#source: slapping myself very hard on the head many times and no one will ever know irl

[virmillion]

.

[starryhyuck]

limit. (m)

pairing: gryffindor!mark x reader

words: 3.4k+

summary: with gryffindor on a continuous losing streak, you have no choice but to push your quidditch player boyfriend to his breaking point.

genre: smut

warnings: public sex, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex, degradation, daddy kink, face slapping

“If you keep pushing him, he’ll snap.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

You observe Mark across the Great Hall, fingers clenched tightly around his spoon. The other Gryffindor seated beside him are eyeing him warily, afraid the resident happy Head Boy was slowly losing his mind.

This, of course, is partly due to you.

You’ve refused to give Mark an orgasm until Gryffindor wins a Quidditch match, which has effectively been very hard since the team has been on a losing streak. You and Mark aren’t animals, per se, but the two of you fucked regularly and the fact that he hasn’t gotten the chance to touch you in weeks is taking a toll on him.

Lucas swings an arm around his shoulder and whispers something to him, but Mark’s eyes are locked in on you. You could almost feel the magic radiating off of his form. You smile deviously, arm reaching to wrap around Donghyuck’s, who gladly accepts your touch. Luckily, Donghyuck enjoys pushing Mark’s buttons almost as much as you do.

Donghyuck’s in the middle of feeding you a bite of his chicken when all of the glasses in the Great Hall shatter. A jumbled murmur of shrieks and gasps of surprise echo at the performance of wandless magic. Students whip their heads around, frantically trying to find the source of the fiasco. You already know who the culprit is, watching as Mark stomps out of the Great Hall, fists clenched tightly.

—

Donghyuck snickers beside you.

“You’re really asking for it. Wearing Slytherin gear and sitting with the snakes? He’s going to ruin you.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his comment and adjusting the green tie wrapped around your neck. You briefly lock eyes with your irate boyfriend, who is currently on the Quidditch pitch, waiting for the match to begin. You smile and wave at him innocently, only to receive the nastiest look in return.

Donghyuck laughs again at the exchange. “I’ve never seen Mark look like that. Are you sure you’re ready for the consequences?”

You grin as the game begins, the cheering sounds from the Slytherin stands almost drowning out your voice.

“He needs a little push. Gryffindor has lost three games in a row already.”

You prove Donghyuck right a hour into the game. Mark has been scoring goal after goal since the match started. Slytherin’s Keeper tries to block every single throw, but Mark is clearly on a mission, showing no mercy to the Slytherin house. He almost looks like he would Avada someone on the spot just to win.

Every time he scores, he makes a point to look straight at you before zooming off. You smirk to yourself, already feeling your panties dampen at the sight. One part of you is slightly afraid of what Mark will do to you once Gryffindor wins. The other part of you is unabashedly excited.

The Slytherins around you groan and complain as Mark continuously scores. Donghyuck is enjoying the show, knowing you’re truly in for it later after seeing the murderous look painted on Mark’s face.

The game ends after two hours, with the Gryffindor Seeker securing the Snitch and winning the match. The sea of red erupts in a roar of applause and cheers, while the Slytherins grumble and curse their luck. It was the first loss of the season for the Slytherins, and they could all thank your boyfriend for that.

Usually, when Mark wins a game, you would wait outside the locker rooms and congratulate him with a kiss. This time, you want to make him work for it a little more.

Donghyuck chuckles when he sees you turn the opposite direction of the locker rooms.

“You’re in for it now.”

—

You’re laughing at something Doyeon’s telling you when you feel the abrupt tug on your arm. You hiss at the contact, ready to hex whoever it is. Realization seeps within you when you see the look of fury on Mark’s face as he tugs you away from your friends.

“I’ll see you guys later!” You call out, already feeling the slick of your wetness coating your thighs.

“Okay! Great game, Mark!”

The Gryffindor boy doesn’t even thank them, pulling open the door to the empty Potions classroom and shoving you inside. You put on your innocent persona.

“That wasn’t very nice. I was having an interesting conversation with Doyeon, if you must know.”

“On the desk. Now.”

The anger laced in his tone has your body vibrating. You decide to push him even further, frowning and clutching your books tighter to your chest. You still have Donghyuck’s Slytherin scarf wrapped around you, which Mark is heavily glaring at.

“I don’t even get a please? Where are your manners, Mark?”

You gasp when he steps forward, fingers bunching around the locks of your hair and pulling. Hard.

“You think this is so funny, don’t you? Watching me fall apart, breaking all the glasses in the Great Hall and receiving detention for it? How about wanting to injure someone on the field just so we could win? Just so I can come back to you, fuck you so hard your tight cunt stretches out.” His fingers grip the fabric of your skirt and he growls. You swear you can feel your juices start running down the inside of your thigh with how wet you are. “And what about this? This stupid fucking little skirt. You think you could get away with that too?”

You placed a charm on your clothing early this morning, making your button-up shirt just a little tighter around your chest and your skirt a little shorter than normal. You smile and try to raise your chin as much as possible, struggling as Mark continues to pull your hair.

“Daddy likes it? I did it just for you. Just so Daddy could win today.”

Mark’s eyes are the darkest they have ever been, and you try not to glance down at his trousers, which are probably straining from his growing erection. You only play the Daddy card once or twice, mainly because once it’s out in the open, Mark fucks you until you can’t feel your legs. And most days, you would prefer not to limp from class to class.

Another gasp rips out of your throat when he discards your clothing with the flick of his wand. He casts a silencing charm on the room, and you know you’re done for.

He leaves you in your undergarments, and today, you have chosen to wear a nice lacy number in Slytherin green. The sight makes him hiss in frustration, and it isn’t long before he slams you down on a nearby desk. You whimper at the contact, but Mark hardly cares about your well-being at this point.

He snickers at the sight of your ruined underwear, snapping the garter you’re wearing against your skin as you yelp.

“Look at you. Greedy little slut. Who got you this wet?”

“D-Donghyuck,” you manage to say, gathering enough courage.

The answer earns you a slap across the face and you cry at the pain.

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

“Y-You, Daddy. Just y-you.”

He hums in contentment. You shudder when you feel a finger run up and down your slit. “I’m going to make the rules very clear today. You’ll do your best to obey them, or else I’ll use your body how I please without letting you cum. Understood?” At your timid nod, he continues. “I’m going to fuck your tight little cunt raw. I’m going to cum as much as I like, and make you cum as much as I like. If I hear any protests, I’ll add an extra orgasm to the list. I don’t care if you’ve reached your limit. I don’t care if you can’t handle any more. I’ll do whatever I like, and there will be no arguments about it.”

You chew on your bottom lip. Mark has never fucked you raw before — you both always use Muggle condoms or contraceptive charms.

“But, Mark-“

He slaps your clothed slit and you gasp loudly. “That’s another orgasm added to the list. Do you want another one? We’re already at five.”

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been able to take more than three orgasms from him without passing out. You immediately shake your head, sealing your lips tight.

“Good. Bend over.”

You scramble to follow his orders, shakily positioning yourself over the desk. Another flick of his wand and you’re completely naked. You whimper at the vulnerability, wondering if he also cast locking charms on the doors too. Anyone could walk in and see you bent over like this.

Mark usually likes to see your face when he fucks you so you’ve never really tried this position with him. Goosebumps rise on your skin when you feel his hands exploring your backside.

“Wish everyone could see you like this for me. Bent over during dinner while I fuck you into the table. They always tease me about you. Gryffindor Head Boy could never satisfy his partner. They think I’m such a goody-two-shoes.” You almost scream when a finger unexpectedly pushes into you. “I wonder what everyone would think now — having you bent over the Potions desk like this, eager to be fucked like a little whore. Waiting for my cock to split you apart, isn’t that right?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you garble.

He adds another finger, the squelch of your wetness causing you to grow even warmer. He thrusts his fingers inside of you, skillfully digging them into the spot you love.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about your cunt? Ever since you made that ridiculous bet with me, I knew I was done for. I had to excuse myself so many times from class just to rub one out in the bathroom. Seeing you in this cute little skirt, so eager to earn House Points, so willing to please the professor. I imagined how tight your pussy would feel when I wrapped a hand around myself, how many of those sweet moans I could bring out of you.”

When he pushes a third finger in, you shriek as you cum without warning. You were probably moaning without any sense, writhing on top of the desk as Mark fingers you through your orgasm. He drank up every single one of your sounds, gazing down at you with a feral look in his eyes.

Even as your orgasm subsides, Mark doesn’t stop fucking you. You almost request for him to give you a break, but you know it’ll just earn you another orgasm.

He watches you, waiting for you to beg for him to stop. He smiles when you obey, continuing to thrash and whine as his digits pump into you.

“So pretty, perfect for me. You’re always so tight, it’s not fair to me, you know? I could fuck you every single day and you would still need to be stretched out regardless.” He leans over your frame, mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses at your throat. The sensation has you jolting, his fingers grinding down to rub at your clit. “But you would like that, wouldn’t you? So hungry for my cock.”

This was true — you couldn’t seem to get enough of Mark on a daily basis. Even if you didn’t fuck every single day, you always had the urge to get on your knees for him and suck his cock. It calmed you in a way. Before exams, Mark would pull you into a nearby alcove and let you suck him off until your worries disappeared.

You could feel your high approaching again. “P-P-Please,” you stutter, gasping and pushing yourself further down his fingers. “Please, Daddy.”

At the sound of your begging, Mark sinks to his ground. He jerks your body until you’re halfway off the desk, pushing your thighs apart so he can see you fully. He takes a moment to marvel at how pretty you are before licking a stripe up your cunt. You groan, fingers tangling into his hair, which is still slightly damp from his after-game shower.

He hums against your folds, exploring them with his tongue. Mark could eat you out for days and remain unbothered by the outside world. There have been multiple times where you’ve woken up to his head in between your legs as he snuck into your dormitory room early in the morning to get a taste of you. There’s also been a few occasions when he would convince you to sneak out while he runs patrol in the hallways, just so he could prop you against a wall and eat you out until you cry.

Your eyes flutter closed as you revel in the feeling of Mark’s mouth on your cunt. He’s groaning with you, hands cupping your thighs and bringing you closer to him. His nose continuously nudges your clit as he licks you, slurping on the remnants of your orgasm.

It doesn’t register for a few seconds that he’s still talking to you.

“This is mine. My cunt for fucking. I’m the only one who’s allowed to see you like this, understand? The only one who gets to make you cum.”

He is, indeed. You topple headfirst into your second orgasm, juices spilling into Mark’s waiting mouth. He cleans you up as your body attempts to recover. You’re lucky he remembered to place a silencing charm, your voice almost giving out with the amount of screams you’ve emitted. He decides to spare you this time, rising from the ground and licking his lips.

“Tastes so good.” He smirks down at you, watching as your chest rises and falls from heavy panting. You feel like you’ve run a marathon, but he looks like he’s only just started. His fingers brush stray hairs away from your face. “Poor baby. All fucked out already? I haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

You blink deliriously in response and he laughs. His fingers dig into your hips once more as he adjusts you on your back again.

“How about you answer a question for me? If you answer correctly, I’ll give you my cock. If you fail, I’ll add another orgasm to the list.” You blink again in response, brain fuzzy. He grins. “Why don’t you tell me what a bad girl you’ve been these past few weeks?”

He slaps the inside of your thigh to jolt you out of your reverie. “I-I was a b-bad girl, Daddy.”

“Hm? And why’s that?”

“I ignored y-you,” you whisper as his hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “I cheered for S-Slytherin when I-I should have b-been c-c-cheering for Gryffindor.”

Your breath grows more shaky as Mark’s other hand inches towards your entrance again.

“And?”

“And I f-f-flirted with D-Donghyuck when I’m o-only s-s-supposed to have e-eyes for y-you, Daddy.”

“And?”

“And I charmed m-my clothes t-to tempt you.”

“Because?”

“Because I’m a whore.”

He smiles in contentment. “That’s right.”

Instead of pushing his fingers inside of you, you’re taken aback when the tip of his cock sinks into you. You moan loudly, not even noticing he had taken off his trousers.

“Fuck,” he curses, watching himself push into you. “Such a tight little cunt. Only for Daddy’s eyes, right?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

His fingers find their way to your throat, curling and gripping your windpipe. You gasp and hear his sinister chuckle.

“There’s my little whore. Back in her place.”

He almost pushes you off the desk with the force of his thrusts. You have another small orgasm when Mark fully bottoms out, and he laughs when he realizes.

“Already? Looks like you’ve been just as desperate as me, baby.”

You’ve never taken more than three orgasms before. Since Hogwarts was a big school with many prying eyes, it was hard to get alone time with Mark like this. You often had to face the judgmental glares from the portraits whenever Mark fingered you behind one of the tapestries. Now that he has you all to himself, however, he intends to make the most out of it.

You’re pushing on the border of exhaustion, watching as your boyfriend continues to furiously push into you. He moves his hand from your throat to your cheek, slapping you once more to wake you up.

“Have to stay awake, baby. We still have two more to go.”

You mumble incoherently in response, past the point of comprehension. Once the tip of his cock rubs against your sweet spot, you cry out in pleasure. He grunts, angling himself so that he keeps hitting that spot inside of you. Over and over.

“M-Mark, I-“

“I know. Let me feel you, baby. Want to feel your cunt cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

You can’t begin to explain the tightening feeling in your stomach. You feel like you’re flying up to your peak at an unsteady rate. It almost feels like you need to use the bathroom, but before you can warn Mark, you fall apart.

You think you black out for a bit. You blink dazedly, body twitching and nervously moving on top of the desk. You get the strength to lift your head and check on Mark. His cock has slipped out of you, his gaze locked on your pussy.

“M-Mark?” You ask softly.

“Fuck, baby. You just squirted all over me.”

You gasp. You’ve never been able to squirt before and you eye the mess you’ve made all over Mark’s chest. He grunts, fingers pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck. How can you be so perfect?”

And then he’s pushing back into you. You scream loudly, still trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. You realize that you’ve started crying, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Perfect girl for me,” he hisses, hand returning to paw at your breast. “Cunt is so so sweet. Can never get enough of you. Just give me one more, baby. One more.”

You want to tell him you can’t, you’ve reached your limit and can’t push it any farther. You squeal when he pinches your clit.

“Daddy, please-“

“Daddy wants another, baby. One more for me.”

His thumb circles your clit while his cock pistons in and out of you. When he finds your sweet spot again, he doesn’t rest. He’s on a mission to get you to orgasm again, the same expression painted on his face from the Quidditch game just a hour ago. He’s determined to see you fall apart, filth spewing from his mouth.

“I wish I could take you like this every time. Push you up in the hallways, fuck you until you’re a sobbing mess for me. Having everyone watch while I make you squirt, showing them I can fuck you better than anyone else can. I bet they would all be jealous. They could never have you falling apart for them, begging for them to fill you up with their seed.”

It dawns on you that Mark still hasn’t cast a contraceptive charm of any kind. He seems to be on the same wavelength as you, digging his heels to the floor and thrusting harder at the thought of cumming inside you. The lewd sound of your wetness fills the room, along with his grunts and your whimpers from oversensitivity.

“I want to fuck you everywhere before we leave this place. Want you to ride me in the middle of the Quidditch pitch for everyone to see. Want all the Gryffindors to watch as their Head Boy plows into his girlfriend in the common room. Want you to bounce on my cock during every meal. Fuck, I want you so badly, baby.”

When you squirt this time, you’re coherent enough to watch it happen. Drops of your slick pour out of you, gushing onto Mark’s cock and the floor. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours only grows louder and wetter with your orgasm.

Mark hisses. “Want my cum, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you echo back to him, barely staying awake.

He groans when he reaches his high, pushing deep inside of you to empty his load. He cums more than you expected, but you suppose he’s been holding it in for weeks. He finally finishes a minute later, collapsing on top of you. He subconsciously places kisses on your neck.

“Never act up like that again. I don’t think I have the stamina to do another round.”

You giggle, about to respond when the booming voice of your Potions professor echoes throughout the room.

“Mark Lee! What on earth do you children think you’re doing? Fifty points from Gryffindor!”

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#231

“Shithead! Get over here. See my feet there? Kneel before me and start sucking on my toes. There are very few things I allow a fag to do on his own. Worshipping my feet is one of them. You will be expected to give foot service at least once a day. Stink don’t they? Those are the sweaty feet of a real man after working hard all day. Suck on each toe like it’s a cock. Good fag....

“I’m going to take over your training now. That other driver left you here with me. He’s a collector and I’m a trainer. We have sold so many faggots across this country. You are going to be just another fag property. I expect a lot out of my fags.

“First, that pecker cage he put on you is not coming off. I know it’s painful, and I want it that way. You need to be focused on my pleasure at all times, even at the expense of yours. Foot massages and worship is the easiest way to obtain that. Obedient subservience is another. I make all the decisions for us. I decide what you eat, when you eat it, and what you wear. To clue you in, you’ll eat what ever left overs I bring back to the cab from the truck stop diner. There’s no way I will bring you in to get something to eat, as you will be naked pretty much all the time. I like my holes ready at a moment’s notice. Yes I consider them—and you really—my property.

“Next up, you are never to look at another man in a sexual way. If you go to the bathroom at a truck stop, you will not check out any other man. You will not flirt with other men. If any man approaches you along those lines, you will refer them to me. I expect monogamy from you, both physical and mental. I will certainly not offer it back. In fact, I plan on fucking other fags without even thinking of you, except possibly to have you clean off my dick afterwards.

“I will have your cunt used by other men. Since it belongs to me, you won’t be consulted. Hell, at no time will you ever be in control of that hole between your legs. You will get very little pleasure out of it. In a couple minutes after the sun sets, I’m going to secure you to the bed. In fact, hand me that fag bag right there. Yeah. That one. And come here and kneel beside me.

“This here is the infamous fag hood. Every single fag I have had in the past twelve years have worn this hood. I don’t ever clean it. I mean why bother? It’s going on you now. Fag, you look frightened. Don’t worry. Just hold the fuck still. Nice fit! And see! Any look of terror is now completely hidden from my view. One of the things I like about this hood is that… with that click, it is locked on. There’s no way you will be able to remove it without the key.

“Now get back to massaging my feet and sucking my toes. As I was saying, you are going to be secured to the bed with your cunt pointing to the window. This motel is well known by a lot of drivers. Right now the lot is about a quarter full. In a few hours it will fill up. Wound up drivers will be looking to unload before hitting bed. They’ll walk by our window and see a faggot servicing a real man like myself.

“There’s more in this fag bag. This blindfold will keep you from seeing any man who will fuck your cunt. You will never see them. Ever. I’ll also put noise canceling headsets on you, so you can’t even hear them. Your mouth will most likely be sucking my cock clean, tongue fucking my shithole, or drinking my piss, so you won’t be able to taste them. You will only feel them—feel when a man is shoving his cock into your cunt. And you will be fucked. You have no control over it. And while he is back there, your focus is on me in front of you. You better not ever divert your attention from me, because I will know. You don’t want to deal with that.

“This is your life now. Whether it be secured to a sleazy motel bed, or bent over and chained in my bunk in the truck, or tied to a rest area picnic table, that cunt will be used. In between servicing the herds of drivers, you will make sure my needs are met, sexually and otherwise. That includes daily foot worship. Fag, you seem to enjoy slobbering on my feet. As I said before, that is one source of enjoyment I will let you have. In fact, why don’t you move down to my heels. Feel how my skin is all dry, why don’t you use your teeth to scrape off as much of the callouses as you can.

“Oh look, you have your first customer. You’re not secure, so don’t even try to look back at him. You do not want these size 13′s to kick you in the head. I’ve done it before to disobedient fags. And while I am thinking of it, shut the fuck up for the rest of the night….

“Yeah, come on in. Fuck its cunt. Its mouth will be otherwise be busy. Slap it, slam it, tear it up, but when you nut, do it as deep as you can. Holy shit that dick is fucking huge. Tonight is starting out right…. Fag you are going to bleed!”

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Mother’s Day Drabbles

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Miguel Galindo x Black!Reader, EZ Reyes x Black!Reader, Obispo Losa x Black!Reader

Summary: Four drabbles with my four favorite men from Mayans MC commemorating Mother’s Day with their loves.

Warning(s): Grief, loss of a child in the last drabble (sorry to my bishop girls) but the other ones are all fluffy goodness

Word count: 1,545

AN: It’s almost Father’s Day so y’know what sounds good? Reading some EXTREMELY late Mother’s Day drabbles!! lol. I haven’t posted anything in so long and these were in the drafts so here we are. Enjoy these random ideas that popped into my head. Trying to force myself to get into shorter form writing like drabbles and headcanons. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading! xo

Breakfast in bed - Angel (fluff)

“Daddy shhh! You gots ta be quiet.”

“Lo siento princesa.”

You fought to keep your eyes shut and not smile as they tried and failed at surprising you. You wouldn’t ruin their efforts so you just listened as they came into the bedroom and something was set on your nightstand.

It was silent for a moment before a ball of energy landed firmly on top of you, knocking the wind out of you and fully waking you up.

“Good morning mommy. I made you breakfast in bed.” Your beautiful little girl told you once she saw your eyes open.

A throat cleared and your eyes connected with your husband’s.

“Oh, Daddy helped too.” She added, getting comfortable in your lap as you sat up against your headboard and adjusted the bonnet on your head.

“Oh he did? Well thanks for helping Daddy.” You teased, as he took a seat on the bed next to you.

“Anything for you. Happy Mother’s Day.” Angel leaned in and kissed you on the lips once, twice, three times. The last peck lingered a little too long and the princess was not amused.

“Let her eat! The food is gonna get cold.” She grumbled, and you broke down in giggles. That daughter of yours was a sass machine and she stayed on her daddy’s head. He loved every bit of it.

“Okay, okay.” He relented, a grin on his face. Anything for his girls.

Coming home to a spotless clean house - Miguel (fluff)

As your driver pulled into the driveway of your large home, she sighed knowing your day had only just become. After a full day of work, she knew as soon as you stepped foot in the house you would need to pick up after the kids from their time running the nanny ragged. Then, you’d have to get dinner cooked before wrangling the kids to eat, bathe, and then sleep. No clue if you’d see your husband or if he was having a late night.

You loved your life. You loved your family. Sometimes things could just be a little tiring. But you put that smile on your face and you made your way into the house.

The quiet was the first thing to hit and surprise you. Your home was never this quiet at this time of day. You slowly walked further into the house, your nose guiding you to the kitchen where a delicious aroma caught your attention. As you rounded the corner, you were shocked to see your husband standing at the stove.

“Miguel?” You asked, confused at his presence and the state of the house. Everything was clean and put away. He was at home at a decent time and not off somewhere handling business. Something was going on.

“Hello mi amor.” He walked closer to you before grabbing your face and kissing your lips. You’d missed him today so you added a little pressure to the kiss, but it didn’t last long as there was a burning question on your mind.

“What’s going on? Where are the kids?” You asked, head swiveling, as soon as you ended the kiss, to see if you could spot them. You didn’t even notice Miguel maneuvering you onto one of the kitchen stools.

“The kids are in their rooms, dinner is cooking, the house is clean and you are going to enjoy this chardonnay I bought for you.” He handed you a glass and you took it without complaint. A sweet smile spread across your lips as you realized he did all of this for you.

“You do so many wonderful things for this family. I want you to enjoy your night to yourself. I will handle putting the children to bed and you will relax for the night. Your dinner should be done by the time I get back downstairs but in the meantime, I know you’ve been wanting to catch up on the new season of A Black Lady Sketch Show. It’s queued up in the living room.”

A kid wrangling free night? Your favorite tv show and wine? He already bought you everything you could ask for but this? This is so much better than any present he could have come up with. “How did I get so lucky?” You pondered, a dreamy smile on your face.

“I ask myself the same question every day. Happy Mother’s Day.” He replied, kissing you again before going to fulfill his promise.

Spa day for expectant mom - EZ (fluff)

Knowing what comes with being pregnant and actually experiencing the symptoms are two very different things. You don’t wanna say you underestimated things, but you were in the middle of your third trimester and you weren’t handling things very well.

“EZ!! EZEKIEL!” You hollered for him, from where you sat propped up on the couch. Your back was killing you, you couldn’t see your feet but you knew they were a hot mess, and you just generally felt uncomfortable. You knew it would all be worth it in the end, but the end was taking too damn long to get here.

Your boyfriend had been incredibly understanding of your constant mood swings. When you first told him you were pregnant, he went out and bought a bunch of pregnancy books. He was always reading one that first trimester. Angel would tease him and say he could just google everything, but EZ had always preferred having physical copies of text. He wanted to know everything you’d go through so he could help you deal with it.

You call him now and he doesn’t respond. You grow annoyed, but also slightly concerned because he never doesn’t answer you.

It took several tries but you manage to get yourself off the couch and head back towards your bedroom. When you push the door open, a wide smile breaks out on your face. The lights in the room were dimmed and your favorite candles were lit, bathing the room in a soothing scent. Songs from your ‘self care day’ playlist filled the otherwise silent air. On the bed was the biggest, fluffiest robe you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a basket filled with goodies including face masks, different color nail polish, massage oil, and your favorite snacks.

“What is all of this?” You asked your boyfriend who had almost as big a smile on his face as you did.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d just let your first Mother's Day go by with no acknowledgment, did you?”

You blinked somewhat in surprise. “I...I mean yeah I guess. My first Mother’s Day is next year. Baby Reyes isn’t even here yet.”

“So? You’re carrying our child. You gonna let me spoil you or you gonna keep making excuses why I can’t?” He asked, his eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his face.

“Spoil away then.” You grinned, holding out a hand for him to take before pampering you for the rest of the night.

Cuddles - Bishop (angst, heed the tw up top please)

The ray from the television was the only light source illuminating the living room. You were laying on your side on the couch, eyes on the tv but not truly paying attention to it. The light from the tv reflected off the tear stains left in her cheeks.

Bishop came back from dealing with club stuff and leaned on the doorway just watching you. He knew it was a rough day for you. Everyday was hard, but today was especially hurtful. He’d be feeling the same way just next month.

He placed his kutte onto the armchair and slipped off his shoes before climbing over you. You jumped a little at his presence but he just gently nudged you up so he could squeeze between you and the back of the couch.

One arm slid under your head and the other rested on your waist as he settled in. The hand on your waist reached out and gently ran a thumb over the little face in the picture frame you held tightly in your hands.

“Our sweet boy.” He whispered, a sad smile on his face.

Your breath hitched and your shoulders began to shake as you silently cried. You missed him so much. The whole day you stayed inside hoping to avoid all the mother celebrations, but that didn’t help. The hurt ran deep and no amount of avoidance could stop it. This day was a special slap in the face and every year the last three years have been spent like this.

Bishop curled the arm under your head until his elbow laid on your clavicle. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him.

“You’ll always be his mother. That love is forever.” He softly but firmly stated before pecking your shoulder over and over.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in at the feel of him squeezing you tightly. It was comforting. He was always holding you together. He understood your pain and even though it hurt worse some days than others, you knew you had to continue on.

But for right now, you would cry in your man’s arms and hope next year went better.

[sankyeom]

picture perfect | k.m

pairings: kevin moon x reader genre: art student au, strangers to lovers, art!student kevin, actor!reader, another secret admirer situation (yes i know we already did that in my sangyeon fit but it’s cute so idc) summary: in which you find a sketchbook filled with drawings of you, and go on a mission to find the owner word count: 8.5k (these just get longer and longer wow) series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

Your psychology professor always spoke a mile a minute, and it made taking notes unnecessarily difficult. Usually when she lectured, your wrist cramped from writing so fast, and your classmates couldn’t wait to get out of the room. On one particular autumn afternoon, you stared into nothingness as your professor gave a lecture on Milgram’s experiments, running lines in your head instead of taking notes like you usually did.

When you were cast as one of the lead roles (who didn’t even have that many lines to begin with) in your University’s winter play of An Ideal Husband, you were ecstatic to be given a new challenge. You had never been involved in acting or theatre before University, and you always felt like you were behind your peers. Your excitement soon morphed into something less productive: fear.

You were so afraid to mess up and disappoint your peers that you frequently did poorly in rehearsals and were the source of your cast’s frustrations. Perhaps it was your lack of experience, or perhaps it was because you didn’t really have any faith in yourself. Either way, it was all you could think about.

As your classmates started packing up to leave, you realised that the lecture was over and that you had just been in your own head for over an hour without learning anything from your class. Scrambling to pack up, you put away your notebooks and pencils as your phone chimed. Checking the text, you saw a message from your friend Sunwoo asking if you wanted to get lunch with him.

Getting to your feet, you texted Sunwoo that you were down for lunch as you exited the now empty lecture hall. As you left, you felt your shoe come in contact with a solid object in the doorway; a notebook that somebody must have dropped on the way out. Knowing that you would want your notes back if someone found them – especially in this class, where your professor spoke way too fast – you opened the notebook to see who it belonged to.

Your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t a notebook, it was a sketchbook. With a drawing of you on the first page.

At first, you scolded yourself for assuming that the person in the drawing was you. It was presumptuous of you, wasn’t it? But the texture, colour, and length of the person’s hair perfectly matched yours. The person in the picture had your eyes, skin, clothes, and smile.

Perhaps it wasn’t so arrogant of you to presume that you were being depicted in the drawing.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” Professor Shin, who was on her way out, complimented. “You’re an excellent artist.”

You glanced up from the page, feeling a little dizzy. “It’s not mine,” you admitted, head spinning at the idea of somebody drawing you. Plain, simple, me? You couldn’t believe it. “I just found it here on the floor.”

“Looks like somebody admires you,” your Professor mused, smiling before bidding you farewell, leaving you standing in an empty lecture hall, clutching the sketchbook in your hands.

You tried to find a name on the other side of the cover, but there was no number or form of identification anywhere. The only thing that alluded to an identity was the small signature at the bottom right corner of the drawing.

Moon scribbles.

The first time Kevin saw you, he was seated three rows behind you in one of his Cultural Anthropology classes last semester. You were jotting notes as quickly as possible, brows furrowed together in concentration as you gripped your pen hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

Kevin didn’t take any notes that day.

All the could do was watch you, appreciating the way your expressions changed as you understood the content, and the hesitance on your face when you volunteered an answer during class.

He didn’t mean to start drawing you. You had simply inspired him to pick up his pencil and start sketching, the soft strokes of the lead slowly but surely forming shapes that resembled your eyes, nose, lips…  

Kevin didn’t think that you’d be all he could draw from that moment onwards. Even during his art classes; if the assignment was to study the scenery surrounding the University and draw a landscape, Kevin couldn’t get the image out of your face out of his head. Whether he used paint, charcoal, ink, or lead, it was your profile that emerged from his efforts.

Today was no different; Kevin was supposed to be studying the Psychology slides from class that day – which he hadn’t taken notes on because he was too busy sketching you – and yet he only had the urge to add the finishing touches to his drawing instead of facilitating his studying. Dragging his messenger bag over to his desk, Kevin rifled through it in search of his sketchbook. He had filled many, many pages with your face at that point, and it had become a habit for him to bring it everywhere with him in case he had the urge to draw.

Kevin furrowed his brows when he couldn’t find it. His heart pounded suddenly, the idea of him having lost his sketchbook in a place you might find it seeming terrifying and disastrous. After a final sweep of his bag – which included emptying it inside-out to make sure he didn’t miss anything – Kevin could only hope and pray that he’d find it before you did.

“You found what?” Sunwoo asked through a mouthful of noodles, his eyes comically large and rounded in surprise.

“A sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you replied in a monotone voice, knowing fully well that Sunwoo had heard and understood you the first time. This was the fourth time you had explained the situation, and it was starting to get a little old.

Eric narrowed his eyes, judging Sunwoo’s eating habits, before turning to face you. “Are the drawings cute?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t say they’re cute,” you said absentmindedly, thinking back to the drawings you saw. After succumbing to your own curiosity, you had looked through the notebook to see what other drawings there were. You knew this was an invasion of privacy but you couldn’t help yourself. Surely enough, they were all of you.

“They were beautiful. Drawn in such detail that I couldn’t even believe it when I first saw them… And I look genuinely gorgeous in them,” you paused when Sunwoo scoffed at your words. “I’m not saying that to be vain,” you defended. “Trust me, I look much better in the sketches than in real life. Whoever drew them just… sees me differently than I see myself. I look beautiful in the pictures.”

“Your Professor’s right, it does sound like you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Eric teased you, pleased that somebody other than your close friends was starting to see how great you were. He wasn’t your best friend like Juyeon or Sunwoo, but he knew you well enough. “Did you get a name or anything?” he asked excitedly.

“Nothing,” you sulked. “I can take an educated guess that this person is probably in my Psych class since it’s the only class I have in that room, but who knows? It could be anyone that’s seen me before.”

“Maybe it’s one of your fans from the drama department,” Sunwoo poked fun at your cast members, not liking how they were treating you in rehearsals.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes, finally picking at your rice and starting to eat. “I just want to know who’s drawing me in such an amazing way. It’s so detailed that I assume it might be someone will a lot of skill, maybe an art major? But a lot of people draw as a hobby who aren’t art majors as well. Maybe-”

Eric interrupted you. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, trying to clam you down. “Just… slow down a little. Maybe they’ll come looking for it next time you have Psych? There’s no name or information so you can’t do anything to find them, anyways,” he rationalised, something that was usually your role in your friendships.

Your eyes lit up. “Moon scribbles,” you exclaimed.

Sunwoo gave you an unimpressed look. “Bless you.”

You ignored his cheek, taking out your phone and going onto Instagram. “The artist signed all of their drawings with a signature that says Moon scribbles,” you explained.

“You know it’s rude to go onto your phone during mealtimes,” Sunwoo replied.

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the next time you do the same, Kim Sunwoo.”

After typing moonscribbles into the search bar, you saw an art page by the same name pop up. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to, as the bio vaguely gave information about the artist going to your University, studying art and being a pisces. Since the account was private, you decided to risk it and request to follow them, no matter how strange that might be if they weren’t the person you were looking for.

“I should have invited Juyeon out for lunch instead,” Sunwoo decided, picking at your rice dish in between bites of his noodles.

“Juyeon would rather hang out with Eric than you anyway,” you teased your friend back, knowing that Juyeon and Eric had a deeper friendship despite Sunwoo and Eric being the same age. Eric grinned, amused that the was the topic of discussion and not chiming in to deny anything. “And excuse me, I paid for lunch, you rascal! Now stop complaining, I’m done anyway.”

“Alright, fine. Did anything come up?” Sunwoo wondered, slapping your wrist when you tried to take some of his noodles. You rolled your eyes. Typical Sunwoo: always taking your food but never willing to share his with you.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

A few days passed without any response from moonscribbles on Instagram. You checked a few times a day to see if they ever accepted your request to follow them, but nothing ever came back. They didn’t deny your request, nor did they let you follow them either. It was frustrating, but it fell to the back of your mind after a week due to your schedule.

You had started doing full rehearsals with your cast members on stage for the play. At first, you thought that the setting might help you remember your lines and act without feeling awkward, but you were wrong. Most of your cast mates thought you got one of the lead roles for an alternate reason; perhaps you were related to someone on the University’s board and the director put you in because they wanted to keep their job. None of that was true, of course, but it didn’t help you make any friends.

The only friend you made was Younghoon, who played the lead opposite you, and with whom you frequently got together to go over lines and practice. He was one of those actors who was a completely different person from his role; he could keep be totally in character while doing his lines and the second the scene was over, he was back to his smiley self.

It didn’t help your confidence that he was an absolute pro. It only made you seem less competent in comparison, and you scolded yourself for even thinking that. Of course you knew it wasn’t Younghoon’s fault that he was simply much better at acting than you, but it definitely hurt your pride even more.

After another disastrous rehearsal, your cast mates had left to go backstage so you could have a word with the director. Younghoon sent you an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before he followed your cast mates backstage, going over his lines in a faint whisper.

“Y/n,” your director began gently. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but what’s up with you?” You said nothing, prompting her to keep talking. “Your audition was really great. I knew I wanted you to play a lead role the second you were done auditioning. But you’ve been doing pretty poorly in rehearsals.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Your director sighed. “Look Y/n, I still want you to play your role. I like your chemistry with Younghoon and I think you guys could be really great leads. But if things don’t improve, I’m going to have to replace you with your understudy for the sake of this production.”

Even though you knew it was the obvious thing to do, it still hurt to hear. “I understand,” you whispered, nodding as you glanced at the floor.

“I really hope you can figure this out,” your director said, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help in any way, okay?” You nodded, and your director excused herself, leaving you standing at the edge of the stage by yourself.

You groaned once you were alone, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Welcoming the silence in the theatre as most of the cast had left for the day, you allowed yourself to lay back and close your eyes.

Why couldn’t you get this right?

Maybe I should just quit the play, you thought to yourself. It’s probably for the best.

When you heard the gentle patter of footsteps leading onto the stage, you spoke without opening your eyes. “Let me guess, you came to tell me how terrible I am too?” you uttered, not even caring who it was anymore.

The footsteps paused. “Um, actually, I’m just here to paint the sets…” a soft male voice spoke, causing you to open your eyes and sit up.

A familiar face stood a few metres away from you, paintbrushes and paints in hand. He had black hair that slightly covered his eyes, cat-like eyes and small lips that were pursed at the awkward interaction the two of you had just had.

“Sorry,” you apologised, getting to your feet. “It’s been a rough day,” you paused. “You’re Kevin, right?”

He looked surprised that you knew who he was. “Oh. Yes, actually.”

“I’m close with Juyeon,” you explained, realising how strange it might seem that you knew his name and recognised him. “I suppose I should probably have led with that.”

Kevin smiled. “No worries. I know you as well, you’re Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, bending down to collect your script and other belongings, pushing them into your tote bag as quickly as possible. “I’ll get out of your hair, then,” you smiled at him, implying it as your farewell.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re terrible,” Kevin confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and starting to mix paints. You glanced at him. “Are you in your head a little? Maybe. But you’re far from terrible,” he assured you, his brown eyes brimming with kindness.

“That’s very nice of you to say,” you replied. “Thanks. Although, you seem more like an artist than an actor,” you added, teasing him just a little. You couldn’t help yourself, he was pretty cute.

Kevin laughed. “Fair enough,” he allowed. “If you want me to brag about being the lead in Aladdin in middle school, then I will.”

You placed your tote bag on your shoulder, holding your hands up in surrender. “I take it back,” you said immediately. “You have more experience than I do on stage.” The two of you shared grins.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Kevin assured you. “If I can do it then you certainly can.”

He seemed really sincere, and you appreciated it. “Thanks, Kevin,” you said, feeling much lighter and in a far better mood than before Kevin had come on stage. “I’ll see you around,” you bid your farewells before exiting the stage.

You’d have to ask Juyeon more about his friend Kevin.

The next time you and Kevin bumped into each other was after one of your rehearsals a few weeks later.

You had improved in your rehearsal times, with a lot of help from Younghoon – who practiced with you in between classes – and Sunwoo – who you ran lines with anytime the two of you were together. When you were done rehearsing, your director had expressed how happy she was that you were starting to warm up to the stage and really get into the character the way she was hoping you would. Younghoon earned himself two week’s worth of free coffee from you, and your cast finally stopped glaring at you whenever you came to rehearsals.

“Oh, hey,” you greeted Kevin, who started coming onstage to work on the sets with other people who were involved in the production process. “Good to see you again,” you told him.

“You too,” Kevin beamed, his hair falling over his eyes just slightly. You had the urge to brush it out of the way so you could see him better, but you resisted the urge and scolded yourself for being so forward. “You guys are looking pretty good out there,” he complimented, waving at Younghoon as he left the theatre. His older friend gave him a knowing look, making big eyes at him and puckering his lips to tease Kevin about his crush on you.

“Thank you,” you smiled back at him, entirely clueless to Kevin cursing Younghoon with his eyes right in front of you. “The sets are really coming along too,” you commend him, gesturing around you. “It’s certainly adding some more colour to our rehearsals.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kevin replied. “Set painting isn’t exactly my vocation or anything, but it’s a fun way to help out with my skillset.”

“Skillset?” you echoed, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Ah,” Kevin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, I’m a fine arts major. So set painting is a little less refined than what I usually do. Not that I’m bragging,” he added quickly.

“Not at all,” you agreed, your eyes widening in realisation. “Fine arts, that’s a really cool major. You must be pretty talented to get into fine arts here, it’s such a competitive major,” your eyes widened in sudden realisation. “I’d love to see something of yours that doesn’t involve painting sets,” you motioned to the stage around you.

Kevin almost blushed. “Really?” he asked, his heart beat hammering in his chest at the idea of you seeing his art.

“Yeah,” you nodded your head eagerly. Partly because you were really curious about his art, but mostly because Kevin was pretty damn cute. “For sure! I mean, if you come to opening night of the play, I’d love to go see your art some time.”

“How’s this Saturday?” Kevin asked, his words almost slurring together at the speed he was talking. “The art department’s putting on an exhibition and a few of my drawings are going to be in it.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed. “Do you think I could bring some friends?”

Kevin nodded, his deep brown eyes brightening at the idea. “For sure! I already invited Juyeon but you can bring Sunwoo along as well.”

“Then I’ll be there,” you promised.

“Oh my god, are you touching the art?” you heard Kevin exclaim semi-loudly. You froze from your place, pointing at the water fountain from which you were filling up a cup of water to drink.

“What?” you asked dumbly, your eyes widening as Kevin smirked, hiding his laughter.

It was the Saturday of Kevin’s exhibition and you were doing your best to blend in with all the artistically-minded people in the room; admiring the paintings, motioning at the sculptures and pondering over the meanings behind the light exhibitions.

“I thought this was just a regular water fountain,” you tried to defend yourself.

“It is, I’m just messing with you,” Kevin shrugged, causing you to exhale in relief and slap Kevin’s arm.

“That was awful of you,” you scolded, unable to hide the large grin making its way onto your face. “You suck.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kevin retorted easily. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied. “So, when am I going to see your pieces?” you asked, motioning around the room. It was filled to the brim and people were bustling around the room to get a good look at every piece.

“Right now if you’re up for it,” Kevin suggested, waving as Juyeon and Sunwoo made their way over to the pair of you. You had excused yourself to get some water when Kevin spotted you and came over. “Hey guys. Sunwoo, good to see you again.”

“You too,” Sunwoo replied courteously, which was unlike him. Sunwoo knew Kevin vaguely through Juyeon, who was the same age as Kevin and had a lot of classes with him, and Eric, who Kevin often hung out with because they both spoke English. “Any of these yours?”

“A few,” Kevin said modestly.

Sunwoo nodded, looking around. “Are they good or are they more… conceptual?” he asked, his own way of asking whether or not Kevin’s art was a piece of crap or not.

You rolled your eyes. “Your eloquence astounds me, Sunwoo,” you said sarcastically.

“Well I might as well get to the point,” Sunwoo chided, glancing back at Kevin. “So?”

Kevin, who was observing you and Sunwoo with the same amused smile that Juyeon was, motioned the three of you over as he led you in the direction of his drawings. “I’m not so sure if they’re good, or conceptual, but I suppose you could judge that for yourself,” he told Sunwoo, coming to a halt in front of a display of drawings.

The drawings were lively and bright; colours in the form of pastels and charcoal bringing richness and warmth to the image. Most of his drawings depicted a faceless person. There were multiple drawings where the person was being portrayed from the back, and ones that were head-on didn’t have any facial features.

“These are amazing,” you breathed out, enchanted by the creativity of the drawings, as well as the immense detail that went into them.

“I like them,” Sunwoo decided, causing Juyeon to nod in agreement.

“They’re really good,” Juyeon complimented his friend, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m really glad you decided to put something on display this year.” Juyeon knew all about the artistic slump Kevin was in last year, so he didn’t have any art on display.

Kevin thanked Juyeon quietly, still studying your expression. “Can I ask why they’re faceless?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the drawings further.

“Ah, that,” Kevin began, an uncharacteristic shyness appearing in his tone. “Well, I’ve been inspired by somebody for a few months now,” he explained. “I suppose I made my drawings faceless because I don’t want people to know who my muse is. I’m not ready to face how I feel when I draw them yet, and I think it’s too personal to put in an exhibition.”

You nodded your head, understanding where he was coming from. “That’s really great. I hope that one day I’ll get to see their face,” you said kindly, genuinely enjoying his art. Your eyes widened as you realised something. “Hey, do you know the other students in your major well?” you asked him.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of topic. “Yeah, I think so. We’re a small major and I have all of my 300-level classes with all the same people. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be able to recognise one of your peer’s work?” you inquired, the sketchbook in your dorm room burning a hole in your mind. He might be able to solve my curiosity.

“Maybe,” Kevin drawled slowly. “Why?” he found your sudden change of pace surprising. “What’s up?”

“Well, I found someone’s sketchbook in one of my classes and I was wondering who it belonged to,” you began, hesitating before bringing up the sketchbook you found in your Psychology class. “But they didn’t put their name on it so I can’t return it to the owner. It was really detailed and skilled work, so I thought they might be a fine arts major.”

Kevin’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

His worst nightmare had come true: you had found his sketchbook. His sketchbook that was filled with his heart-felt drawings of you. And here you were, asking him if he knew who it belonged to. Somehow, it was equal parts thrilling and mortifying.

Sunwoo, having heard about your secret admirer decided to check out a different part of the exhibition, but Juyeon – who was hearing this for the first time – stayed out of curiosity. “You found someone’s sketchbook?” he repeated. “What was in it?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Well, here’s the thing… There’s some drawings of me in it,” you admitted, feeling shy about divulging everything about the sketchbook to Kevin. “I just… I guess I want to meet the person that made me feel so vibrant and beautiful when looking at the drawings.”

“You have an admirer,” Juyeon realised, beaming at you; eyes squinting into little crescents. “That’s adorable. Does it say anything inside?”

“Yeah it does, actually,” you told him, giving him a smile before meeting Kevin’s eyes again. “All of the drawings are signed with the handle Moon scribbles,” you recalled. “No name or phone number, though.”

Juyeon’s brows furrowed together. “Kev, isn’t Moon scribbles-“

“A really interesting name?” Kevin cut Juyeon off, sending him the clear message that he wasn’t ready to tell you about the fact that you were his muse and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Getting the message, Juyeon eagerly agreed, thanking Kevin for finishing his train of thought. “Um, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before. But if you show me the drawings, maybe I could recognise the style?” Kevin suggested, coming up with a solution for you to find the owner of the sketchbook.

“That would be really great, actually,” you acknowledged. “I could bring it by the next time we hang out,” you suggested, excited to figure out who you should thank for their hard work.

“Next time?” Kevin echoed, excitement filling his stomach. “Are you really so eager to solve your mystery?” he teased you.

“Well, you’re not such a bad addition,” you added with a wink.

Kevin’s heart soared.

You met up with Kevin in the library a few days later to show him your sketchbook. It was good timing because you definitely needed to study for your Psychology class after zoning out in your last few lectures, so the library was the perfect setting to meet.

“Hey,” you greeted Kevin, taking the seat next to him on one of the sofas in the more secluded area of the library.

“Hi,” Kevin mumbled in return, his voice sounding quieter and more hoarse than usual. At first, you thought it might be the fact that he had to whisper that made him sound more quiet. Then, you spotted the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he was wearing glasses, which he didn’t normally do.

“You okay?” you asked him, seeing him stretch out and yawn in his seat.

“Me?” Kevin murmured, meeting your gaze with tired, glazed-over eyes. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Not to sound like an asshole who’s telling you that you look terrible, which I’m not, but you look really tired,” you had to tell Kevin. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Sleep,” Kevin said the word like it’s funny. “Sleep and I… we aren’t friends.”

You smiled sympathetically at your new friend. “Up all night studying?” you wondered.

“Insomnia,” Kevin corrected you.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding. “So sleep is… a distant acquaintance?” you played off his previous joke.

“Something like that,” he allowed, moving his glasses up onto his forehead to rub his eyes. “I’m good, though. I look like this most days, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” you trail off, your concern still not being calmed by Kevin’s explanation. “We can do this anther time if it helps, though. I wouldn’t want you to be unwell because of me.”

Kevin grinned, adjusting the beanie on his head. “But I couldn’t possibly be unwell if I’m around you,” he said, pointing his finger in the air as if he had made an excellent realisation. “Now, show me the sketchbook.”

You pulled the sketchbook out of your tote bag and handed it over to him.

Seeing it right in front of him, Kevin could confirm that it was definitely his sketch book that you had found. Although the chances of another person on campus being entirely smitten by you to the point where you became their artistic muse was slim, it wasn’t zero.

“Can I,” he motioned to the sketchbook, asking for permission to open it. It was incredibly ironic, but Kevin was too embarrassed to come clean about the sketchbook being his.

“Go ahead,” you nodded, telling him to flip through the pages.

Kevin did so, pretending he was seeing all the drawings for the first time. He paused on every page, looking over the details in the sketches and the way they realistically depicted your features. Even though he was the one who drew them, Kevin could admit that the drawings were really great. They were great because he appreciated the subject and was inspired by you. That much was clear to anybody.

“Wow,” Kevin said when he was done looking at all the drawings, holding the sketchbook on his lap. “That’s… you,” he observed, as if he didn’t already know.

“So I’m not crazy?” you asked immediately, biting your lip. “That’s me?” you glanced down at the open page in front of Kevin, seeing the resemblance between you and the person in the drawing.

“Oh it’s definitely you,” Kevin confirmed. “Unless you have an identical twin somewhere out there, there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s you.”

You let out a relieved sigh, leaning back onto the sofa. “Okay, good. I thought I was being really shallow and presumptuous at first but it’s good that you agree,” you told him, feeling a weight being lifted off your chest. “So, does it look familiar?”

“I’m not sure,” Kevin replied vaguely, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one. “Do you think I could keep this? Maybe look over it a few more times when I’m not about to pass out,” he added.

“Sure,” you allowed. You trusted Kevin enough that he wouldn’t lose the sketchbook, since all of your mutual friends spoke very highly of him. Besides, you were becoming more impressed by him every time the two of you met. “I hope something comes up. I looked moonscribbles up on Instagram but their account is private and they haven’t responded to my follow request yet.”

Kevin had completely forgotten about his private art Instagram account. Before he was inspired by you to draw, he was in a serious slump and had been spiralling downwards. In this time, he made his Instagram account private in an effort to not think about it too much. Kevin scolded himself for not realising that you would look him up on social media to find him.

“That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe they’ll respond soon?”

“I hope so,” you mumbled, sighing. “I just… I want to meet them.”

“Just out of curiosity, why do you want to meet them so badly?” Kevin wondered. “Because they drew pretty pictures of you?”

“Kind of?” you replied unsurely. “That’s definitely part of it. I guess I wanted to meet somebody who thought I was vibrant and colourful and beautiful,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. “Because I don’t think that about myself at all. It’s why I suck at acting, and it’s why my cast mates hate me. I just thought that if somebody out there really thought I was special, maybe I would have a reason to believe it, too.”

Kevin felt butterflies rising in his stomach again, but not in a fluttery, nervous way. He was anxious about what was going to happen. “I’ll do my best to help out,” he said gently. “And Y/n?” you looked back up at Kevin. “I think you’re special,” he admitted. “A lot of people do. Juyeon, Sunwoo, Eric, Younghoon… You don’t need Moon scribbles to be special, you’re already special to us.”

A grateful, shy smile spread across your lips at his words. “Thanks, Kev. For your help, and for saying that. I really appreciate it,” you acknowledged afterwards, realising that Kevin was going out of his way to figure out your mystery while he was dead tired.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you cleared your throat and changed the subject, heart hammering. “I’m going to stay here and study for my Psychology class, so you don’t have to stay if you’d rather get some sleep.”

“Psychology?” Kevin echoed. “Are you taking it with Professor Shin?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “She talks so fast that my hand feels like it’s going to fall off after her lectures,” you complained.

Kevin laughed. “I can relate,” he commented. “I didn’t think you were in my class. I’m in section fifteen, what about you?”

“Section twenty-two,” you said, shrugging. “Although I’m glad to hear that it’s not just my class that she’s driving crazy.”

“Ditto,” Kevin agreed. “I actually have to get some studying done for that class too. You mind if I stay?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “It always helps to study with a friend,” you added, pulling out your notes and laptop from your tote bag.

After setting up all of your work, you quickly got to studying, cross-referencing terms from your notes to the textbook to make sure you didn’t write down anything wrong in your hurry. Kevin was silent and still beside you, which you took no notice of because you were so focused. In your distraction, he soon drifted off to sleep with his pencil still in hand, head lulling back to rest on the sofa as his eyes shut by their own accord.

Forty minutes later, you had finished both of the units on Social Psychology and furrowed your brows at an unfamiliar name. “Hey Kev, did you guys talk about-“ you paused after turning to face your new friend, seeing that he was peacefully sleeping, his head now leaning to the side to face you.

The sight of him sleeping peacefully warmed your heart, especially after he had talked about his insomnia earlier. Smiling, you pulled your headphones out of your tote bag so you could listen to the recorded lectures in favour of waking up Kevin to ask him for help. As carefully as you could, you slid the pencil out of his palm and placed it to the side so he could get some rest.

You spent the next half an hour studying in silence, until you noticed Eric, Sunwoo and Jacob walking up to you and Kevin. “Hey,” Sunwoo greeted you, earning a wave from you.

“Hi guys,” you whispered back. “What’s up?”

“Are you and Kevin dating?” Eric interrupted whatever Sunwoo was about to say, an excited glint in his eyes. “You guys are in the make-out section of the library!”

You made a face. “That’s why nobody’s here?” you realised, looking around and frowning. “No, Eric. We’re just studying together.”

Jacob grinned. “Looks like Kevin’s making really great progress on that front,” he teased. “I’m Jacob, by the way,” he added, since the two of you hadn’t properly been introduced yet.

“I’m Y/n,” you replied. “Nice to finally meet you! These rascals have told me all about you,” you motioned to Sunwoo and Eric, who beamed proudly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” Jacob replied. “And I’ve come to collect Kevin. If he doesn’t wake up soon, he’s going to miss his Ceramics class,” he explained.

“Aw,” you pouted, glancing over at Kevin. “He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, though. And he said he was struggling to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “I hate waking him. Believe me, I’m his roommate so I see it all first-hand. But attendance is graded in this class, so…” he trailed off with a small shrug before leaning over and waking Kevin up.

Kevin awoke, eyes blinking drowsily as he took in the image of four people staring at him. “What did I do?” he asked, wondering what prompted all the attention.

You grinned, finding the sight rather cute. “Your wake-up service is here to tell you it’s ceramics time,” you explained.

“I fell asleep,” Kevin realised. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, feeling bad that you were studying in silence when you were supposed to be helping each other out.

“Don’t be, I’m glad you got some shut-eye,” you assured him. “Go get ready for your class.”

Kevin gathered all of his things into his bag and waved his goodbyes, trudging out of the library with Jacob. “So,” Jacob began, a wide grin gracing his features. “That’s Y/n?” he teased.

“Yes, that’s Y/n,” Kevin replied quietly.

“The famous Y/n?”

“Oh my god please tell me you didn’t say anything to Y/n.”

“What should I have said? Oh so you’re the Y/n that Kevin has been in love with all semester! The famous muse! Nice to meet you, I’m the guy that has to listen to him gush about you.”

“Don’t make me hide your guitar.”

moonscribbles accepted your follow request!

You sat up from where you were lying down on your bed, startled at the notification you had just received. Racing to open your Instagram app, you looked at moonscribbles’s account. None of the drawings on their account were of you, so you couldn’t decide if they were the right person. But they simply had to be. They went to your school, they studied art…

Braving it, you decided to send them a private message.

Hi! I think I found your sketchbook in Professor Shin’s lecture hall. How do you want me to return it to you?

You waited for a response, which came within a minute.

You can keep it.

You were pouting over your cereal in the dining hall when Juyeon joined you, his plate stacked high with all kinds of delicious breakfast foods. “Hey pouty,” he teased you, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge when he took the seat next to yours. His smile never failed to cheer you up, which is why your frown caused concern to grow in your best friend. “Why the long face?”

“I’m never going to meet moonscribbles,” you told him, your eyes uncharacteristically sad and shiny when they met Juyeon’s.

He startled at how upset you were. “What? Why would you say that?”

“They accepted my follow request on Instagram,” you explained. “And they told me I could keep the sketchbook. Then they went offline,” you recalled. “I guess I was wrong about them.”

“I’m sorry. Whoever they are, they clearly have no idea what they’re missing.” Juyeon frowned, sympathetic of your situation and confused about what Kevin thought he was doing.

“What who’s missing?” Jacob and Eric took the seats opposite you and Juyeon, their plates equally filled with breakfast foods.

“Moon scribbles,” you said vaguely, not wanting to get into it with anyone other than Juyeon and Sunwoo. While you were starting to get to know Jacob better, you didn’t feel comfortable enough around them to discuss the matter with them. And of course you loved Eric, and he knew your situation, but you hadn’t anticipated feeling so upset about Moon scribbles’s response.

“Kevin?” Jacob asked innocently, picking up his fork and elbowing Eric so he wouldn’t steal his food. “What did he do?”

Your eyes snapped over to Jacob. “What did you just say?” you asked. Juyeon’s eyes widened, mouth slightly open as Jacob revealed Kevin’s secret to you without even realising it.

“I was asking what Kevin did,” Jacob repeated. “You said Moon scribbles, didn’t you? Kevin’s artist handle?”

“That’s clever,” Eric chimed in, innocently eating his food. “Since his last name is Moon, and all.” Then his eyes widened and he realised the situation, his gaze snapping over at you to see how you were handling the reveal.

In that moment, you’d never felt like more of an idiot.

“Kevin is Moon scribbles,” you echoed, dropping your fork onto your tray.

“Oh,” Jacob paused, reading the room as he saw the way Juyeon was staring at him. “Did you… not know that?”

“No,” you told him, having lost your already minimal appetite. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“Oh boy,” Jacob said awkwardly. “I feel like I definitely just messed up.”

“No, no,” you denied, waving your hand in Jacob’s direction. “Not at all. I’m just glad that I know who it is,” you tried to convince him, as well as yourself. “Did you know?” you asked Juyeon. “That day at the exhibition… You were trying to tell me that you knew it was Kevin, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I knew,” Juyeon replied slowly, confirming your suspicions.

For a moment, a dull pain ached in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, hurt that your best friend had lied to you.

“Because I figured Kevin wanted to tell you in his own time,” he explained. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you, I just thought he’d do the right thing and explain it to you himself. It felt like it wasn’t my news to tell.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I understand,” you got to your feet, grabbing your tray after putting your bag on your shoulder.

Juyeon stood up with you. “Are you upset with me?” he asked. “Because I understand if you are.”

You did your best to smile, not caring if it looked real or not. “I’m not upset with you,” you assured him. “I’m upset, but not at you. I have to get to the last dress rehearsal before opening night, so,” you glanced over at Jacob and Eric, who both looked mortified. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you told them before putting your tray away and walking to the theatre as quickly as you could.

“Hey!” your director greeted you when you came in, beaming. “You’re like a half hour early,” she observed.

“Oh, I’ve just come to go over lines and talk to some friends,” you lied, smiling at her before stepping backstage. The set design volunteers were adding last-minute touched to their sets, and you knew that was where you’d find Kevin.

“Hey,” he greeted you when you arrived in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Moon scribbles doesn’t want their sketchbook back,” you told him, as if you didn’t know that he was Moon scribbles. “So you don’t have to keep looking for them,” you added.

“Oh, okay,” Kevin nodded as if he didn’t already know this. “Did you want the sketchbook back?”

“You can keep it,” you declined, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s rightfully yours anyway.”

Kevin paused his painting. “It is?” he asked, voice squeaking just slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, Moon scribbles,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “Besides, it’s the only way you’ll get to see me ever again, anyway,” you added, frowning as you turned around to go. “Bye, Kevin.”

“Wait,” Kevin put his fine paintbrush down to stop you from leaving.

“What?” you asked him, facing him with a raised eyebrow. “You know what, I actually really want to hear this. What exactly is it that you’re going to say to save this situation?” you wondered.

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to go on this long,” he began.

“That’s a joke,” you accused. “You knew how much this meant to me! Just admit that you were never going to tell me that you’re Moon scribbles.”

“How could I tell you?” Kevin exclaimed, startling you with his sudden increase in volume. “How could I just come forward and tell you that it was me? What would you have thought of me?”

“I’d have thought more of you than I do now,” you retorted. “Look, I get it now. I read the situation all wrong. You don’t think I’m special or vibrant or any of those things. You just drew me because I was there, I suppose,” you decided, feeling your heart dropping in your chest at your own words.

“That is not true,” Kevin denied, shaking his head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I suppose you might have though I was pretty if you drew me,” you allowed. “But clearly, I was putting too much onto this whole Moon scribbles thing, and it didn’t mean anything to you at all. Which is fine, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It just sucks that you couldn’t just tell me that to my face,” you confessed wholeheartedly. “But it’s fine. You can just go back to drawing your faceless muse now, I’m over it,” you lied.

“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you that I’m Moon scribbles,” Kevin insisted. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to think I drew you just because you’re beautiful.”

“That worked out well,” you muttered.

Kevin sighed. “I don’t care about your looks, as ironic as that sounds. When I first saw you… You exuded an aura. I know that sounds cheesy and not everyone believes in vibes or energy, or whatever, but it’s true. You inspired me to draw and be creative,” he explained. “But I liked you when I met you. When I saw you in class and when I saw you around Sunwoo and Juyeon. You don’t get it. You are my faceless muse. You have been ever since our Cultural Anthropology class last semester.”

That stopped your train of thought. “You were in that class?” you repeated, confused.

“Yes I was. The first time I saw you… I swear, I haven’t drawn anything other than you since that day,” Kevin’s tone was uncharacteristically serious, and you felt inclined to believe him. “No matter how hard I tried. Flowers turned into your eyes, landscapes became your hair; I was a man possessed. I still am.”

“Then why not tell me all of this?” you wondered, frustrated with the situation.

“I thought that if you found out I was Moon scribbles, you’d just think I was shallow,” he paused. “Or worse.”

You rose an eyebrow. “Worse?”

Now it was Kevin’s turn to sound frustrated. “I mean, I’m not so great and special. I figured you’d be disappointed that it’s me.”

Your heart clenched for him. “How could I be disappointed that it’s you?” you asked him. “You’re great. It’s me who’s awful.”

“You aren’t awful,” he denied. “You’re so much greater than you can see. Don’t you get it? You inspired me to create after the most awful year I’ve ever had artistically. I drew you instead of studying, I drew you instead of leaving my dorm, hell, I drew you instead of sleeping. You didn’t misunderstand anything. I do think that you’re special, and vibrant.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay,” you spoke quietly, your mind spinning in circles. “I believe you.”

Kevin nodded. “Good.”

You nodded back at him, unsure of how to continue. “So… You have a sketchbook full of drawings of me,” you decided to tease him, just to bring some of the usual lightheartedness you felt around Kevin back.

Kevin visibly reddened at your words. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said it was just one,” he confessed.

You brightened at his words. “You have multiple sketchbooks full of drawings of me?” you exclaimed.

“I made drawings of you for the art exhibition,” he reminded you. “I haven’t been able to draw anything else for seven months. And I draw a lot, so the sketchbooks just started piling up. Plus my iPad,” catching the delighted glint in your eyes, Kevin cut himself off. “You know what, we don’t have to talk about my iPad.”

You smiled, flattered that Kevin had been so inspired by you. “Well, thank you. For filling sketchbooks and iPads and whatever other mediums with drawings of me. You made me feel seen for the first time in a really long time, and I appreciate it,” you acknowledged his efforts. “Is this why everyone acts so weird when we’re together?” you put the pieces together.

“What are you talking about?” Kevin asked, dreading your answer.

“Eric practically skips over to me whenever he sees me now, asking about you and all kinds of other things. Jacob is a lot more subtle, but he looks at me like a proud dad sometimes,” you explained.

Kevin rested his palm against his forehead. “Why are they so obvious?”

“The real question is: Why was Juyeon the least obvious,” you retorted.

“I think he just wanted us both to figure things out in our own time,” Kevin mused, earning a hum and a nod in agreement from you.

“Hey Y/n,” Younghoon poked his head around the corner. “We’re getting ready for rehearsals. Are you going to be done in time to change?” he asked, eyes flitting between you and Kevin.

“Yeah, I’m good to start getting ready. Thanks Younghoon,” you agreed, grateful that your friend wasn’t making a big deal out of what he might have overheard. Younghoon nodded, disappearing with a wink to get himself ready. “Well, that’s my cue,” you trailed off, motioning to the backstage area where you had to get changed for your last dress rehearsal.

Kevin nodded, slightly upset that your conversation didn’t come to a closure yet. “Okay,” he replied. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

You agreed with him, grabbing your bag from where you dropped it on the floor and making your way to the changing rooms. Before you opened the door, you turned back to face Kevin, who had been watching you leave. “I came to your exhibition, so you have to come to opening night,” you reminded him of the agreement the two of you made.

“I’ll be there,” Kevin assured you, taking it as a sign that the two of you could still – at the very least – be friends.

“Good,” you smiled. “And after opening night, we have a few days off so I would definitely be available, say, Wednesday?” you informed him, hoping he’d get the idea.

Kevin brightened up, his posture straightening suddenly. “Oh?” he stammered. “Would you maybe want to get dinner on Wednesday?” he offered. “Like, a date?”

You grinned, your eye dropping into a wink. “What an excellent idea,” you told him. “By the way, don’t bother asking the boys about what I like, they’re completely clueless. My favourite flowers are peonies.”

“Peonies,” Kevin repeated, accompanied by a nod. “Any preferred colour?” he asked, giddy with excitement at the outcome your confrontation had.

You shrugged. “Surprise me.”

note: okay i know you guys waited forever for this so thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you guys enjoyed it xx

[citrusdarling7]

Tophelia (part 2)

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, swearing, degrading, spoilers for My Riddle to Solve, shower sex

🗡--------------------------------------------—🗡

“Fine. Could I use your shower? The graveyard dirt is still caked to my skin, and there’s most definitely some blood on my hands.” Tom slumped down into one of his chairs and lit a cigarette.

“There’s spare towels under the sink, as well as unopened bars of soap,” he told me. I kicked off my boots and hung my coat next to his before heading into the bathroom. His was a lot larger than mine; one of the many benefits of being a Prefect. I stripped out of my dirty clothes and stepped under the hot water. My body let out a sigh of relief as the first stream of droplets hit my skin.

The brand of soap Tom had smelled like cedar and pine. It was a comforting scent, albeit a bit sharp. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the door open. Tom cleared his throat, causing me to jump. The shower curtain was pulled shut, so neither of us could really see each other.

“Tom, is something wrong? Did Adelaide wake up?” My voice was shaky, which he took in as a concern.

“Hanson is fine. May I join you?” My mind blanked for a moment. Was he really asking to shower with me? I didn’t care if he saw me naked, but this seemed strangely intimate.

“Alright.”

Riddle undressed himself quickly before peeling back the shower curtain and stepping inside. The lighting in the bathroom was dim, but I was still able to see his body in all of its glory. His chest muscles were intricately sculpted like those of a statue’s. The water from the showerhead trickled down him as he tilted his head backwards and sighed. Tom’s hands made their way to the sides of my hips.

“You’re very stressed. Tell me why,” he demanded in a soft voice.

“How could I not be? I just witnessed my best friend’s possession,” I scoffed. Tom abruptly pulled my body closer to his. His cock pressed against my stomach and his lips lowered to my neck. My eyelids fluttered shut as he began to kiss me gently.

“It’s something more than that. What’s on your mind?” His warm breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine.

“You don’t want to hear about my worries,” I said. Tom’s kisses trailed down to my clavicle as his fingers lightly traced my thighs.

“Mmh, I do. Indulge me with your thoughts.” His pace became more fervent, running his lips, teeth, and tongue across my collarbones.

“I-” my voice wavered at a sudden kiss against the nape of my neck. Tom’s lips were so warm and wonderful, driving me insane with every movement he made.

“Ophelia, be a good girl and talk to me.” The water from the shower head was being blocked by his figure, meaning that his hands and mouth were my only source of warmth. I wasn’t sure why Tom even cared about my worries, but as long as he was willing to keep kissing me, I was willing to divulge them.

“I’m worried. About Raymond, my cousin, the twins, Adelaide, and even you. Things have been different as of late.” The words tumbled past my lips in short breaths.

“What do you mean by that, my darling?” One of his hands snaked in between my thighs.

“Everything is just so hectic. I feel as if we are on the brink of war, concerning Grindelwald and his massive hordes of supporters. I want to protect everyone that I care about, but that is impossible seeing as I can barely protect myself.” Two fingers brushed against my core, causing my breath to hitch. Although Tom’s lips remained on my neck, I could practically feel him smirking.

“Keep talking. Tell me about your friends. Why are you worried for them?” Fingers stroked my folds slowly, eliciting me to tell him more.

“Raymond’s family is so hard on him, and his relationship with-” I almost let Abraxas’ name slip, my mind preoccupied with my current situation, “-Sarah is complicated to say the least. Adelaide is distant, Joslyn is constantly busy, and— fuck, do that again!” His thumb had pressed down onto my clit, causing pleasure to course through my legs and my back to arch against the wall.

“Tell me more, and I might let you come,” he offered with a delightful kiss beneath my jawline. My head fell back against the shower wall as one of his fingers entered me. Riddle was so damn good at this.

“My mother practically despises me, my father is completely corrupt, and the extended family thinks I am a disgrace,” I stuttered. His middle finger joined the first one, thrusting up inside of me with the perfect amount of pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles on my clit. Riddle’s wet curls tickled my neck as he kissed it.

“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?” I tried to speak, but all that came out of my mouth was a whimper. “Don’t stop now. You were being such a good girl for me,” he taunted.

“I- I hate feeling like I don’t- like I don’t know anything, and-” A particularly rough movement of his thumb left me gasping for breath. “Tom, I can’t-” The dark-haired boy tsked in amusement as his hand pulled away from my throbbing cunt.

“What a shame. I would have loved watching you climax around my hand.” He took a step backwards as I sighed in frustration.

“Please, Tom. You can’t just tease me like that,” I begged. He paid no attention to my pleas, opting to stand under the showerhead and act as if I didn’t exist. “Fine, I’ll just get myself off.”

I watched his shoulders stiffen at my suggestion. Riddle quickly spun around and pushed me against the shower wall. He debated the prospect for a moment, not sure if watching me touch myself would be worth allowing me to undermine him.

“You will do no such thing. I want to fuck you, on my bed this time. Would you like that, Ophelia?” I nodded, but that was not good enough for him. “Use your words.”

“Yes. I would.”

In what felt like a blur, Riddle waved his hand to turn off the shower, hoisted me up by the underside of my thighs, and carried me out of the bathroom. I was roughly tossed onto the bed, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on my skin. His duvet was made of a soft black fabric that felt like heaven against my body. The two of us were still sopping wet from the shower, but I suppose Tom didn’t care. He noticed my shivering and quickly conjured up a fire in his fireplace.

He kissed me feverently, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth as my hands grasped at his curls. Skin against skin, I wrapped a leg around his in an attempt to close the gap between us. Heat pooled in my stomach as his lips made their way to my left nipple, sucking at pulling at it with his teeth. His fingers began to play with the right one, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

His kisses trailed down my chest and stomach, continuing lower until he stopped to glance up at me.

“I want to taste your pretty cunt. Can you manage to stay quiet if I do so? Lestrange’s room is to the left of mine,” he warned. The others were without a doubt still awake, and they most definitely did not want to hear me chanting Riddle’s name like a prayer.

“I’ll try my best,” I promised him.

“Good girl. Lie back and let me take care of you.” Tom smirked and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek before moving to kneel in front of the bed. He tugged at my hips to slide me forwards before lifting my legs over his shoulders. He kissed at my inner thighs for a few moments, wanting to tease me as much as he could. The first stroke of his tongue set my entire body ablaze.

His mouth against my heat was quite possibly the most pleasurable thing I had ever experienced. Tom gripped my thighs tightly as he ran his tongue across my folds. I bit down on my lip in a fruitless attempt to silence the moans he was eliciting from me. Dark eyes stared up at me as teeth and tongue wrapped themselves around my clit. My hands desperately clung to the duvet as his wet curls tickled my skin. The sensations I was feeling were so incredibly overwhelming that my hips involuntarily twitched and my legs started to shake. Merlin, why hadn’t I gotten with Riddle sooner?

“Keep still,” he demanded, his words sending vibrations up my core. One of his hands pressed against my lower stomach as the other one warningly slapped my thigh.

“Tom. Don’t stop.” I was rapidly approaching my climax, and the boy currently knelt in front of me also knew that. He abruptly pulled away, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh. However, my disappointment was short-lived. Tom quickly joined me on his bed, positioning himself above me. His cock was so painfully hard that I could see a vein throbbing. Strong hands pinned my arms above my head as he pushed into me with a sudden thrust.

The pace Riddle set was one of extreme speed and intensity. He fucked me so well; the tip of his cock brushed against a sensitive spot inside of me with every movement. My moans and whimpers increased in volume, prompting him to release my arms and clamp one of his hands over my mouth.

“Such a slut for me, aren’t you darling?” Tom’s pupils were blown with lust and his lips were swollen from intense kisses. Every thrust had me clenching around him; I was once again nearing my high. Tom brought his mouth to mine, muffling my moans with a rough kiss. I came around him with a cry; eyes rolled back into my head as pleasure coursed through my veins.

As I came down from my climax, my hands tightly gripped Tom’s shoulders, nails digging into his pale skin. I was painfully sensitive, so much so that sharp pain mixed with every bit of pleasure I was receiving.

When Tom finally reached his orgasm, he buried his face in my neck and stroked the side of my hip with his fingers. His jugular vein tensed as he murmured a stream of praises and swear words. After a few moments of soft kisses and gentle touches, he pulled away from me and went to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom.

“You clearly had a lot of pent-up frustration,” Tom teased as he examined his upper back in the mirror, which was littered with hot red crescent-shaped nail marks. A few of them streaked down his skin in long scratches.

[rhenuvee]

The Heart in You pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

Request: Could you do something along these lines? Love you soo much <3 your imagines make me happier. It would mean the world to me if you could do this!! Request: Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is Fred's best friend but they never really show affection, they insult each other all the time and occasionally Fred flirts, teasingly. But Fred gets all nervous and goes soft when y/n is visiting their home since its so small and you know.. they're poor and stuff... thanks <3

Link to pt1: Here

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

You were peacefully walking through the corridors, ready to spend a cozy Sunday afternoon being warm from the cold with your friends. It was quite surprising how little disturbance there was, as if you were in a scene in a movie. 

That is, until you heard the sudden roars of laughter, clapping, and awe. You gritted your teeth- you knew that the peace was too good to be true. You decided to change your direction, hoping that this path would bring an end to this once and for all. 

This was something you’ve been dealing with for the past week, and it’s been pissing you off. You found the source of the crowd of noise, seeing that it was coming from out in the courtyard. It was just as you expected. 

“-and then there I was, cornered! Like a poor gazelle standing out in the open!” narrated a voice you knew too well. You stood watching from a distance with your arms folded, seeing as a specific redhead told a story you almost knew by heart by now.

Just as rehearsed for the past seven days a week, you saw the same dramatic gestures by none other than Fred Weasley. His stupid chocolate brown eyes which you couldn’t bother to look at, his stupid smile which you swore he had on 24/7- Although you had to admit, something even more stupid was the first and second years genuinely interested and believing in his anecdote. 

“I almost died, but I stayed strong!” you facepalmed as he scrunched up his face way too dramatically. “She- the lion, sneaking up, ready to jump out and-”

“WEASLEY!” you yelled interrupting him, hearing enough of his crap. It seemed to scare some of the first and second years as they jumped and turned to see you.

“It’s the lion! Run!” shouted Fred. The kids yelled their lungs out and ran in all different directions all to get away from ‘the lion’. You marched your way to Fred, trudging your way towards him. You didn’t care about your shoes getting wet from the snow, all you cared about was slapping that smirk off his face.

“Yes?” he said rather casually from his spot, leaning against the wall.

“Yes? That’s all you have to say to the ferocious lion?” you asked incredulously. He chuckled.

“Actually, I do have something to say, though we may need a spell to translate between your roaring.” You scoffed at his terrible joke.

“I hate you.” 

“We know that’s a lie, love.” You rolled your eyes. You knew that the reason the story started in the first place was because of that day you asked him to the yule ball. He tricked you, and his ego was just getting bigger. 

“And what makes you think that?” you retorted.

“You’re the one who asked me to the ball, love.” he said scoffing. You mentally slapped yourself for having a question with an obvious answer. The term of endearment definitely didn’t help in trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“I was drunk.” you replied quickly. Fred in turn laughed at your quick statement, causing you to laugh a little.

“Really? Then you should get drunk more often.” 

“I think you’re drunk, gazelle.” you said poking his chest then turning to leave. Though, this didn’t stop him from hopping from his place and catching up with you.

“Am I now?” he asked pressing further.

“Yes Fred, bye.” you said as you were about to leave him and turn a corner.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much darling!” 

“Fred!”

---

“Hey (y/n)!” called someone from behind you. You stopped and turned to see George who was slowing down to stop near your spot. 

“Hey George. What’s going on?”

“Are you doing anything this holiday?” he asked.

“Hm, probably just gonna go home for the break, same as every year... why?” 

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to ours for Christmas.” Your eyes widened at his offer. You had never been to the burrow before.

“You don’t have to, but I know it would make a certain gazelle really happy.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“If it would make him happy, why couldn’t he ask me himself?” 

“Well riddle me this, would a gazelle purposely perch itself out in the open where any predator- ow!” You playfully punched George in the arm, seeing as the story was starting to rub on him.

“Sorry- what I meant to say was, it would also make myself, Ginny and Ron really happy. You’re our best friend (y/n)... also, mum’s been asking for you as well.” 

“Your mum? Asking about me?” you said shocked.

“You’ve been mentioned here and there.” he said casually. You bit your lip, trying to supress a smile. You were invited to the burrow, which you’ve heard only good things from Harry and Hermione. 

“Alright, I’ll send an owl to my parents and ask them.” you said. He nodded with a grin, knowing his twin would be ecstatic to hear this. 

---

Your parents were a little surprised that you were going to spend the holidays at the burrow. They’ve never met the twins, just like how Arthur and Molly only heard a few things about you. Nonetheless, they were glad to see you so happy to be with your friends. On another note, you were very very nervous. Maybe it was because of seeing the rest of the Weasley family, but also for very stupid reasons. 

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to finally meet you dear! Come inside now!” You were welcomed by Molly herself, engulfing you in a tight and warm hug.  You smiled, instantly relieved that Molly liked you enough to hug you.

“I’ve heard so many things about you.” she said maintaining a bright smile. 

“And I’ve heard that you heard many things, all good I hope.” you said.

“Only the best.” she said swiping your cheek then turning to lead you deeper into the house. You walked in, and your eyes couldn’t help put to move left and right. 

“(Y/n)!” You then saw Ginny appear, running as fast as she could down the stairs, then jumping and hugging you just like her mother did. You both squealed in excitement. 

“Hey idiots! Your favourite person is here!” Ginny yelled calling for the twins. 

“Ginny!” scolded Molly with her arms crossed. You giggled. You watched as the two tall figures stepped down to where you were.

“Well look who it is.” George said smirking and leaning in for a hug. Once you pulled away, you saw Fred, but you couldn’t help but notice something was weird about him.

“Hi.” he said curtly, but with a small smile. 

“Hey...?” you greeted, letting your confusion be slightly present. He also went in for a hug, though it was a lot lighter than the ones you’ve received so far.

“Do you want any food?” asked Fred. 

“Um sure.” you shrugged. You thought it was a little strange that Fred was being so ‘nice’ to you. I mean, like George said, would a gazelle let itself stand in the open and offer food for a predator? But you decided to brush the thought off, besides, you really ought to get that dumb story out of your head.

The first evening with the Weasley’s went well. You were able to meet the rest of the family as well as Harry and Hermione which you realized later that they were here. Molly’s cooking was delicious, and you were glad to be apart of the holiday gathering. You were glad that everyone was willing to welcome you, despite being new to the burrow. 

It wasn’t until a couple hours after dinner, when it was late and you spotted Fred and George sitting on the couch, fiddling with what you expected was some of their future joke shop products.

“Hey.” you said heading over to sit with them. George smiled, then quickly jumped up to leave.

“I gotta go to the bathroom. See ya!” he said a bit too joyfully. I mean- tis the season, but one could not be that excited to go to the bathroom. You then scooched closer to Fred, and he noticed with a small grin. 

“Hey you.” he said bringing his lanky arm to wrap around you and bring you even closer. You blushed at the extremely close proximity between you two, but if you were being honest, you didn’t mind one bit. This was secretly what you wanted, right?

You remembered the day you asked Fred to the yule ball quite clearly. After that incident, he was a huge ball of chaos and energy. You remember him skipping down halls, and how you had to chase him to shut up when he started the gazelle story.

And when the night of the ball finally arrived, you were a big bundle of nerves- and Fred was being a cocky little shit as usual... but aside from that, there were things he did that made you have the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. You didn’t forget how much he made you laugh and smile that night. 

And now, you let the thought of his silence creep over again. He spoke and cracked jokes during dinner, but he was still quieter than you’ve experienced. You sat in the same silence as he seemed to be fixing a product.

“Fred...?” you said looking at him, a little surprised that your faces were closer than you expected. 

“Hm?” 

“Uh, are you okay?” you asked. You tried to ask it in the most subtle way possible. He only looked at you with an unreadable expression. The weirdest thing being that he had no witty comeback, or any line to start your typical banter. 

“Yeah.” he said giving a closed mouthed smile again, then looking back at the joke products. Jeez, why did boys have to be so hard to read? To you at least. 

“I just, ‘m surprised you accepted when George invited you here.” he muttered, but you heard it loud and clear. 

“And why would you be surprised?” You didn’t know what to feel. His head pointed downwards- suddenly this moment felt really familiar. You were a bit skeptical if you were being truthful. After a long pause, he suddenly chuckled awkwardly to himself and sat up, leaned back until his head was tilted back on the top edge of the couch.

“I’m mad for you.” he said shifting himself so that his head was still tilted back but facing you. All your jumbling thoughts couldn’t force itself out of your mouth. You just sat there, your eyes bulging out of your head, and mouth in an o shape.

“W-what?” you managed to say. Now you were very very skeptical of what was to happen. You do not want to be tricked by him again, and leave you a blushing mess. 

“I’m mad for you- do you need me to spell it out?” he asked. With the dim lighting you couldn’t see the slight flush of red on his cheeks. He brought his hand to cover his eyes, still showing his lips which were curved up in a flustered smile. 

“I- are you being serious?” you asked in confirmation. 

“Am I- yes I am (y/n), I’m mad for you. I said it three times, now you gotta believe me.” he said taking away the hand covering his face. You didn’t even try to hide the pink tinting your face. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“You still don’t believe me do you.” he deadpanned. You didn’t answer to that. He chuckled, already knowing your answer. In one swift motion, he cupped your cheek with his hand and brought you in closer for a kiss. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against and moved in sync with yours. 

You moved so that you were able to put both your hands on his shoulders to bring him closer. You could feel the hum from his lips when he heard you let out a little noise. Both of you were speechless blushing messes once you pulled away with the ‘smooch’ sound.

“Believe me now?” he said in almost a whisper. You nodded frantically, earning a smirk from Fred, as well as a beckoning gesture to ask you to cuddle next to him. You followed, snuggling up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

...

“I always knew you had a heart in you.” 

...

“Excuse me?” 

You tried burying your head further inwards, as you attempted to stifle your giggles about to erupt. Yes, you really did just pull that card on Fred Weasley.

“What did you just say?” asked Fred ducking his head to your level, trying to get a glimpse of what he hoped did not just come out of your mouth. 

“Nothing!”

“You did not say nothing, princess.” he said trying to pry your hands clutching your face as you finally gave in and let out your laughter. You made the split second decision to bolt out of the living room and into the dining room to run away. Fred of course had no problem running after you. 

You were both giggly as heck as you both circled the dining table, which happened to be the only thing protecting you.

“Take it back!’

“No!”

And once you said that, he made a dash for the tight corner and was able to capture you from behind. You squirmed with your legs kicking out as he held you tightly and swung you in a circle.

“Take it back!” he said in your ear.

“I won’t! This is what you get Weasley.” 

“What I get? For what?”

“For...-” You realized then that if you said the reason, he would know that he was the reason you got flustered in the first place.

“What? Am I too handsome for you?” he asked as he placed you down, but still pinned you to the counter. 

“In your dreams!”

“And in real life too.” 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” you huffed crossing your arms. However, your attempt at trying not to smile failed horribly when you turned your head away from him.

“That means I won, princess.” he said smirking and tilting your head back to face him.

“Oh shut up Fred, you-”

“Make me shut up-”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” You and Fred both jumped when you saw George and Ginny intrude. And worse, when you were both getting riled up at each other. 

“There will be no ‘make me shut up’ in this house.” said George mockingly as Ginny stood next to him laughing. You deadpanned at Ginny clearly not helping the situation.

“You’re not going to encourage them? It’s about time.” said Ginny.

“Gin, if you knew me, you’d know that I’m not even surprised.” replied George sarcastically.

“Oh sod off, both of you. Bein’ two creeps.” said Fred shooing them away. George and Ginny gave each other a knowing look and did as told. Fred then immediately turned back to focusing on you.

“So, what were you thinking on making me shut up?”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS II Vol.1 Ayato VS Laito [Track 4]

Original title: 棺桶の中で

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 1 Ayato VS Laito [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru & Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: This was a long one but I somehow got through it! I’ve realized that in these VERSUS CDs, Laito’s parts always tend to be a little longer because he likes to talk a lot and ramble on about things. It was fascinating to see him struggle between the two sides of himself though, as well as his realization that the MC must be someone special to him. ...And then there’s of course the many many slurpring and gulping sounds. :’’) In the game, I usually skip through most of these, but unfortunately I don’t have that luxury with a drama CD.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: Inside the Coffin

Laito enters the torture chamber.

*Rattle rattle*

Laito: ...Bitch-chaaan~ You’re here, aren’t you?

He paces around.

Laito: Laito-kun has come for you~ ...That scary Vampire who will hurt you is gone, so won’t you show yourself? 

He finds your hiding place.

*Rustle*

Laito: Little Red Riding Hood has been spotted...~ Nfu~ I knew the torture chamber was the right choice. ...I just had a feeling you would be hiding over here. It makes sense to start searching from the place which seems the least likely, don’t you think?

*Rustle*

Laito: Or you might have just subconsciously chose your favorite spot. ...Your true nature which has been awakened through the strange power of the lunar ecilpse, that is. I mean, this place overflows from memories of our ‘love’, doesn’t it? Fufufu~

*Rustle*

Laito: Come on. Grab my hand.

You hesitate.

Laito: I’ll make you feel good~

You slap away his hand.

Laito: ...Oh! ...Nfu~ So, what’s the plan swatting away my hand like that? Or are you perhaps grumpy, Bitch-chan?

You turn your head around.

Laito: Are you trying to put Ayato-kun and I to the test by pushing us around like this? Fufufu~

*Rustle*

Laito: ...Ugh. Gotcha~ 

You try to escape his grip.

Laito: Pulling you close against your will isn’t half bad either. If you’re too obedient, it isn’t any fun, don’t you think? 

*Rustle*

Laito: Come on...You can fight back some more. I don’t mind if you throw a fit.  You’re so very confused right now, aren’t you? You’ve been caught off guard by our slightly off behavior. That’s why you couldn’t hold back the tears. I saw you bolt out of the room earlier, you see. Not knowing what is going on just makes one want to cry, don’t you think? Fufu~

You flinch.

Laito: When that happens, the best thing to do is to retreat to a narrow, dark space. There’s a perfect example in this room as well...Come on, this way!

Laito opens the Iron Maiden.

*THUD*

Laito: How this spikeless one? Shall we go inside Ayato-kun’s bed?

He forces you inside.

*Rustle rustle*

*CLUNK*

Laito: Hmm~ It’s my first time inside, but it’s rather nice. Especially when I consider this is Ayato-kun’s favorite spot. It makes waves of excitement wash over me~ Nfu~ It feels as if I am sneakily taking what is his from right underneath his nose. Fufu~ Well, not that you necessarily belong to Ayato-kun or anything. I am just hypothetically speaking, okay? 

You protest.

Laito: ...Mm~ It’s the scent of blood. Did Ayato-kun do lewd things to you in here? Fufu~ 

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Come on, don’t go hide it. It’s been crystal clear for a while. Aah~ See? There’s bite marks...All over your nape.

*Rustle*

Laito: Haah...See? Right here. Can you tell? ...The place I’m carressing you. 

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Does it still sting a little? Or does it feel good? ...Haah~ 

You wince in pain.

Laito: ...Woah! ...Fufu~ Sorry~ Curiosity got the best of me and I started toying with the wound. Wondering if perhaps it would start bleeding again. ...And surely enough, see? Blood has started oozing out.

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Nn...

*Smooch*

Laito: Haah...Lapping up the blood from your neck tainted by Ayato-kun is the pinnacle of obscenity. Mmh...Nn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: ...Ah~ ...Haah...I’m sure you’re starting to feel weird too, right? See? You’ve got goosebumps. Haahn~ Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Aahn...Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: ...Ah~ I wonder what this feeling means? You belong to me, but rather than being upset knowing Ayato-kun sucked your blood from her, it is making me excited instead.

*Rustle*

Laito: M brain doesn’t want to admit it but...Haah~ My body still reacts this way.

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Say, Bitch-chan? You should be able to tell as well, right? 

You tilt your head to the side.

Laito: Come on, try recalling it. How did Ayato-kun suck you? Right here...Mm...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: What kind of sounds did you make the moment he pierced his fangs through? Haah...

*Rustle*

Laito: What did he do to you afterwards? Did he hard-handedly suck your blood, I wonder? Or was he perhaps gentle with you because he noticed how you seemed to be in pain? ...For one, this Iron Maiden is Ayato-kun’s favorite spot, isn’t it? So I’m sure he has sucked your blood in here before, hasn’t he? 

You avert your gaze.

Laito: Come on...Try remembering everything you did with him. While I hold you in my arms like this...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: You’d recall the things you’ve done with another man. 

*Smooch*

Laito: ...I’m sure it makes you feel incredibly guilty, no? Mmh...

*Sluuuuurp*

Laito: Mmh...Nn...

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: Imagining you so thoroughly naughty excites me beyond belief. It’s as if a voice inside of me is telling me that I have to enjoy this situation, or I’d be missing out. That it’s the most arousing situation imaginable. You feel the same way, don’t you?

You look up at Laito.

Laito: The way Ayato-kun always talks about how he wants to claim you only for himself would only ruin this excellent situation, don’t you think? I could never comprehend him. ...Exactly, that’s what I always thought...But right now, there’s one more emotion welling up inside of me at the same time...Fufu~ That’s right...It’s jealousy. 

You seem surprised.

Laito:...Bitch-chan~ Didn’t I tell you earlier as well? It seems like I’m a little envious tonight because of the moon’s effects. ...I want to corrupt these marks so badly, so you won’t even be able to tell what they originally looked like anymore. I want to make the inside of your head go blank, so you’ll be unable of recalling any of the things Ayato-kun did to you. ...That’s what I think. In other words, this is ‘possessiveness’.  Born inside of me. I’m surprised. I had no idea I was capable of feeling this way. This almost makes it seems like I’m no different from Ayato-kun. We are brothers, but for the longest time, I thought the color of our eyes was the only thing we had in common. However, that might not be entirely true.

*Rustle*

Laito: Along with the side of me which wants to indulge in you as something belonging to another man, a part of me also wishes to make you only mine. But you know? At first glance, it may seem as if I am contradicting myself, but that might not actually be the case. I realized, you see? ...Do you know what I mean?

He leans in.

Laito: In short, both sides of me can only exist because you are someone special in my eyes. ...Nfu~ I mean, just think about it? If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be able to get such a kick out of competing over you like this.

You flush bright red.

Laito: ...Your cheeks are red? Nfu~ Did that make your heart skip a beat? Nice~ ...But you know, when you tell a girl she is special, they let you get away with anything, don’t they?

Laito suddenly bites you.

*Gulp gulp*

Laito: Aah...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Ah~ ...Haah...~ It’s my turn to taint your neck now. Haahn...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Aahn...

*Gulp gulp*

Laito: Mm...No good...I want more and more...I want to leave marks on your whole body, many more than Ayato-kun ever did...Haah...Aaah~

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Hahn...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Aah...I wonder if my feelings are in disarray because of the moon after all? ...Say, Bitch-chan? Haahn...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Ah...Not yet...It’s not enough...Tonight, rather than feeling more satisfied by drinking your blood, it is as if I am being overcome by a different kind of feeling...Haahn...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: ...Aah~ I want to drown you in me. In my marks. 

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Aah...No...That’s not it. Iーー!

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Laito: Aahn...

*Gulp*

Laito: Oh no...This is bad...I want to feel even better together with you...

*Rustle*

Laito: Hey, Bitch-chan? I have a favor to ask? ...Right here. My neck. Lick it.

You seem confused.

Laito: You feel good when I lick you, right? So please...Do it to me too.

*Rustle*

Laito: Come on. Now that we’re in this kind of situation anyway, wouldn’t you want to try switching things up a little? You might just...become addicted to it as well, you know? 

*Rustle*

Laito: Come on, go ahead? Fufu~

You lick his neck.

Laito: ...Aah~ It feels great...~ Your tongue is...Haah...~ I can’t get enough of this...Aahn~ Haah...Bitch-chan...You’re doing great...I can’t get enough of your hesitant movements...Haah~~ 

*Rustle rustle*

Laito: ...Oh? ...You’re done already? Oh no, you have to do more. Love me more thoroughly. ...Enrapture me even more? So you’d be the only one on my mind, regardless of the effects of the lunar eclipse. Okay~?

You insist you’ve reached your limit.

Laito: Hmm...Fufu~ Okay then. Let’s leave it at that then. Thank you. ...Well then, Bitch-chan. Come here now. I’ll give you a reward~

You scoot closer.

*Rustle rustle* 

Laito: You like this, don’t you? ...Pressing my lips against yours like this...Mmh...

*Smooch*

Laito: Mm...

*Smooch*

Laito: Nn...Hah...And embracing you gently like this.

You smile.

Laito: Fufu~ I know everything about you. Much better than Ayato-kun, okay? ...Well then, shall we feel even better? ...Whoops!

The Iron Maiden opens.

*CLUNK*

Laito: I accidentally opened the door. There goes our privacy. I honestly wouldn’t have minded to have stayed in here together, just the two of us, with nobody getting in our way. Nfu~ I’m sure you’d feel dissatisfied if we had to cut our fun short because someone intervenes, right? Well then, one more timeーー

You quickly jump out of the Iron Maiden.

*THUD*

Laito: ...Oh, Bitch-chan? ...What’s wrong? Come back!

You turn around.

Laito: ...Hey! ...Bitch-chan...!

You run away.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[luxekook]

bangtan host club ❯ part i

❯ pairing: ot7 x reader

❯ genre: ouran au, college au, crack, smut

❯ summary: when you had decided to take summer lessons at your college, you hadn’t factored in the impending presence of seven insufferably attractive and arrogant boys… the bangtan host club. 

❯ word count: 2.1k

❯ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive language, terrible pet names, excessive dramatics

❯ banner by: maggie @kimtaehyunq​

a/n: while this fic is loosely based off of the anime version of ouran highschool host club, it is set in university - meaning that all of the boys are of age (at least 21 years old)

host club members

❯ Kim Namjoon as “Kyoya Ootori” ❯ Kim Seokjin as “Tamaki Suoh” ❯ Min Yoongi as “Takashi ‘Mori’ Morinozuka” ❯ Jung Hoseok as “Mitsukuni ‘Honey’ Haninozuka” ❯ Park Jimin as “Hikaru Hitachiin” ❯ Kim Taehyung as “Kaoru Hitachiin” ❯ Jung Jungkook as “Haruhi Fujioka”

Taking summer classes had never been on my agenda, my studies having been mapped out in detail since the day I arrived on campus three years ago. And then the university’s president suddenly has this utterly groundbreaking epiphany and adjusts the curriculum to “ensure that all students will leave Bangtan University well-rounded”. 

Screw that. My ass is already well-rounded enough, thank you very much.

But despite my best efforts (i.e. begging President Kim to make an exception followed by crafting a petition that gained over ten thousand signatures), I have found that there is no avoiding the dastardly new physical education requirement. And since my schedule for my upcoming senior year has been planned and set for literal years, I’ve been forced to enroll in the sole summer physical education class offered at Bangtan University - Introduction to Weight Lifting.

I wish I was kidding.

To say that I am dreading the start of class tomorrow would be an extreme understatement. I’ll be lucky to escape this summer without physical injury or the loss of my dignity. Athletics have never been my strong suit, and I’ve only entered our campus gym to go to the smoothie bar.

Groaning at just the mere thought of working out and being graded for it, I trek down the streets of outer campus towards the library, swearing under my breath and sweating profusely.

It’s a blazing hot, blue-skied Sunday in July. Typically, I would be lying on a beach somewhere with a drink in my hand, soaking in the warmth of the sun with joy. But instead, here I am, sweltering and desperate for air conditioning after my ancient window unit wheezed its final breath last night. The comfortable chill of the library is my only hope aside from my landlord who promised to fix my air conditioning by tomorrow.

My frustration builds as I turn onto the block lined with imposing and picturesque estates in which the upper echelon of Bangtan University resides. I’d bet the very last ice-pack in my freezer that these houses have unfailing central air.

I pick up my pace, worn Doc Marten platform sandals slapping against the hot pavement. The pristine mansions seem to mock my distress as they exude the coolness of unbothered wealth. Despite there being no Greek life here at Bangtan University, the lack of letters emblazoned on the numerous estates I pass does not symbolize a lack of status. 

This block is home to the athletic teams who throw massive parties whenever they happen to be in the off-season. It’s also home to the legacy clubs - the exclusive groups of current students who are relatives of past alumni.

And last but not least, this block is home to the infamous Bangtan Host Club, a small group of idle rich boys with exceptionally good looks and a penchant for entertaining. 

The aforementioned group’s house comes into view as I draw nearer to campus. The host club’s mansion sits on the corner lot right across the street from campus. Typically, students are wary of such proximity - but not those boys. No, they’re un-phased, throwing massive parties every weekend without fail and without repercussion.

During my first semester, I had been confused as to why their parties had never been shut down; but now I know better. The host club’s president Kim Seokjin is the son of none other than the fucking president of the university - the very same man who damned me to my weight lifting fate.

In fact, almost the entire host club is related to someone with influence - either at the university or within the surrounding community. The only exception to the wealth factor is Jeon Jungkook, who attends Bangtan University on a scholarship not unlike myself.

About 99% of the university are host club stans. As for me? I don’t subscribe to that bullshit. And I do mean literally ‘subscribe’. They have newsletters, merch and everything. I would say I don’t understand it at all, but a small part of me does.

They’re fucking gorgeous. Like I’m talking Tom Ford at New York Fashion Week gorgeous. Armani catalogue centerfold gorgeous. Goddamn Sports Illustrated Men’s Swimsuit Edition gorgeous. 

In fact, I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin actually does model in his spare time. With his long limbs, broad shoulders and pillowy lips, Seokjin certainly has the features for it. My freshman year roommate bought so many posters of Seokjin from the host club’s merch website I think I could identify him from a hundred yards away in the dark. 

“Hey!” The bellow emanates from the porch of the host club’s house and jolts me from my memories, “Hey, princess!”

I let out a snort. Whoever that pet name is directed at needs to shut that down immediately. I mean, ‘princess’? In this economy? Please. I need off this block ASAP.

“Hello? I’m talking to you, angel!” 

The voice sounds closer now, and my eyes squeeze shut. Oh god, this person cannot be talking to me, can they?

Princess? Angel?

The sheer absurdity pushes me onward, and I do not spare a single glance in the direction where the inane greetings originated. Alas, I barely make it two feet before a tall figure screeches to a halt in front of me, panting like he had just run a marathon. 

I blink as I take in the very boy who just crossed my mind a minute earlier. Kim Seokjin looms over me, chest heaving and smile gleaming.

“Cupcake, hello!” his smile grows wider, “Why didn’t you answer me? I was talking to you.”

My brain is trying to wrap itself around the unfathomable phenomenon I’m currently witnessing. The host club president is beaming down at me like I’m the last custom Rolex ever made. His white t-shirt that probably costs more than my rent stretches across his shoulders in a way that has to be illegal. 

A bead of sweat drips down my back between my shoulder blades. I don’t have time for this attractive detour; I only have time for a long sip of iced water and a seat under an air conditioning vent somewhere deep within the recesses of the quiet library.

“Were you?” I shrug, looking over his illegally broad shoulder and plotting my escape, “I didn’t realize, considering my name isn’t princess, angel or cupcake.”

I inwardly cringe at my tone. I have a tendency to be irritable when the weather is hot, and it seems like today is no exception.

Seokjin stares down at me, his cocky expression wavering for a split second before snapping back into place. “Well, tell me your name then, sunshine, so that I may cordially invite you to the host club’s latest summer extravaganza!” His dark brown eyes sparkle as he remains seemingly impervious to my building ire, beaming down at me.

“No, thank you,” I shake my head decisively and attempt to sidestep around him. 

None of my friends are on campus for the summer, and there is no way I'm going alone to a party full of strangers. That just screams bad decisions, just like the time I willingly ate the dining hall’s “Mystery Meat Special” during my second semester.

Seokjin cuts off my path yet again, and my scowl intensifies as I glare up at him, “Could you move, please?”

Seokjin gapes back at me, “D-don’t you want to come to our party?” I stare at him with eyebrows raised. He continues at a higher decibel, “Don’t you know who I am?”

The nerve of this boy. My eyes scrunch shut as I send a quick plea to anyone out there in the universe to send me patience and then internally count backwards from ten. 

“Yes, I know who you are, Kim,” I finally say, completely exasperated, “And no, I still don’t want to go to your party.”

Seokjin is gobsmacked, looking like he’s seen a ghost as he stands before me open-mouthed. For a second, I allow myself to indulge one more time in his attractiveness, my eyes wandering along his toned torso, his muscular arms, his high cheekbones, his messy brown hair. 

And then he bounces back, snapping his fingers, “Aha! I know what this is. You’re playing hard to get! Okay, I can play along with you, sunshine.”

It’s my turn to gape at him this time, watching as he mumbles to himself about how I must want him to beg for me and how he would just love to do so. I’m about to put a stop to this madness when he spreads his arms wide and announces loud enough for the entire block to hear, “Sunshine, please, attend our party! My heart longs for your presence, and I will only be happy if I can have your arm in mine next Friday night...”

I’m honestly beginning to worry about the boy in front of me. Is he completely unhinged? Am I being Punk’d right now? 

Seokjin prattles on, “So, my sun, my moon, my stars, will you please do me the honor of joining me for a night of fun courtesy of the host club? No guest has yet to be disappointed and—!”

I finally just reach up and cover his mouth with my palm, steadfastly ignoring how plush his lips feel against my skin. “Kim Seokjin!” I hiss, “I promise I am not playing hard to get. I simply do not want to go to your party. Now, please, for the love of god, let me walk by you in peace.”

Loud bursts of laughter sound immediately after I finish speaking, and I whip around to locate the source. Two boys jog over to where Seokjin and I are standing on the pavement. Their laughter doesn’t subside with their approach. If anything, it grows louder.

“Oh, come on, pres,” the pink-haired boy who I know to be Park Jimin jeers, his melodic giggles punctuating each word. “Is this how you plan on handling your first rejection?”

My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I turn to face Seokjin, only to find him lying dramatically on the lawn in front of his house with one arm throw over his face.

“Go away, Jimin,” Seokjin groans, ripping out a handful of grass and throwing it at the other boy. Obviously, he doesn't calculate for the wind and sputters when the grass blows back in his face.

“Boss, you’ve really hit a new low,” the blue-haired boy - Kim Taehyung - grins as he looks back and forth between me and the over-the-top performance happening on the lawn. All Seokjin does in return is flip Taehyung off, seeming to have learned from his grass-throwing lesson.

Well, there’s no need for me to stay a second longer within this realm of crazy.

I turn on my heel and head off towards the library, renewed in my desperation for the relief of blissfully cold air.

Alas, I don’t get too far before the two boys with colorful hair are in front of me - each with an arm thrown over the other’s shoulders. 

“Well, well, well… I must say,” Taehyung drawls.

“You’re quite an intriguing little thing,” Jimin cocks his head, looking me up and down. I try in vain to steel myself against the heated assessments both boys are giving me.

I’d heard a lot about these two - most of it being completely outlandish and borderline unbelievable. Do they really do everything together?

It’s as if that thought is written all over my face as the smirks grow on the faces of Jimin and Taehyung. “If you don’t want to come to our party for Jin-hyung…”

“Will you come for us?” Taehyung finishes Jimin’s thought, and I am almost certain that he intended for that question to be as suggestive as it sounded.

Before I can even attempt to answer, Seokjin launches up from the ground and barges in between the two boys. “Yah! That is no way to speak to a lady! Have I taught you nothing? Don’t you fools remember lesson number fifty-two on being a good host?”

“We didn’t say anything inappropriate, pres,” Taehyung shrugs, looking pleased with how riled up the older boy is growing. His pink-haired counterpart grins, “If anything, you’re the one with the dirty mind, twisting our innocent words into such filth.”

It’s as if Seokjin is struck by lightning - his shock turning him pale as a ghost before the redness overtakes him. I cannot tell if it’s due to embarrassment or anger. All I know is that I need to bounce.

When Mt. Seokjin finally erupts, I slink away and practically jog across the street to campus. Ah, free at last...

a/n: this is part one in my host club series! originally i was going to make this a giant one-shot but i figured i would just break it up into smaller pieces so that i could get some content out uwu

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate

[boltwrites]

Warm Hands, Warm Heart

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (feminine firebender) Rating: T Tags: Massage, Pre-relationship

fakelavish requested: first of all, i speak for all of the Bolin Lovers when i say we ✨live✨ for your account and writing, our mans deserves sm, THANK YOU! 🥺 i have a request for when you have the time for our 1# Himbo, something maybe borderline nwsf but really tender for a female reader who’s a firebender and gives really nice massages? 👉👈 like, heated hands w/ massage oils? anyways, our King needs to relax, he’s carrying the whole ass show on his shoulders 😌 just have fun with it, can’t wait for more content!

A/N: this was very fun to write! I decided to make Bolin a pro-bending personal trainer and reader a masseur that works at the arena sometimes! I hope you enjoy!

A/N 2: I saw this post get removed from the tag with my own eyes, so I’m posting again :/ tumblr! why!!!

You stretched, taking a deep breath as you loosened the muscles in your shoulders.

As a massage therapist, you traveled all across the city for different clients. However, your rotations at the pro bending arena were always eventful. Usually you were tasked with relieving factory workers of their pain – Future Industries treated their workers well, enlisting your services to assist with their work. But you also saw your fair share of rich families and hard working professionals, all whom carried stress in different ways.

But the arena was a different beast entirely. The patients you saw there were always stressed, and more than that, sometimes they needed serious physical therapy and extensive healing that their hectic schedule didn’t allow for. Your coworkers at the arena in particular all had their own horror stories – Raye, specifically. She was a water healer you coordinated with often, and whenever you saw her, she looked exhausted.

However, not all your coworkers at the arena were such downers. There was a specific personal trainer who always had a smile on his face, even when he referred patients to you. He would guide them into your workspace with a hand on their shoulder, giving them a hearty pat before telling them how you were the best that Republic City had to offer, and that you’d get them fixed up in no time.

You shook your head, trying not to blush as you thought of Bolin. You knew that catching feelings for a coworker wasn’t the smartest thing in the world, but he was just so charming. Whenever he passed by your small massage room and you weren’t with a client he would poke his head in and ask if you needed anything, sometimes bringing you an extra cup of tea from the concessions stand that he “ordered on accident” for you. He always greeted you with a beaming smile, and you had to admit, his work certainly kept him in shape.

You slapped both of your cheeks, shaking your head. You were here to work! You didn’t have time to be worrying about-

“Hey, Y/n!”

You jumped at the sudden introduction, clutching at your heart as you turned, only to be faced with the object of your desires. Your cheeks flushed, but luckily, you could explain it away through shock.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Bolin apologized, shuffling his feet as he stood in the doorway. He held a small bag in his hands, still in the loose clothing he wore to train his clients.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting you,” you assured him, crossing your arms and holding them close to your chest. Bolin only smiled, a small, gentle smile that made your heart skip. You wondered if he knew how handsome he was, especially when he directed all of his attention at one person in particular. He made you feel like the center of the world when he smiled at you like that.

“I just wanted to stop by and give you this,” Bolin placed the bag on the high table near the door, and you picked it up, peeking inside. “Haru – you know, from the concession stand – said he made extra, and I didn’t think I saw you get dinner tonight…”

The bag was filled with at least four dumplings, and you knew they weren’t the cheapest thing at the concessions stand, especially tonight, when there had been a double-header match. It was why you hadn’t gotten dinner – you didn’t feel comfortable spending that much money on yourself. But Bolin had gone out of his way to get you something nice.

You blushed, closing the bag and shaking your head at him in wonder.

“Oh – is that OK? Are you allergic? Aw, I should have known-“

You giggled, and Bolin’s eyes widened at the noise.

“I’m not allergic,” you laughed, covering your mouth with your hand, “I just feel like such a burden – you bring me tea, and dumplings, and water, and I haven’t done anything for you.”

Bolin waved his hands back and forth, denying your insinuation. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I just get worried about you all the way over here, since you’re so far away from all the other stuff. You don’t have to do anything for me, I swear.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you replied, tucking a stand of your hair behind your ear. Your cheeks reddened and you looked downwards. “I want to. What about this – I’ll take your dumplings, which I know weren’t just extra, by the way, if you’ll let me give you a massage.”

When you looked at him again, Bolin was as red as a beet, shaking his head as he wrung his hands.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t – “

“You spend all day training others, lifting weights, and trying to coach pro benders, and you’ve never once asked for my services,” you continued, frowning at him. “You’re probably just as tense as any patient you’ve referred to me – if not more. You need to take care of yourself!”

“I do take care of myself! I floss every day!” Bolin countered, and you had to stifle a laugh. What a dork.

“I’m sure you try your best, Bolin, but we all need some help every now and then. Let me help you,” you offered, gesturing to the massage table.

Bolin swallowed, tugging at the neck of his undershirt, unsure of the whole situation. You wondered if the reason why he had never asked for a massage was because of this – because he was so embarrassed at the thought of you touching him. The concept warmed you as you unpacked a few of the oils you thought he would benefit from, laying a blanket across your table. Bolin still stood in the doorway, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

“Uh, do I have to do that thing where I take all my clothes off and you put a towel over my butt? Because I don’t know if I’m comfortable with butt towel stuff-”

You snorted, shaking your head at him.

“No, don’t worry. I usually don’t ask patients to undress fully unless they need specific work – like a pulled muscle in the thigh,” you explained, rolling your sleeves up. You lit a stick of incense with the tips of your fingers, because the routine of it helped calm you as you worked, even as the thought of touching Bolin sent shivers through you.

“You’ll only need to remove your shirt. Please,” you gestured to the table again, and this time Bolin took a step forwards, undoing the clasps of his outer tunic.

“Once you’re ready, please lay face down on the table,” you instructed, as you turned back to your oils. It was typical procedure for you not to watch your patients as they undressed for you, but you made a conscious effort not to look as Bolin shed his tunic and undershirt. You needed to at least remain professional until he was on the table, then he wouldn’t be able to see your blush as you worked over his body.

You truly did just want him to take some time to unwind for himself. He was always so concerned about the young men and women he trained, so kind to you and the rest of the staff he worked with. He spent so much time thinking of others that you knew he didn’t take care of himself. The other trainers had stopped by your room before, had taken advantage of your service, even if they didn’t refer as many of their trainees to you. But Bolin had never graced your door except to give you food or drink, or refer a patient to you. It was actually a bit concerning, considering the amount of work he did. He was always in the arena, always helping someone, or training – he needed to take a moment to relax. And if you could get your hands on his broad shoulders while you helped him with that, well, that was just a nice bonus for you.

You rifled through your collection of oils before you found one that you thought would be soothing, and picked up the bottle, turning to the table. You took a deep breath before you finally looked up.

Bolin was laying face down on the table, his head snug in the headrest. You had to bite your lip when your eyes grazed over his shoulders and back – you knew he had to be muscular, what with his job, but you had never seen the source of his strength up close.

“Have you ever seen a firebending masseur before?” you asked, trying to start a pleasant conversation. Hopefully it would help Bolin calm down if he realized this was normal, for people to get massages.

“No, I’ve never had any kind of massage before,” he admitted, his voice a little muffled by the headrest. You smiled at that. Then he was in for a treat.

“The benefit of a firebending masseur, is that we can heat our hands,” you continued, rubbing the oil between your palms. “A trained firebender can regulate their own body heat, and that adds an extra layer of healing to our treatments. So, don’t be shocked.”

You took a breath, and placed your hands on Bolin’s shoulders, near his neck. You knew this was where a lot of men carried stress, especially those that did a lot of weight lifting. As you pressed your hands into the muscle there, Bolin gasped at your touch, tensing for a split second before you saw all the nerves seep out of his frame.

“Oh, that’s – that is nice,” he hummed. You grinned at him, working your fingers slow and gentle to loosen the tense muscle there. You were right – he was very tight here, and you would need to spend some time there to help him relax.

“Feels even better than water healing,” Bolin mumbled, wiggling a little as he relaxed into the table. You quirked a brow at him.

“Oh, you’ve been healed before?”

“Yeah,” Bolin groaned as you pressed your thumb into a particularly sensitive area, but continued, his voice only shaking a little bit. “I messed up my shoulder pretty bad in a match once.”

“It’s a completely difference experience when you’re not injured,” you agreed with him, taking a detour to work at his shoulder muscles, digging your fingers into the thick muscle there. He was built like a tank, but when you pressed into the muscle, he purred like a kitten, the tension leaving him in waves.

“Maybe you’re just good with your hands,” Bolin offered in rebuttal, and you were very, very happy that he couldn’t see your face as you pressed your fingers into his back. It was also a good thing that you could regulate your temperature under pressure, or else you were sure you would have burned him on accident.

“That’s very sweet,” you replied instead, your voice soft. He was very sweet, in general. But, at your words, he tensed again, his shoulder blades stiff and pressed closer together.

“I- unless that’s a rude thing to say!” You giggled at him, pinching at the back of his neck in jest. He was such a sweetheart.

“No, it really is sweet,” you assured him. “You’re too nice, Bolin, you know that?”

His skin felt hotter under your fingers as you worked down his back, over his ribs and to his waist. He was so strong – his muscles were firm under your hands, his chest broad and solid. His breath hitched in a few places where he was tense and sore, but other than that, you two settled into a comfortable silence.

It was awkward, in a way, because now you were alone with your thoughts. The only thing within your field of vision was an expanse of smooth skin, and you wondered what you would be able to do if you and Bolin were dating and you were to give him a massage. Would he let you press kisses between his shoulder blades, would he let your hands dip below his waistband?

Your cheeks flushed as your massage reached said waistband, fingers digging in above his hips.

Bolin moaned, his hips twitching at the attention, and you gasped, stilling. You both froze, before Bolin spoke up, trying to explain himself.

“Sorry! I- uh- I’m ticklish!”

The explanation was an obvious lie, and you could tell even if Bolin’s head didn’t thwack back into the headrest with such force. You turned away, doing your best not to laugh.

“It’s alright,” you assured him, chuckling a little. You lowered your voice, almost to a whisper, as you pressed your fingers against his hips again, this time softer, deliberate in a different manner. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself.”

Bolin’s breath hitched, and you bit your lip, paying special attention to the muscles just above his hips. He shivered as you kneaded his sore muscles, and you grinned. Usually you wouldn’t focus so much on such a spot, but you had to admit that teasing Bolin was very fun. He was such a sweet boy – you wished he would stop by more often.

“That should just about do it,” you stated, wiping your hands on a small towel you kept tucked into your waistband. Bolin’s back shone with oil in the low light, and he had all but sunk completely into the table, completely relaxed. He tilted his head to the side to look at you, a little bashful.

“I feel like I should have bought you dinner first,” he admitted, with a dorky laugh. You replied with your own giggle, covering your mouth.

“You did, remember?” you gestured to the dumplings still sitting on the high table, and Bolin shook his head, sitting up, rolling his neck as he adjusted to his loosened muscles.

“No, I mean, like, properly,” he elaborated, scratching the back of his head. You smiled, looking up at him shyly.

“You mean, like a date?” you pressed. You wanted him to ask you out – you wanted to get to know him.

“If you’d want?” he replied, shrugging. You smiled bright at him, nodding.

“I would like that, very much.”

[pidayforpi]

“Little Joy”

(Some, uh, Fethsteel (and a bit Magicstone)...for your enjoyment...)

(Can be read as friendship or more. Whatever suits you, buddy.)

(Actually, this applies to all my other works involving any appropriate relationship, e.g. Alistarling, Baffy...)

(Also...Perhaps extremely out-of-character...I have never worked with these characters...(except Fethry, who...may also be OOC)) 

———————————————————————

“T-thank you s-so much for t-tagging along...”

Fethry said to the hulking rooster walking next to him. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away from his companion.

“I-it m-must be so embarrassing f-for you to be d-doing such c-childish activity...”

Steelbeak smiled at the shorter duck, patting him on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I enjoyed it.”

——————————————————————

On a spring morning, Fethry Duck and Steelbeak went to the beaches of Duckburg for clam digging.

As early as two weeks ago, Fethry had asked Steelbeak out for harvesting clams together. It was an annual event for Fethry, but a fresh new one for Steelbeak. After all, why would a F.O.W.L. agent have the time (and passion) to do such harmless stuff?

Two weeks ago, Fethry was anxiously on his phone, constantly looking back to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Countless thoughts invaded his mind while the phone beeped: Will he be busy? Does he work on Saturdays? Will he be...planning to attack his family on that day?

When his new friend picked up the call, Fethry told him his proposal, asking him whether he would be free for a clam digging day (with heavy, heavy stuttering, of course). Fethry’s ears were too red to clearly hear if the recipient agreed to hang out. He didn’t even know if his friend could hear what the event was about, given his serious stutters. It wasn’t until the rooster showed up at the shores of Duckburg that Fethry knew his friends really did listen to and accept his invitation.

For the first time in a decade, Fethry had someone to accompany him on his silly little annual activity.

And so, two adults spent a Saturday  morning on the muddy ground, along with many families around them. The beach was filled with the laughter of children, while the duo silently collected one clam after another.

But for Fethry, his heart was bumping loudly. Every time he heard children laughing, or saw children running across the beach barefoot, Fethry felt a bit more regretful, blaming himself for inviting Steelbeak to this idiotic event. He was a secret agent of F.O.W.L.! Feared, cruel, malevolent! How much pride did Steelbeak swallow for his friend? How much of his image did he risk being tainted by accepting his friend’s request?

Not to mention the tired expression clearly visible in Steelbeak’s eyes. He must be a night person. It wasn’t a surprise. He was the one to act in the shadows, after all. But Fethry further chastised himself for being inconsiderate.

Although Steelbeak was wearing a smile with his shovel in hand, Fethry couldn’t help but feel deeply guilty.

——————————————————————

An hour later, the duo left the beaches with a small net of clams. The shells clanked against each other, producing clicking sounds in addition to the two pairs of footsteps.

Although both of them weren’t the talkative type, Fethry felt rather nervous for the lack of conversations in the morning. He rubbed the locks of hair sticking out of his stocking cap with his right thumb and index finger, while holding the bag of clams close to his body with his other hand. He took a peek at his partner: Steelbeak wasn’t frowning or sulking, but Fethry still felt uncomfortable in his heart. Was he embarrassed? Was he mad? Fethry looked down at the pebbled plaza floor, biting his lower lips.

Then he suddenly stopped.

Steelbeak quickly noticed his friend staying behind, and turned around to see what’s wrong. Fethry held his head down, eyes darting everywhere but Steelbeak’s line of vision.

Before Steelbeak could ask, Fethry had mumbled his concerns.

“I...I am so sorry, Steely...” Fethry muttered, just loud enough for Steelbeak to hear.

“W-what’s wrong?” Steelbeak was surprised by his friend’s sudden apology. He had no much social experience than Fethry had. Was it something he had done wrong?

“I was so s-selfish...I j-just wanted someone to accompany m-me for once, b-but I only thought for m-myself...You d-don’t like c-clam digging at all, d-do you? You h-hadn’t t-tried i-it because you d-don’t like it...” Fethry started to whimper, holding the clams even closer to himself.

“I humiliated you...Embarrassed you...J-just because I w-wanted s-someone to accompany me...You don’t even have your disguise on!”

It was true. Steelbeak right now was only wearing a t-shirt with a nylon jacket for torso, a pair of sports trousers and sports shoes for legs and feet. His face was entirely exposed, including his abnormal metal beak.

This was the first time the secret agent hanged out with his friend without wearing incognito. And it was Fethry who encouraged him to do so. Despite knowing his position, Fethry believed one should feel no shame for being in the public. But for Steelbeak to go undisguised holding a colourful shovel, searching for clams with a bunch of kids around? Fethry suddenly felt how hard it had to be for Steelbeak to comply.

Although he was supposed to be a “secret” agent, meaning no one should know he was a member of a criminal mastermind organisation, nobody knew for sure whether anyone would recognise Steelbeak. At the very least, his beak would arouse a certain level of suspicion.

“I am so sorry...I am so sorry...” Fethry did his best to hold back tears, despite feeling extremely regretful for hurting his new friend. Who accepted his invitation. An invitation not even his dear cousin Donald would accept.

Steelbeak got down to Fethry’s level with a warm smile. “I enjoyed it. Really.”

Fethry blinked a few times, before slowly raising his head to look at the smiling rooster.

“I hadn’t tried anything like that, but it was fun. Let’s do it again sometimes,  okay?”

“You...don’t think it was...silly...?” Fethry looked at the should-be menacing rooster, doubting the agent collecting intel in an enemy base would be down to collecting clams on a beach.

“It was silly, but I like it. Feth, you know...Ever since I got...this job, I hadn’t taken up any hobby. I hadn’t had any fun. Until I met you, and you introduced me to so many activities.”

It was Steelbeak’s turn to look away, while Fethry tilted his head curiously.

“I...uh...had a lot of fun...Thanks, Feth...”

Though a bit awkward, Fethry still felt his heart soothed by Steelbeak’s words of gratitude. Steelbeak must be the type who seldom show much emotions to others. He probably hadn’t thanked anyone before meeting Fethry, whether he felt grateful or not.

“Besides...” Steelbeak attempted to pull off his suave, yet intimidating persona. “You promised me a clam chowder meal, didn’t you? Hm?” But to put up this obviously fake facade in front of his genuine friend, even the rooster laughed at himself.

Fethry regained his smile, nodding his head cheerfully. “O-of course, Steely!”

Then his heart again bumped faster when he thought of another concern.

“I am g-glad you are having f-fun too, b-but...w-what if p-people find out about y-you? W-would I be...affecting your...c-career...?” His eyes looked up at the tall rooster,  fingers fidgeting together shyly.

Steelbeak let out a chuckle, whispering to his friend. “Don’t worry, Feth. I am a ‘secret’ agent, remember? No one knows who I am! And...”

Steelbeak paused for a while, trying to phase his words without offending his friend. Fethry seemed to guess what Steelbeak was implying, and showed that he was listening with a smile.

“You...uh, aren’t a prominent member of the McDuck family, are you? I mean...not many people know you are the nephew of Scrooge, right? Unlike that ‘Donald’ guy, or the kids...”

“I...I mean it in a good way! So there won’t be any trouble for you too! My colleagues may not be so happy with me befriending a McDuck relative...” Steelbeak rubbed his shoulder nervously, thinking how their relationship may hurt not only himself, but also Fethry.

“It’s alright.” Fethry reassured Steelbeak. “You are right. Nobody knows me. Nobody knows you. So we will be safe!”

——————————————————————

Of course, except his own family...

A startled honk suddenly emerged nearby in the plaza. The goose (or gander, to be exact) realised his mistake, and unwisely covered his beak, only for the action to produce another slapping sound, gaining more attention.

On the other hand, Fethry made another mistake looking at the source of the sound. When he realised he knew the person in question, he made yet another bad decision to call out his name, only to cover his beak too when he remembered he should not be with the person he was with in the first place.

And now, the two cousins looked at each other awkwardly, both wide-eyed and covering their mouths.

After a five-second awkward silence, Gladstone tried to break the ice with a wave and a sheepish smile.

“Heeeeey, Fethry...Good to see you...Hanging out with a friend...?” Gladstone tried to appear casual, but his rigid expression showed how uncomfortable he was.

Fethry replied with an even more nervous grin, and many rapid nods.

Gladstone continued, hoping to end the encounter as soon as possible. “Oh, great! And you are...?” Signalling Steelbeak. Of course Gladstone knew who he was. The goose was just giving the rooster criminal a chance to lie about his own identity, so as to let the matter slide. He believed the agent would be smart enough to know the cue. He’s the top agent in his association! Sure he knew how to deal with his cover being blown...

Oh, but Gladstone really should had looked at how red the face of the rooster was before trying...

Steelbeak lifted Fethry off the ground with his left hand, pinning him against his own body like a head-lock, while childishly pointing a finger gun at Fethry’s head with his right hand. Fethry yelped in surprise, but took extra care not to drop the bag of clams.

“D—d-d-don’t c-c-come c-c-closer, or...this innocent man g-g-gets it!” Steelbeak attempted to threaten Gladstone into leaving them alone, only to make the situation more and more awkward. The confused Gladstone looked as Steelbeak’s face got redder and redder, while Fethry’s cheeks also started to blush with embarrassment.

“S-S-Steely...P-p-please p-put me d-d-down...T-this is v-v-very embarrassing...” Fethry muttered softly. He knew his friend was doing an act to “help” them out of the problem, but he was too embarrassed to comply.

Steelbeak immediately let go of Fethry, afraid that he might hurt the fragile duck. Hopefully not many people were in the plaza. Only the goose in green witnessed the “kidnap attempt” with a puzzled smile.

Gladstone sighed, seeing how his cue had totally been missed. “Okay, Steelbeak. I won’t tell F.O.W.L. about this. Okay, Fethry. I won’t tell Uncle Scrooge about this. Just pretend nothing happened, m’kay?”

Both the rooster and the duck nodded without making eye contact, their faces still red.

Gladstone took a deep breath. “But what are you two doing together? Don’t tell me you are teaching lil’ Fethry bad things, hm?” He stared with only one eye opened, pointing a finger at Steelbeak, who shook his head and held his hands up in denial.

Fethry quickly explained. “N-n-no! I-I p-proposed the a-activity! Steely...uh, S-Steelbeak was just accompanying me...”

Fethry showed his cousin the clams they had collected. “L-look! We went clam digging!”

“I w-will be u-using these to make c-clam chowder...Y-you can j-join us too! Just p-please...D-don’t tell U-Uncle S-S-Scrooge about this...? He will...He will...”

Fethry was visibly trembling. Gladstone didn’t blame him. Scrooge could be very scary when furious. He put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, showing a kind smile. “I promise, Fethry. I promise.”

“You take care of him, okay?” Gladstone turned to Steelbeak. Despite Gladstone being much shorter than he was, Steelbeak gulped at the fierceness in his eyes.

“Gladstone, I’m an adult now!” Fethry protested against his elder cousin for being treated like a child.

“Well, you don’t act like one.”

Steelbeak cut in during the cousins’ bickering. “Don’t worry, Mister...”

Gladstone politely tipped his hat. “Gander. Glad-“

“Yo, Gladdy! I brought popsicles!”

Just when the goose was introducing himself, someone called his (nick)name from behind. Just from the voice, Fethry and Steelbeak knew who she was, but not why she was calling Gladstone.

This time, Gladstone hid his reddened face behind his hat.

At least, both parties were equal now.

Magica looked at her friend with his cousin and her partner-in-crime (sort of) in confusion, but quickly shrugged it off.

“Hey, boys. What’s up?” Magica greeted the two with a grin, while the two replied by signalling Gladstone with eye movements.

Gladstone’s face was entirely inside his hat, the brim of which he grabbed tightly with both hands.

“Hello...?” Magica stared at her partner curiously, waving her free hand in front of his face.

“What happened?” She questioned the other two birds present, who answered with two shrugs.

Magica let out a sigh, before biting at her popsicle. “Well, eating or not, you are paying for yours.”

Gladstone slowly reached for his, holding it in his shaking hand. He put his hat back on, before slowly approaching Fethry with his head down.

“We’ll never speak of this day ever again...”

——————————————————————

“Wow! Fethry, that’s delicious!” Magica exclaimed at a dining table.

Fethry blushed slightly at the compliment. “T-t-thank you, Miss De Spell...”

“Just Magica will do.”

Inside a golden yacht, two white ducks, a rooster and a goose were at the dining table. Everyone had a bowl and a spoon, while a big pot of clam chowder was in the centre of the table.

“Told you Feth cooks nicely!” Steelbeak added with a smile, making Fethry chuckled shyly.

“A-all thanks to Gladstone lending us his yacht...” Fethry beamed at his cousin, who was drinking his soup silently.

“You...you’re welcome.” Gladstone uttered, before feeling someone nudging his arm lightly.

“See? Nothing wrong with hanging out! Your cousin is friends with a F.O.W.L. agent! You are just friends with a witch.” Magica shoved Gladstone with her elbow playfully. “Let’s hang out sometimes!”

“S-sure!” “Fine by me.” “Of...of course. Just...”

Gladstone looked at his cousin meekly.

“Please don’t tell Uncle Scrooge about this...? He will pluck my feathers out...”

Fethry replied with a wide, cheerful smile.

“I promise, Gladdy! I promise!”

(16-12-2020 ~ 18-12-2020)

(Inspired by this screenshot of Steelbeak being adorable...sort of.)

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

Member: *at the point of writing this i haven’t yet decided but i went out today and this song started playing and my heart just starting beATInG SO faST

*update: ended up settling for san

A/N: I won’t write smut/anything aggressive for jongho (or any ‘00 liner for that matter) so until they turn 21 internationally, i’ll refrain from writing anything nasty. this goes for other idols who are ‘00 liners and younger.

Genre: shitty-ass angst, aggressive shoving lol idk, what’s a desire-inspired fic if there’s no smut heh (lowkey fifty shades vibes irdk what im doing at this point of time) *kind reminder that it’s been too fucking long since i’ve written some smexy smut so please bear with me ;_;

Word Count: 3.6k

you could almost smell the money that everybody in the room collectively have under their belts. everybody was fitted in suits and extravagant gowns and blazers and dresses-- it was difficult to believe that these people would ever wear anything else besides whatever they were wearing now.

your parents had gone off to greet the older, more important people of the organisation, or bureau, or whatever group that coordinated this event was called. you were stuck staring at your glass of champagne while your fiance picks at the little nuts in the tray that was sitting in the middle of the small table. 

fiance, more like annoying family friend you’ve been actual friends with for nearly ten years. 

“do me a favour and cut it out, would you?” you glare at him through your long, false lashes, bringing the champagne glass to your lips and taking a sip. mingi looks at you and pouts, quickly throwing a nut into his mouth before he wipes the crumbs away on his shit-expensive Saint Laurent blazer. 

you groan under your breath, rolling your eyes so hard that you could see the insides of your head. 

“who picked out the gown? i know you have a thing against gowns so why’d you let them fit you in this one?” mingi munches on the nut and nods towards your fit. you don’t bother to look down at yourself, because you couldn’t stand the sight of it. 

the v-neck cutting was so low down your chest that if you pulled it aside with any considerable amount of strength, your chest would’ve been exposed. 

it didn’t help that the gown was red, and on top of that, there was a long, ridiculous slit up the dress by your left leg. 

it’s like you were a walking target. 

“does it look like i had much of a choice?” you eye him with an annoyed look, finishing whatever was left of the champagne. “in fact, i don’t even remember the last time i made a decision for myself. fun.”

mingi gives you a pathetic smile and wraps his arm around your shoulders, the soft material of his blazer grazing against your skin. 

someone pushes the door open to the function room, and everybody around starts making their way in. your heels would’ve been caught stepping on your gown, so mingi offers you and arm to hold while you grab a bunch of material with your free hand to make walking easier.

your fiance helps you settle into your seat before sitting down next to you. the function room starts filling up, every now and then some ceo or businessman or someone walks by your table and you have no choice but to stand up to greet them. 

but all you wanted to do was to go home to the comfort of your bed and binge watch your favourite series.

not stand here, in the middle of a function room in the country’s most expensive hotel, and let these middle-aged, possibly married-with-children, men caress your hands like they didn’t already know you had a fiance. 

“you seem to have a way around men, don’t you?” mingi teases quietly, helping you push the chair in as you sat down from shaking some stranger’s hand. 

“it’s the dress, and the hair and the make up. otherwise, i’m pretty sure they don’t give a fuck.” 

mingi sucks on his teeth at your straightforward statement, noting that your parents were coming round the table. you look up to search for them upon mingi’s announcement, and you notice they were talking to another couple with their children trailing closely behind them. 

“oh god, another one--” you spit under your breath. mingi elbows you a little, standing up and cuing you to do the same as your parents come by with the other couple and their clearly-uninterested son and overly-enthusiastic daughter.  

“mingi, y/n, this is mr and mrs choi, and this is choi haneul and choi san,” your mother gestures to them as the couple reaches out for a handshake. you and mingi take turns to shake their hands, including the two children. 

you were so used to faking a smile that you were sure nobody could’ve been able to tell you absolutely hated being here. 

but your ‘service’ smile struggles to remain loyal to your need to be the perfect chaebol when you catch their son staring at you, with eyes that could kill. 

you reach your palm out to him, and he takes your hand with a firm grip. 

you almost feel something similar to static, but you shake it off by giving him a bright smile.

he reciprocates, offering you a wide grin that exposes his dimples and folded his eyes into long, slits. 

that 180 degree switch... psycho.

you pull away, and you feel his reluctance to let go for a split second. 

a frown appears on your forehead in that instant, but he releases your hand quickly, as if noticing the change of expression on your face. 

your parents wave them off as they make their way to another table. you return to your seat, now sitting between mingi and your mother who just wouldn’t shut up about the choi family.

something about splitting the company into two so each their children gets an equal half. 

something about them being very capable. 

blah blah blah...

the function hall gets filled up and every table was fully occupied. name tags were placed on tables by the seats the guests were allocated, and your eyes run through the many names and titles. you couldn’t find a single one that didn’t have a big company name attached to them. 

mingi humors you the entire dinner, and being your only source of entertainment, you couldn’t help but still feel lucky that he was chosen to be your fiance.

there were so many things about being a chaebol that was so wrong and so pathetic, and mingi knew very well how much you hated it. both of you grew up as childhood friends, for the sole reason that both your parents were partners in an important project. 

so big, rich people gatherings? your weekend plans for almost ten years straight.

when you were told that a marriage was in plan for you though, you remember threatening to run away from home unless your fiance was mingi.

and since mingi was a chaebol himself, your parents were more than happy to let the both of you get engaged, even if the two of you didn’t actually love one another. 

there was some dumb auction going on with the mc yelling into the damn mic every ten minutes, not even giving you the peace of day to eat your food that took forever to come. mingi tries to get you involved by raising your name tag, helping you offer three million for a premium yacht.

you hiss at him, nearly giving him a slap across the face when you won it.

your mother reminds you not to have too much wine and champagne, but you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. you were going to get married into the song family anyway, so it gave you the courage and liberty to do whatever the hell you wanted. 

you were so used to drinking champagne and wine that mingi doesn’t stop you until your face finally flushed bright red, and you were beginning to smile and giggle at the mc. 

an unfamiliar sight for your fiance. 

“do you need to go to the washroom to get yourself together? you look tipsy,” mingi leans into your ear and asks with concern. his question pulls out an ugly look on your face, and you reach for your champagne glass, only to realise that it was empty. 

you huff in disappointment. mingi gives you a blank look, knowing that you weren’t done with whatever attitude you had up your sleeve tonight. 

“i’m gonna hurl out all that fucking champagne and you better have my glass refilled when i get back,” you try to whisper to mingi, but you belch out all the gas that was in your stomach. 

“disgusting--” mingi winces at the scent of the alcohol. you laugh, pushing yourself out of the seat and grabbing your purse, leaning over to your parents to inform them you were heading for the washroom. 

it was a good thing you weren’t drunk, but you definitely would be if you had returned for more champagne had you not stuffed your finger down your throat. you wretched loudly, knowing that you deliberately searched for the most out-of-the-way washroom in the building, and there was nobody around to hear those inhumane noises. expensive liquid flushes out your throat and you choke on the sight. the burning sensation wasn’t a good experience, but you couldn’t be any less bothered.

you lick your lips, still cautious that you had lipstick on. turning around, you struggle to your feet and head over to the sink, head hanging low and palms pressed flat against the marble surface. 

you gather the tap water in your hand, slurping it up to try and get rid of the taste of stomach acid and alcohol in your mouth. 

didn’t help. 

you mutter some curse words under your breath, looking back up at the mirror to fix your hair and your lipstick, pulling your shoulders back so you were standing with the posture your mother spent most of your life scolding you about. 

you take a step out of the washroom, and your eyes were so occupied with mentally berating the hell out of your obscene dress that you physically ram yourself into someone’s shoulder. 

the impact throws your balance off completely, but you feel an arm snake around your waist just moments before you got fall flat on the ground. 

“oh, you.”

you fidget with uneasiness, anxiously getting your balance back in check and shoving him off you. you look down at yourself, making sure your boobs were still under the material and your slit didn’t get any higher up your thighs. 

“you’re welcome, by the way.”

you return your attention to choi san, who now had a sneaky smirk drawn across his lips. he was in an all white fit, with small black details like his cuff links and black gemstone accentuating his entire look. 

“sorry.”

you clear your throat, feeling your face flush from the realisation that you could’ve been completely fucked over by your parents if they saw the way you responded. 

‘that’s no way of thanking someone,” they’d say. 

“what are you doing here anyway? it’s such a far walk from the function hall.”

you raise a cocky brow, tongue looking for small bits of food stuck in the crevices of your teeth. you couldn’t be bothered to maintain your image now that you’ve already acted like he was molesting you. 

“me? i could ask you the same,” you tilt your head to the side, hands looking for the slit of your dress to push aside. you wouldn’t want to trip on your walk away from him. 

“i don’t like these functions. i like meeting people but i definitely don’t like watching them spend their money on ridiculous items.”

you sigh, wondering how long you were going to be stuck in this meaningless conversation with him. 

“you do realise the proceeds all go to charity anyway, don’t you?” 

“is that why you bought the premium yacht for three million?”

“no, my fiance used my name.”

“so you’re saying you didn’t want to provide the financial assistance to charity?”

your eyes harden at his accusation, and you couldn’t be more frustrated. if you weren’t in your obscene v-neck gown with that useless slit up your thighs, you would’ve already gotten your heels off to whack him on the head. 

all your emotions must’ve been put up for display all across your face, because choi san flashes you a devilish grin, eradicating any hint of his dimple-smile from before. 

the same 180 change.

“my family and i do enough charity every year. this three million doesn’t mean shit,” you take a step forward, not letting his demonic presence faze you. he was just about a few inches taller than you, so confronting him like this was nothing compared to mingi.

“so, mr choi,” you hiss under your breath, your nose just right under his. “if you’ve got nothing else constructive to say, then do excuse me. i have an event to be at.”

you gave it a few moments for him to flinch or react, but he fails. you smirk to yourself, convinced that you’ve won this showdown. you turn, ready to walk away from him, but he grabs your arm just as you walk past him and wraps his arm around your waist. if he had invested more effort into the act, he would’ve easily picked you up.

“what the fuck-- let me go!” you try thrashing yourself out of his grip, but he only pulls you harder into the hidden lift around the corner. you try to make a run for the door before it closes, but he holds you back as he hits a button on the lift panel.

he shoves you up against the wall, your rear resting against the bar that lined the walls where people could hold. he rests his palms on the bar on either sides of your hips, and he pushes his face dangerously close to yours. 

you were fuming at this psycho, but deep down in your heart, you knew you were the one to blame for inciting it. 

“you know...” he drags a finger down your earlobe and your jawline. it takes you awhile to realise that you were slowly turning away from him, gradually becoming unable to continue this power play with him. “you haven’t said ‘thank you’.”

you scoff, eyes shifting to meet his without turning your head. you wipe your canine teeth with your tongue, trying your best to read his face. 

but all you could see was that devilish grin you don’t think you were ever going to forget. 

you try to hold back from saying anything, knowing that every word you said from this moment on was going to decide his next move. but you were angry with this piece of shit, and your temper invites you to spit out the words you had on the tip of your tongue. 

“or what?”

i should not have said that. 

“that’s completely up to you.”

choi san smirks again, and you’ve never seen someone look so lustfully challenged before. the look in his eyes was enough to rile you up to it as well. though your head was screaming at you, telling you to stop, but your heart and body say otherwise. 

he sucks in a deep breath as he takes a step back, letting the lift doors open to the hallway where all the suites were. 

you expected him to grab your wrist and pull you along, but he doesn’t. confusion wasn’t the right word to describe the overwhelming feeling that ate you up, and you hated yourself for it. 

you watch in dissatisfaction as he calmly walks out of the lift and walks down about four doors. he stops right outside the cream colored door, his white fit contrasting the brown hallways, and turns to look at you.

that devilish smile was gone, replaced with a look you couldn’t begin to describe. 

you feel your stomach churn as he reaches up to his neck and starts to undo the top few buttons, exposing his collarbone. his free hand pulls out a card from the inside of his blazer, and he gets the door open. 

your hands were balled up into fists, and you could still feel his trace on your jaw as you watched him walk into the room. 

don’t do it.

you suck in a deep breath, frozen in place. 

don’t fucking do it. he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

the lift doors begin to shut. 

don’t. do. it. 

your needs and desires engulf you like flames in a burning building, and you found yourself storming straight into the suite, eyes only searching for him. before you could even notice the size of the room, you were shoved backwards against the carpeted wall.

hands were hungrily searching your body for any crevice for him to dig into, and you could already feel your lipstick getting smudged between both your lips. 

his fingers find the material of your dress that goes over your shoulders instead, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull them down your arms. you struggle to get his white blazer off, completely ignoring the rare gem that was pinned above his breast pocket. 

you were already running out of breath, teeth clashing and your tongues messily swirling around each other as his hands find the zip on your back. by the time your dress pools around your feet, you get the buttons on his shirt undone. 

you run your hands down his chest and toned stomach, but was interrupted by him picking you up against the wall. he doesn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your breasts like a hungry kitten, and the heat between the two of you becomes nearly impossible to contain.

his hair gets tangled in your fingers, desperately trying to find something to grip while lewd sounds escape your lips.

“you must not like losing,” he pulls you away from the wall, eyes looking up at you as he walks elsewhere in the room. you expected yourself to be thrown on a bed, but instead you find yourself pressed up against the window panel of the room, with the city right below your feet. 

“don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten with a low voice. but you hear him scoff, arm wrapped around your waist as he positions himself so that you were pressed flat against his chest and your breasts against the cold surface of the window. 

“but i already did.”

he whispers into your ear, somehow finding both your wrists and holding them in one hand while the other snakes down your stomach and under the only piece of clothing you were wearing. 

you bite on your bottom lip, shutting your eyes tightly upon the contact of his fingers on your sensitive spot. you hear him chuckle and he realises that you had absolutely no control over what your body needed - or wanted.

“aren’t you going to tell me that you have a fiance?” his voice was low, and almost threatening. he hooks your underwear by the side and pulls it off the curve of your rear, letting it pool around the heels you were still wearing. 

you gulp and huff heavily, listening to him undo his belt while your wrists were still trapped in his left hand. 

“answer the question, mrs song.” he presses his already hardened manhood against your core, and the contact sends chills up your spine to your head. you could feel yourself slowly losing all sense of control by the second, and him psychologically pushing you into a corner to make you submit to him wasn’t helping. 

“we could always stop now, and you could go back to the function hall like nothing happened.”

now you don’t feel the material of his underwear, but the bare skin of his manhood rubbing against your naked core. the sensation finally pushes you over the edge, and you choose your desires over the fucking obligations you were born with.

“please don’t stop.”

you brace yourself as he pushes himself into you, and he doesn’t give you much time to process the explosive feelings of need in your abdomen. picking up his pace, you feel his grip on your wrists tightening as the excessive thrusting pushes you nearer and nearer against the glass.

you hear nothing but the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the combination of the mewls and groans the both of you were offering one another. 

his free hand finds your sensitive nub, and the combination of his ramming into you with the circles drawn with pressure pushes you closer to your climax. your legs tremble under the overwhelming feeling, and he finally releases your wrists. he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you up while he continues fucking you against the window. 

you feel the weight in your abdomen get heavier after every thrust, and your irregular moans tell him that you were reaching your high. 

something inside you snaps, and you raise your head to look at the window, water vapour already collected in messy patterns on the surface. 

he pulls out and you feel his load landing on your lower back, the only sounds you could hear now was the panting from the both of you. 

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

you take your seat between mingi and your mother again, legs still shaking ever so slightly, and you were hoping nobody was going to notice that your hair didn’t look at neat as it was before.

“i thought you got lost in the bathroom,” mingi looks at you while you down a whole cup of water before attacking the champagne. 

“well,” you shrug, eyes catching a glance of choi san returning to his seat. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

[tunesscribbles]

Peter Maximoff x Reader  Love Run

(to show that love's worth running to)

Peter's journey from a dumbass teen with thinly veiled commitment issues to a slightly less dumbass adult-ish person (with a range of other issues)

almost 7k words, gender neutral reader, title from ‘Not Yet / Love Run‘

tw: panic attack (begin and end marked with *)

Peter was standing in line with the rest of the X-Men while Mystique and Hank gave them the rundown for the next mission. He was fiddling with his hands behind his back. Today shaped up to become another one of his "Can't-Stay-Still-Even-If-He-Tried"-Days. He reached around Kurt's back to sneakily poke your side. This earned him a stifled squeal as well as a scalding look from Mystique. He retreated his hand quickly while mouthing an unapologetic "Sorry" at Mystique, who only rolled her eyes and turned around to show the team the location on the map. He noticed a movement on his right just in time to dodge your attempt to poke him back. You huffed silently. Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek in order not to grin as Mystique turned back towards them.

(Wait, that's not right. Best to tell a story from the beginning.)

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

He tried to smile, failed. "So like, no problem."

Peter can't hear his own thoughts. He doesn't recognize a word he is saying until it is too late and they already tumbled out of his mouth. For perhaps the first time in his young life, he feels as if the world is moving too fast and rushing by him instead of the other way around. He doesn't know how you two ended up like this. As far as his memories serve, this was just another friday afternoon, but something must have gone terribly wrong because you look like you are going to burst into tears any second now and all signs point to it being his fault.

"Hey, what – what's up with you?" He scrambled to get off of the couch and move over to where you were standing.

"What's up with me?", you repeated incredulously as you took a step back, away from him. Peter stopped his approach in an instand. "You want to know what's up with me, did you even listen to anything I said? Anything you said?", your voice grew louder as you went on and you pointed an accusing finger at him.

Peter threw up his arms in confusion. "Apparantly not!"

You shook your head in dejected disbelief. "I can't believe you-", whatever you wanted to say was interrupted by a choked sob. You were struggling to keep the tears from flowing.

He wants to say something – anything, but hadn't he said enough already? His tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of his mouth, so talking is out of the question anyway.

"You know what the worst thing about this is?", a shaky laugh escaped your throat. "Deep down I knew. I fucking knew there was something off! I just didn't want to believe it, so I didn't ask. God, I should've fucking asked!" You slapped your forehead.

Peter swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. He lifted his hand, as if to touch your shoulder but he dropped it again. "[Name], don't-"

"Shut up! You are such a selfish bastard. I-I don't need this. Goodbye Peter." You turned on your heel and rushed to exit the basement.

"Wait, hold on-"

"Don't worry about it, Peter. No problem, right?" The door slammed shut.

If Peter had known back then that this was the last time he would see your face for years, he probably would have gone after you. (Who is he kidding, he wouldn't have, not at the time.)

(Not the start either, keep going.)

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

"Hey, I like your hair!" His head whipped around to face whoever was talking to him and to see whether they were mocking him or not. They seemed honest enough.

"Thanks, grew it myself." He cracked a smile, which you returned, albeit a bit unsurely.

Might as well. "The name's Peter Maximoff, you are?"

"I'm [Name]."

"Pleased to meet ya." Peter extended his hand towards you but pulled it away right before you could grab it.

(Okay - now fast forward.)

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

"The hell are you doing up here?", you asked after you had to poke your head through the opened skylight to find Peter sitting on the roof.

"I could ask you the same thing." He looked around to find the source of your voice.

"You can't actually.", he heard you remark and rolled his eyes. "Because I am not currently 'up here'." When he looked back over to you, your head had disappeared but he could hear you move around inside.

"Alright then, let me rephrase that: The hell are you doing in there?"

"Got myself a chair.", you replied and reemerged from the window, now more than a head and neck. Peter couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. You grinned as if you were proud of your achievement. He suddenly felt rather warm on his spot on the roof and the afternoon sun had nothing to do with it.

"Do you ever get the sudden urge to sit on your roof?", he asked to answer your initial question and following that opened his arms as if to add: 'So here I am.'

You nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get that sometimes, but then I remember I don't want to break my neck falling down and die."

"It's not that dangerous, come on!" He waved at you to join him. You did not look very convinced, so he added: "You're not gonna die, don't worry. Even if you should fall, I'll catch you!"

You pondered his proposition for a moment before giving in with a sigh.

He helped you climb up and you talked for a while. During the conversation you must have shifted closer because now your shoulders were pressed together. Should both of you turn to look at each other at the same time, Peter thought, the tips of your noses might just meet in the middle. He was drumming his fingers on the roof tile until you stopped him by taking his hand into yours.

He looked down at your joint hands. Peter could not remember when this thing between you had begun. It was not like he didn't like you, he did (probably more than he realised at the time), but he hoped you knew this was all just fun and goofs. He never meant to lead you on or anything. It was simply second nature, almost, for him to poke and prod when he was curious, to see if he could, to mess around with things (until they break, one might add looking back).

You gave his hand a playful squeeze and he forgot about his worries instantly. Peter grinned, just lopsided enough to convey a hint of mischief. Then with one quick motion he positioned himself so that he went from sitting next to you to leaning over you with one hand on either side of your body.

"What are you grinning at?" Was that a bit of a blush crawling up on your cheeks?

"You, obviously.", he replied in a hushed voice and grinned just a bit wider before leaning further down.

He felt you relax underneath him. Instead of rushing in to steal the kiss, Peter paused as his lips were millimeters away from yours. He found himself drawing out the drumroll, something he usually never did, being way too impatient. Warm breath ghosted over his lips; his heart was beating excitedly. He wanted to drag the moment out a little longer, enjoy the soaring feeling in his chest for another second (like the guitar riff building up to the big reprise).

Suddenly Peter's foot slipped, his eyes went wide, his body slid downwards – until he was caught by your hand on his arm. He let out a breathless whistle.

"We should go back in-"

- "Let's go back inside.", he agreed quickly. "Always preferred my basement anyway."

" 'I'll catch you', my ass!", you muttered as you cautiously made your way back to the window.

(Blah, blah, blah – Alright, jump further.)

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

Peter stopped dead in this tracks when he saw you at Xavier's for the first time. Well, that's one face he expected never to see again, especially not in this place.

"Hey", if he sounded breathless, he could blame it on running.

"Hey", you replied, equally surprised to see Peter again after all these years.

An awkward silence ensued. He had no clue what to say. Was he allowed to ask why you were here? Were there rules for social interactions with your "not-really-but-kind-of"-Ex? (Also, wasn't he supposed to be doing something else?)

"So, what are you up to?", you finally asked, just as he blurted out: "What are you doing here?"

This was going well. "I, uh, I live here. Well, mostly I work here, but I guess I do live here, too.", he answered first.

"You're a teacher?", you seemed surprised. Fair enough, he was, too, some days.

"Part time, yeah." He shuffled his feet.

"Ah, that's nice."

"It is. What are you doing here? I haven't seen you- " (in years) "-around."

"Oh no, I just got here. I'm actually here to talk to the Professor, I have a meeting with him, sort of." For a moment he thought you were going to elaborate but it seemed as if this was all the information he was going to get.

"His office is down the hall, door should be open, so it's hard to miss."

"Thanks.", with that you left him standing in the hallway.

Cool. Coolcoolcoolcool This was a thing now. He turned around to look for you, shook his head and went on to do what he was supposed to, albeit mildly distracted.

(Actually, this might be were it really starts.

Another start to the same story.)

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

Getting to know each other again after a decade was...weird. Peter felt like he should know about things that are complete news to him. (How you were a mutant, too, for example, albeit a late bloomer.) He could still see your teenage self when he looked at you but then the longer he looked, the more you seemed like a stranger in a nostalgic disguise.

At first he tried to avoid you and he could tell you tried the same. However, no matter how fast he could run, the mansion was only so big and there were only so many other people inside it. Also, dodging Ororo's attempts to get you two to talk had become increasingly difficult at some point. So now you were on speaking terms once more and kind of friends? He was still unsure about the last part.

"You've always been reckless, but now I'm starting to think you don't have any sense of self-preservation at all.", you said after Peter told you the story of Apocalypse. The world outside the kitchen window was dark. It had been raining all day and it seemed as if the storm would continue well into the night. Training had been rough, apparently he was not the only one unable to sleep. Somehow coincidentally meeting in the kitchen had turned into exchanging life stories. (Peter managed to ignore the stabbing ache of familiarity for the most part.)

"I'll have you know, I have by far the most sense of self-preservation out of the X-Men, apart from Ororo maybe." He nursed his cup of instant hot chocolate, as if that somehow proved his point.

"Sure, Peter.", you replied and rolled your eyes.

"Hey, I did a lot of maturing in the meantime! Aged like a fine wine in my mom's basement for ten years." Like that was something to be proud of.

You squinted your eyes at him. "You spent all that time in your basement?"

Yes "Nah, just-", he shrugged, "figuratively speaking."

You nodded, not entirely convinced, and took a sip from your own cup. Your face scrunched up. "The instant stuff sucks."

"Slander!," He feigned offence. "Don't you dare! I was raised on-"

"-Instant packages and Twinkies, I know.", you finished the familiar statement with a smile. For a moment it felt like no time had passed at all since late nights at his mother's house. A strong longing overcame him.

"The only things with enough sugar and chemicals to satisfy my needs.", Peter continued but his voice became choked towards the end. This suddenly felt like the bizarre reenactment of a memory. The longing sensation quickly morphed into a familiar ten year old guilt that gnawed away at his insides. (He let it.) In the following silence, the rain plattered loudly against the window.

"I think I'm gonna go back to bed.", you said after a moment passed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight.", he repeated and was relieved the conversation was over before he had the chance to say something really stupid, like: I miss you.

(Fast forward.)

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

"I'm fine.", he said a bit too blatantly not fine. "Just give me two minutes."

You looked at him and hesitated. "Are you sure?"

He wished hearing your voice didn't comfort him as much as it did. Maybe it was less about your voice specifically and rather about having any kind of noise outside his own head.

"You can go." Please don't leave, don't fucking leave him here-

His thoughts must have gone through to you because you stayed.

"I don't think you should be alone right now.", you said after a moment of consideration and moved to sit down in front of him. "Is this okay?"

He doesn't know what to say, how to form words at all, so he simply nods.

"Do you want to talk about it?", you offered.

Peter swallowed and managed to glance up at you. "No.", his voice sounded so small.

It was your turn to nod. "That's alright, you don't have to. Just, try to take deep breaths, okay?"

You exaggerated your own breathing to make it easier for him to follow along. He doesn't know how much time passed while he tried to get his breathing pattern to some semblance of normal, but eventually, he got there.

And you were still there with him. Sitting on the floor in the laundry room. Nothing made sense.

He wants, but he can't have it, wouldn't know what to do with it if he had it. For the fraction of a moment, he thought kissing you would be a nice and absolutely horrifying idea.

"Do you think we would've had a chance if I hadn't been a jerk about it?", he asked instead, not quite sane yet but trying at least.

"I don't know, Peter. Would we have been anything to begin with if you hadn't been a jerk about it?", you countered with a hint of bitterness.

He laughed but there was no humor in it. "Probably not."

"Is this what's troubling you?" The bitterness made way for more concern and Peter kind of wanted to cry.

"No, it's--"

He briefly considered just spilling all his guts right then. To just lay it all out for you to see and decide which parts of him were worth keeping. To have someone else make sense of this mess.

Peter sighed and gestured vaguely with one hand. "it's a part of it but not--There's a whole thing and I don't know what to do about any of it." He looked at you as if in search of an answer, even though he knew he couldn't expect that from you.

"Have you tried taking the 'thing' apart and going at it that way?"

"I--haven't. Where would I even start?" (Basements, rooftops, prisons, deserts, mansions--)

"Is Erik a part of it?" The name made him freeze up.

"I've noticed you become much--quieter, less like yourself when he's around.", you explained and Peter is stuck on the fact that you noticed. Was he that obvious?

"I--It's not, it's nothing--", he sputtered, not knowing what he wanted to say at all. No, he didn't want to say anything. For some reason the possibility of you knowing scared him more than anything else at the moment.

"Mystique told me." you continued a bit sheepishly, "I asked her about you and she, she told me about Erik."

"Oh my god," he groaned, all fear forgotten in his annoyance. "At the speed she's running her mouth, I'm surprised he doesn't know yet!" He burrowed his head in his hands. You gave him the time to compose himself, which he was thankful for.

He lifted his head a little to catch sight of your expression as he quietly asked: "What do you think?" - about Erik, about Peter, about what this made Peter, about-

You took a deep breath before replying. "I think you should tell him if only to get some peace of mind because you are clearly lacking that at the moment. This could be a start."

He hates that you are right, he hates that everyone except himself is always right about everything in his life.

"Hey," You took hold of his wrist and brushed your thumb over the inside in a soothing manner. "You don't have to do it alone. We're all here for you if you need us, be it to talk to Erik or to tackle any other part of your 'thing'." He felt like he did not deserve the softness in your eyes.

You got up to beginn putting the laundry you brought with you into the washing machine. "I do think you should talk to someone more professional about this, too. Like the professor or the counsellor the others mentioned."

"Yeah, I'll look into it.", he lied.

(Turn back just a bit and let it run.)

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

Peter felt not unlike a cassette tape with its magnetic band spilling out.

*He's unsure what sent him over the edge, maybe the fact that Erik visited the school - well, the Professor, he's only ever here for the Professor and Peter can't even blame him because Erik doesn't know any better – or maybe that last conversation with you that left him confused and aching but he doesn't understand, this is over, long over and he was the one who put the nail on the coffin, or maybe the counselling Ororo and Jean kept recommending to him even though it has been a year since Apocalypse happened and he's fine or maybe, maybe this was a long time coming anyway.

He was hiding in the laundry room. (No one went here, unless they had to.)

His body was visibly shaking, damn near vibrating. In the back of his mind he kept thinking the force of the vibration could rattle the foundation so much that the entire building will come crashing down on him. It would be kind of cool, if it wasn't also a dumb way to die. And he really did not want to think about ways to die.

(Desert, ruins, magnetic fields, snap—crack—twist) – Here we go again.

He reached up to grip his hair--something to ground him--and that immediately made it ten times worse. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and fumbled for his walkman instead, only to remember he left it in his room. He cursed silently.

He could go and get it, no one would see him. (He would still see other people, though.)

Just back and forth, wouldn't take any time at all. (He doesn't think he can get up, maybe his leg's still fucked up-)

Peter cursed again; it came out as a sob. He curled up more tightly and pressed his forehead against his knees.

How everyone can be so calm about any of this was beyond his understanding. People died, a lot of people, he saw the news. He had called his mother after the apocalypse. He had never heard her sound so scared before. ('Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? Did you tell him? Did he hurt you?') The last two still circle around in his head. Did you tell him?Did you tell him?Did you tell him?- How could he have? The man was literally tearing the world apart as they spoke, did Peter really want to admit being his son? Did he want that kind of connection? Did he hurt you?- No, he did stand by and watch Peter get hurt, though.

His knee jerked almost reflexively. He had never felt so helpless before, so trapped--except maybe right now, stuck in a mansion filled with so many relationships that aren't what they could be--He's not stuck, he can leave anytime. If he wanted, he could get up and run as fast as he can. They would never get him. - Would they even look for him? Or would they be glad he was gone? After all, only one person had seemed to care enough to step when Apocalypse had him by his hair. (He can't blame the kids, they didn't even know him. He can't blame anyone, it was fucking Apocalypse-) What if Mystique hadn't stepped in? What if Erik hadn't switched sides last minute? He would be dead, same as most of the world's population. Would that be better than dealing with the fallout?--The sudden thought terrifies him.--But would it?--No.

Faintly, he hears a door open and just hopes whoever entered won't--

"Oh, Peter. What are you doing down here?" He must make quite the sad sight cowering next to the washing machine, hugging his knees and back pressed to the cold basement wall. "Are you alright? Should I call someone?"

He tried to suppress his shivering and get enough air into his aching lungs to form words.*

"I'm fine.", he said a bit too blatantly not fine. "Just give me two minutes."

(We know it from here, skip ahead.)

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

The night before, the X-men had drunkenly built a blanket-fort in the mansion's main living room area. It had been a lot of fun and a lot of chaos, but that was not the part of last night's memories Peter kept replaying in his head. He may have been very drunk at that point and the details were fuzzy, but he knew for sure that it had happened. (--quick breaths, warm lips, tracing hands--) His face flushed at the memory.

On the stairs leading down to the training area, he finally ran into you after more than half a day spent either actively looking for or avoiding you. (When he first caught a glimpse of you, he almost let his flight instinct take over.)

You were going down, he was going up and now you were both in each other's way.

"Hey, [Name].", he said in a voice that could pass as steady. His heart was beating out of his chest.

Your expression looked pained and you tried your best to hide it by avoiding eye contact.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" you sounded tired in a way that caught yourself off guard. The "or never" was well implied.

Peter thought about giving in and letting go, but what good would it do to continue this state of charged awkwardness? What good would it do to try and keep this ache behind his lungs under lock and key when you seemingly felt the same? He shook his head.

You sighed. "I--we drank a lot and--"

I adore you, he thought and shoved that sentiment down as quickly as he could. It's what has gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Blood thrumming in his veins, he summoned all his courage (or perhaps all his recklessness). "I'm sorry." He said and something inside him felt like it was about to topple over. "I never apologized for what I did and I want you to know that I am sorry."

Now you were looking at him. Surprise, hurt and so much more.

"And I want you to know that I-," he had to look away, unable to deal with this part head-on, "I've changed since then." (Is it still lying when he himself wants it to be true? Yes.)

A plop, you've let yourself sink to the floor to sit down on the stairs. You hit his leg. "No, you don't just get to do that. That's not--" You cut yourself off.

He kneeled down in front of you. Dark brown eyes met tear-stained ones. For the first time it occurred to him that you could be just as scared.

"It's been so long, I shouldn't still be hung up about this! God, I feel so stupid." You buried your face in your hands.

Peter tried not to shake as he took your hands in his. "You're not stupid, at least not stupider than me. We both know that'd be a challenge!" He smiled and you let out a chuckle despite yourself. "We can be hung up about it together if you want?"

"Are you sure? Because I can't do all that again, I won't."

He gave your hands a squeeze. "I am, and we--we don't have to jump into this, we can take it slow." (Loophole)

You looked at him for a moment, searching, thinking. A slow smile spread across your face.

When you pulled him in for a kiss, it was like he saw the sun after spending days inside. He could get drunk off of just this.

(Let it roll for a bit.)

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

Peter caught the water bottle you threw his way.

Endurance training had been on today's schedule, so Peter let the students run laps on the compound while he zipped from runner to runner to offer encouragement and telling them how much longer they needed to go. It had gone well, some kids had to give up before the end but no one had to be brought to the nurse (Hank).

"It's still strange seeing you as a teacher."

"Wow, thanks for all this faith you're putting in me." He passed the bottle back to you.

"You can wrap that sarcasm back up, I was gonna say you're a good teacher. It's just funny to me because you were hardly present at school back then, but I guess that has nothing to do with the ability to teach." You put your hand on his shoulder. "You're great at what you do."

"Yeah, well," he felt heat rush up to his face, "...I try."

You smiled fondly at him and kissed his cheek. "I know."

Something about this little interaction made him feel like that time he tried to swallow a Twinkie in whole and it got lodged in his throat. He tried to form a coherent reply but the words were not coming.  Your hand fell from his shoulder and he was oddly dejected and relieved at the same time (the latter made him feel guilty without knowing why).

This was what he wanted, the--(intimacy)--relationship-y stuff, then why did it put him so on edge? After all, it wasn't that different from how you used to be before he had officially messed it up, right? - Wrong. This was no "fun-and-goofs"-make-pretend, this was the real deal, he agreed to it. He was going to do it right this time around. He was going to be a good--(boyfriend?partner?lover?)-- He was going to be good. He could do this, he wanted to.

You took his hand into yours and let them swing back and forth for a bit. "Everything okay?"

Peter smiled down at the way your hands touched. "Yeah, I'm good." He just wished he didn't want to run away, too.

"Did you have lunch yet? Because I'm starving! We can see what's in the kitchen.", you suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. You go ahead, I just gotta take care of some teacher-business.", he slipped his hand out of your grasp to pick up his stopwatch.

"Okay, I'll see you in a moment then.", he did not pick up on your questioning undertone.

"Yeah.", he said and left. (He didn't join you for lunch, even though he felt terrible about it.)

(Jump ahead.)

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

It was bound to happen eventually.

"You don't seem happy." - "Neither do you."

He should've known you could not go on like that forever. Maybe this was never a forever sort of thing.

"You keep avoiding me and I don't know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I'm not-"

"If you try and deny it, I swear to god!"

He winced then, guilty. You sighed.

"You need to talk to me about these things, I can't help you if you shut me out." almost pleading.

"I'm fine," he insisted. All senseless stubbornness.

It didn't get better after that. How could it?

"I just--I've had enough, Peter. I don't need a repeat of our teenage years!" You were stressed and angry and willing to hurt, the worst combination.

"I'm trying!" He wasn't much better off.

"Are you?"

"Yes! I'm trying my best!"

"Maybe that's not good enough!", your voice broke on the last syllable.

He threw his arms up. "Well, what do you want me to do then?"

"I—I'm just sick of you letting me dangle in the air, okay? I'm sick of everything being up in the air!"

(Skip, Skip, Skip - There had to be a way to get past this.) Cold anger was worse, always worse.

"When you apologized, you told me you changed."

"I have!" He said, but didn't believe it himself.

"You got better but you're still the same in the worst places."

Something finally tipping over. "You act like it was all my fault, as if you never did anything wrong!"

"I didn't know-"

"You said you knew! You knew but never asked because then you would've had to make an effort." Spitting acid.

"That's completely different!" Voice growing louder, too.

"You told me I didn't care enough. You left as soon as things stopped being all sunshine!" When had he started shouting?

"I was a teenager, okay? A dumb fucking teenager!"

"What do you think I was?" Silence ringing in his head for days.

(Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip-)

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

He just finished wrapping up things on his end and was about to check in with the rest of the team. It was this deceptive part of the mission right before the end when everything feels like smooth sailing and you almost forget it is not quite over yet.

"Quicksilver here, everything's done on my end, how's it looking?"

Scott answered: "That's good. The situation looks stable so far, meet-up at-"

A scream pierced through his comms and Peter felt his blood run cold.

"What happened?"

"Guys-", your voice came through distorted, "we---we forgot---"

Static. The line was dead.

(Too far, rewind.)

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

It was just another friday afternoon.

Last week the attempted assassination of the president may have sent the nation into a panic but the past is the past, right? (Apart from the fact that Peter played a minor role in said past and even farther apart from the confession his mother dropped on him the other day, turns out there aren't that many guys who control metal - Nope, not going there. ) Just another friday afternoon.

All the agitated energy that had been cursing through his veins for weeks and caused him to jump at the opportunity to do anything interesting, anything to keep him busy – (Even prison break? But come on, the Pentagon!) - all that energy was back now, except it was not quite the same, was it? Last week he had a lot less on his conscience. (Last week he didn't know his father, holy shit-) If he was cruising for a bruising then, what does that make him now?

Either way, the last thing he needed right then was-

"Peter, we need to talk.", you said gravely after standing silently at the bottom of the stairs.

"Is that so?" His eyes remained glued to the screen of his stolen arcade machine. You had been eerily quiet so far and that conversation opener rarely lead to anything pleasant. Maybe if he didn't look at you, then-

"Peter. We need to talk." The repetition somehow made it sound even worse. "And I need you to listen, actually listen, okay?"

I don't know if I can, he wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he turned around to look at you.

The expression on your face reminded him of his mum, right before she told him. You looked like what you were about to say would hurt, both of you. Don't say it then, he wanted to interject, as if not saying it could somehow stop it from becoming real. There was something else there too, besides the dread. Something like morbid curiosity, which is why instead he said: "Go on then, I'm all ears!"

You took a deep breath. "I think we should break up."

Say what now?

"I like you a lot Peter, I do, but I don't feel like you...I feel like you don't really care about our relationship. You've been weirdly distant and we never really talk about what's up, it's just-" You sighed, clearly frustrated with yourself for being unable to explain.

Oh. No, that's- that's not-

- "Our relationship?", he interrupted. (Someone give him something to do, something that isn't this. Aren't there any prisons left to break into?)

"Yes. Our relationship.", you confirmed with an edge of confusion.

"Who said I was your boyfriend?" A pause, like he was watching his life on VHS and finally found the remote. Just in time to be a little too late. (He was sensing a pattern here...)

The series of emotions washing over your expression were difficult for him to read. Confusion seemed to win out for the moment. "What? Peter, we have been-"

"We haven't been anything." The blood in his veins felt like it was slowly freezing, trapping what's left of his energy inside, leaving him completely still. Even his knee stopped bouncing.

"Are you serious right now? After all the- you've got to be kidding me!", an edge of desperation crept into your voice.

(Eject, eject, eject- That's not how it works.)

"I'm not." Good God, what is he saying? Someone tell him what the hell he's talking about because he sure as fuck doesn't know.  "And we're not. In a relationship, I mean. Never were, never will be if I caught your drift there." He swallowed, found it much harder than it used to be. "If this is about what we did the last couple of-" He didn't know, he didn't know anything anymore, "-whatever, don't worry about it. It doesn't mean--not like that anyway."

He tried to smile, failed. "So like, no problem."

(Not this far back. We know how that ends.)

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

Peter had prepared himself for anything when you asked him to meet you after dinner. Anything, except an apology.

A small "What?" fell from his lips. The rain pattering against the windows was almost loud enough to drown it out.

"I'm sorry, Peter," you repeated. "I'm so, so sorry for all the awful things I said and did and-"

This didn't make any sense, stop, stop, stop- "Stop. I-," He sputtered for a moment, feeling like he missed something. (He didn't deserve this.) "I don't, I don't get it." was what he settled on. "Why are you apologising?"

"Why shouldn't I apologise to you, Peter?", you sounded so concerned and sad and-- It didn't make any sense.

Peter threw his arms up. "You were right! About everything!" He could feel the hysteria setting in, he didn't care.

"No, no that's not-"

"I never changed, I didn't try hard enough, I should've talked to you more, I should've--I--I-"

You grabbed his hands out of the air to hold them in a tight grip. "No! I was wrong, Peter." You held onto his hands for a moment until his breathing calmed down a little. Then you loosened your grip again and sighed. "We can't keep going like this."

Peter let his hands slip from your grasp. "So you'll leave?" (Again)

"No, I want us to fix this!", frustration with an edge of desperation. "We have to talk about this for once."

Peter looked down at his silver running shoes. "What's there to talk about?"

You laughed, it was a wet, ugly sound. "You're doing it again, I can't--I don't know what to do when you get like this!"

He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat. "Like what?"

"I feel like you're always halfway out the door." It felt like the fight with Apocalypse all over again. Your words ripped him out of his element and forcefully brought him back to reality. He almost expected someone to knock his leg out from under him. "You're never fully in but you don't want to leave either."

What could he say to that? What could he possibly say when it's the truth? Ready to run at the drop of a shoe, be it ten years ago in a basement stocked to the ceiling with stolen goods or now in a mansion filled with mutant kids who turn to him for advice.

"In my defense, " God, his voice was shaking. When's that punch gonna come and twist his arm? "do you have any idea how easy it is to run away when you're better at it than everyone else? Running away is literally my specialty!"

You cradled his face in your hands. "You are so much more than that."

The tears stinging his eyes began to blur his vision. "How? I'm scared all the time, I'm fucking terrified!"

"And that's okay!" You searched his eyes for some sign your words got through to him. "It's okay to be scared."

He kissed you then, trembling and filled with fear. He pulled back a moment later, brushing away tears with one hand. "Even if it's this I'm scared of?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise."

"That isn't your fault."

You continued as if you hadn't heard him. "All this time, I was still angry at you, I held on to that anger instead of trying to understand why." You tried not to sob and took a deep breath. "So when you asked me to give you another chance, part of me expected the worst to happen again. I didn't question it when you got distant. I just let it get worse because I already thought this was what's gonna happen anyway."

The rain stopped falling a while ago. The resulting silence felt like a lifetime. "So did I." His voice barely more than a whisper.

"You-" Eyes went wide, tears welled up and spilled over. "Why would you do that? Why would you put yourself in-"

"I don't know." Peter shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," he repeated. The self-deprecating chuckle died in his throat when he finally looked at you again. "I guess, I missed you."

Wordlessly, you pulled him into an embrace, twisting your hands in the back of his leather jacket. Peter was startled for a second, then he returned the hug.

"I missed you, too," you mumbled, face buried in his shirt, "and I don't want to keep on missing you when you're right here." His arms tightened their grib around you involuntarily.

Resolution flooded his veins and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "We'll get better."

(Now forward.)

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

For a while neither of you spoke. Just two people, sitting on the roof, enjoying the view and breathing lungs full of crisp evening air. Peter looked over at you, watched your profile in the dimming daylight and found a thought cross his mind: I could get used to this. Followed by: I think I may already be.

Your face turned. "What are you smiling at?", you asked even though you were smiling, too.

"You, obviously." You pushed his grinning face away with your hands.

Peter laughed lightheartedly. "Careful! You're gonna push me off the roof!"

"Don't tempt me."

He stole a peck. "Wouldn't dream of it."

For a moment he remembered a different interaction on a different roof a decade ago, though for once he did not feel the need to ruminate on it.

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Right now, the world for Peter began and ended where his body touched yours, from the soothing press of your head against his own, to your intertwined hands and the line where your thighs brushed against each other.

Forever did not scare him anymore.

(Pause here - just for a moment.

Okay.)

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

His thoughts are racing as he speeds through unfamiliar hallways. What did they forget? What did they forget? Everything was going so well, what did they forget?

It's already over when he gets there. Nothing greets him but rubble where the failed portal used to loom over a secret laboratory. Peter shouts your name. No one answers.

He's turning over every piece of scrap metal by the time the rest of the x-men arrive, on the off chance that you're still there, just buried underneath some debris, alive, not gone. Someone is pulling on his arm, talking to him. None of the words register. Finally he is pulled back by someone stronger. The metal beam floating in the air mid-fall above where he stood a moment ago sinks to the ground.

"Peter," it's Erik, his father is talking to him, "Charles and Hank are figuring out the portal, we'll get them back." Peter looks at him but stares right through. He's more terrified than he's ever been.

(Don't let this be the end. Go back.

One more time.)

[masterthespianduchovny]

Early on, Severus learned that life wasn’t fair.

He knew that he either had to accept it or drown in things he couldn’t control. Life was hard and unforgiving, but he was a stubborn kid. He refused to accept his circumstances at home and refused to back down at Hogwarts.

Nothing was handed to him in life. Severus had to work for everything, which was fine by him. No one could ever say he wasn’t deserving of anything he earned.

He arrived in Norway with not enough money for food and board. Slept under a bridge until he got his first paycheck, and then rented the poorest, dingiest accommodations he could find with his first paycheck.

He grew up in poverty. What he lived in now was better than where he came from.

But it wasn’t easy.

Living on the streets and looking for a job.

Without an address, many didn’t want to employ him. However, he was determined. He didn’t leave his home and Hogwarts behind to die on the streets in a foreign land.

Severus applied for every apprentice position he could find. Every single one turned him down. Refusing for that to dissuade him working, he offered to do maintenance work. Clean the shop, put away items, and whatever miscellaneous work needed to be done.

He was hired on the spot.

Admittedly, Severus was severely underpaid, but it didn’t deter him. This was only temporary. He’d find something better.

Within a few months, something better found him.

He’d heard a group students arguing about the ingredients of a potions brew. One of the students lack confidence in their answer and the other had 100% belief that they were right. The group went with the confident person, which infuriated Severus.

“Idiots,” he spat. “If you’re the best Durmstrang has to offer, no wonder many parents are sending their kids to Hogwarts. Don’t worry about failing potions, you’ll be dead before the professor can even assess it. He may be a spineless fool,” Severus nodded to the kid who initially disagreed with the overly confident teen. “But at least his brew won’t kill the lot of you...unfortunately.”

Storming out of the deli, Snape prepared for a duel as he discreetly got his wind. Sourly, he chastised himself. This was the first day in weeks he treated himself out to eat because he had to penny-pinch to make ends meet. If the original brew wouldn’t have resulted in death, he would’ve kept his mouth closed. Now he had to fight a group of boys, which gave him a flashback of his time at Hogwarts.

As predicted, the boys attempted to attack him. As Severus prepared to defend himself, someone intervened.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” The man looked at the six of them.

“Nothing,” the man repeated. “Well, the six of you will be doing nothing or SOMETHING in detention with me for the next month.”

Severus pocketed his wand. “I don’t go to Durmstrang,” he said. “I won’t be doing shit with you.”

Assessing him, the man raised an eyebrow, and then glanced at the guy he’d been walking with. “You’re not a student and you’re not a local, there’s no accent. What are you doing here?”

Inwardly, Severus sighed.

When the school term started, he realized he was in the vicinity of where durmstrang was located. Although he didn’t know where the school was nor did he attempt to look, it was quite obvious. The shops that primarily existed for students, the crowding every weekend, the adults who appeared to be monitoring kids.

Naturally, since no one knew where Durmstrang was if they weren’t a student, teacher, or anyone directly affiliated with the school, those who were were suspicious.

“Looking for an apprentice position. I didn’t finish my seventh year, so no Master was interested in taking me on,” he groused.

“Ha,” one boy exclaimed. “You couldn’t even pass your seventh year and you’re calling us idiots?”

Fuming, Severus said, “I did not fail my seventh year, I left. Besides, there was nothing left to teach me that I hadn’t already taught myself. Your potion brew solution is pathetic and if you want to die as a result of incompetence, perhaps they’ll include you in lesson books as to what not to do.”

The other man spoke, “How was their brew pathetic?”

Severus noted the time. “Ask them yourself, they’d love to dazzle you with their stupidity.”

The man scoffed. “Just like I suspected. A bloke full of himself who has nothing to show for it. No wonder none of the masters wanted you as their apprentice.”

Scathingly, Severus explained how and why the potion brew was incompetence at its finest. That him brewing with dirty utensils would be a safer option than whatever this group of boys could do in perfect conditions. Severus cited his Hogwarts issued potions book, which he pointed out was outdated, and said that he’d trusted that over what he heard the boys discuss (and he’d stopped using the books as a source to brew from after his fourth year).

Smiling, the man said, “My name is Rodolphous Sweeney. I own the potions shop two blocks over. I’d like to talk to you more about your potions knowledge.”

“I need to get back to work.” Severus began to walk off.

“How about this?” The man spoke loudly. “If you come back to the shop with me and make three potions without any assistance or mistakes, you can be my apprentice. If you’re successful, you can start today.”

Severus stopped. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re right,” he said. “Their potions brew was pathetic. And a wizard that can thoroughly discuss the finer points of potion making based off of a passing discussion is someone I want as an apprentice.”

Severus followed him to the shop.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Severus Snape.”

Without breaking a sweat, Severus completed each potion with time to spare. In amazement, Rodolphous assessed each potion.

“They’re...perfect,” he complimented. “You’ve completed these in less time than any published books states.”

“I told you, the books are outdated,” Snape said.

“Or they haven’t been updated because there wasn’t anyone brilliant enough to modify any of these instructions to merit an update.”

Blankly, Severus stared at him. “It was obvious.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Rodolphous put the potion down. “What’s obvious to you isn’t apparent to most. You have a brilliant mind, Severus. With that being said, you do have a lot to learn. School only sets the foundation of what it takes to fine tune our knowledge and skill.”

Severus’ black eyes followed Rodolphous as he walked.

“We can learn from each other,” he continued.

As promised, Severus was immediately hired. Rodolphous explained the ins and outs of his business and what he expected from him. It all sounded reasonable to Severus as he shook hands with the potions Master.

In no time, he was Rodolphous’ top apprentice. Frequently collaborating on projects with him and trying experiments.

Severus lived in his dingy quarters for a year until moving into a modest apartment. Bought actual food, still cheap, books, and saved the rest. Unlike with his former employer, he was being underpaid. His time and skill was valued as he learned more about potions and how other disciples connected to it.

He felt like he belonged...somewhat.

When his mother became sick, Rodolphous gave him time to tend to her and promised he’d have a job to come back to when he took care of his personal business.

As he took care of his mother, his father was died. Tobias Snape was violently mugged and choked on his own vomit in an alleyway. His mother died little under three months later.

Complicated feelings swirled within Snape. His tormentor was finally dead. Although his father never put his hands on him, Severus still carried emotional scars. The baggage that continued to weigh him down even though his father was dead.

A weight was not lifted. He didn’t feel better or free.

He just was.

His mother was different and more complicated. He loved and resented her in equal measures. She could’ve left. Why didn’t she leave?

Why didn’t she get them out of there?

He held her hand as she laid dying in her bed. He hurt and wanted to forgive her. His anger pent up ready to boil over.

His heart breaking as her heart failed her.

What was the use in being angry?

At her at least?

Instead, they reminisced over the few happy memories they had. Severus got read his mother books and watched her favorite shows with her.

She died before the episode was over.

Another funeral in less than three months.

Severus was emotionally exhausted in a way he couldn’t deal with. In a way he didn’t want to deal with.

As he did years before, severus kept very little personal items. He sold what he could and threw away the rest. With the money he made from his sells, Severus fixed up the house and contacted a realtor about selling.

Keeping this house meant holding on to memories. Unpleasant memories.

Months later, he came back to Spinner’s end to finalize the deal.

He ran into Lily Evans—Lily Potter.

“Hi, excuse me,” she said.

For a moment, Severus was taken aback. Still beautiful. She always had kind eyes.

Ever since he left hogwarts, whenever he was at Spinner’s end, he used poly juice potion of Rodolphous. He didn’t want to risk anyone (Lily, really) recognizing him.

“Yes,” Severus said.

“Are you the new homeowner?” Severus looked at the sold sticker slapped on the for sale sign.

“No. Afraid not,” Severus said, carefully.

“Do you know what happened to the Snape family,” Lily asked. “I haven’t been around these last few years. I went away and...” she shook her head. “So, I haven’t been up on what’s been happening.”

Severus saw the wedding band on her hand. She couldn’t have married Potter, could she? And so soon?

“Unfortunately,” Severus began. “Tobias and Eileen Snape have passed away.”

Lily clutched her chest. “Oh my God, really?” Severus nodded. “Poor Severus. How is their son holding up?”

“No one has heard from him,” he said. “Apparently he disappeared a few years ago. Without a living family member to claim the house and no one paying the mortgage, the bank seized and sold the house.”

“That’s horrible,” she murmured to herself, tears welling in her ears. Lily wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “Their son and I used to be friends. We ended on a bad note before he disappeared out seventh year. I sometimes wonder where he is. If he’s safe. If he has anyone.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to wonder after him,” Severus said.

Lily furrowed her brows. “Everyone wants someone to wonder after them. Everyone. I knew Severus was having a hard time at school, but —“

“Lily, my dear, we have to go,” James said as he walked up to them with a baby boy in his arms. “You said it’ll only take a moment.”

Lily wiped her eyes. “Severus’ parents are dead and no one still has heard anything from him.”

Shocked, James looked at lily. “Snape’s a smart guy, he probably—“

“I have to go,” Severus said, walking away before they could speak.

When he returned back to Norway, Severus was quite and kept to himself when work was over. Seeing lily again was a surprise, but he still was grappling with the death of his parents. Why didn’t he feel any different? Well, better? His violent father was dead. Instead, he felt worse and aimless.

As Severus inhaled his cigarette, his co-apprentice Chorus joined him in the alley. Stealing the cigarette from his mouth, she inhaled.

“I was smoking that,” he grumbled.

“I know,” she said. Once again, she puffed, and then handed him the cigarette. “We’re having drinks tonight, join us.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“I wasn’t asking.” A smile played on her lips. Chorus looked at Severus sympathetically. “I know you’re having a tough time. I get it.” Chorus was very open about the unexpected and tragic loss of her parents. “But you won’t feel better isolating yourself from everyone. Have one drink. If you aren’t having fun by the time you finish it, you can go home. My orders.”

If Severus could smile, he would.

Three beers in, he managed to laugh. Privately, each apprentice spoke to him and expressed remorse for his loss. They appeared to be genuine and offered to help if he needed anything.

Throughout his entire ordeal, they consistently reached out to him while he took care of his mother. Looked in on his apartment. Didn’t touch his station.

Didn’t laugh at him.

Calling it at night, Severus said, “I’m heading out.”

“Can you walk me home?” Chorus walked beside him.

“Uh...sure.”

They chatted on their way to his apartment. Chorus wasn’t just easy to talk to, she had an interesting mind.

“For a world filled with possibilities, wizarding society has such a limited viewpoint,” she said. “Dark magic. It’s a fascinating field of study, but people think that just because you find it appealing it means you’re evil. Or the bullshit categorization what is it isn’t evil.”

Severus arched an brow. “Such as?”

“I understand that there’s levels to this shit,” she began. “However, shouldn’t there be more strict guidelines other than ‘you have to mean it?’ That’s a pretty low bar. Why can’t there be ‘grey magic?’ On a purely academic level, dark magic is interesting as hell. It’s a rich subject because of how intense, unpredictable, and powerful dark magic can be. Who wouldn’t want to study that?”

They moved on to lighter topics.

When they arrived to the front of Chorus’ apartment building, she said, “You should come up.”

Baffled, Severus said, “why?”

Laughing out loud, chorus covered her mouth. “I told them you were bad at this.”

Humiliated, Severus began to walk away when chorus grab his jacket and brought her mouth to his.

She waggled her eyebrows. “You should come up,” she repeated.

“I, um—I,” he stammered.

Chorus kissed his again. “It’s okay,” she promised. “Just follow my lead.”

Slowly, she led Severus upstairs and into her bedroom.

Chorus took her time and was patient with Severus to which he was appreciative of.

[thinkyoureholy]

Oceandust [3]

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Pairing : Kim Hongjoong / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Pirate! AU

Words : 3.6k

Previous Chapter. - Next Chapter.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Hongjoong’s P. O. V-

I ran to the top of the hill, following after her after seeing the panic on her face. I had thought something terrible happened, like the house burning down, something like that but what I found was something far different. I stayed at the top of the hill, too bewildered to move as I watched Y/N race down the hill. Two children, younger than ten years old were running around a fire they had built, throwing all kinds of things into it. An older kid I recognized as Yuri was sitting off to the side with a little girl sitting on his lap. He looked pretty relaxed with a bunch of kids playing with fire a few feet away from him. I slowly made my way down and stopped a little ways away, my eyes following Y/N as she was looking for what I assumed was a bucket to fill with water to put out the fire. After watching her run around in a panic for a few seconds I let out an exasperated sigh, walking over to the fire silently and began to put it out by kicking dirt into it. As I busied myself with putting it out I heard Y/N start on a lecture I knew was going to go on till morning.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!?” She shouted, her words directed at the two twin boys that stood in front of her with their heads bowed, “I’ve told you time and time again to never ever play with fire! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

As I was finishing up putting the fire out I heard her yell out Yuri’s name, turning around just in time to see her about to stomp over to him. The last time the two of them went at it he yelled out some nasty words and got a slap in the face in return and she cried for hours. I’d rather not have to see the same thing repeat itself in a span of a few hours, especially the crying from her, so I stepped in between the two of them. I placed my hands on her shoulders, stopping her from going any further and drawing her attention to me. 

“Why don’t you take the kids inside and get them cleaned up, huh? They look like they’re covered from head to toe in soot. I think the scoldings can wait until they’re clean don’t you?” I spoke in a soft voice, hoping to get through to her.

She closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply through her nose, exhaling through her mouth and gave me a nod, “You two, come with me, now.” She spoke in a  deadly low voice, the two boys not daring to voice any type of protest as they followed after her. The girl that had been sitting on Yuri’s lap went running after the three, leaving Yuri and I alone. I took a moment to collect my thoughts before turning to face the kid and the second my eyes met his I could tell he was anything but happy to see me again. If I had to take a guess the kid actually looked like he was sizing me up. I let a low chuckle fall from my lips at the sight of his glare, a smirk settling on my face.

“Got something you want to say to me?” I asked jokingly but there was an edge to my voice.

He shook his head and I nodded in response, stuffing my hands in my pockets and sauntered over to him, “Do you enjoy making your sister’s life harder than it already is?” I asked, my tone of voice taking on a sharp tone, startling him. I stood directly in front of him , my face taut with irritation. I don’t have much to go on to judge his character but from what I’ve seen so far this kid isn’t getting any points from me. 

“What do you care? You’re just a client of-”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I was you.” I threatened, reaching out to grab the collar of his shirt, cutting him off by pulling him in closer to me, “I’m only going to tell you this once so listen good. Your sister is anything but a whore, if she was I would’ve had her the second I laid eyes on her,” I paused, my eyes catching the way he clenched his fists at his sides, “And believe me I want her, but she’s worth more than just a good fuck. I’ve only known her for a handful of days and I can tell you she’s different from what you’re trying to paint her out to be. I can’t believe I have to tell you this when you should know better than anyone.”

“Where do you get off on lecturing me about how I treat my own family?” He spat out through his teeth, shoving at my chest to get me away from him but I didn’t budge.

“Family is all you have and you’re out here ruining it.” I all but growled, my hold on his collar tightened, the topic of family a sensitive one for me, “Do you know how many others out there pray to have what you do? Your sister is out here busting her ass every damn day to make ends meet just so you can have a roof over your head, food on your plate, and clothes on your back. You may not have enough money to buy the things you want but you have enough to buy the things you need and that is something you should be grateful for you little brat.”

“We wouldn’t be out here struggling so much if she just let me help.” He said, still as defiant as ever.

“Think about why she’s doing that!” I snapped, shaking him in my hold so he’d understand what I was trying to tell him but it looks like I'd have to spell it out for him, “She’s twenty-one so that means she was only sixteen when your parents died and she was forced to take over as the breadwinner. Can you even begin to fathom how hard that must’ve been for a sixteen year old girl to suddenly become the only source of income? She most likely had to give up school and go out looking for a decent job that didn't require her to take her clothes off. You think you’ve had it hard? Try walking a day in her shoes and then we can talk but until then I suggest you get your fucking act together and do it now. She gave up the last few  years of her childhood for you and your siblings, the least you can do is show her some respect. Instead of giving your sister a hard time focus on your studies and get a job that will let you make more than enough money to satisfy your greedy desires.”

I gave him a little shove when I was done, breathing heavily as I stared the boy down in case he wanted to keep this stupid charade of his going. He looked like he was going to do just that when Y/N called out to him from the doorway of their home, drawing both of our eyes over to her.

“Come and help with dinner.” She said, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest.

He didn’t bother protesting as he gave a curt nod of his head and made his way inside. I sighed heavily, running my fingers through my hair as I walked over to her, “How are the twins? They’re not hurt are they?”

“They’re fine,” She answered with a shake of her head, “Just scared I’ll continue to yell at them the second we’re alone.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a small smile worming its way on her own face before it fell just as quickly as it came, “Do you--Do you want to stay for dinner? We don’t have much but…” She trailed off, averting her eyes as she nervously rubbed at her forearm with her hand. 

I beamed at the nervous aura she was giving off, the sight making my stomach turn but in the best way possible, “I would love to stay for dinner.”

She looked relieved that I had agreed, trying and failing to stop a smile from spreading across her face. I took a step to walk inside but she placed a hand on my chest, stopping me. I looked over at her in confusion, surprised to see the smile that had decorated her face just a second prior was now gone and replaced with a menacing frown. 

“Manhandle my little brother like that again and I’ll break all the bones in both your hands,” She murmured threateningly, clenching my shirt in her hand tightly, “Do I make myself clear?”

I stared at her in shock, a bit unnerved by how different she seemed. I’ve met my fair share of threatening people in my life but the way Y/N just spoke to me right now had a chill run down the length of my spine and not in a good way. I found myself nodding along to her words before I could even think to stop myself...not that I wanted to piss her off even more by fighting her on this. She stared into my eyes a second longer, loosening her hold on my shirt. She gave my chest a small pat before turning on her heel and heading inside. I stayed where I was, a bit in shock over what just happened but the way my heart was racing was a bit more worrisome. I knew it wasn’t just from the short wave of fear that washed over me from her threat...I was a bit excited by it. My heart was beating at a million miles a minute, my face flushed with heat as my ears burned. I haven’t been this excited in I don’t know how long. What the hell kind of hold does this woman have on me already?

“Calm down, Joong...it's not like she kissed you for you to get like this.” I mumbled to myself, softly patting my chest to get my heart to calm down, “Get your shit together and get in there…”

-

I sat on the floor with my legs spread out as Alex, Dom, and Yuki all tried to show off their toys. They didn’t have more than a couple each but they spent at least a good five minutes telling me about each toy. I listened to each of them intently, a huge grin on my face. It's a bit of a secret of mine but I’m very fond of children, I’d like to have a few of my own in a couple years if I can. I’d give that child the childhood I never got to have, one full of smiles and laughter and without a worry in the world.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hmm.” I hummed out in response when Dom called out to me, giving him a smile.

“Do you like, Nene?” He asked with a tilt of his head, the other two curious as well.

I raised a brow at the name, confused, “Nene?”

“That’s what we call Y/N!” Yuki exclaimed happily...for no apparent reason.

I chuckled at her baseless sense of happiness, picking her up and sitting her down in between my legs. I opened my arms up for the twins and they happily made their way over to me, each of them taking a spot on my legs.

“Now, what makes you think I like the little lady?” I asked, wanting to know what exactly they saw to think that.

“Just now you were watching her with a big dumb smile on your face.” Alex explained, stretching his arms out, exaggerating the size of my smile.

I furrowed my brows, shaking my head, “No I wasn’t. I was thinking and I must’ve just been staring at the spot she was standing in.”

Yuki shook her head vigorously, turning around to face me, “Nu-uh! Your eyes were sparkling and--and you looked just like how my teacher looks at her husband!”

I was shocked to hear this from a five year old. It can’t possibly be true...right? I looked over at where she was leaning against the sink in deep conversation with Yuri. I felt my features soften as I studied every inch of her face, She shined like no other woman had ever shined before. They can’t be right about me liking, Y/N. I mean I barely know her! Sure I’ve come to enjoy her company but that’s all it is,,,right?

“Do you like spending time with her?”

I found myself unconsciously nodding along to their words, unaware of the smile that pulled at my lips, “She’s not insufferable like most people I know.”

“Do you count down the seconds until you can see her again?” Dom asked.

Again I nodded along but caught myself and gave him a look, “Wait, how old are you again?”

“We’re eight!” The twins exclaimed, holding up their fingers to show me, huge smiles on their faces.

“For eight year olds you’re pretty sharp. Okay, I’ll tell you what, instead of you just shooting out questions I’ll answer you all in one go got it?” I asked, receiving nods from the three of them, “I do like your sister, but not in the way you’re all probably thinking. She’s become...a good friend in the past few days. I enjoy her company, very much.”

“Then does that mean you love her?” Yuki asked, sounding genuinely curious.

I on the other hand began coughing loudly, choking on my own saliva. That caught Y/N’s attention, her brow furrowed in concern as she began to make her way over to me but I stopped her before she could. I put a hand out and waved her concern away as I continued to cough, trying to gather myself. Love? What the hell do these kids know about love? That can’t be what they’re seeing...yeah…they’re probably just imagining it.

-Y/N’s P. O. V. -

I gave Hongjoong a wary look, watching him talk with the little ones. He looked...flustered but why? Just what are they talking about? I’d have to ask them once he left. 

“Why’d you invite him to stay?” Yuri grumbled, his voice cutting through my thoughts. 

“No reason,” I shrugged going back to cleaning the dishes, “Just thought I’d thank him with a meal for walking me home...among other things...”

He said nothing after that and I thought he was going to drop it completely but he spoke up again, “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone, Yuri.” I sighed out, putting the last dish on the rack and dried my hands off on a small towel.

“I don’t think you should be seeing a guy like him.” 

“I don’t think you have any right to play the brother role after accusing me of selling my body to him.” I snapped back, my tone of voice sharp. Yuri bit down on his bottom lip and bowed his head, his eyes glued to the floor as his shoulders sagged. I inhaled sharply at the sight, pinching the bridge of my nose with closed eyes, “Look, I know it's hard to ignore what people say about me but I at least expect you not to believe them. If it bothered you so much you should’ve talked to me about it privately.”

“I’ve already apologized…” He trailed off, referring to when he apologized just a few minutes ago.

“You know an apology isn’t good enough to make me feel better, right? I don’t care what other people think of me but I do care what my own family thinks of me” I said, feeling a lump in my throat as I thought back to the words he spat with so much venom earlier in the day.

“I know I was wrong but I...I just wanted to help you make some extra money so you don’t have to work so hard…” He murmured under his breath, averting his gaze. 

I heaved out sigh once more, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You already help me by taking care of the kids while I’m out working, you’re doing more than enough as it is. But I understand why you’re so frustrated so I have a deal for you, you either take it or leave it.”

“What is it?” He asked excitedly, his face lighting up. 

A fond smile wormed its way onto my face at the hopeful look in his eyes, my hand moving up to caress the side of his face, fingers weaving through his hair, “I’ll let you set up your little stand in town but only on the weekends.”

“Really!?” 

I gave him a nod, the smile on my face growing, “I expect you to keep up with all your schoolwork. If I see you falling behind I’ll shut down that stand of yours for good. And you have to be home by sundown!”

He beamed as he suddenly threw his arms around me, squeezing me tightly in his hold as he repeatedly thanked me. I would have to change my weekend schedule at the pub so I could go to work after he came home. It’d be hell working till the middle of the night but at least I could spend some time at home with the little ones. I’m still worried about letting him go off into town for so long, what if something happens to him?

“Hey, those aren’t toys!” 

I whipped around at the sound of Hongjoong’s shout. The kids had managed to unsheathe the swords he had at his waist, giggling at Hongjoong as he tried to take them back. I watched in a panic, scared they’d hurt themselves and just as I was about to intervene Hongjoong swiftly took the swords out of their hands. He put them back in their sheathes, securing them tightly at his waist. He looked down at the kids with a stern look but his face immediately softened as he picked up a few thin pieces of wood we had laying around for a fire. He gave them each a piece and took one himself, taking a stance in front of them. 

“En garde!” He exclaimed with a grin on his face, chuckling softly.  

The kids let out laughs of their own, charging at him. I watched in amusement as he entertained them and that’s when I suddenly thought of something. 

“Hey, Yuri..”

“Yeah?”

“I have another condition for letting you set up your stand on the weekends,” I muttered as I took a step towards Hongjoong, “Hongjoong, you any good with those swords?”

Hongjoong froze at the sound of my voice, Yuki clinging to his leg while Alex and Dom hung from each of his arms. I had to stifle a laugh at the situation he was in, the sight made my heart skip a beat at how precious the whole thing was. 

“I don’t have them just for decoration, love. I can show you how good I am with them if that’s what you want.” He said with a suggestive smirk on his face. 

I huffed out a breathy laugh, well more like a scoff, crossing my arms over my chest, “I think I’ll pass but how do you feel about having a student?” I asked as I put my arm around Yuri’s shoulders and brought him forward. 

Hongjoong furrowed his brow, leaning forward a bit as Yuki climbed onto his back, “Um, why?”

“I want Yuri to learn how to defend himself if he’s going to be a merchant on the weekends. And what better way than to have a master swordsman teach him. Please? For me.” I said with a grin, hoping to convince him to do it. 

Hongjoong’s face fell as he simply stared at me, his cheeks and ears tinged red, “Yeah...sure...anything for you little lady.”

“Pushover.” Yuri mumbled under his breath with a scoff. 

I slapped the back of Yuri’s head at the comment, Hongjoong giving him a glare but the blush on his face only deepened, “We start tomorrow at dawn.”

“Dawn!?”

Hongjoong raised a brow, swinging the twins back and forth in each hand, “Got a problem with that?”

“I have school at 8 a.m! And I have to take the kids to their school before!” He cried out, taking a step forward. 

I opened my mouth to offer to take the kids myself before my shifts started but Hongjoong beat me to it, “I could take them.”

“Hongjoong I can't possibly ask you to do that. I know how much of a handful those three can be.” I began to protest but he shook his head, a grin playing at his lips. 

“They’re no problem, really. Besides, they love me,” He said as he lifted the three of them in his arms, “See? They can’t get enough of me! I’m sure they’d love for me to take them to school, isn’t that right my devilish little rugrats?”

Yuri gagged at Hongjoong’s words while I stifled another laugh but to no avail, my laughter filled the air. I've only known him a few days but I never expected him to have a side like this to him. It’s...surprisingly cute. He seemed intimidating at first but now I realized he’s nothing but a big teddy bear, an annoyingly cocky teddy bear but a teddy bear nonetheless. 

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