves jinwoo to catch up with and an overly-excited sanha to get to know

after sanha talks his ear off for about 20 minutes with fun facts about himself and about his majors, music and education, minhyuk drags him away bc myungjun and jinwoo need some alone time

myungjun has only known sanha an hour but he can already tell he’s going to love him just as much as the rest of the boys appear to

when sanha finally leaves, which jinwoo thanks minhyuk for mentally, everyone else also seems to clear out of the living room to give them their space

jinwoo doesn’t really know what to say bc he’s so happy at the same time that he’s so confused and his emotions are all over the place

myungjun: “i don’t really know what to say either”

jinwoo looks at him across the couch: “i’m going to start with i missed you, bc i don’t think i’ve said that yet… and i did, miss you that is, a whole lot”

myungjun: “i missed you too”

their bodies are unconsciously moving closer together bc they’ve never been the type to sit next to each other with any kind of space between them

myungjun: “i’m sorry”

jinwoo is a little shocked at this bc he never really expected myungjun to apologize to him

before he can respond myungjun is continuing: “i’m sorry that i stopped calling and i’m sorry that i never visited you and i’m even sorry that i left”

jinwoo: “don’t apologize for leaving, it was an incredible opportunity for you”

myungjun smiles bc jinwoo is too selfless sometimes: “i’m apologizing bc i left you after i promised i wouldn’t ever do that”

myungjun’s eyes are a little glassy bc those promises are the things that kept him up at night and they’re the reason he stopped calling

jinwoo: “i was never upset with you for that, you did what you had to; i understand that now”

and it’s a lie, jinwoo knows its a lie and even myungjun knows its a lie but he smiles anyways bc jinwoo is still exactly the same as he remembers him

he may be a little older and much more mature than when myungjun left but he’s still the same kid who kissed him in his driveway without thinking about the consequences

myungjun: “there’s something else i have to say… and you can slap me if you want or tell me to leave or never speak to me again, but i need to say it before you do any of that”

jinwoo wants to laugh bc nothing myungjun could ever say would make him do any of those things, especially after he just got him back

so he wraps his hand around myungjun’s and nods expectantly waiting for whatever it is he has to say

myungjun: “i love you… as in i’m in love with you, and it’s cool if you don’t feel the same way but i needed to tell you and also i’m sorry about kissing you earlier bc that also might not have been okay but i-“

jinwoo cuts him off by pressing their lips together once again and after the initial shock wears off myungjun is kissing him back

when they pull away jinwoo just laughs at him: “i love you too, idiot”

myungjun’s smile is the biggest jinwoo has ever seen it

the two of them spend the rest of the evening cuddling together on the couch talking about anything and everything, including myungjun’s art

eventually the other guys come back and everyone sits around the living room chatting and telling stories

jinwoo’s heart is so full bc everyone he loves the most in the entire world is with him

more specifically, the one person his heart has been searching for for nearly 10 years is finally back in his arms

when jinwoo is 25, myungjun is 27, dongmin is 23.9, bin is 23.2, minhyuk is 22.2, and sanha is 21:

they’re all sitting in jinwoo and myungjun’s apartment celebrating jinwoo’s birthday

it’s his first birthday with myungjun back

their apartment has become the group’s new hangout spot despite the other boys’ apartment being bigger

they claim that they like it better but myungjun knows its really bc they always have food in the fridge and snacks in their cupboards

the walls are covered in photos of myungjun and jinwoo from when they were kids and from the last year, photos with the rest of the guys littered throughout, and myungjun’s art placed around

they have house plants in nearly every room from succulents to flowers

sanha has definitely broken at least 2 by accidentally hitting them with his limbs bc he still hasn’t really figured out how to control them with how long they are

its a little after dinner and they’ve all had time to talk when myungjun lights the candles on the cake dongmin picked out

they all begin singing happy birthday and jinwoo smiles widely

when it’s time to blow out the candles he’s having a hard time figuring out what his wish should be

every birthday from his 15th until this one he’s wished for myungjun back and now he’s back so he doesn’t know what to wish for

after a few seconds, when sanha’s looking about ready to do it himself, jinwoo blows them out

sanha: “what’d you wish for hyung?!?!”

jinwoo: “if i tell you it won’t come true”

everyone laughs but jinwoo isn’t really kidding

after everyone eats a slice of cake, and bin eats 2, they gather around the tv to watch a movie

bin and dongmin are sitting next to each other on one end of the couch and bin looks about ready to fall asleep

myungjun and jinwoo are cuddled close together, myungjun’s head resting on jinwoo’s shoulder

sanha is sitting on the floor with his body resting against minhyuk’s legs as minhyuk’s fingers run through his hair

myungjun smiles at the sight of them and discreetly points at them, whispering to jinwoo: “that reminds me of us when we were younger”

and jinwoo smiles at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before turning his attention back to the movie, his head resting on myungjun’s head on his shoulder

he’s so content in that moment bc all he needs in life to be happy is these 5 guys that are with him right now

the movie doesn’t even get halfway through before bin actually does fall asleep and that’s when dongmin announces that it’s time to go

sanha whines bc he doesn’t want to leave yet and “binnie hyung always ruins the fun by falling asleep”

bin: “binnie hyung isn’t going to wake sanha up tomorrow morning at 7:00am for work and sleep instead”

sanha sticks his tongue out at him and dongmin grabs bin’s wrist gently when he moves to swat at sanha’s shoulder, shooting him a classic dongmin glare

jinwoo laughs bc his friends are literally a bunch of little kids

myungjun is leaning against his shoulder tiredly as they all say their goodbye’s and wish jinwoo one last happy birthday before finally leaving

myungjun: “time for bed”

jinwoo agrees quickly, following him to their shared bedroom

as per usual, he brushes his teeth as myungjun changes and then they switch

they follow this routine so often that they’ve begun to adjust to how long it takes each of them to do things and always unintentionally finish at the same times

myungjun always climbs into bed before jinwoo, leaving his side open bc jinwoo double checks that their door is locked each and every night

when he does lay down myungjun just latches onto him, sliding his way onto jinwoo’s chest and resting his head there

jinwoo snakes an arm around his body and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head

some nights they stay up and chat but both of them are lowkey exhausted after spending all day with their friends so there isn’t nearly as much talking

myungjun: “happy birthday jinwoo”

jinwoo, chuckling: “you’ve said that to me like 40 times”

myungjun: “i know but it was the first thing you woke up to and i want to make sure it’s the last thing you hear before bed”

jinwoo: “i’d rather hear something else before bed”

cue myungjun slapping his chest as jinwoo giggles: “hey normally it’s you making those jokes, don’t hit me”

myungjun just sighs bc jinwoo’s definitely right

he settles back down into his chest and sighs contentedly: “i love you”

jinwoo smiles to himself for a second before answering bc he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of hearing those words from myungjun: “i love you too”

he’s still awake when myungjun begins softly snoring and he can’t help but think back to his wish

he had wished for things to stay how they were right now forever, and he knows its unrealistic but a small part of him feels like they might

all he really knows to be true is that his little trio of musketeers has become a group of six and he wouldn’t want it any other way

especially now that the sixth and final musketeer has found his way back into jinwoo’s life, and arms, exactly where he belongs

this part ended up with more angst than initially intended, i apologize. myungjin is temporarily done breaking my heart so yay for that. one last shoutout to @astrofireworks for her really amazing fic which inspired this one :)

[the-phony-pony]

The Wand Shop

"First Year students will need to purchase a wand. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry recommends Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC as Hogwarts students will receive a small discount for their patronage. Should you have any questions, please owl Deputy Headmaster Neville Longbottom with haste."

"Mum, there it is!" Lorcan grabbed his brother's hand and raced down to peer into the windows of the shop. His breath fogged up the glass. Lysander rubbed it away with his sleeve, matching his brother's position at the shop windows.

"Boys!" their father shouted, sprinting the last few meters to catch up to the twins. Luna Scamander followed her husband, Rolf, though with a more sedate pace. For old times' sake, her wand was perched behind her ear, highlighted by two earrings made from niffler treasure. "What has your mother told you about Mr. Ollivander's shop?"

"The wand chooses the wizard!" they chorused, Luna giving them a gentle smile.

"So be gentle, boys, and listen to the wands. They sing to you when they're ready."

Rolf held the door open as Luna followed Lorcan and Lysander in. The shop was just as cluttered as she remembered, though it was not unpleasant. It felt more like a warm blanket surrounding one after a cold night in the snow, the kind of gentle weight that settled over one and delivered a sense of peace. Her boys, normally rowdy, settled down under the magic in the air. Lorcan's eyes were wide, drinking in the whole of the shop. Luna took a moment to try and remember the shop as though she was eleven again, to see how her children were experiencing their defining moment as wizards.

The boxes seemed to loom over the twins as they walked in. Thin and narrow, they were haphazardly stacked upon almost any available surface. A small display case had a few accessories, but the bulk of the shop was focused on one thing - wands. Lysander walked up the counter slowly, a fear of sending the boxes tumbling to the floor and damaging the goods inside keeping him from his normal rambunctious behavior.

"Ah, the Scamanders!" a shaky voice called from behind the boxes. Lorcan jumped, startled from the box he was inspecting. A moment of panic nearly sent the pile to the aged wooden floors, but a whoosh of magic canceled the disturbance he caused. The boys looked up to the counter to see an old man, stooped through work, peering at them curiously through small spectacles.

He looked ancient, face weathered and wrinkled. His hair, once wild and free, hung by his face in limp strands, as though it too was fighting against time. He was dressed in an old coat and necktie, though the fabric held a sheen that said it was once a fine garment.

"Mr. Ollivander," Rolf greeted, Luna echoing his words. "Our sons are finally ready."

"Hmm, yes…" Ollivander replied, his eyes staring off into space. "Mrs. Scamander, originally rowan, dragon heartstring, eleven and one half inches, unyielding. But I daresay your springy new wand of beech, unicorn hair, thirteen and one quarter inch suits you much better now." Luna smiled and pulled the white wand from her hair, the color blending almost perfectly.

"She has served me well since that night, Garrick," she said, swishing her wand through the air. It sent a shimmer of fairy lights through the shop, dancing over some unknown breeze before fading into dust. As she tucked her wand behind her ear, she couldn't help but notice Lorcan and Lysander watching with identical slack-jawed expressions.

"And you, Mr. Scamander!" Ollivander exclaimed suddenly, turning to Rolf. "Maple, unicorn hair, fourteen and three quarters inches, quite bendy. It too has served you well in your travels."

"As always," Rolf replied, patting his sons on the shoulder. "But I think it's time for Lorcan and Lysander to get their own."

Luna laid a hand on her husband's elbow, stilling him for a moment. "Patience, my dear. The wand chooses the wizard. They have to see our boys before they will be ready to sing."

Ollivander chuckled lightly. "You would have made a fine apprentice, I think, Mrs. Scamander," he said, turning to shuffle back into the depths of wand boxes. "Let me see who's taken a liking to your fine two young sons." They heard a quiet humming come from the back of the shop as boxes whizzed about their head, stacking and restacking into two piles on the countertop. Lorcan shouted when a tape measure zoomed into view and began to stretch over his body, measuring the bridge of his nose and the diameter of a mole on his left arm.

Despite the almost comical tape, it was a beautiful sight. Boxes of bright colors mixed with more muted tones to create a pile of four, five, seven wands that took a liking to each of the Scamander twins. Eventually, the frantic flight settled with a single black box on each pile. Ollivander emerged, hair askew and glasses hanging off of his pocket. He settled them back on the tip of his nose and motioned to Lysander.

"Go ahead, child," he said, waving at the pile of boxes in front of the younger twin's feet. Lysander picked up a bright pink box, slightly off-put by the color. As he removed its cover, Ollivander whispered, "Reed, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, stiff," with a pause after each word. Lysander gave it an experimental flick, but the wand shot off an angry puff of steam and jumped out of his hand. "Too much, then, I think," Ollivander said cheerfully, a wave of his hand sending the wand into its box and back to some stack beyond the counter. "Next!"

Lorcan opened up a turquoise and silver box containing "spruce, unicorn hair, ten and one quarter inch, supple", though it gave much a similar reaction to his brother's. Rolf and Luna looked on in amusement, her head resting peacefully against his shoulder.

"Do you remember?" she asked him quietly, watching black strands leak from an unbending vine wand that Lysander had swished through the air moments ago.

"Yellow stars fell through the shop's air like a meteor shower," Rolf replied, eyes glistening with memory. "What was your first wand like?"

Luna paused to think. Her first wand served her well. It was of rowan, for protection and defense. It was especially useful during the days of Dumbledore's Army -- her protego remained one of her strongest charms, even with the beech. "It did what it had to do," she finally said, her mind back in the damp cellar of Malfoy Manor. "It served me until it was time. Garrick found a wand that willing to take me after the Rowan had finished its service." She twirled the beech through her fingers thoughtfully. "I feel blessed to have wielded two wands."

Lysander and Lorcan swished purple snowflakes through the air to brother vinewood wands, though Ollivander's look of disgust said that purple snowflakes were not a desired outcome. He bundled the wands back into their boxes and sent them to their nooks and crannies, swishing desperately through the dwindling piles in front of the boys.

For Lorcan, he pulled out a pale white and gold box, ornately carved with runes and filigrees. The beautiful orange of a pear wood wand stared back at him, and he picked it up hesitantly. To the tune of Ollivander's reverent "pear, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches, reasonably supple," he gave it a gentle flick. The resulting shower of golden sparks sent a thrill of magic through the shop, and Luna felt the wand singing in her bones.

She clapped excitedly as Lorcan swished again, the golden sparks changing to a beautiful fine shimmer that clung to him like pixie dust. Ollivander grinned widely, showing teeth that had seen better days, but an unbridled joy shone through his elderly exterior. "Bravo!" he exclaimed, a sudden vitality back into his voice. I will box this one up for you right away." To Lysander, he added, "Keep going, boy! Your wand is not far behind; I can feel it."

Rolf nodded at his youngest son, making faces until the gloom left his face. "Just listen," he encouraged, motioning at him to select another box. Lysander closed his eyes and took a deep breath, drinking in the feel of the wood and cores around him.

He couldn't distinguish them, of course, being an untrained young wizard, but his magic was attuned enough to the more delicate natures his parents sought out that he could tell there was something out there. His hands were drawn to a dark stained box. He slid open its cover to find a brittle sycamore wand, thirteen inches, with unicorn hair at its core. The moment he touched the wood, though, a hot flame jolted through his finger and he yelped, dropping the box with a clatter.

Ollivander paused in his polishing and looked up. "Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry about that, young Mr. Scamander." Luna moved over to Lysander's side and checked his fingers, using her wand to quickly fix the small burn. She crouched down to meet his eyes and shared a small, meaningful glance with her son.

"I'll keep listening, Mum," Lysander whispered, squeezing his fingers together. He bent down to pick up the offending wand and place it back in its box. "Be nice to the next person who touches you," he told it. He paused and felt again, this time reaching for a violet box with silver fastenings so faded, they were nearly grey. This one held promise.

The younger Scamander twin eased this box off, careful of the worn edges, to pick up a red oak wand inside. "Unicorn hair, eleven inches, slightly yielding," Ollivander told Luna, watching peacefully as Lysander gave it a swish. The result was subtle, a slight shimmer through the air, though it settled around Lysander's feet like a heavy fog on the ground.

"Splendid! Simply splendid!" Ollivander exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I'll have my assistant get the rest of these settled and I will send your family on their way!" The boys watched with glee as the remaining boxes zoomed around the old shop, worming their way back into the nooks and crannies they called home. Rolf passed over the fourteen galleons and the Scamander family prepared to finish the rest of their school shopping.

"Go on to Flourish and Blotts!" Luna called, waving them on. "I'll be just a moment." Rolf gave her a questioning look, though her small smile in response was enough to send him on. He had long ago accepted his wife's eccentricities, just like she had his, but the bond between herself and the wandmaker was one forged through hardship. Though the husband and wife had weathered their fair share of storms, Luna held onto some shadows from her past that Rolf would never understand.

"Garrick," Luna called, waiting for the wiry hair to appear from amongst the shelves. Instead, a familiar messy mop of black hair emerged, round glasses slipping down on a crooked nose. Green eyes met Luna's hesitantly, a sheepish look conveyed with few words.

"Hello, Luna," Harry Potter said, giving his classmate a smile. "He had to step to the back for a moment. Something I can help you with?"

Luna blinked once, surprised, but also not so. Harry had a way with magic, with sensing the things in the air. It was much like her own sense for Crumpled Horn Snorkacks or Rolf's way with nifflers. "Is this a better fit for you?" she chose to ask, instead of the other millions of questions in her head. Harry raked fingers through his hair, dislodging the somewhat careful mess the locks had arranged for themselves. He was left with a long mop, fringe covering one eye, the rest falling haphazardly around his shirt collar.

"I create things," he said after some time, looking at some point in the shop over her shoulder. "My wand, both wands, were part of what the prophecy had decreed for me. I wanted to take control, just for a little bit." He pulled a wand from behind his ear. It was jet black, long and skinny, but engulfed by intricate vines that wove their way around the handle. "Neither wand was mine to use, really. I needed to make my own."

Luna nodded. It made sense. She had traveled with Rolf in search of her own answers, some that her father was never able to provide. Harry needed someone who would help him find his answers, even if they didn't have any answers themselves. "It was good seeing you, Harry," she finally said. "The wrackspurts seem to have left you alone. I hope they stay away."

Luna Scamander gathered her cloak about her and pushed open the door to Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. The bell above tinkled gently behind her as the door closed. She had her own path to make.

---

Garrick Ollivander had lived a very long life. Long even by magical standards. His father, and his father, and his father before that, on and on since the establishment of their livelihood, had all lived long and successful lives. It was part of the wandmaker's process, to gain time to learn the craft properly. Of course, his father had only one son, and Garrick himself had no children.

Then, Harry Potter stumbled into his shop.

"Mr. Potter," he rasped, rising from the stool behind the counter. "Surely your wand has not failed you yet?"

Harry did not answer, instead gazing around the shop with a matured curiosity. The spark was different from his eleven-year-old self. He was not much older now, but far more matured, aged by the great battle in a way that ran through his soul. Garrick still, some days, woke up feeling enclosed in that dungeon cell with none but a fellow Ravenclaw for company.

"Mr. Potter," he started again. But the look that his guest gave him made him stop. Great pain and sorrow lay inside the man before him today. There was something else, though, some inner fortitude that made him stop and really look. "You are not here for a wand," he said instead.

"No." Harry stopped at the counter and picked up a wand box next to his hands. "I want to do this. Something -- useful. With meaning."

"Can you not find that inside the Aurors, Mr. Potter? Or inside the Wizengamot? Hogwarts' walls themselves?" Garrick had to ask. He had to make sure that he wasn't misreading the glow that came from the young man.

The look that Harry gave him was one of such scorn that Garrick knew right away. "No. I don't want any of -- that. Too many people floating around me." Harry made a fluttery gesture with his hand. "There's too many expectations that go along with that."

"And what do you think I can offer you that all those places cannot?"

"Something better." The young man paused, obviously searching for the right words. "I want to help, but not with all that. You help new witches and wizards, give them the tool they need to survive in this world. I think that's a better help."

"I suppose it is time for me to take an apprentice. Can you handle me floating around, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

And with that, Garrick Ollivander had secured the next generation of wandmakers. It was a schism from their entire line of work. It had always been an Ollivander crafting these wands, but Garrick had sensed it when he made Harry Potter's phoenix feather wand. That wand would come back to him, at some point, but he hadn't known how.

But now, it was time for Harry Potter to learn the secrets of wandmaking. And Ollivander taught him. He watched his apprentice keep up a vast array of owl correspondence, but he was less and less likely to make ventures out into Diagon Alley and the wizarding world proper. His magic recognized the truth of the wand shop even if the wizard didn't.

It wasn't until Luna Scamander's sons entered the shop that Harry realized the truth.

"You didn't tell me," he accused, eyes blazing.

"You had to discover on your own, Harry," Garrick explained. He ran a hand through the thinning strands of hair. Time had been far too long for him, working day in and out after his father had passed on. Garrick had spent long, long years alone. To receive Harry into his shop, that was a blessing.

"I don't understand."

"Wandmaking is a long and subtle art," he explained. "It takes time to learn, to train, to become good at deciphering the trees and the crafting and the runes. But you know this already." Harry nodded. "When you craft, you enter a flow state - a period of such focus and persistence that all else fades away. Including time."

Harry looked around at the boxes in the shop, countless stacked haphazardly and curiously, waiting for their bearer to enter. "Otherwise it would take months to carve a single wand."

"Yes. I am old, Harry. Extraordinarily so. Now that you know, it is time for you to take your place at the head of this shop."

"Garrick--" But Garrick Ollivander did not let his apprentice interrupt him. With a swish of his own well-loved wand, carved by his grandfather centuries before, the shopfront's window changed accordingly.

"I did not make time in my life for a family, Harry. For someone to take over. But you? You have been a boon to me, to this shop, to the legacy that my family has created. It has been an honor to train you, but it will be an even greater honor to serve as your assistant until my time comes."

Harry shuddered as a heavy weight settled onto his shoulders. He looked at the store window, made pristine with Garrick's motion. "Ollivander & Potter: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC," it read.

"Thank you." But those words were not enough, so Harry poured his life into the shop to show Garrick Ollivander just how grateful he was for a new beginning.

---

"Leila, dear, hurry along!" Lorcan Scamander called after his daughter as they neared the street corner.

"Coming, Dad!" Leila tugged on the hand she was holding. "Come on, Granny!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, dear heart." One hand grasped her granddaughter carefully. The other held on to a cane, magically reinforced with various balance and strengthening charms. Luna Scamander had not aged well, compared to her peers, but she was not upset. Nearing her ninetieth year was no simple feat, after all. Hermione Granger-Weasley had just retired from public office a few years prior, and her husband Ron was still on the Auror force as a consultant. Luna felt rather good about her own status, all things considered.

"There it is!" Leila squealed, breaking off into a sprint at the sight of the looping O. Luna gave herself a private smile. She was looking forward to seeing Harry again.

"Mum, you doing alright?"

"Lorcan, stop." Luna shook her cane in her son's direction. "This day is for Leila, not me. I will be fine." By the look she was given, Lorcan clearly didn't believe her, but he did take a step back so she could enter the shop on her own three feet. Luna paused outside, looking over the exterior of the shop. It was cleaner than it had been. It seemed less dirty yet more aged than years prior. Like a well-loved book or toy, something that had grown with its owner. The sign in the window had her laughing privately; she was sure Lorcan hadn't noticed.

The bell tinkled, sending a soft melody around the interior. It hadn't changed much in the near forty years since she had entered. Wand boxes were still scattered around without any sense or direction. Some lay in giant towers like the Muggle game Jenga that Hugo had introduced to her. Others were carefully packed into the shelves that lined the walls, though still not in an orderly fashion. It seemed the boxes' colors had not changed either -- still a garish mix of brights and neutrals. She noticed a few open boxes on the counter nearest them.

Best of all was watching Leila's reaction, wide-eyed and open-mouthed just like her father before her. She was always a quiet child, but the magic of the shop had suppressed even more of her personality than normal. There was always something reverent about Ollivander's shop, Luna supposed, where nearly every Hogwarts child, Muggleborn or not, began their journey.

"Oh, hello!" A bright voice, unfiltered by time, greeted them. She looked up with great surprise, noting the deep color of the hair and the missing wrinkles on the face. "Welcome to Ollivander & Potter: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Are we here to find Leila Scamander her wand?"

Little Leila squeaked in shock, backing into her father's familiar embrace. "It's okay, dear," he encouraged her.

"Pear, dragon heartstring, fourteen inches," Harry said, turning to Lorcan with a grin. He stuck his hand out. "Very good to see you again, Mr. Scamander." Lorcan accepted the hand with a firm shake, though his brows furrowed. "No, I am not the one who sold you your wand," Harry explained. "Though I am the one who carved it. But, we are not here for you, and neither for you, I think," he said, turning to Luna. "You've had too many wands from this shop, young lady."

Leila giggled despite herself, easing out carefully from Lorcan's arms. "No, I think we are here today for this one." Harry paused before her and crouched down. "You are Leila, yes?" She nodded. "Very good. I am Mr. Potter, half of this fine establishment, and we will get you a wand today."

He wiggled a finger in front of her face and a tape measure darted out, dancing through the air around Leila's head. She went a bit crosseyed as it measured her nose, but otherwise held very still as it made various notes of her arms, knuckles, and kneecap size.

With another wiggle, some wand boxes flew through the air to sit on the counter, where Harry then picked the first up. "Fir, fairly whippy, I think," he said, taking it out of the purple box. "Nearly a foot long and a phoenix tail feather. Go on, give it a swish." Leila took the wand carefully by the hilt and hefted it into the air.

It was strange, holding a wand for the first time. While toy wands mimicked the action of holding, there was a weight inside her soul that the wand pressed on. She waved it carefully through the air, away from her granny and dad, but the resulting black sparks that emerged from the tip felt so wrong that she cried out.

"Not to worry, not to worry!" Mr. Potter exclaimed, whisking the wand away from her with such speed she barely noticed it left her hand. Leila looked to her grandmother for support, who gave her a warm smile. As Mr. Potter approached her with another box, she reverently took it from his hands.

"Walnut, unicorn hair. Quite bendy, my dear, though the length is a bit short." When Leila picked this one up, it too felt wrong. A quick swish produced golden starlight, though she and Mr. Potter both felt it was wrong. He packaged this one up, too, and it vanished without warning to the deeper recesses of the shop.

"Will we find a wand for me?" Leila asked. Lorcan smoothed a hand over her fine blonde hair.

"Of course you will. Mr. Potter has made lots of wands, see?" Leila looked around, glancing over box after box. She nodded slowly. "Which means there is one in this shop that is just as unique and beautiful as you." She blushed and giggled, turning back to Mr. Potter who was waiting with three boxes.

"Now, Miss Leila, I think you are a very particular type of customer. So I want you to focus on these boxes. You can stare at them, make silly faces, close your eyes, whatever you need to do. But you need to pick the one that speaks to you." Mr. Potter guided her up to the boxes as he spoke.

Leila looked them over, eyes squinting in concentration. The first was made from tawny waxed wood. It was decorated with a delicate golden pattern and ingrained with several runes. The second looked old and ancient, the corners worn smooth from being pulled down from the shelves and returned so many times. It was painted red with darker red details, but she could clearly make out marks on the side from where hands had grabbed the box. Chipped and worn, it seemed to be longing for someone to take it home. The third was the newest, a birch box painted with aubergine paisley. It was a very Muggle pattern for a wand box, but the sheer absurdness of it made her want to pick it up.

Having looked carefully at each box, she closed her eyes and thought. Leila supposed she shouldn't think at all and instead just go on her instincts, but that had never been her strong suit. Her cousin Leo had inherited the more reckless Scamander genes. No, her dad always said she was more like Granny - thoughtful, purposeful, nose always in a good book.

In the end, it was the aubergine paisley that she reached for, channeling thoughts of the silly stories that Granny told her and Leo of the adventures she and Grandad went on. She opened her eyes when the soft touch of velvet came under her fingers, and grinned as she picked up the dark wand inside the box. A gentle flick through the air sent the other two boxes levitating, cushioned by tiny silver clouds.

"Bravo!" Mr. Potter cried, applauding happily. He flicked his own wand swiftly and the unused boxes flew through the shop back into the cranny they came from. "Brittle black walnut, twelve and three quarter inches! And, made with a unicorn hair from Hogwarts' grounds." He placed the lid back on the wand box and handed it to Leila.

"Simply wonderful! I've never seen a levitation before. I think you will have great luck in Charms, Miss Leila." Mr. Potter turned to Lorcan. "Just seven Galleons, Mr. Scamander." Leila carefully tucked the box under her arm as her father paid, running to where Luna had tucked herself onto a stool.

"Thank you," Lorcan said over the sound of Leila's excited explanation. "She was very nervous…"

"We all are, I think," Mr. Potter replied, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. "That was actually the very first wand I crafted. I was nervous in its creation, so perhaps it was meant for a young girl who needed some reassurance herself."

"Come along, Leila, we have to get cauldrons next!" Lorcan announced, turning back to his family.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter!" She squealed, throwing a wave over her shoulder before bolting out the front door. Lorcan followed in a rush, though Luna was slower to follow.

"You look good," she said to her friend, leaning heavily on her cane. Though Harry opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off. "We don't begrudge you this, you know. You had to find your own path. Create good things in this world, Harry Potter. We need more of them."

With a slow swirl of her skirt, Luna tucked her shawl in closer and exited the shop. Had anyone looked at her reflection, they would have seen a young girl in pink glasses stuck in the window, smiling widely.

Special thanks to FawkseyLady for the art. Also posted on AO3, FFN, and Wattpad. To join my tag list for when I post new work, send me an ask!