#I say little but he's so tall that just thinking about it gives me butterflies

[amarantoestrella]

I didn't see my little work bf who doesn't know he's my bf all week and I think he got rotated to another unit for a few weeks so I probably won't see him :(

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.

[lucycore]

Detention - Severus Snape

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ ☁️🖤☁️ ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊

⚠️ Smut warning ⚠️

Reader is 18 years old.

Summary: I think the title & warning give it away

˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🖤༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🖤༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🖤༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🖤⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🖤༘

After endless times of trying to get your cold professor to fall for you you finally gave up. You had a huge crush on him, you wanted him, more than anyone else that was simping for you cuz you see you're popular bc of your beauty. Even Draco Malfoy fell for you. He annoyed you so badly like you just wanted to turn his heart into stone towards you but that wasn't possible.

One day while sitting in class next to Hermine, Draco decided to write you a note and let it fly to your desk looking like a little bird.

You surprisingly caught it with little smile on your lips.

"Meet me after class?" Draco was watching you waiting for an answer.

You smiled at him and nodded, giggling a little.

You felt little butterflies in your stomach which were chased away by the voice of your professor.

"Miss y/ln you've just earned yourself a detention for interrupting my class."

You looked professor snape in the eyes just hearing a little chuckle from Draco. It was him how deserved the detention but you didn't even try to defend yourself and just accepted it.

But hey, at least you got what you wished for all these months. Alone time with snape and now that you finally got it you might not want to ruin it.

After dinner you made your way to snapes office. You knocked on the door and walked in. You saw him standing behind his desk reading some paper.

It was so silent, not you nor him said a word until he broke the silence.

"I will keep it very short with you Miss y/ln as I also have business to attend." He took a few steps towards you.

You just looked up into his dark eyes. Gosh they had no emotions in them..You've never seen such empty eyes but by looking at them you reminded yourself why you once fell in love with him.

He was intimidating. You were a lot smaller and petite while he was fucking tall and big which made you a little shy so the eye contact didn't even last half a minute.

He turned away from you to walk to his desk and then turned back to you, looking you up and down.

"I hope this detention will remind you to never interrupt me in any way.."

"Of course professor..It won't happen again." You replied a little quieter.

"I want you to lift up your skirt...drop your panties then get on that chair and...bend over.."

He said it as if it's the most normal thing ever in his usual deep and slow sounding voice.

Your face went like: "What did he just say?" But your brain on the other hand made you like it. Did you finally manage it? Is that it? Did the professor you thought would never fall for anyone actually said that to you?

Yes it was real and he was waiting so you nodded a little and started taking off your panties. Snape moved his wand to lock the door as you slowly with red cheeks lifted up your skirt and bend over like he told you to.

You began to get nervous as your little heart started to beat faster.

You could feel professor snapes presence behind you. It was intense being like this exposed, at hogwarts, alone with your professor.

You closed your eyes waiting for what's about to happen.

You felt a hand spanking your butt followed by a slight stingy pain and a loud clapping sound.

You were so surprised and out of it that you accidentally left out a little "ouch". So you quickly put your hand over your mouth, your eyes a little widened.

Snape spanked your other buttcheek again and so on.

After a few spanks with his strong hand you began to let out pain filled moans and weren't able to hold still like at the beginning but you had to.

"Keep quiet y/ln. No one should find out about this." He gave you a little break to collect yourself while your butt was already bright red. Well have fun trying to sit after this detention.

You weren't even able to reply not a yes nor a nod. You just moved your head down as your grip on the chair tightened when he continued to spank you.

Every spank of his hurt more and more and you left out little cries trying to keep them as quiet as possible. As this didn't work you placed your hand over your mouth again to keep quiet.

He stayed cold, not caring about your crying at all. Maybe he even enjoyed them who knows.

You couldn't take it. Your butt was fucking red and the pain was getting too much for your petite body.

"Professor please.." You begged with tears in your eyes.

"You must learn..what it means to interrupt my class...Y/ln." He replied pulling his hand away from your butt.

"I did and I'm sorry for interrupting you.." You said with desperation but quietly and calm.

Unexpectedly your felt two of his fingers moving to your clit and drawing little circles on there.

You gasped. "W-what are you doing?" You looked back a little but the pressure on your clit caught up to you and made you close your eyes, letting out a little moan.

Snape didn't reply to you but continued. His breathing became heavier and his crotch grew tighter as he felt your soft skin around your sensitive little clit.

He spread your legs a little to draw bigger circles and rubbing your clit just right to make you moan.

The pleasure was so great that you stopped caring who might hear you but snape did and he was very aware that even a suspicion could cause trouble for both of you.

He moved closer and placed his other hand to your mouth. Having a tight grip on it so you couldn't let out even a little moan. He began to rub your clit faster driving you crazy.

Two of his fingers entered your wet cunt with ease but still painful to you. It made you clench your eyes and a muffled scream.

His fingers were thick, stretching your walls and reaching up to that sweet spot. You rolled your eyes back and moaned through his hand or at least you tried to.

He noticed you were close as the warm and wet walls of your pussy tightened around his fingers.

Your breathing became heavier and your moans sloppier. It felt so fucking good and it was everything you ever wanted. This moment with your professor.

You felt shivers all around your private area and stomach, you archerd your back ready to cum all over snapes fingers and all of a sudden as if you got dragged out of the most beautiful dream you could've wished for, snape removed his fingers and his hand from your mouth.

You thought it was a bad joke.

One with desperation filled moan escaped your lips.

You sat up and turned to look at snape with disappointment.

"N-no professor snape..please..Why did you stop?"

"I think you need to be reminded that this is a detention or punishment if you will.." He sounded calm and cold as always.

"Please get dressed and go to your next class..or whatever..." Class? It's almost night time..He seemed out of it probably guilty at what he just did to a student of his which were all dumb brats to him anyway.

Now that was mean but at least you will learn and this will remind you to never interrupt his class again.

You got dressed and silently walked over to the door he unlocked for you.

"Goodnight professor.." You said calmly while giving him a one last look before you closed the door behind you.

[hanbinniesmango]

HHU reaction to being called pretty by their lover

kyy note//: i barely have anything on my mind to write and im not getting no motiv so please give me mercy 😞😞

seungcheol: you both have been watching a movie for some time now, chilling on the couch. you’re lying on his lap with a blanket atop you while he strokes you hair and looks up upon the tvs motions. you start to stare at him, being entranced by your boyfriends beauty. his jawline, his big, pretty, doe eyes blinking softly every now and then. the way he’s built gives you butterflies, it reminds you of all the times he’s picked you up and held you all types of ways. a smile reaches your face. he looks down at you and see you smiling and tilts his head a bit. “what’s got you all smiley, baby?” he says with a slight laugh. “cheolie, you’re so pretty,” you say with a sigh. “it’s almost unfair.” he smiles a bit his cheeks warming up some. “me? pretty?” he says after looking around a bit with fake confusion. you lean up out of your position and giggle. “yes you dork.” you say before you pull him into a sweet kiss, your hands caressing his face as you both share the kiss. you smile before you pull away, opening your eyes to him trying to chase your lips. he forms a pout with his lips and frowns then chuckles. “let your pretty boy kiss you more.” he says before pulling you back in for another sappy kiss.

wonwoo: you guys are playing your favorite game together on nintendo and are taking turns on one whole console. you said whoever loses this round has to clean the dishes and it sure as hell won’t be you. you feel you did great in your run in the game and you gave the console back to wonwoo, feeling confident. it’s about 1 minute into wonwoo’s run and he’s looking a bit too concentrated, and his score is getting higher by the second. shit, you can’t let him win. luckily you have a bit of tricks up your sleeve and you’re not afraid to use them. you reach over to him and blow in his ear, not gaining a reaction from him. you roll your eyes. you’re gonna have to do more than that. you climb onto his lap and straddle him. he looks up and you with a confused look before you start eyeing his neck. luckily you know where his sweet spots are! you lean in and place open mouthed kisses on his sweet spot, him groaning out and looking up at you. “what do you think you’re doing…” he says lowly. “im sorry you’re just so pretty won!” you say with a smirk. he tilts his head at you and smiles. you lean in and kiss him, murmuring, ‘pretty boy’ against his lips. he groans louder against your lips at the name before you pull away and giggle. you look down at the game before he can, laughing out a little, “oopsie!” “what do you mean—i can’t believe you.” you both look down again and see a game over screen that also says player 1 wins! “those dishes are waiting for you won!” you say as you leave his lap and rush out of the room.

mingyu: you wake up to something smelling really good, your instinct making you follow the smell. it leads you to the kitchen where mingyu is by the stove cooking. his tall figure in a little pink apron saying ‘kiss the cook’, and a cute pink bow that you put in his hair earlier that day. how adorable he looked. you waddled up to him with a smirk and wrapped your arms around his waist in a back hug. “goodmorning babe,” he says to you sweetly. “im making dinner for us!” he looks over to you with a smile on his face. “goodmorning pretty boy,” you say with a smile. for some reason the gears turn in his head. the praise getting to his head. “you look too cute in your little apron and bow.” you smirk before smacking his butt and walking away. he yelps and blushes hard. he feels really speechless after that interaction, his mouth open, but nothing coming out. “I…” he stuttered out. he continues to make dinner, his mind rushing with lots of different thoughts. he’s definitely gonna get back at you later.

vernon: here you both sit having a staring contest, him obviously winning. you don’t even remember how you got to this position, this situation in total. he’s sitting there, stotic expression just with a small grin on his lips. surprisingly, you’re not fighting for you life and actually have a calm face on, your eyes barely affected. you actually know how to play this game. “you don’t look very confident on winning, nonnie.” you say with a soft giggle. “im doing perfectly fine sweetheart, don’t worry about me.” funny he thinks he’s gonna win this game. his ego seems to be so high, not for long! (hopefully) you bring your hand to his thigh and tiptoe your fingers up and down it. “you’re honestly unbelievable, vernon,” you spill out. “wait what did i—“ “you’re so pretty nonnie~~” you giggle out. he blinks. a large smile pulls at your lips. “wooohoo!!” you yell out. “that was unfair, i want a rematch” he says with a smirk. “nope! i won fair and square!” you say after ruffling his hair and getting up. he scoffs and smiles at you before following you out the room.

kyy note//: also thanks to that one person who submitted a request for the seonghwa fic, it’s started! 3 paragraphs in💗😛

[arminsumi]

can i request fluffy young love with yuji? he reminds me of that one song “and they called it puppy loveeeeeeee” he’s so sweet

PUPPY LOVE.

NOTE: this is so cute i sat here blushing and grinning pls!! and yesss that one song ahhh!! 🥲 it's got yuji written all over it. anyways hope u likeyy 💗

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

PLAY ME ♪ and they called it puppy love

yuji's eyes are heart-shaped when he has them on you. and he keeps a very straight posture when in your company; shoulders taught, chest puffed out a little, trying his best to impress you by showing off his tallness.

heeling wherever you go, he follows with peppy footsteps. even a stranger could tell that he's lovestruck.

his swooning is so blatant that it's become obvious even to his teachers that he likes you. he really exudes the 'i like you' vibes. the air between you and him is always buzzing with something that can't be identified by anything other than —

"puppy love. isn't it cute, suguru?" yuji's teacher comments as he catches the boy flirting with you yet again.

"mhm. very cute." suguru hums to satoru.

⁕⁕⁕

"can i walk you home?" yuji asks eagerly.

it's become a daily thing for him to walk you home. he knows you won't say no, of course, he likes asking just to hear you say yes. it makes him giddy.

he walks close alongside you down the sunset-lit streets, "clumsily" bumping his shoulder into you. the brief close proximity gives him butterflies.

the school day usually ended with the two of you sharing earbuds, listening to a playlist that the two of you made together, stopping by street food stalls, nearly choking on your soda when he makes a joke that catches you off-guard. things like that.

but something different happens today.

he holds your hand, when you two are about to cross the street.

you're staring at the walking person sign, impatiently waiting for it to turn green. and yuji is calculating his moves so hard that it feels as fatiguing as playing chess. the more he thinks about it, the more his hand starts to shake. the back of his fingers graze the back of your hand, you subconsciously reciprocate and — just like that you're finger-locking with your best friend.

he flattens his lips to stop from smiling. there's a boyish blush searing from the apple of his cheeks down to his jawline.

for every walk home after that, he always held your hand when crossing the road. eventually, he just started holding your hand the whole walk back to your house, and even down the school corridors.

each time he squeezed your hand in his, he was thinking of leaping in for a kiss. especially when you locked eyes.

sometimes the two of you could feel that you wanted to kiss each other, so you smiled bashfully and looked away. he'd laugh and mutter an unnecessary apology.

but one day, he braved it, and dove right in. he swiped a kiss right off your lips. he was so quick about it that you were too shocked to register what had happened — frozen in place.

the two of you looked at each other shyly, then started giggling to cope with the overwhelming romantic tension.

yuji got addicted to kissing you very quickly after the first kiss. little pecks at your cheek, on your hand, sometimes a cheeky smooch on your neck. poor megumi and nobara always complained about witnessing too much PDA. and though the teachers thought it was adorable, they scolded the hell out of you two when you tried to kiss in between classes.

some months after, yuji slipped a little promise ring on your finger. he seemed so nonchalant about it. but he was laid in bed daydreaming at night about one day putting a real ring on your finger.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[mysticallystilinski]

DUJOR

an ian smith x fem!reader fic

synopsis - leaving you stood up at a restaurant leading to sex in the car isn’t the makeup you were hoping for, but it works

CW ! 17+ SMUT (fingering, car sex (semi), boyfriend-girlfriend concept)

lav speaks… i’ve only seen two other writers for ian, so i’m hoping this reaches the right audience ;) i left this open for a part two, so let me know if y’all want one!

1 year. your one year anniversary with him, and he was late. it was no surprise, typical ian. probably out smoking with his friends, or in the studio. but when you got all dolled up, and went to the nice restaurant he suggested in downtown, you at least expected him to show.

lightly tapping the glass, your nails were a prominent red, along with your dress. people passed by your table, looks of sympathy and comfort spread across their face as they saw the missing spot just across from you. “god, i look pathetic”, you mumbled under your breath.

“what was that?”, you heard a voice approach. desperately wishing it was ian in front of you, but being faced with the waiter whom you didn’t notice beforehand. “oh, nothing, just a couple more minutes i swear”.

minutes pass, and still nothing. no phone call, no text message, nothing. a burst of screams were heard from outside the restaurant. flashes of cameras, and loads of poparazzi invaded as you noticed a tall figure emerge through the glass door.

“called it”, you mumbled once again. not only was he late, but he was outside taking photos with fans, and signing different types of objects for their so called ‘autographs’. quickly standing up, you rushed towards him, seeing a bright smile on his face.

“hi baby-”, was soon cut off by you shoving around him, and out the door. he knew it was coming, nothing could avoid it. without a doubt, he followed after you, pushing through the crowds of poparazzi towards his black suv. only, you didn’t head towards the suv, you made your way down the street.

high heels clicking, the cold night of chicago brushed through your hair. it wasn’t overly crowded, seeing as it all formed wherever your boyfriend was heading. a pattern of footsteps followed behind you, and clicks of cameras eluded. feeling a large hand on your forearm, you quickly realized it was ian.

you had to keep your cool, nothing you didn’t want the poparazzi to see was not about to happen tonight. “yes?”, you questioned. “stop with the act, get in the car”, he chuckled through his teeth, obviously desperate to talk to you.

thinking about it for a second, you tapped your finger on your chin. “i’m okay”, you chuckled back. you could practically see the fumes coming out of his head as ian scoffed.

“okay then, if that’s what you really want baby”. his voice causing you to feel some type of way was not about to let him off the hook. as the poparazzi started to ask questions, you gave up your fight, and headed back towards the suv.

ian’s security opened the car door, him heading in first, then giving you a hand to help you in. the slick, black leather seats were comfortable, and the space was very roomy. it was private to say the least as there was a divider between the driver and back seats.

you sat away from ian, hands in lap, staring out the window as the car began to move. “c’mere”, he spoke, the words shooting sharply through heavy silence. no reply came out as you began to ignore his words. “baby, y/n, you don’t gotta act like that”, you could tell he was smirking through his every word.

butterflies erupted in your stomach as you could tell he was getting more whiny about it. suddenly, you felt a presence move from the other side of the car, to where you were sitting. a hand slipped onto your thigh, and began to massage up and down your dress.

a smirk slipped from your mouth, turning to face him but only to see him looking the other way, pretending not to be phased. play it that way, see what’s coming. sliding your velvet dress up a little, his hand touched bare skin. at first he tensed, but after a second he rested his hand and began to graze towards your inner thigh.

without a second thought, you moved his hand closer to your heat, not caring for what’s about to happen next. he played with your lace panties, slowly moving them to the side. he placed his fingers onto your pussy, all while staring completely into your direction.

by now your eyes were locked, noticing ian licking his lips, all whilst he was running through your folds. “does that feel good?”, he questioned all while knowing the answer. but before you could reply, he stuck a finger into you. a gasp came from your mouth in an instant, not expecting him to do that.

your head fell back as ian began to pump his finger in, and out of you. soon after, he added a second finger to the mix. strings of moans left your lips as he began to work his way deeper and faster. his soft lips attached their way to your neck, placing harsh kisses under the pressure.

“mhm — ian, ‘s so good”, you whimpered out. and you didn’t even notice that ian began to palm his bulge underneath his jeans until groans left his mouth. your eyes opened just in time to see him writhing around, and leaving a gasp of ‘fuck’ and ‘damn’ from his mouth.

the friction was too much, you began to ride his hand to build up your high. this led to him stopping his actions on himself, and focusing completely on you. “c’mon baby, you can do this”, he groaned out. he definitely enjoyed this just as much, or even more than you did.

your high was building even more, desperately to the point of finish. mumbles of praise left his mouth as your legs began to slightly shake, and incoherent words spewed from your mouth. just to add into the mix, he placed a finger onto your clit, slightly putting pressure and circular motions.

just the right spot. a sudden flash came upon you, and you felt warmth slowly spilling out onto the seats below you. out of breath, both you and ian looked at eachother, completely speechless to say the least. a sudden smirk came across his face as he took his fingers from your heat, and placed them in his mouth.

his hands were to die for, and you couldn’t process it. practically almost coming a second time, your hand grazed his jeans, all while he was still sucking on his fingers. he groaned, but before anyone could proceed, the car stopped.

“we’ve arrived”, the drive spoke.

[stardust-thief]

meet cute

an: this is not very spiderman-esque + it kinda sucks😭 but i have brainworms im thinking of so many ways the bau cld be part of this au

synopsis: your best friend, penelope garcia, gets you to meet spencer reid, who unbeknowest to you is seceretly spiderman, 1.7k words

cw: just fluffy meet cute, a little rossi slander im sorry, mentions of tobias hankel but its pre-lizard, bc tobias hankel is the lizard in this au, not proofread at all

masterlist

“Pen, are you sure this is a good idea?” Your best friend, Penelope Garcia, whom you loved with all your heart, was meddling again. She had taken notice of the fact that you are a workaholic and would prefer to spend your days researching for your newest article, than literally anything else. Deciding this was completely against the criteria to be friends with her, she has taken you to meet some of her friends. Namely, Spencer Reid. You didn’t know much about Spencer other than the fact that he was a great photographer and an even greater nerd. Said affectionately, you literally do nothing but work, how nerdier can you be.

“Are you kidding me? This is a perfect idea! Both you and Spencer are basically hermits, my thinking is that two hermits cancel out each other's hermit-ness and you’ll both bloom into beautiful social butterflies! Maybe I’ll finally get to see my best friends outside for once. Or maybe that’s too big an ask.” She grabbed your arm to make sure you couldn’t back out last minute, and all but dragged you into the little cafe you were supposed to meet this elusive Spencer at.

The cafe wasn't one you familiar with, preferring to stick with the one adjoined to the Daily Bugle building. This one had booths lining the walls, and a vast glass counter full of the most delicious pastries you’ve ever seen. The one at the Daily Bugle served only stale bagels, and made you sit in those hellish latticed garden chairs that do no good things for your comfort. 

You watch as Penelope’s hawk eyes scan the cafe, “ok so, he’s not here yet. I promise you he hates being late, just sometimes something will just come up and- he’ll show up! Go get a seat, I’ll order something for us.”

“Ok, I can do that.” You say as you turn to move towards an open booth seat. Penelope was a generally anxious person, this was something you've grown used to after knowing her for so long. But whatever that was back at the counter was a lot more anxious than strictly necessary. True, being late to a first meeting was not a good first impression. Also true that the later he is, the later you will be in getting back to the office, meaning another late night working to finish your article. But it's not the end of the world! Yet!

Penelope interrupted your doom-thinking by placing a tray full of various coffees and pastries on the table. “I got your favourite,” she says as she pushes the warm coffee towards you and sits on the opposite side of the booth, “I wasn’t sure which pastry to get so I got… many.”

“Many is a word I would use, yeah… It’s fine Pen, we can all just take some home. Have you heard anything from your friend?”

She gives her patented dramatic sigh, “Ugh, Boy Wonder says he’s on his way. Wait, forget I called him that. Spencer Reid is on his way, he says he apologises for his tardiness.”

A loud bang catches your attention as a tall man, who looks like he’s ran a marathon to get here, slams the door to the cafe open a little too hard, rattling the wall decor and capturing the attention of literally every person in the shop. You watch as his eyes sheepishly scan the room until they land on Penelope. He gives an equally sheepish wave and hurries to sit down next to Penelope.

“Spencer, what the hell was that?” Penelope mutters, and you watch as they devolve in an argument at the volume of mice. You sit there awkwardly, sipping at your coffee as you wait for them to remember you’re there.

“Ok, Spencer!” Penelope starts, “this is my friend, who has been waiting here very patiently, might I add.”

Spencer’s eyes turn to meet yours, his eyes are a warm and deep brown that reminds you of coffee. You notice the slight bloodshot twinge he has, and the dark, heavy bags that sit under them. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in at least 2 weeks, leaving strong stubble clinging to his lower face.

Out of habit, you raise your hand to shake his and introduce yourself, “Hi Spencer.” It takes a moment for him to realise you have your hand raised, and he rushes to meet it.

“Hi, I’m really so sorry for being late, that was so rude of me, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” you hear Penelope give a mocking laugh as if to say ‘you never apologise to me like this'. Ignoring her, you notice that his hands are calloused and rough, littered with small bruises and nicks that leave you questioning how they got there. Noticing this he's quick to retract his hand, “sorry, I work in a lab so I get all kinds of cuts from the machines. Um, what do you do?”

“I work as an investigative journalist for the Daily Bugle.” The Bugle has a bit of a reputation due to its owner, D. Rossi, who is known to be an avid anti-spiderman fanatic and is constantly making up theories to defraud and belittle him. But you’re too proud of your work to let something like that stop you from talking about it. At the mention of the newspaper, however, you watch as Spencer shoulders tense up and he shoots a sidelong glance at Penelope.

“The Daily Bugle! Yeah, I used to send in my photographs for them sometimes.” Spencer breathes out.

“Really? What articles were they published in, I might’ve seen them!”

“No um, Rossi kept rejecting them so I never got them published.”

Oh. Good job. “Yeah, he can be a bit tough sometimes. I’d love to have a look at your work, maybe I can try and get something published along with my articles?” You offered this as a nicety, but you’re also genuinely curious to see what kind of work he’s done.

“That would be really nice actually, I’d appreciate it. What are you working on now?”

“An article on the research Dr Hankel is doing at Oscorp, he’s taking lizard DNA and attempting to splice it with human DNA to modify our genes. He’s hoping it can help humans regenerate lost limbs the same way lizards can. It’s fascinating stuff, but I don’t think it could work.” Especially seeing as Dr Hankel seems to have about 12 screws loose, interviewing him was not one of your preferred research activities. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that. My boss at the lab says it could be amazing if it works. It just has to work first.” He chuckles and begins picking apart the pastry in front of him. “So, you don’t agree with Rossi’s whole anti-Spiderman tirade?”

You hum, “not really. I mean, I think Spiderman is doing a great thing by helping protect the people of this city, but I also think he has a lot to answer for in terms of damage to properties, and livelihoods. But I definitely don’t think he deserves the scrutiny he gets from Rossi. Without him, what would New York do?”

He visibly relaxes at that, maybe he’s just a Spiderman super fan, there are probably worse things a person could be. You all get wrapped up in conversation and fail to notice the hours passing by until a worker comes up to your table and lets you know it’s nearly closing time. 

“God, we’ve been here all day. I need to get back to work, finish my article before my deadline tomorrow.” You say, rushing to stand up and leave. Spencer rushes to stand up with you.

“You’re working overnight? Surely that can’t be safe.”

“It’ll be much less safe if I don’t hand this in to Rossi before my deadline.” You chuckle, “I’ll be fine, I’ve done the bulk of it, not much more to do now!”

“Let me walk you to your office, it’s getting dark out.” Out the corner of your eye, you see Penelope wiggle her shoulders and wink at you.

“No I can’t ask you to do that, it’s not too long of a walk.” It is such a long walk, you’re just lying. “I’ll get to the office before the moons even out, don’t worry about it. Penelope, thanks for organising this, I had a lot of fun.” She pushes out of the booth set and wraps you in a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came! It’s good to see you away from your desk for once. Don’t stay up too late, ok, go home and get some rest at an appropriate time. No later than 4am ok?” She holds you by your shoulders and looks deep into your eyes until you agree. “Good, take some of these pastries with you, you’ll need the sugar.”

“Thank you Penelope, I promise I won’t stay too late.” Pastries in hand, you turn to Spencer again. God his eyes were so deep. “It was really nice to meet you Spencer, maybe we can do this again sometime. As a group I mean, all three of us.” Real smooth! The idea of hanging out with Spencer again made you excited, but the last thing you want to do was come on to strong.

His eyes widen slightly and he rocks back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, I would love to do this again, all of us. It was lovely meeting you as well, please stay safe.”

You smile at him and turn to leave, beginning the long walk back to the offices of the Daily Bugle. The many steps in your way do nothing to stop the giddy feeling in you.

Unbeknownst to you, after Spencer walked Penelope home he slipped into a dark alley, pulled on his spider-suit, and started swinging himself across New York until he found you walking to your office. After following you from the rooftops, making sure you were safe, he noticed that you had in fact lied about how long it took you to get back to work. He made a note to ask more firmly if he could walk you back next time, especially when it was getting so late. Once you were back in the Daily Bugle, he waited and waited until you were finished with your work to escort you back home.

[mrs-hatake]

YANDARE CALEB REQUEST HERE!!

Caleb and Mc walking around Linkin City, but Calbe notices all the eyes on MC and her cute outfit! Even the cashier at the ice cream shop gives her a free ice cream!!

word count: 1.2k

warning: yandere!caleb and mentions of gore.

a/n: y/n is not mc! she is an entirely different entity from mc (i see them as two different people)

Summer comes to Linkon City early this year. 

Just a few weeks ago, the air was filled with a chilly breeze. It was so cold that no one could wear their spring clothes without a coat on top. Then, one morning, the temperature suddenly rises and the flowers are in total bloom, decorating the guardians in a canopy of pinks, lilacs and soft blues. The bees are dancing while the birds are singing their songs and any trace of their chilly spring vanishes.

The weather has been so beautiful the past few days that everyone’s mood elevates with the heat. Jenna, Y/N’s usually strict boss, suddenly announces that she’s giving every hunter in the association an extra day for the weekend, no one has to come to work on Friday. 

Ecstatic by the news, Y/N is quick to text Caleb of the good announcement.

That’s how we find the childhood best friends strolling around the Grand Central Park of Linkon City. Tales of the past on their tongues as they meander through the winding paths of the park, vibrant hydrangeas, reminiscent of Caleb’s eyes, surrounding them.

Y/N’s smile is as radiant as the sun, her lips parted in an ecstatic laugh as Caleb retalls the tale of when he was nine years old and Y/N tricked him into thinking she can eat ten earwax flavored candy simultaneously. Naturally, Caleb hadn’t believed her. But when she shoved several handfuls of those nasty jelly beans, he was equally horrified and awe-struck. 

Think you can beat me? She challenged him. Not one known to back down from a challenge, Caleb opens his tiny hand, heart stuttering in nervousness when those sugary sweets plop into his hand. Little did he know, Y/N had switched out the lemon sorbet flavored jelly beans and handed him ear waxed flavored one. The poor boy gagged for five minutes before Y/N showed him mercy and gave him a refreshing, tall glass of melon soda. To say he was skeptical of the drink was an understatement but it was either Caleb trusted her or suffered the lingering taste of ear wax.

Caleb’s eyes soften as he watches Y/N laugh, sounding like windchimes and hummingbirds. He can never look away whenever he is with Y/N, entranced by her beauty. Even now as she clutches her tummy, tears streaming down her face as she muffles her giggles, butterflies flutter about in his stomach. His fingers itch to reach out and wipe away the stray tears from her cheeks but Caleb glues his hand to his side, tempted to use his Evol to make sure he practices restraint. They are just friends, nothing more, and he can’t just caress her whenever he wants. 

Instead, all that Caleb can do is admire Y/N.

She is all dolled up today, no doubt excited for the extra day off and the gorgeous weather they’re having. 

A flowy pink dress with flower prints sways with the gentle breeze. The cotton fabric stretches along her body nicely, showing off her tantalizing dips and curves. The plunging neckline is a delicious treat for Caleb…too bad he isn’t the only one who shares this thought. 

He was so engrossed with Y/N, he failed to see dozens of pairs of hungry eyes lingering on what is his. Caleb can practically hear their disgusting thoughts whenever the two walk by, lusting over Y/N like some piece of meat. 

He has half a mind to gouge out their ugly eyes and break their dirty fingers that are no doubt desperate to smear their grime across Y/N’s smooth and clean skin. Caleb is fighting a losing battle. 

“Caleb, look!” Saccharine sweetness wraps an arm around Caleb, delicately pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

Turning, Caleb faces Y/N who is staring at him with large doe eyes. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

Y/N wants something that Caleb is probably going to refuse. 

Following where Y/N is pointing at, his gaze lands on an ice cream vendor. They’re only selling two flavors today, honey vanilla and lavender flavored ice cream. But the vendor also sells a serving of half and half, the one Y/N is silently begging for.

“Y/N,” Caleb sighs, “You know you shouldn’t eat dessert before lunch. It will ruin your appetite.”

“Caleb,” Y/N whines. Caleb has always known that his name always sounded so sinful on her lips, “Pleeeeaaassseeee.” 

Let the record show that Caleb did try to persuade her but how can he say no to someone as cute, as adorable, and as beautiful as Y/N?

Caleb is a weak man when it comes to Y/N and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

“Fine.”

“Yaay!” With a blinding smile, Y/N stands on her tiptoes and lands a loud and wet smooch on Caleb’s cheek. “You’re the best!”

Thankfully, Y/N is already running off to the ice cream vendor to notice the vibrant red decorating Caleb’s ears and cheeks. 

God, this woman will be the death of him.

“The total will be 2.99.” The sweet old man says as he gives Y/N two ice cream cones of half honey vanilla and half lavender flavored ice cream.

Y/N tilts her head. Her nose scrunches up adorably as she asks, “Shouldn’t it be 5.50? I ordered two ice cream cones.”

The man’s gentle smile becomes lecherous, making the muscles along Caleb’s sharp jawline clench. 

Seemingly unaware of how Caleb slammed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, ready for a fight, the old man continues to stare shamelessly at Y/N’s cleavage. Eyes old with age drinking up the sweat glistening on the curves of her tits. 

Y/N chuckles awkwardly, “Thanks.” Hands Caleb his ice cream, grabs his arms and yanks him far away from the vendor.

“What a creep.” Y/N shudders at the encounter. 

“Caleb, your ice cream’s melting!” She screeches once she spots the cool cream dripping down Caleb’s thick wrist.

Like a balloon popping, Caleb snaps back to his surroundings. He hurries to lick away the stray streams of melted ice cream but he chokes when the liquid glides down his parched throat, it tastes like ash on his tongue. 

“L-let’s go back.” the words come out in a shaky exhale and they make Y/N face him with concern written all over her face.

Caleb is instantly drowning in a bottomless ocean of guilt for ruining Y/N’s day off but if they don’t return home and if Caleb doesn’t hide Y/N from the dangerous world, he’s afraid he’ll do something that Y/N will never forgive him for. 

Guilt hangs heavily around Caleb like an oppressive fog, anchoring him to the earth as if he were a ship caught in a relentless storm. His breath grows thin and ragged, tongue thick and unyielding as he speaks of a lie that feeds his selfishness and greed. 

Possession is a dangerous thing and it has long since ruined Caleb.

Yet, in an instant, the guilt morphs into conviction. Caleb reminds himself that he is doing this for Y/N's sake.

If a small, white lie will protect her from those hungry beasts lurking nearby, then Caleb will sing endless songs to Y/N, deceit underlying his lyrics. 

All for Y/N’s safety.

[padawanoftheyear]

summer - luke hughes

in which: a childhood crushe turn into a summer that no one will forget

paring: Luke Hughes/Reader

☆-☆-☆-☆

Never in a million years would I even think Luke Hughes is cute, but of course, this was the summer my brain decided to look a little closer. 

 The Hughes and the (Y/L/N)’s families have been friends for, well… ever. I have known Quinn, Jack, and (of course) Luke all my life. We’ve gone to the Hughes family lake house every summer since I was a baby. 

 A lot has changed in two years, AKA since the last time I saw Luke. I finished Uni and Luke had just finished his rookie year in the NHL.

 So, when I saw Luke again (after being crushed in a hug by Jack and Quinn) I nearly had whiplash. His tall frame towered over me by about a half a foot as he walked closer. We hugged each other (i mean, it would look weird if we didn’t) and his cologne took over my senses… ahem…

Quinn and Jack snicker as we walk past them and Luke shoots them a glare. I laugh softly, maybe out of nervousness or just pure confusion. 

☆-☆-☆

After a few hours of hanging out with the Hughes boys, it feels like I never left two summers ago.

That night was a blur of late night boat rides and a few drinks around the fire (and Jack telling terrible jokes). Of course, fate likes to play jokes, too, because me and Luke were miraculously the last ones by the fire. 

“You grew.” I say, breaking a soon-to-be awkward silence. 

“So did you, more beautiful, I mean.” He smiles at me softly.

I matched his smile, “ Is that a compliment or a Star Wars reference?” 

He shrugs as his smile turns into a smirk, “Reference, obviously.” He takes a sip of his drink, his smirk growing wider. I let out a fake gasp that turns into a laugh, “Nerd.”

He rolls his eyes, “You are beautiful, though,” he mumbles and I nearly miss it. I pretend I never heard him, leaning back in my chair, hoping he doesn’t see my redding face. 

“Summer didn’t feel the same last year.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I say with a sigh.

Picking Uni over an actual summer vacation was not an easy decision, but working towards an early graduation was the best one.

“Any big drama I missed?” I crack a smile to lighten the mood a bit. 

He smiles back, a lock of his curly hair falling in front of his face, “Family drama? No. School drama? Well…”

I lean forward in my chair and rest my forearms on my knees, my smile growing into a smirk. Luke laughs at my reaction which makes my heart soar. 

☆-☆-☆

About two hours (and many drinks) later we get through nearly two years of stories and just as many laughs. His bright smile and his silhouette in the moonlight make my chest squeeze. 

Luke and I have always been the closest of the bunch, considering we were the closest in age. I always thought of the Hughes boys as, well, my own brothers. So, what's different this summer? 

Maybe his curly hair that he has grown out since being in the NHL? His taller stature? Maybe it's just being alone with him is what sets off the bomb of butterflies in me.

“...(Y/N)?”

My head snaps up from my blank gaze at the water.

“Sorry?” I shake my head and look back at him.

“Am I that uninteresting, Butterfly?” His brows furrowed as he leaned towards me.

Butterfly

Gods, I haven't heard that nickname since the 8th grade when all three of the Hughes boys made it their mission to give me the most random, awful nicknames.

First, Poppins (as in Mary) because of the time I spoke in a British accent for a week at a summer camp with Jack.

Next, Centipede, because of the time I confessed to being scared of anything with more than eight legs. For the rest of the year I was constantly chased by Quinn or Jack who had one of the devil-bugs in their hand. That name comes back quite a bit.

But, Butterfly never got an explanation. I always thought it was about the bug thing but I asked Luke and he said no and shrugged me off.

Luke's hand touches my cheek lightly and I come back into reality. 

“Are you ok?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah sorry…” I mumble as blush stains my neck and cheeks.

“You seem tired, wanna head in?”

“Yeah, ok.” He helps me up from my chair and we grab the trash, then head inside.

☆-☆-☆

The rest of the week goes on without a hitch, but it’s the last day that’s my favorite.

Me and Luke are sitting out in a secluded area of the lake on our paddle boards. We used to go to this place all the time as kids. We would steal his dads little motorboat and ride to this spot in the dead of night when no one else was awake. 

“I missed our cove,” I say and smile into the afternoon sun.

He hums in agreement, “Remember when we always brought, like, dirt cheap beer out here?”

“Oh lord, I'm trying to forget…” I shake my head at the memory.

One summer we decided it would be a good idea to bring beers out on the lake. In short, we had really, really bad hangovers the next day.

“It could’ve been worse,” He says as he runs his fingers through his hair. 

I wish those were my- No, no. (Y/N), stop. 

I sigh and shrug. “I guess,” I retort. He tilts his head, and so do I.

“What?” He asks.

“What??” I ask back.

“Something is on your mind,” He scoots forward, “tell me.”

I furrow my eyebrows but he cuts me off before I can think of a reply, “last night you spaced out now you're acting weird he looks down so what's on your mind?”

 I smile softly and shake my head “you've changed, Hughes”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all.”

 “So, why do you say I changed?” He paddles towards me again and holds my board so we don't float apart 

“You're more… confident, I guess” I say and he leans in.

 “Confident?” He draws, teasing.

 I scoff and push him back slightly, “maybe I should have said cocky-” 

He rolls his eyes as I speak, then pushes me off my board. Water rushes to my ears as I fall backwards.

 I paddle back to the surface and my head bobs up, “LUKE!! What the hell?!”

“In my defense,” he takes off his shirt and lowers his body into the water. I watch him the whole way down. “You called me cocky.”

I roll my eyes and swim the small distance to him. “You are cocky Luke Warren Hughes.”

Now he rolls his eyes and I laugh softly. He pauses for a moment Scanning my face. “You're beautiful,” he says softly.

“What??”

 “You heard me”

 I stutter. How do I respond to that?? The guy I've known my whole life (and liked for the past week) just call me beautiful. “I uhm-”

“I know it's weird for me to say it out loud but I've liked you forever, butterfly. I don't know what it is about seeing you again- but it gave me the confidence to say something.” He wades closer and I am at a loss for words.

“I know this isn't the best time to tell you this,” he retorts, “but I can't keep it down. You're the most amazing person I have ever met, (Y/N), and maybe I don't always remember that but every single time I see you I- I realize I don't want anyone else. I don't need anyone else, just you.”

 ….Am I dead? Am I dying?! I probably died when he pushed me into the water…

“Really?” I squeak out. It’s the only thing I can muster. He laughs nervously and I get back on my board. “Really really.”

I flush and look down at him in the water. “I was right, you're getting more confident, Hughes.” I lean in slightly, my breath shortening.

He gets the hint. 

He kisses me softly and butterflies erupt in my stomach. His lips are tender and sweet against mine, his taste imprinting into my brain in a way that I know I will never taste anything as warm, as loving, or as fulfilling as his. He leans deeper into me and my hands cup the nape of his neck. His hands circle my waist and I feel my skin heat under his touch. 

Memories flood my brain, all of him. The notes we passed in middle school, the dances we went to together, nights cuddled watching ‘The Mighty Ducks’. It all comes back to me.

He breaks the kiss first, catching his breath. I let him clamber onto my board and sit beside me. I look at him, taking in his Greek nose and cornflower eyes. He presses his mouth against my jaw and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My hands smooth over his chest, the pads of my fingers collecting small droplets left on his skin. My fingers drift up and I tangle my fingers in his hair to tug him closer.

He looks up at me with his beautiful, beautiful eyes. He cups my face and his breath ghosts over my lips. My stomach flips, the same way it has this whole week. From chatting at the fire or sunbathing on the deck…

Never in a million years would I even think about kissing Luke Hughes, but of course, this was the summer my brain decided I should take a chance I will never regret.

☆-☆-☆-☆

A/N:

EEK!!!! I did it... I finally finished this fucking fic... whew.

I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot about our boy, Luke. Please leave comments about anything you liked (or disliked) about this fic :)

I will (hopefully) be making more NHL fics in the future, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you are reading this, I would like to say thank you to my friends, Lily and Nora, for looking over this fic and giving me support for my delusion (and hockey obsession).

[princessmaybank]

Ride The Cowboy

Pairings: JJ x BestFriend!Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, riding, creampie

Summary: JJ got a new cowboy hat and reader has no idea about the rule.

Authors Note: I had a smut written for a request. It was JJ and reader with the cowboy hat rule but it got deleted! It was anonymous so I hope whoever requested this sees it and enjoys!!!

(Edit: I changed the gif bc he's got a cowboy hat on 🤭 idk who these belong to but they aren't mine so credit to whoever made these!)

JJ found this random black cowboy hat at one of our shops in town. I didn't think he was serious when he said he wanted to buy it because it's not even his style.

Anyway he's been wearing it for a fucking week, trying to act all country and it's so fucking annoying. He has started using a country accent trying to be funny, but it was just so, so lame.

We were at the boneyard having the time of our lives. JJ and I were dancing together, giggling and having some normal fun, until he started talking like he was from Texas.

I was so fed up. I reached for his hat and threw it onto my head. "Look at me, I'm JJ, all I ever do is talk with an accent and twirl around in my cowboy hat!!" I said, very annoyed with a terrible attempt at a country accent.

JJ was staring at me in awe, which got the attention of our friend Pope, whose jaw went slack as well. Pope walked over and rested his arm on JJ's shoulder. "She doesn't know does she?" Pope looked at JJ with the most dead serious look I've ever seen. What the hell was he talking about???

"I don't think she does." He grinned and started laughing. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at his feet then back to Pope. "What are you talking about?!" I asked frantically. "Have fun cowboy." Pope said patting JJ's back while walking away. I give JJ a questioning look.

He got extremely close to my body, yet he was still towering over me. Damn this boy was tall. JJ took my hands in his. "You don't know the cowboy hat rule?" He asked smirking down at me. "These things have fucking rules too???" He giggled. "Yes but this one is probably the most important." Somehow he got closer, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought. "What is it??" I asked getting annoyed because he was playing games at this point.

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

His face never changed from that smug little smirk, but my eyes got wide. I hit his chest, he was my best friend. "No way Maybank, that's probably something you made up to get you laid." He grinned. "It's not I swear, if you don't believe me look it up."

Unfortunately I did, and he was right. It was some kind of sick joke. "Well I didn't know so it doesn't count!" I crossed my arms. "Hey, rules are rules baby." He was holding my hips now. Why were butterflies filling my stomach? I've never thought of JJ this way. It would be so wrong. "So is no pogue on pogue macking!" I say trying my hardest to find a way out of this, but of course he's ready for whatever I say. "First of all, John B and Sarah are right over there, basically eating each other's faces. Second of all, it's not macking, it's riding baby." He smiled to himself because he knew he won.

JJ walked us to the Twinkie, where we wouldn't be bothered. "You just want an excuse to fuck your best friend!" I say fighting the best I could. "I could say the same about you! I didn't tell you to steal my hat! And you're still wearing it!" He laughs so hard after he gets his sentence out. I was blushing when I quickly took his hat off and threw it at him.

I was hovering over him, very anxious. He had a huge grip on my hips. "We do not have to do this if you don't want to." He says while holding me up. "JJ, I'm already naked. Plus you said it, rules are rules." Before I could change his mind or my own, I started easing myself down onto his dick. JJ let out a slight hissing sound as I went lower. Not gonna lie, I did need to get fucked. It was probably why I found him so annoying this week.

JJ helped me move at a pace that made us both feel good. "Come here." He pulled me in with a motion of his finger. "Might as well break a rule while we're at it." He smirked before attaching his lips to mine. JJ sat up and put his back against the seat, never pulling out. I pulled his hands away from my hips and to my tits, making him squeeze them as I bounced on his dick all by myself. I couldn't believe I was riding my best friend.

"Fuck Y/N/N don't stop." Woah. JJ called me by my nickname while I was bouncing on his huge cock. How fucking hot. Can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm catching feelings in the middle of all of this. "Fuck I'm cumming!" I yell as my body starts spasming, I feel his dick shoot his hot liquid into me after I was done. JJ pushed my hips up and down, helping us ride out our orgasms.

He started spooning me after I put my clothes back on and laid down. "JJ I don't wan-" Before I could finish he interrupted me. "Y/N, I can't handle it anymore. I need to be with you, especially now. Now that I've had a little taste of you, I don't think I could let you go and just continue being just your best friend." He was hovering over me now. "I was thinking the same thing." That made us both smile.

We popped up when we heard the side door slam open. "I'm assuming she followed the rules?" Pope giggled staring at JJ, making him giggle as well. They high fived as I rolled over to hide in JJ's chest.

[lunarbuck]

In Our Element (College!Stucky x f!reader)

pairing: college!stucky x f!reader (any race)

wc: 3.4k

summary: A camping trip with your friends leads to more than you bargained for

warnings: friends to lovers, oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, p in a), threesome, polyamory, MMF relationship

a/n: thank you @flordeamatista for hyping this fic up and for daydreaming with me <3 i hope you guys enjoy!!

my masterlist

You practically moan as you toss your backpack to the ground at the top of the bluff. Bucky laughs, following your lead. The camping trip was Steve’s idea, so of course, he didn’t have any trouble with the hike up the bluff or with the heavy backpack. He practically skipped the whole way here.

He gives you a bright smile as he unclips the tent from the bottom of his pack. “You two gonna help me or am I on my own here?” He asks, spreading out the tarp. Bucky rolls his eyes but helps out his friend.

In an effort to be somewhat helpful, you decide to start gathering wood for the fire. Even though your legs feel noodly and it’s way hotter than you thought it would be, you’re still happy to be here. The three of you will start your 4th and final year of college in just a few weeks; it feels surreal. 

You’ve known Steve and Bucky since freshman year and it’s crazy to think that at the end of this school year, the three of you won’t necessarily be in the same place anymore. Both the boys will probably get shipped out after graduation and you haven’t quite decided what’s next for you. 

It’s not very easy to force yourself to stop thinking about it, but when you haul back your arm full of firewood and see Bucky and Steve bickering about the tent, it all seems to fade away. You dump the wood and dig out a fire pit, trying to remember your firemaking skills from girl scouts.

It takes you a few tries and way more matches than Troupe Leader Nicols would have approved of, but eventually, you have a fire. The boys manage to get the tent up without killing each other, and this place is starting to come together. 

 “Look at you go, angel.” Bucky starts pulling the food out of his pack, laying it out so he can start cooking. Even though you’ve known him for three years, you haven’t quite gotten used to how tall Bucky is. Steve too, honestly. They’re both built like goddamned brick walls and even when Bucky is sitting beside you, he isn’t even eye level.

Now you won’t beat around the bush. Bucky is incredibly easy on the eyes. Especially with the firelight flickering in his deep blue eyes. His brown hair is swept up off his forehead in a carelessly sexy way that makes you want to scream, but you keep it contained. It’s never been like that between the two of you. He’s always kept his conquests out of your friendship, opting to give you bare-bone details about his casual hookups. 

It’s the same with Steve. You watch him as he walks toward the fire, a soft smile on his lips. He’s beautiful, you’ve thought so since the moment you laid eyes on him. He’s always watching out for you, making sure you’re doing okay, checking in. He makes butterflies burst in your heart every time he comes around.

“Thanks for doing this,” Steve says, sitting beside you. Bucky arranges the little tin foil packets on the hot stones, a pleasant smile on his face. “I’m happy the three of us could finally get out here. We’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while.” 

Your heart warms at his words. Steve and Bucky are your best friends, they’ve been there for you through all the ups and down college has thrown at you. You’re not sure you would’ve survived without them. Part of you feels guilty for developing feelings for them, for the fact that you want more when they’ve already given you everything.

“I’m glad you invited me,” you reply, nudging Steve with your shoulder. “This is perfect.” The glow from the fire softens his usual sharp, classically charming features, and you feel yourself melt at the sight of them. Behind him, the sun is setting, painting the sky with bright oranges and pinks, and everything feels so… right. 

Once the food is warmed up, Bucky passes everything out and you all dig in. Conversation flows easily between the three of you, reminiscing and laughing about the past, and before you know it, the stars are shining in the sky. 

“It’s so clear up here,” Bucky mumbles, tilting his chin to stare at the constellations. “Can never see this many stars in the city.” You follow his line of sight and find his eyes tracing the outline of Hercules. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many,” you whisper. “It’s beautiful.” Bucky turns, grinning down at you. Suddenly, it feels like there’s no air. The way he’s looking at you sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” Your lips part on a gasp, mind spinning.

“Bucky.” You can barely hear your voice when you speak. He just smirks and flicks his eyes behind you to where Steve is watching silently. You quickly turn to him, heat flooding your body.

“S’mores?” He asks, not appearing fazed by the moment between you and Bucky. You watch him arrange the s’mores materials and hand out sticks to roast marshmallows as if nothing happened.

“Steve, I–” He just smiles and shakes his head a little as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. You shake it off, taking the stick from Steve and roasting a marshmallow. You stare at the flames, feeling off-kilter from the heated moment with Bucky. You don’t want to hurt Steve, you care so much about him. You couldn’t ever pick between the two of them, your feelings equally strong for both men. You don’t want him to feel like you’ve chosen Bucky over him.

Before your marshmallow has a chance to light on fire, you pull it away from the flames and make your s’more. The chocolate melts in your mouth and you grin; s’mores could probably solve all your problems. 

You feel fingers turning your chin and suddenly you’re back face-to-face with Bucky. “You’ve got a little somethin’ here, angel,” he whispers. His thumb gently rubs against the corner of your mouth as he slowly leans toward you. When he’s just inches away, his lips tip up into his signature smirk, before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to your lips. He’s kissing you softly, but there’s so much passion in it. Bucky’s hand cups your face while his metal fingers rest on your waist, holding you steady. 

You lean into his kiss, head buzzing. You’ve wanted this for years, since the first time you met him, and now it’s happening. But you can’t forget that Steve is beside you, watching. Watching his best friend kiss you right in front of him. That’s what makes you pull away.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Bucky says, thumb tracing over your lips. 

“Language.” Steve’s scolding tone is also a teasing one, and you turn to find him watching you and Bucky with hooded eyes. He reaches out, placing a hand on your leg. His palm is warm against your skin but you still shiver at that contact.

“Stevie,” you whisper. He nods, shifting closer until he can lean his forehead against yours. 

“You’re beautiful, angel.” When he kisses you, he tastes sweet like the s’more and smells smokey from the fire. His hand rests on your hip opposite from where Bucky’s is, and the feeling of both of them touching you at the same time sends you spinning. Never, in any of the scenarios you’d thought up did they both want you, let alone at the same time. Sure, you’ve fantasized about it, dreamed about it, but you didn’t think it’d ever happen. 

Bucky’s hands find your shoulders, grazing your neck. You feel him lean down and press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw and you groan into Steve’s kiss. Heat builds between the three of you, a sense of urgency you’ve never felt before.

“You’re perfect,” Bucky says into your skin, sucking gentle marks in places that make you see stars. “Our perfect little angel.” Steve pulls away, placing a gentle kiss on your nose, and you look between the two men, stunned.

“I never thought…” your voice fades as you lose yourself in both of them. 

“Never thought what?” Steve prompts, trailing across your face.

“Never thought that you two would feel this way for me.” Bucky chuckles, still pouring his attention into your neck.

“We’ve never met a girl like you, angel,” Bucky tells you, and you truly believe it. “You’ve been ours since you met us, we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.” Your heart slams in your chest so hard you swear it’s going to burst right out.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks, holding your face in his big, warm hands. “Is this okay?” You nod quickly, earning you a laugh from both men.

“I feel like I’m floating,” you reply. Four hands move over your body, feeling every inch of you. Two sets of lips kiss you, taste you, and unravel you. Bucky adjusts you so you’re able to lean back against him and Steve moves with you, not letting you go for even a moment. Sandwiched between the two mountain-like men, you’ve never felt safer, never felt better.

When they pull away, both men help you stand. You have to crane your neck to keep eye contact, but it’s worth it to see them both smiling happily at you.

“Angel,” Bucky says, turning your head with two fingers. You love that nickname. You don’t remember where it came from, you used to roll your eyes at it, but you’ve always loved it. Especially when Bucky says it like that. “We can stop if you want to, we don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

“What if I want it all?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Then we’ll give it to you,” Steve answers. He guides you toward him, hooking his fingers in the hem of your shirt before tugging it off you. You shiver in the night air, but Bucky is quick to warm you up, his lips finding your shoulder. 

Steve works your shorts off next, helping you step out of them. In just your panties and bra, you should feel exposed, but you don’t. Steve and Bucky make you feel beautiful, they make you feel strong. Steve admires you for a moment, bright blue eyes trailing over your body appreciatively. Then, he turns you to face Bucky.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, angel,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you. His metal fingers are cold against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Behind you, Steve steps in close, tracing his fingers along your back. The shapes he draws are followed by his lips. It takes you a moment, but you realize he’s drawing the constellations on your back, kissing the stars into your skin. 

Both of the men kneel and Steve unclasps your bra. Bucky instantly wraps his lips around one of your nipples, taking your other breast into his hand. Steve watches from over your shoulder, breathing heavily as he takes in the sight of Bucky worshiping you. His hands trace down your torso, finding the waistband of your panties and dragging them down your legs. You gasp, one hand burying itself in Bucky’s hair, the other reaching back to hold onto Steve.

Steve’s fingers slide up your legs before his right hand reaches the crux of your thighs. His other hand anchors in Bucky’s hair, tugging it lightly. You’re desperate for him; for them, and you know he can feel it. His fingers slide against you, knocking your clit with each pass. “You’re so wet,” he tells you, sliding a finger inside of you. “So wet for us, angel.”

Bucky groans against your nipple before pulling away to watch Steve finger you. “Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, resing his forehead against your sternum. “I know, language.” Steve chuckles by your ear, adding a second finger. He picks up his pace, hitting a spot inside of you that makes your head go fuzzy. Your knees wobble, and Bucky holds them, not letting you fall.

“Why don’t we take this to the tent, Buck,” Steve suggests. The other man nods, and a second later, he scoops you into his arms. Steve helps the two of you settle the tent after putting out the fire, and once you’re laying down between the two of them, they’re back on you.

Bucky slides down between your legs, tongue running over your pussy like he’s starving, while Steve’s tongue laves your breasts. Bucky works you back to the point Steve had gotten you to, the band in your belly ready to snap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him to where you want him, and as he works tight circles over your clit, you come apart, shaking in his and Steve’s arms. 

“So perfect, angel, so perfect,” Bucky whispers against your clit. “Gimme another one, come on.” He slides two fingers inside of you, stretching you while he tastes you. You’re sensitive since you just came, but Bucky is quick to soothe any ache you feel. Steve sucks marks across your breasts and neck, ones that you’re so happy to wear, and you come again just thinking about it.

“Please, please,” you moan, gently guiding Bucky’s face away from your pussy. 

“Tell us what you want,” Steve tells you, kissing your cheek. You glance between him and Bucky, who is still resting between your thighs, and feel a renewed heat in your belly.

“I want both of you.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I want both of you at the same time.” Steve and Bucky exchange a glance, and for a moment, you worry you’ve suggested the wrong thing. “Or, or not, I’m sorry I didn’t mean–”

“Angel,” Bucky says, nipping at your inner thigh. “That was the perfect suggestion.”

“Really?” You look at Steve for confirmation, unable to wipe the grin from your face.

“Really,” he replies. “We’ve been wanting that since we both realized we had feelings for you. We talk about it all the time, what we’d do to you, what you’d sound like.” Your mind floods with downright pornographic images of those conversations until Steve and Bucky pull you back to the real world.

“If you’re gonna take us we’re gonna have to get you ready,” Bucky says, shifting onto his knees. He slides his hands over your legs, but his eyes are on Steve. “You just gonna stare, Stevie? Or are you gonna do something?” Steve does his best to maneuver over to Bucky, and when he’s between your legs too, he strips Bucky out of his shirt and works his pants down too. Bucky strips Steve next, and before you know it, they’re both naked. You can’t take your eyes off of them, off of their perfectly sculpted bodies.

Bucky tugs Steve into a bruising kiss, both men melting into each other. They fit perfectly together, feeding off one another in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful. When they pull apart, they’re both panting. They turn to you next, lust filling their eyes. 

Steve sinks lower and Bucky slides two fingers inside of you. Bucky moans as Steve takes his dick into his mouth. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch. You’ve never had voyeuristic tendencies before, but these men bring out a new side of you. 

Bucky smirks, one hand working you, the other hand cupping Steve’s head. He looks completely in his element. Bucky’s fingers scissor inside of you, stretching you out, but seeing how big he and Steve are, you aren’t sure any amount of preparation will be enough. 

When Bucky decides you’re ready, he moves, pulling Steve off of him. Steve’s face is flushed, but he grins as he positions himself between your legs. He lines himself up with your pussy and notches the head of his dick at your entrance. You press your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as he presses inside of you. He’s stretching you more than Bucky’s fingers, but it feels so incredible.

“Oh my god, angel,” he moans, wrapping his arms around you. ”You’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” Bucky lays down beside you, hand sliding down to where Steve is fucking you. He circles your clit slowly in contrast to the pace Steve is setting. 

“Doesn’t he feel good?” Bucky whispers into your ear, sliding his fingers lower, slipping one inside of you with Steve’s dick. You jolt at the feeling, but Steve kisses you sweetly, nipping at your lower lip. “His cock is perfect, isn’t it, angel? Hitting all the right spots, huh?”

“Shit, yes,” you moan, your head lolling back as Steve fucks you. “It feels so good.” Steve and Bucky seem to be communicating telepathically, because they keep moving in sync. Steve will shift, Bucky will move with him. They play your body like a fiddle, like they know you better than you know yourself. 

Eventually, they manage to get Steve below you with you on top, riding him. He’s even deeper this way, hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed. Bucky sits behind you, sliding his hands all over you, kissing you everywhere. 

“You ready for the next step?” Bucky asks, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. 

“Yes, yes, please,” you whimper. You’ve been on edge for a while, everytime you get close to coming Steve slows down, not letting you finish. Bucky rustles through a bag and you hear a click before you feel one of his fingers, slick and warm, pass over your ass. You shiver at the feeling but keep grinding against Steve. 

Bucky works his finger inside of you, and even just the feeling of his finger in your ass coupled with Steve’s dick makes the band in your belly snap. You come on a groan, leaning back against Bucky’s chest. Once you’re relaxed, he adds a second finger. You feel like you’re going to explode. Bucky keeps working you, keeps stretching you, all the while whispering in your ear.

“So perfect for us, angel, so good. You squeezin’ my fingers so tight, squeezing Stevie so good.” After he feels you’re ready, you feel him pull away. Next, his lubed cock presses against your ass and you stifle a groan. Bucky runs his hands over you soothingly before he presses inside of you.

Steve moans loudly from below you, gripping your hips tightly. “Oh my god, Bucky, she’s so much tighter now.” You whimper as they start to move in tandem, stretching you to your limit. 

“Come on, Stevie, show her how much you want her,” Bucky goads as he tweaks your nipples. Steve bucks below you, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, your head falls onto Bucky’s shoulder, and all you can do is take it. Bucky presses in deeper, fucking you at an agonizing pace. 

“God, angel, you feel so good. You’re perfect, so beautiful.” He whimpers the words, and you can tell he’s getting close. You run your hands along his chest, scraping him lightly with your nails, and he comes on a loud moan. Bucky keeps thrusting into you, making a sensitive Steve whine, but he comes soon after, filling you.

The three of you lay in an exhausted, sexed-out heap, breathing heavily. You’re blissed out between the two of them, loving how even though they’re about to pass out, they’re still caressing you; still holding you. 

“I should go get something to clean us up,” Steve says, moving to sit up, but you grab him and pull him back down, tugging him into your chest. 

“Not yet,” you whisper. Bucky joins your cuddle heap despite the heat coming off everyone’s bodies. “Just stay here with me.”

When setting up the tent, Bucky and Steve had opted to keep the rain fly off since it’s not supposed to rain, so you can see the stars through the mesh top of the tent. After a few moments of sated silence, you speak again. “Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real, angel,” Bucky replies, squeezing one of your hands. “Our feelings for you are real. This is real.”

“Your feelings for us are real, right?” Steve asks, lacing his fingers with your other hand.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s real,” Steve says. “We care about you so much, angel, and we want this to work out. Real.”

Eventually, you let Steve get you cleaned up. The three of you fall asleep in a tangled mess, but you couldn’t be happier. Tonight was perfect, this trip, these men, everything. Absolutely perfect.

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[cheeeeseburger]

Dress

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I literally can't stop writing about this man. Someone help me. English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes. Enjoy!

“Sidney, can you come help me out please?” You have been struggling to tie this dress for the last 15 minutes and you finally decided to call for assistance.

“What’s up? You look stunning, love.” He entered your bedroom with his hair still slightly damp, his suit jacket unbuttoned and his tie hanging around his neck. My my, what a sight to see. He looked positively attractive. You flushed immediately at the compliment and there were now butterflies floating around your stomach.

“Can you help me tie my dress, please? I can’t get it tight enough.” He smirked a little.

“Sure. But usually, when you call on me from the bedroom to “help you out”, it’s usually for something else.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Come on, lover boy, we’ll be late.”

Sidney made his way over to you and grabbed the complicated laces in the back. He started pulling. “How tight do you want this thing?”

“I want it extra tight. Like, I need my boobs spilling out and my waist cinched, tight.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I want that, love. But I know everyone’s going to be looking at you all night anyway, so I guess I’ll just have to hold you extra close.” For good measure, he squeezed your waist, just as a reminder.

“Thanks, Sid. Maybe you should put a baby in me sometimes. That ought to show them.” Your tone was light but you meant every word. His eye widened but you knew he was pleased.

“Sure. I’ll make sure to get you pregnant soon, that way you’ll have a full belly to show off at the next Christmas party.” It was your turn to look shocked. You had said it as a joke. Kinda. He had not. Sidney started pulling on the strings.

“I think it’ll be easier if I get a grip on something. Here, I’ll just grab the edge of my vanity.” Since he was holding the strings, Sidney followed you like a good boy over to the vanity. In the mirror, you saw him remove his suit jacket and you gave him a questioning look.

“This seems like serious business, and I can’t get a workout in with my jacket on.” He winked and you rolled your eyes.

Slowly, he started pulling the strings until they were no longer loose. You saw your cleavage starting to be more scandalous in the mirror and your waist cinching up.

That’s when the real show started. You started to gasp as he tied up your corset dress tighter and tighter.

“Do you want more, honey?” Breathless, your reflection nodded to him.

Years of tying up skates had turn Sidney into an expert at this. You were flushed, but it was not just because of the slight lack of oxygen.

No, in the mirror, you could see that Sidney was absolutely enjoying himself and that turned you on instantly. You were now bent over, holding the vanity for dear life while he just pulled and pulled, making you moan out loud.

“Just a little more, Sid.” He squeezed your waist and continued. “If you say so, my love.”

At this point, you were not just begging him to tie your corset tighter.

This was obscene, better than porn and straight out from your wildest fantasies. He was reining you, and you liked it. You were heated up all over, your eyes nearly rolling out to the back of your head. This was such an intimate moment, more indecent than any kind of PDA would ever be. The mirror, your need, the lust in the air, it was all too much. You needed him bad.

Sidney gave one final pull as he snapped the laces. “I think this pretty good.” He put his hand under your chin and forced you to stand tall again. Panting, you admired the way you looked. He tied the laces into a pretty bow, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. Sidney put his hands around your neck like a necklace, nearly choking you. He knew this was about to send you over the edge.

Slowly, his hands trailed up your body, giving special attention to your waist. He stopped them right where your cleavage was starting and he put his mouth on that little spot under your ear that he knew had quite the effect on you.

He whispered words of praise in your ear. “You look so pretty, my love. I’ll have to stay with you at all times, otherwise someone just might steal you away from me. We don’t want that, do we?” Maintaining eye contact was hard as your eyelids were fluttering. You shook your head.

“No, Sid. I’m all yours. All yours, always.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“That’s good, love. Now, we’re going to have to do something about you. Everyone will sense how turned on you are. Do you want me to take care of it right now, or would you rather let your need grow all night? Can you even wait that long?” His mouth left your neck, and you protested softly.

“I don’t know, Sid. We don’t have much time and I don’t want to ruin my hair and makeup. But I just want you so bad, you’ll have to take me multiple times.” Gosh, you hated how needy and desperate you sounded. But Sidney always knew what was good for you.

“I think what you need is me bending you over the kitchen table and fucking you until you don’t remember anything but my name. I saw the lust in your eyes when I tied up your corset. You liked that, didn’t you?”

“How could I not? You looked so hot and so in control. If we weren’t in a hurry, I’d ask you to do it all over again, just so I could watch you once more. I’d even ask you to set a camera, so I could watch the footage during those long stretches where you’re away and I’m lonely.” That seemed to do it for him.

Sidney grabbed your hair with one hand and put the other one on your waist. He pressed down his mouth to the nape of your neck and left a trail of hickeys and kisses all the way to your ear.

“I can’t let my best girl go out all night with this amount of desire, she’ll explode.” He picked you up like a doll and softly bend you over the edge of the bedframe. He was not playing around anymore.

You grabbed onto the sheets for support. “Oh God, Sidney, I need you so bad. But you’ll have to be quick, or we’re going to be late!” He gave your ass a small slap in response.

“Then they’ll wait. I’ll just say that my girl needed me to fuck her senseless. They’ll understand, I’m sure.” He lifted your dress, careful not to mess up his work from earlier.

He moved your underwear. You could hear him unzipping his pants and it sent another wave of heat to your core. He got inside of you, and you moaned instantly.

The bedframe was shaking from you holding on to it for dear life and Sidney ramming in you. He was right, after a few minutes, the only thing you could remember was his name. Sidney Sidney Sidney

He slapped your ass again and that was all it took for you to come undone. A short while later, it was his turn to praise your name to the ceiling. You could feel him spilling out of you all over your legs to the strap of your high heels. Thank God you were wearing a floor-length dress.

You laid lifeless, bend over the bed. Sidney picked you up like a mechanical doll and made you stand up. You were using him for support, your legs too weak to hold you. Affectionately, he put your dress back in place and kissed your cheek. He spun the pair of you so you would be facing the vanity mirror once again. What a sight to see.

He was covered in a light layer of sweat while you were covered in love marks. You had a nice blush, and your hair only had more volume. It was obvious you had been railed and were now satiated. Sidney looked so fucking proud. You wished you could take a picture of this moment and frame it.

Lovingly, Sidney kissed your collarbone. “Now, my love. Do you think you could help me do my tie?”

Here we go again.

[astrasng]

thinking about…

bf!junghoon texting you every morning with a poem, something unique and sweet to make you smile early in the morning.

bf!junghoon who always pats the top of your head while hugging you, pulling you even closer so he can feel you heartbeat against his.

bf!junghoon who often can't say the words he wants to because he's shy, so instead he writes them down on a little paper and hands them to you.

bf!junghoon who on a random day got you necklace with matching earrings, saying that you deserve presents every day.

bf!junghoon who will forever protect you from anything, standing infront of you proud and tall so you're not scared.

bf!junghoon is the type of boyfriend who will say, "I know you don't need my help, but let me." and will help you out even if you say you can do it alone.

bf!junghoon who hates to see you cry, so he does everything to make you smile, even if it means embarrassing himself so he can make you laugh. he would give up his pride just for you.

bf!junghoon who makes you feel like home. unconsciously, you feel like he's your home now, and wherever you go without him, it just doesn't feel familiar like him.

bf!junghoon whose smile gives you butterflies alone. always squishing his cheeks together in cute aggression, making him groan out from your lovey dovey acts. "Come on, babe. In front of the guys, seriously?" he would say, but then he gives you a quick kiss and doesn't care about the boys anymore.

bf!junghoon who takes you to different dates. is the type who does a date bucketlist which is in alphabetical order and nags you to on the next date on the calendar. "We need to go there, I know you would love it!"

bf!junghoon who bakes with you cakes for holidays, and then randomly mumbles out that, "Hey, so my mum wants you to come over for Chuseok. Is that okay with you?" making you immedietly hit him on the shoulders because Chuseok is in a day and you didn't prepare any gifts for them. He just laughs heartedly, hugging you tightly. "Don't worry about that, you're the gift they asked for all their lives for me."

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ : i'm so sorry for the delay, it's been a good few days since my last bf!xikers scenerio, no excuses. I was thinking a little bit more about writing a slight nsfw content for junghoon and as much as I miss him and want to write more for him, I don't think I would be able to. I hope everyone understands! ♡

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him. 

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it. 

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more. 

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.” 

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.” 

“You need some time to think about it?” 

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?” 

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad. 

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals. 

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.” 

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that. 

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”   

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard. 

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink. 

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?” 

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.” 

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.” 

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly. 

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better. 

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?” 

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.  

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?” 

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?” 

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later. 

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary. 

“Easier said than done, believe me.” 

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.” 

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”  

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying. 

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside. 

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.” 

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale. 

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?” 

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly. 

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high. 

“But none of them are you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit. 

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.” 

“Including you?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?” 

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?” 

“My gut.” 

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.” 

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road. 

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him. 

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak. 

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s. 

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw. 

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!” 

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for. 

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home. 

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.  

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old. 

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.   

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok. 

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night. 

You did good today, sticking to your guns. 

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early. 

You’ve got somewhere to be.  

As it turns out, Tex  was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots. 

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands. 

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much. 

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath. 

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need. 

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?” 

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats. 

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back. 

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.” 

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing. 

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides. 

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?” 

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself. 

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things. 

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?” 

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.” 

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.” 

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.” 

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand. 

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.” 

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”  

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit. 

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses. 

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.” 

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?” 

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.  

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.” 

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?” 

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.” 

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.” 

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.” 

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.” 

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar. 

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest. 

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea. 

“Want to split a funnel cake?” 

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin. 

“Yeah.” 

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you. 

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late. 

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.” 

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off. 

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way. 

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first. 

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside. 

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. “Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.” 

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?” 

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease. 

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?” 

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest. 

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.” 

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.” 

 He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.” 

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress. 

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore. 

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares. 

“Haunted house?” 

“No way.”

“Swings?” 

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?” 

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.” 

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.  

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds. 

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here. 

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all. 

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see. 

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”  

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.” 

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.” 

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.” 

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him. 

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.” 

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him. 

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes. 

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.” 

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away. 

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter. 

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side. 

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile. 

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half. 

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.  

“Sure it is, sweetheart.” 

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer. 

“Tex?” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” 

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours. 

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you. 

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it. 

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone. 

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust. 

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.” 

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date. 

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?” 

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy. 

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”    

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!” 

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” 

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter. 

“I’m ok.” 

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head. 

“Tex…” 

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.” 

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.” 

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead. 

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.” 

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?” 

“I guess…I can’t stop you.” 

“Would you want to though?” 

Therein lay the million dollar question. 

“Maybe not?” 

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.” 

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo. 

“Tex…” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month. 

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him. 

[fandomtherapy44]

Behind the roadhouse Dean x reader

Summary: Y/n has a bit of a crush on Dean but there's kind of a problem. He's a Winchester

paring: Dean x reader

WC:3,081

Warnings: Language, SMUT 18+

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Monsters- Vampires, werewolves,ghouls and those aren't even the scary parts of my life. Try to deal with creepy men while working at a bar. Not just any bar, a hunter's bar, my family's bar. My mom Ellen Harville is one of the most badass women you'll ever meet and one of the toughest people but a loving mom. My little half-sister Jo is the other most important person in my life. Well, she’s twenty four so not so little but she will always be to me. My Mom had me with a random hookup she had when she was younger, told him and he took off so when I met Bill I was hesitant but then he became the best father that I ever got and I got a little sister out of the deal too. But then he died in a hunter accident so my mom forbade Jo and I not to hunt but then two sons walked into the bar and a particular Winchester got me not just enthralled with helping people from monsters but in him.

I was wiping down the bar when two tall handsome strangers walked in. “Hey there, welcome to the roadhouse. What can I do for you to get information, a drink, or both?” I finished with a smile mainly focusing on the blonde one. What can I say? I'm a sucker for green eyes. He gives me a flashing smile. “Hey there…” “Y/n” “Y/n, we’re looking for Ellen Harville do you know her?” “I better she’s my mom I’ll be right back.” They both look at each other in confusion. I walk back to the little kitchen. “Hey Mom, two guys are here looking for you.” She gets up and follows me back to them. “Hey there fellows I heard you're looking for me.”

“Uh yeah we’re John Winchester's sons and we got your call.” And the rest flew by so quickly. Ash helped Sam to look up information on the case and while that happened Dean and I had a talk. I poured him a drink and slid it to him. “What’s this for?” I shrugged while sipping a coke. “For your Dad, I'm sorry for your loss.” He took it and shot it back like it was water. “Thanks, you sound like you know the pain.” “My dad passed when I was thirteen so I know how it feels.” My heart panged with pain a little like it did every time I thought of my Dad. “Oh well, I'm sorry for you too, cheers to our dad’s.” We raise our glasses and I'm left with a thought that Dean Winchester doesn't seem like a bad guy.

After that, Sam and Dean would visit us whenever they could and when they needed info. Dean’s and I’s relationship just grew and grew with every late-night talk, pool game, and drink. And it was scaring the shit out of me. I was closing up the bar and Dean and I were having another one of our talks. “Burger or hotdog?” he asks me. “Uh hotdog, is there any other choice.” I playfully responded. “What do you mean hotdog crazy lady?” “So I'm assuming your burger.” I leaned down to his level and he gave me his signature smirk. “Of course.”

With that, he swiped his tongue over his lips while he was staring at me. We both had the same idea we leaned in and to be this close was intoxicating, his breath hot and our noses were touching but my mom did not like our idea. “Dean we are closing for the day.” my mom said from the doorway and we quickly pulled away. “Uh right sorry I'll see you guys later.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me one more look before he walked out. “Mom! What the hell!” “You can not be with that Man!” “Why?” She looked down thinking about something but decided against it. “Just please be careful with those boys.” She turned away before I could ask any more questions.

Dean and Sam had not been back since night. I mean they're busy but it felt personal to me. I tried to forget those butterflies that I got every time I got around Dean but for some reason I couldn't. Every guy that I had been with wasn’t really serious and I was fine with that but then I met Dean and in my locked trunk of hopes in my heart that maybe he was different. And he was. 

It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the table for Jo. She sneakily walks in going to the fridge. I flip on the light. “Late-night snacks sis?” She jumped at me. “Jezze Y/n I thought you were Mom.” I get up and go to the fridge to get a beer. Yes, I did need it to deal with my little sister’s attitude. “No, I'm worse. Mom would go easy on you compared to me.” “Y/n please let me go, I can do this!” I sign and sit down. “Sit down Jo.” she does. “Jo look, the reason I'm like this is because I couldn't bear if anything happened to you like… Dad and mom would agree.”

She looks down at her fiddling hands. “N/n I'm doing this because of Dad you got more time with him all I remember are the short times he came back from hunting. If I can do this I won't feel like I barely know him.” She was right. I couldn't take that away from her if this was her way of feeling closer to our Father then I would have to let her, even if that meant hunting. I sigh deeply, standing up and taking out my knife and handed it to her. “What is this?” “It was Dad’s” She looked up at me like I had given her gold.

“But he gave this to you.” “He did but it was his hunting knife and it's just been sitting in my pocket not doing much hunting so it seems right that you take it.” She jumps up and hugs me tight. “Thank you, thank you.” I pull back to look at her. “You can thank me by sending me the case and the location and call me everyday to make sure you're safe.” She nods her head. “Okay, that’s fair.” We let go. “Okay get out of here before Mom gets up.” She smiles excitedly grabs her bag and practically skips out the door.

She had Ash set up a paper trail of casinos down the state line so Mom wouldn't really know where she was. Mom did not like it but had accepted it. It was about two days in and she finally called me. “Hey, I thought we said every day.” “Sorry, I got distracted.” “By what?” I asked a little confused. “Sam and Dean.” “They're there!” “Yeah I guess we picked up on the same story.” “So you have help good good.” All that was running through my head was Dean. “N/n you okay?” She asked, hearing my pause. “Yes, I am, well call to update me. Love you.” “Love you too sis.” She hung up and I just sat there for a second and the next one I decided what I was going to do.

I walk to the apartment door and knock on it. The door opened and there was Dean. My heart quickens but I play it off cool. “Hey, Dean.” “Hey, Y/n.” He steps aside and I come in. “Y/n what are you doing here?” Jo questioned. “Uh, I wanted to get in and gank this ghost.” “Why didn’t you just come with me in the first place.” That’s a good question and now for a good lie. “I was scared but I fought off the nerves.” That was a shit lie. “Okay well I'll catch you up.” I walk over to the map but not before looking at Dean and he looked back.

We had determined that the ghost was H.H Holmes I know it does sound insane and it is. I was mostly worried about Jo seeing she was exactly Holmes type. We were going to split off in pairs to search but not before I talked to Dean. “Hey” I stepped up to him.”Hey, you ready.” “as I'll ever be.” “Good well I'll be one phone call away.” “I know and if anything happens to Jo-” He put his arm on my shoulder. “It won't.” His eyes are so trusting. “And Dean.” “Mhh.” “You be careful too.” “I will.”

Sam and I were checking upstairs while Jo and Dean went downstairs. “So… did you really want to come.” He asked casually looking around. “Of course, I did for my sister.” He stopped to look at me. “Really that’s what you're going with I mean why not go in the first place and you're scared Y/n I've seen you punch a man square in the face for trying to take your tip.” To be honest I didn't even know myself. “I-” We were rounding the corner and straight into Dean. “Dean Dean!” He kept on walking. “Where’s Jo!” He stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face me. “She was taken.” He keeps on going and I'm frozen.

We were back in the apartment and I kept walking back and forth. We are looking in the blueprints to see where she could be hidden while Dean’s phone rings. It was my Mom. Fear got stricken through my body how would my Mom even look at me? How would I?” “She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business.” Dean responded back and I thought my lie from before was shit. “Look, we'll get her back.” My heart was thumping.

“The spirit we're hunting, it took her.” I could hear from where I was how worried she was. “She'll be okay, I promise.” “You promise. That is not the first time I've heard that from a Winchester.” What the fuck does that mean. Dean had the same response. he lowers the phone and hands it to me. “She wants to talk to you.” I shakily take it. “Mom I-” “Dont even how could you let her!” The tears started to fall from my eyes and my face turned red from burning anxiety. “I'm sorry I just wanted her to feel closer to Dad.” “Well, she may be closer than you wanted now!” “You're her big sister!... Im so disapiontted in you.” She hangs up the phone with nothing else. I drop the phone on the bed. “I'll be right back.” I sobily say and run out.

I go out to the alleyway and kick the trashcan out of anger. “AHHH! Fuck!” I punched the wall and in my anger, and I had forgotten it was made out of brick. My knuckles started trickling blood and I slumped down the wall just feeling defeated. A pair of boots showed up in front of me. “Hey” I looked up and it was Dean. “Hey,” I respond softly my voice feeling raw. He sat down next to me. “We're going to find her N/n” I wipe my eyes.

“I shouldn't have let her go she was so desperate to feel something to our dad that I let her go… I'm so stupid.” I put my head in my crossed arms against my knees. “You are not stupid, you're a good sister.”  I dryly chuckle at myself. “I'm a sister who let her only sibling go hunting when I knew the danger.”  He sighs. “When I was sixteen and Sam was twelve we were hunting and I let him go look on by himself a ghost almost killed him.” I turn my head at him.

“Uh, no offense Dean but pep talk sucked.” “I not done the reason he didn't die is because he remembered what I had taught him and he had his tools not just weapons but knowledge and he was ready so is Jo she fine she has an amazing sister looking for her.” I wipe my tears and throw myself in his arms and he catches me. He pets my head in comfort I whisper. “Thank you.” We split apart really close. He leans forward pur noses touching. Then Sam comes running towards. “UH guys I think I know where she is.”

She and the other missing girl had been in a storm drain. When had trapped H.H. ghost and Jo and I got topside. She threw her arms around me. “Are you ok!?” I put my hands on her face. “No no I'm fine just some scratches.” She took out Dad's pocketknife. “This protected me. So thank you.” “Anytime sis.” The boys get out of the drain. Sam and Jo go off to talk and that leaves Dean and I alone. “So….” He starts. I Bear hug him. “Thank you for helping save my sister.” “Of course.” This time I'm going do it. I grab his face and he accepts it, “Ah am.” I look behind him and it's my mom I'm so tried of people fucking cock blocking me.

The ride home let's just say that Christmas with a stepmom twenty years old is more comfortable. We get to the roadhouse and Mom practically drags us in. “Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry. But Jo and Y/n did good out there, I think their dad would be proud.” Dean tried to reason. “Don't you dare say that. Not you. I need a moment with my daughters. Alone.” The boys leave. “You're angry. I understand.” Jo started.

“Angry? Angry doesn't begin to touch it.” I mean I know why she’s angry with me but Sam and Dean? “Is this about me hunting, or something else?” I tried “Mom they were right there, backing us up the whole time.” “Like father, like sons.” “Mom what the fuck is that suppose to mean.” “I’m sorry I shouldn't have said anything.” Both Jo and I look at each other. “Mom what are you not telling us.” 

I went on a little walk after I learned what happened I guess Jo talked to them about it but my emotions were all over the place. Jo and I had a talk which ended in crying and a hug. I didn't know how to feel especially now with Dean.

I was taking the trash out behind the roadhouse when I turned it was Dean. “Ahh Fuck! Dean, I almost threw this trash bag full of dirty napkins at you.” “Yeah shaking in my boots.” We just had a silent silence. “Look I just wanted to say sorry.” I was puzzled. “Why are you sorry?” “Because of my dad.” “Dean that wasn't your… fault.” He steps closer. “I know, but my dad's not here and I am so I'm sorry that Will is not here because of him.” I drop the trash and I kiss him. I didn't care at that moment that my clothes were covered in grease stains and a mix between blood and beer I had to. His lips were a little chapped but still were soft as a cloud. Our lips separated slowly. “I'm sorry I just..” His hands were on my hips now. “Had to.” He finished. 

18+ SMUT……

“I have about thirty minutes before my mom comes looking for me so do you wanna do this ?” He grabbed me and backed me to the wall. “Oh, I wanna do this I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you.” “Dean you-” I didn't get to finish my sentence before he kissed me again. And yes it was heaven. His tongue starts to prod my lips and I let him in. “Mhh Dean.” “You like that.” “Yes,” I said practically moaning. “How about this.” he goes down my neck slowly sucking on my sweet spots. “You are too good at that Dean.”

“Yeah, hopefully I'm good at this too.” He unbuttons my shirt slowly and kisses down my stomach. To my pants. “This okay.” He was on his knees his hands on my pants band. “Yes.” He pulled down my pants. Grabbed my panties with my teeth to easily pull down. He starts to kiss my inside thigh. “Oh my gosh.” I throw my hand to the wall to steady myself. He kitten licks my slit. “Ahh” He then puts his tongue in me. “Ohh Fuck Dean!” He goes fully in and eats me out like a madman. I am so close. I grab onto his shoulder and grip it tightly. “Just let go honey.” I did and he lapped it up.

“Oh my gosh did you go to school for that.” I breathily let out. “Yeah, I majored in it.” I chuckle and my hand goes to his pants. “Do you want me to return the favor?” He takes my hand. “I would love that but we have about ten minutes left and I want to show you why I graduated at the top of my class.” I nod and he unbuckles his pants and drops them. I look down and his shaft is standing proud. He pulled down his underwear and it was bigger than I expected. “You ready sweetness.”

“Always.” He gently grabs my head kisses me again and starts grinding against me. He then slips in. “Ahh Dean!” “Tell me when I can move,” It feels a little burning but then it turns into pleasure. “Dean you can move.” He goes in and out moving slowly. “Y/n you feel so good.” He grabs onto my hips to pull me up onto around his hips. He thrusts in and out faster and faster. He breaths into my neck and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I'm almost there are you Y/n” “Yes!” “Let's do it together!” He moves down to rub my clit. “Ahh fuck!” “Ok, one two three!” And we did. He pulled out his cock dripping with our fluids together. I then realized the time. “Dean I loved that but you have to go.” he grabs me one more time to leave a sweet kiss. “I'll call you.” “You better Dean Winchester.” He gathers himself and leaves. I didn't know where that left us but at least we would always have behind the roadhouse.

[training4theapocalypse]

Sweet (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, mutual pining, confessions, GOOEY ROMANCE, Christmas 🎄

Summary: You try to ignore your feelings for your best friend, Cormac McLaggen. Reader and Cormac are both 18+.

A/N: A Christmas fic! The Sabrina Carpenter-fication of Gryffindor Common Room. I know everyone hates Cormac but my full-time job is actually fixing him (lets not look into what that says about me okay thanks). I wrote this for @cinderellasmissingshoes but it's been so long she's deactivated (RIP girl). Also, it turns out, anything can be a one-shot if you just post it all at once!!!! And nobody can stop you!!!!!

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The Gryffindor Common Room is a riot of gold and red, as laughter and music fill the room. Even though Quidditch has never been your thing, a team win is always a good excuse to get swept up in the celebration. You’re dressed the part, of course, with a red bow in your hair and wearing a borrowed, oversized Gryffindor training jumper that by a happy coincidence makes the gloss on your lips pop.

The victory has everyone riding high, but as much as you’re enjoying the party, you can't help feeling a little tug of concern for one person. You’re at Katie Bell’s side, amongst the throng of her teammates happily celebrating as the rest of the party-goers chant Ron Weasley’s name but your eyes search the crowd for a certain someone. You excuse yourself - Katie will be fine without you for a few minutes. 

Cormac McLaggen hasn’t been at all himself lately. And while Katie is adamant that she considers this to be an improvement, his newfound reservation is just plain weird. Katie told you to stop worrying about Cormac, that he was probably just sulking over not being chosen as Keeper for the Quidditch team this year and that he should just lighten up. And you’d probably agree if the change hadn’t been so drastic - usually so confident, even arrogant at times, he’s been acting almost shy lately.

Cormac’s tall, broad figure and golden halo of curly hair are easy to spot from the other side of the room. He’s half-heartedly chatting with Dean Thomas, who, like Cormac, is still nursing the sting of not making the team. 

“Cheer up, boys!” you call. Dean still looks sullen but Cormac's entire demeanour shifts when he grins at you skillfully weaving through the crowd towards them without spilling the two butterbeers in your hands. “Anyone would think we’d lost to Slytherin if they saw your faces,” you joke, slipping into the tight space next to him. 

"Well, we wouldn't have let so many in if I'd -" starts Cormac.

"If you'd have been chosen as Keeper," you finish. His many complaints about Harry Potter's chosen team are easy to memorise and rhyme off back to him. "I know. I know. But we won, right?"

“Since when did you refer to the team as ‘we’?” teases Cormac, accepting the bottle you thrust into his hands. “Big Quidditch fan now are you?”

You smooth down the jumper you’re wearing, so oversized that the hem of it sits just above your skirt. “Well, if I’d known I’d look this cute in the team merch, I might have taken an interest sooner.”

“I don’t care how cute you look, I want it back.” 

He flashes a smile and you can’t ignore the flurry of butterflies you feel. 

“Oh, come on. We both know it looks better on me,” you shoot back, enjoying the fun of prying a compliment from him. 

Cormac presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering you, before finally concluding, “Debatable.”

You both laugh and you feel a warm sense of satisfaction that your attempt to take his mind off his exclusion from the team is working.

“Oldest trick in the book, mate. Don’t fall for it,” Dean interjects with a knowing smile, snapping Cormac’s attention away from you. You almost forgot Dean was there. 

“What’s the oldest trick in the book?” asks Cormac.

“Everyone knows if you give your girlfriend your clothes, they’re hers for good. You’re never getting them back.”

You and Cormac look at each other awkwardly. The flirtatious banter suddenly feels much more complicated by Dean’s assumption. 

Because Cormac is not your boyfriend. 

In fact, in the run-up to Yule Ball several years ago, he made it crystal clear that he wasn’t into you like that. 

Cormac opens his mouth to reply but you spare him the necessity of correcting Dean and hurting your feelings. 

“Oh, we’re not going out,” you blurt before he can. “I was cold when we were watching the game and Cormac was just being nice.” Dean’s sceptical eyebrow rises, flicking between you and Cormac. Attributing the sudden flush in your cheeks to the heat of the room, rather than embarrassment, you say, “Actually, I don’t need this anymore now that we’re inside - here hold this.” You hand Cormac your butterbeer and start pulling off the jumper.

“No, look, you don’t have to -” Cormac starts, but you’re already tugging the woollen fabric off over your head. The scent of him - clean, with just a hint of his woody aftershave - floods your senses, making your heart twist painfully in your chest at its sudden absence. 

You toss your hair back and hastily fix yourself.

“Here -” you say, taking the butterbeer back and replacing it with his jumper. 

“Thanks,” Cormac mutters, but there’s a hint of annoyance as he does. He takes the jumper before throwing a look at Dean.

“Katie’s probably looking for me,” you announce, needing to put some distance between you and this now-too-complicated situation. You turn on your heel, attempting to slip back into the midst of things with your usual grace, but there’s a slight stumble in your step - barely noticeable, but enough to rattle you.

As you make your way over to Katie, you’re distracted by a sudden onslaught of whooping and cheering. Through a gap in the crowd, you see Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown unreservedly snogging.

That’s odd, you think. You could have sworn he was going out with - 

The portrait hole opens and you spot a flash of bushy brown hair exiting the Common Room. 

A hand grabs your arm. “Sweet!” The familiar nickname that you’ve never quite been able to shake off - not that you mind it - there are certainly worse things to be called. “There you are!” says Katie, her eyes sparkling with post-victory excitement.

“Did you just see -?”

Katie rolls her eyes. “The giant squid impression in the middle of the room? Yup.”

“Do you think we should see if Hermione is alright?” you ask, looking back over to the portrait hole.

“Harry’s already on it,” Katie says, nodding toward the door where Harry disappears after Hermione. “C’mon, I need another butterbeer.”

As you follow her, it’s not long before Katie brings up her favourite subject of late - Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party in a few weeks. Neither of you made Slughorn’s elite list of attendees so the only way you’ll get invited is if someone asks you. As much as you’d love the opportunity to get dressed to the nines, you could do without the drama. If the Yule Ball taught you anything, school dances inevitably lead to heartbreak. 

“I don’t even want to go, anyway,” you insist. “See - this is a party. Slughorn’s will be so dry. I mean, there’ll be more teachers and Ministry bigwigs than students.”

“You know, if Cormac weren’t going, I’d suggest throwing our own party on the same night. But we couldn’t do that to him...” A mischievous smile dawns on her face. “Or could we?” 

You hesitate but Katie presses on.

“I bet he’d forget all about Slughorn if you told him we were having a party.”

“You really think Cormac would miss a chance to cosy up to old Sluggy?”

When the two of you make it to the drinks table, she leans in conspiratorially close, lowering her voice just enough to be heard over the noise. “What I mean is, maybe he’d ditch Slughorn’s Party if you asked him to.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” you dismiss the idea quickly, not quite meeting her eyes. “If Cormac was interested in going to a party with me, he’d have asked me to Slughorn’s. I shouldn’t have to plan my own just to - ”

To what? 

Go out with him?

You cut yourself off, but Katie’s sharp eyes catch yours. The noise of the party swells around you, enough to disguise her prying.

“What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

The question catches you off guard. Truthfully, nothing is going on between you and Cormac McLaggen. 

Well, not nothing on your part.

Even if you disregarded the way your eyes sought out Cormac’s reaction whenever you styled your hair differently, or how you sometimes overanalysed his extra-tight friendly hugs that lingered a bit too long, there was no denying you were - at the very least - best friends.

And that was the problem. You were friends. Nothing more. No matter how much you wanted it to be otherwise.

In the run-up to the Yule Ball two years ago, you overheard Cormac firmly assuring Oliver Wood that he did not find you attractive. Like, at all. 

You remember you were waiting on Katie finishing Quidditch practice in the courtyard, sitting behind the fountain in your usual meeting spot when you heard Oliver and Cormac at the other side of the fountain talking about the Gryffindor Team. You didn’t even lift your head from doodling on some parchment - the last thing you wanted to do was be dragged into a conversation about Quidditch.

Then the conversation drifted, from tactics to Quidditch team succession planning when Oliver left Hogwarts the following year and then, your ears pricked up when they started talking about the Yule Ball.

“I can put in a good word with Angelina about making you Keeper next year if you do me a solid,” Oliver said before lowering his voice. “Think you could ask if your mate is interested in going to the Yule Ball with me?” Oliver had asked. Your peacock feather quill paused as you sat up straight and held your breath.

There was a pause. 

“Yeah, I’m sure Katie would be up for that,” Cormac said eventually, his voice steady in reply.

“Not Katie. Team dynamics would get messy,” he said seriously. “The other one. Sweetie or something.”

The other one. Cormac had two best friends. 

That could only mean you.

“Oh,” Another pause, shorter this time, like Cormac was searching for the right words. “Are you sure you want to go with Sweet?”

The way Cormac said your nickname so incredulously made your stomach drop. 

“I’m not stepping on your toes, am I?” laughed Oliver.

You leaned forward discreetly, peering around the side of the fountain to see Cormac shifting uncomfortably as he deliberated on his next words.

“No, nothing like that. She’s… alright, I guess. Decent looking. But, not really my type. She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.”

You remember feeling a sting of embarrassment, sharp enough to make your eyes water as Cormac listed off all your supposed shortcomings. But you blinked it away, hurriedly gathering your things and forgetting your plans to meet Katie before they could notice you had been there the whole time.

At the time it hurt so badly. Because back then you had such a thing for him. How couldn’t you? Cormac McLaggen was the quintessential golden boy - tall, handsome, athletic - exactly your type on paper. Even if you weren’t his, apparently. And not only did he not want to date you, but he actually found the idea so repulsive that he was trying to put Oliver off you too.

In the end, Cormac’s disapproval didn’t deter Oliver. Even though Cormac reneged on his promise and never mentioned that Oliver was interested in you, Oliver still asked you to the Yule Ball without Cormac’s intervention. And you said yes, relieved that at least Cormac’s poor recommendation hadn’t dissuaded him. In fact, you got on so well at the Yule Ball, that you dated for a few months. Until he dumped you when he left school. But, you supposed, that was boys for you.

And it affected you. Between Cormac McLaggen’s lukewarm feelings towards you and Oliver Wood dumping you, you swore off the idea of dating anyone. 

It was easy to forget about Oliver when he left school. You gradually became friendly with Cormac again - you might even call him your best friend, aside from Katie, of course.

But you always kept your guard up around boys, never quite forgetting the sting of either incident.

“So, you wouldn’t go to Slughorn’s Christmas Party if he asked you?” Katie probes, bringing you back to the present.

Even though you trust Katie more than anyone, you’ve never told her about your feelings for Cormac or the utterly humiliating reason that you’ve never pursued them.

He’s just not into you. 

“We’re friends. That’s all. And that’s the end of this conversation.”

Katie sighs. “Okay, okay, I get it.” She spins around to the empty drinks table. “How have we gone through six crates of butterbeer already?” She groans. “Do you wanna come to the kitchens and get more?”

“I’ll go, you stay here,” you say and she immediately begins protesting but you ignore her. “Listen, this is a party for your team. You should stay.”

She hesitates before spotting Cormac across the room.

“Why don’t you go to the kitchens with -”

“If you mention Cormac one more time, I’ll lose my mind,” you warn her. “I can handle a trip to the kitchens alone. I won’t be long.”

Katie laughs, holding her hands up in mock surrender. 

“Okay, Sweet. I don’t know what’s got you so sour.”

You roll your eyes and ignore her comment. As you walk towards the portrait hole, you glance at Cormac and realise he’s already looking at you. You pretend not to notice like you’re scanning the room for someone else, before disappearing through the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, as you walk back up towards Gryffindor tower, a few crates of butterbeer (that the house elves were extremely eager to bestow upon you) clink behind as they follow you, levitating in the air.

The cool, empty castle offers little comfort. You left the Common Room to clear your head, but all you’ve found since you left the kitchens are your own thoughts, swirling endlessly as you walk.

If Cormac wanted to ask you to Slughorn’s party, he would have done it by now. You’re not getting your hopes up again. And besides, why would he need to wait for a party to ask you out? If his feelings for you had changed since the Yule Ball, he could have told you at any point. 

She’s kind of annoying, y’know? Pretty full of herself. A bit of an airhead, actually.

Harsh criticism. Not entirely untrue. It’s not like you’re clever. And sure, you take pride in your appearance, but until you heard him say that, you didn’t think it bothered anyone. Especially not him. If you had to criticise Cormac, you’d probably say he was full of himself too. And as far as intelligence goes, it’s not like he’s the quickest broom in the shed either.

As you turn it over, replaying scenarios in your head that you haven’t revisited in a long time  - most notably, ones where Cormac didn’t talk badly about you behind your back - you walk straight into someone hunched over their knees at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

“Oh, sorry! Wait - Hermione?” you ask. The bushy-haired sixth-year looks up and hastily wipes her eyes. “Are you okay? Where’s Harry?”

Hermione swallows hard and nods, though her red-rimmed eyes betray her. “I told him to go back to the party. There’s no reason for both of us to miss it. I’m fine. Really. It’s silly.”

“You don’t look fine,” you say gently, sitting down beside her on the cold stone steps. After a pause, you add, “I saw Ron and Lavender.”

Hermione’s breath hitches, and she quickly looks away, blinking back tears. “I—I feel so ridiculous. I already asked him to Slughorn’s party, and now he’s… I should have known.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re not the ridiculous one here. Honestly, I think these stupid formal events should be banned.”

Hermione lets out a half-laugh, half-sob - a wet, spluttering sound - but you catch the faintest glimmer of a smile, and you feel a small surge of relief. At least you’ve distracted her for a moment.

“I’m serious,” you insist, leaning back against the wall. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Hermione sniffles, wiping at her eyes again. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make me feel any less foolish.”

“It’s not foolish,” you say firmly, the butterbeer crates you were levitating now drifting to the ground beside you. “And to tell you the truth, I know exactly how it feels to have your heart broken at one of these things.”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide with surprise. “You do?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to your own past. “Yep. And besides, Hermione, you’ve handled worse than this. You stared down Umbridge, for Merlin’s sake. This? This is nothing compared to her.”

Hermione lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel like nothing,” she says quietly. “In fact, it feels… it feels worse.”

“I know,” you admit softly. “And I know it probably feels like you’ll never get over it. Like it’ll never stop hurting. But trust me - if I can get through it, you can too.”

She looks at you earnestly, her brow furrowing. “How?” she asks, her voice small but full of curiosity. “How did you get over it?”

The answer isn’t easy, and the truth is harder still. Convincing others - and yourself - that you’re perfectly fine, even when you’re not, is something you unfortunately have experience with.

You push yourself to your feet, brushing off your skirt and forcing a small smile. “By acting completely unbothered,” you say, trying to sound casual, even though the irony stings. After all, here you are, still trying to bury your feelings for Cormac McLaggen.

“We’re gonna go back to the Common Room and make it look like you don’t have a care in the world,” you say as you extend a hand to help her to her feet which she accepts. “And tomorrow we’ll find someone else for you to go to Slughorn’s party with. Someone better than Ron Weasley.”

“Who?”

Perhaps this is your chance to help Hermione and bury your feelings for Cormac in one fell swoop. Maybe, just maybe, if she went to Slughorn’s party with him, it’d help you finally put Cormac - and the lingering ‘what could have been’ - behind you too. 

If he was going out with someone else, you could draw a line under all this and move on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following Monday, Hogwarts students arrive in the Great Hall to find a winter wonderland. A whirlwind of snowflakes dances over the enchanted ceiling past icicle-adorned rafters. Enormous Christmas trees - decked in baubles the size of bludgers - flank the room. The usual breakfast smells of toast, bacon, and pumpkin juice mix with the scent of pine and cinnamon, giving everything a festive buzz.

But Cormac barely notices any of it.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Cormac stabs the fried egg on his plate, watching it ooze onto the rest of his breakfast like it might help him decide how to do what he was about to do next. Oliver Wood used to joke that Cormac had the appetite of a Graphorn, but lately, he hasn’t been feeling hungry. His mind is completely elsewhere.

He’s going to ask you. To Slughorn’s Party. Today.

You and Cormac have History of Magic classes together on Monday afternoons, just the two of you away from the rest of your friends. A rare moment alone. You’re always surrounded by people - constantly laughing, flipping your hair in a way that makes his insides flip, and you seem completely oblivious to how nervous he’s become around you lately.

“Can you stop murdering that egg?” asks Katie, jolting him out of his daze and glancing at his half-destroyed breakfast. “It’s making me queasy. That’s the last thing I need before we feed raw meat to Thestrals.”

“Sorry,” mutters Cormac, setting his fork down, though the uneasy knot in his stomach isn’t going anywhere.

Katie studies him for a second. “What’s up with you? You’ve usually asked me if Ron’s playing worse than you at least three times before the bell rings.” She’s grinning, but Cormac just shrugs.

“It’s not that,” he mumbles.

Katie raises an eyebrow. “Then what?”

Before he can answer, you appear, slipping onto the bench beside him with Hermione Granger in tow. You’re wearing a bright red and gold bow with your hair in that half-up, half-down style that he knows takes you forever to do. It’s probably why you’re late - as usual.

“Morning!” you chirp, grabbing a piece of toast off his plate without asking, your fingers brushing his for a second. The contact sends a jolt through him, but you’re completely unaware. “What’s with you two?” you ask, noticing the odd expressions on their faces. “You look like you’ve seen a Dementor.”

“Not Dementors,” blurts Cormac, the excuse coming easily, thanks to Katie’s reminder. “Thestrals.”

“Ugh,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Rather you than me. Are you doing the N.E.W.T. in Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione?”

Hermione shakes her head. “I’d have loved to but I had too many other subjects this year.”

“Yeah, right. You’re only saying that because you’re friends with Hagrid.” Hermione smiles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t be too bad if we got to learn about nice creatures -” you start but Katie cuts you off.

“Well, life isn’t all Puffskeins and Unicorns,” she says, pointing forked sausage at you. “The creatures we’re dealing with are much more interesting.”

“That’s just another way of saying ‘ugly’,” you laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder. In the process, the bow at the crown of your head slips off and drops to the floor. You don’t even notice.

Cormac does.

“And it’s dangerous too,” you continue. “Remember when your poor arm was burned by those Blast-Ended Skrewts, Cormac?”

“Sweet, you dropped this,” he says, quickly leaning down to retrieve the bow before anyone else can.

You reach up, feeling the spot where the bow was. “Oh, thanks.”

“Let me,” Cormac offers, his heart pounding as he tries not to mess this up. He leans in close, and the noise of the Great Hall fades into white noise. It’s just the two of you, and all he can think about is how soft your hair feels between his fingers.

“It’s kind of tricky,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“I’ve got it.”

“You sure?” you ask, looking up at him in a way that makes his stomach lurch again.

“Easy,” he says, more confidently now as he finishes clipping it into place. “Like putting an angel on top of a Christmas Tree.”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart race all over again. He quickly turns back to the table, trying to pretend that wasn’t at all nerve-wracking. But Katie’s already watching, her shrewd look making it clear she hasn’t missed a thing.

“So,” Cormac says quickly, desperate to change the subject, “What’s everyone doing for the holidays? Assuming no one’s mad enough to stay here?”

“Nope,” says Hermione brightly. “I’m going home to visit my parents.”

“Yeah, same here,” says Katie. “If you ask me it can’t come soon enough.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t wait to go home. My Uncle’s been invited to Minister’s house for Christmas lunch and -”

“You’re going so you can suck up to Rufus Scrimgeor?” asks Katie.

“Well, it has its perks. But mostly it’s because I haven’t seen my Uncle in ages. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” says Cormac. And, he thinks, maybe his Uncle won’t tease him for being single again this year if he can convince you to go to Slughorn’s party with him.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We’ve got more pressing things going on before Christmas, Cormac,” you say. “Or have you forgotten about Slughorn’s party?”

The fork he’s holding clatters onto his plate. “I… er, no, I haven’t forgotten,” he stammers, his face burning as he tries to sound casual.

“So… have you asked anyone yet?” 

Your voice is light, casual, but Cormac’s pulse quickens. Is this… actually happening? Well, it certainly makes things easier. He swallows, trying to steady himself. 

“Not yet,” he starts, the words feel unfamiliarly shaky. He’s normally so self-assured that he hardly recognises his own voice. But you’re already cutting him off, oblivious to his growing panic. 

“Well, I was thinking, if you’re not already going with someone…” You shift slightly, glancing between Hermione and Katie before landing back on him. His heart leaps. Are you about to ask him? But when you finish, your words douse his hopes like ice water. “...maybe you and Hermione could go together?”

“Yeah, I’d - wait - what?” Cormac’s voice cracks, the sound of his own disbelief ringing in his ears. He glances at you, searching for any hint of a joke, any sign that you’re teasing him - but you’re smiling, unaware of the storm you’ve just unleashed in his chest. Didn’t you realise how much nerve he had built up, how many times he had rehearsed this in his mind? 

You don’t even realise you’re wrecking him - it’s just another Monday morning to you. Meanwhile, he feels like he’s accidentally tumbled down one of the castle’s trick steps.

“Oh,” Hermione says, clearly flustered. “I don’t - er - I mean, that’s really not necessary,” she adds, casting an awkward glance at Cormac, her cheeks reddening slightly.

“No, listen,” you insist in a low voice, glancing at the end of the table where Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown are engaged in some more intense snogging. “It’s perfect. Neither of you is going with anyone, right?”

The bell rings and everyone in the hall starts moving, getting ready to leave for the first class of the day.

“It’s win-win. This would annoy Ron the most,” you say.

“What’s he got to do with this?” asks Cormac.

“Long story short, Ron’s ditched Hermione for Lavender. And since you were so clearly better than him at Quidditch tryouts, I thought if she went with you it would piss him off.”

Cormac pauses, momentarily stunned. “...You thought I was better than him?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. The only reason you weren’t picked is because of that last penalty. It was like you were confunded or something”

There’s a thud as Hermione unexpectedly knocks her bag from her seat and it spills open.

“Really?” asks Cormac as you both get off the bench to crouch on the floor and help Hermione pick up her things. 

“Yeah, everyone knows that you’re much more talented at - wait, Hermione are you okay?”

The two of you look at Hermione when you notice she’s turned white as a sheet.

“I’m fine,” she squeaks. 

“You sure?” you ask and reach out to grab a fallen book. You accidentally touch Cormac’s hand as he reaches for it too and the touch sends another jolt through him. “And it works out for you too, Cormac,” you continue. “Maybe if Ron is distracted by the two of you going out, he’ll play badly enough to get kicked off the team.”

Katie tuts but Cormac has to admit that you’ve got a point. But he can’t put his feelings for you aside because of Quidditch. Not again. Not after the Yule Ball fiasco.

You press the book into Hermione’s hands. “Look, just think about it, alright? I’ve got to go - I’m gonna be late for Muggle Studies.”

“I’m going that way too,” says Hermione quickly, stuffing her book into her bag and not looking at Cormac. 

And so, with a swish of red and gold, you and Hermione leave Cormac feeling like he’s just been hit by a bludger,

It wasn’t as if Hermione wasn’t good-looking. Everyone knew she was smart, pretty - she even used to date Viktor Krum. But she wasn’t… well, you. 

So why couldn’t he just say it? 

He walks beside Katie, silently replaying what he should have said in his head, so clearly as if watching it through omnioculars.

“Cormac, do you have a date for Slughorn’s party?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking about asking you.”

He avoids Katie’s gaze, instead busying himself with pulling on a scarf and hat, bracing himself for the freezing cold of the castle grounds. 

Feeding Thestrals feels like a much less daunting endeavour than unpicking this mess he’s gotten himself into. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, the Gryffindor Common Room is almost deserted. It’s well past midnight, and the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages. As Seventh Year N.E.W.T. students, you, Cormac, and Katie have become accustomed to being the last ones awake, studying long after everyone else has gone to bed. When the clock chimes one, even Hermione bids you all goodnight before heading upstairs to her dormitory.

“So… any thoughts about my idea earlier?” you ask, trying to sound suitably impartial, and not at all conscious of the way you and Cormac keep sinking towards each other on the plush sofa and brushing arms. “You know, going to Slughorn’s with Hermione on Saturday?”

Cormac glances at the staircase leading up to the girl’s dormitory. “I dunno…”

Katie says nothing as the grandfather clock ticks ominously. Instead, she and Cormac exchange a look - one that you can’t quite decipher.

“Well, I think you’d be a good match,” you say, just to break the awkward silence.

“Yeah, well, Hermione’s not really who you want to go with, is she Cormac?” 

Your eyes fly up, looking between them.

Cormac shifts in his seat, eyes on his copy of A History of Magic. "She’s nice enough."

"That’s not what I asked," Katie presses.

Cormac looks at her seriously. “Stop.”

Katie shrugs, leans back in her armchair and flips through her book.

So, Cormac has someone else in mind for Slughorn’s Party. And he feels comfortable enough to make Katie privy to it. But not you. 

Great. 

So not only does he not fancy you, he doesn’t even trust you enough to confide in. And you thought you were best friends.

For some reason, that hurts almost as much as when you overheard him telling Oliver Wood that he wasn’t interested in you.

You don’t know what to say anymore, so you look down at your book again. 

It doesn’t take long for the words in A History of Magic to blur together on the page, as you read and reread the same passage, trying to remember the names of the loyalists from the 19th-century goblin rebellion. The plush velvet of the sofa feels impossibly soft and warm, and the heat from the fire seeps into your bones, lulling you into a deep, drowsy comfort. Your eyes droop heavily as you sink deeper into the cushions, your body slowly surrendering to exhaustion.

You lazily glance at Cormac’s open textbook, hoping he’s made better progress. He’s supposed to be reading the same chapter, but instead, he and Katie are talking softly about their holiday plans. Katie is debating asking her parents for a new pair of gloves after snagging hers during Care of Magical Creatures. Cormac is once again trying to brag about his Uncle taking him to the Minister for Magic’s house on Christmas Eve without sounding like he’s bragging. 

The sounds of your two best friends in quiet earnestness make you feel safe and comfortable - so comfortable that you don’t even realise you’ve dozed off, leaning on Cormac’s shoulder. 

That is until Katie closes her book with a loud snap.

“Right, this is useless. I’m heading to bed,” she declares.

Her voice startles you slightly, but you’re too tired to fully wake. You consider opening your eyes and lifting your head but it feels like too much effort. 

Five more minutes, you think. Just five more minutes in this comfortable position and you’ll make the long journey up the winding staircase to bed.

“I’ll go to bed soon,” Cormac says, his voice lower now, quieter. “I’m still reading. And I don’t want to wake Sweet”

You’re not entirely asleep, but not fully awake either - just hovering in that cosy in-between. His voice rumbles softly in his chest and the warmth of his shoulder feels solid, familiar. You could stay like this forever.

Your eyes remain closed, and you feel yourself falling asleep again listening to the sound of the merrily cracking fireplace and Katie’s footsteps retreating up the carpeted stairs. 

And then you feel a small shift. 

Cormac turns his head, pressing his lips against the top of your head and inhaling deeply, somewhere between kissing you gently and breathing you in. 

Your eyes flutter open, the haze of sleep fading as you realise what’s just happened. 

Did he just… kiss you? 

You look up. Cormac freezes as your tired eyes meet his alarmed, green ones. He opens his mouth - maybe to apologise - but whatever he was about to say disapparates when you look from his eyes, to his parted lips then back to his eyes again. 

He just stares at you, his breath held, searching your face for some kind of response.

You don’t say anything. 

For a second you’re not sure what to do. 

But then you just give the tiniest nod as your heart thuds in your chest.

He leans in, his breath is warm on your face. The clean, woody scent of his aftershave tingles your senses - it’s even better than when it lingered on his borrowed jumper. You close your eyes as he moves tentatively towards you. 

Then the thundering of footsteps as Katie runs back downstairs makes the two of you break apart hastily.

“Forgot my quill,” she announces. “Oh, are you coming up to bed, then?”

You swallow, your heart hammering. “Yeah,” you say, fixing your skirt and getting to your feet. “Sorry, must’ve dozed off.” You hastily grab your book,

“Yeah, same,” Cormac says, his voice strained. He clears his throat, gathering his things in a flurry of movement. “I think I must have too. For a couple of seconds.”

You glance at him but he doesn’t look at you as he gathers his things, his focus entirely on shoving them into his bag. 

You follow Katie up the stairs, your heart still racing as you try to make sense of what just happened. But did it happen? Or were you (like you’ve done more times than you’d ever admit) dreaming about Cormac?

Soon after, you lie in the dark, staring at the hangings of your four-poster bed.

Cormac said he thought he had fallen asleep. You had been so drowsy that now you couldn’t be sure if he had actually kissed the top of your head. Maybe he just rested his head on yours? Or maybe you dreamt it, woke up and immediately tried to kiss him. 

It’s a mortifying thought - that one minute Cormac had been asleep and the next he had woken up to find you practically ready to pounce on him. 

No wonder he looked like a deer caught in the wandlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the boy’s dormitory, Cormac has similar thoughts.

You were asleep. And you caught him smelling your hair. Kissing the top of your head. Now that he’s removed from the situation, he cringes - hard, realising that it was extremely weird. 

Together with Katie’s obnoxious hinting that he really wanted to go to Slughorn’s party with you must have made you uncomfortable. Because you didn’t even look at him. So either your feelings towards him are so platonic that you hadn’t realised he was interested in you or you were choosing to ignore Katie’s comments altogether.

But he swears there had been a moment. A split second downstairs when your eyes met his, and he really thought you wanted him to kiss you. He can still feel your fingers brushing his chest, how you looked at him like you were waiting for him to close the gap between you.

And he almost had. 

Almost.

Then Katie had barged in, and you’d jumped away like you couldn’t get far enough, fast enough. Like you’d realised how ridiculous it was - how ridiculous he was.

He clenches his jaw, turning over in bed. You were probably horrified. 

He groans, burying his face in his pillow.

There was a moment, wasn’t there? 

Maybe he’d imagined how you looked at him. Maybe the exhaustion from studying had gotten to him, and now, his mind was just playing tricks on him.

But then again… maybe it hadn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent the majority of the rest of the week avoiding Cormac. 

You’ve even been staying in the library with Hermione every night just to avoid Katie after she kept asking pointed questions about what happened after she left the Gryffindor Common Room the other night. Hermione is glad of the company - over the past few days, you’ve been talking a lot. Mostly to keep her mind off of Ron Weasley. And without her realising it, it’s been a great help in stopping your mind wandering to Cormac McLaggen.

Being surrounded by dusty books and writing an essay about plug sockets for Muggle Studies, isn’t exactly conducive to imagining yourself back in the Gryffindor Common Room, cuddled up with Cormac, seeing his face inches from yours, wondering whether or not he was about to kiss you.

But now it’s Saturday morning and tonight is the night you’ve been trying not to think about: Slughorn’s Party. 

You’re going to go to Hogsmeade to take your mind off of things. It’s one of your favourite places in the world - especially this time of year. Steamy pub windows, cobblestone streets dusted in white, smugly ordering Firewhisky in front of younger pupils. 

It’s just what you need to distract you from Cormac.

At least he’s not coming with you. Studying, he said. Although you think he might just be as keen to avoid you as you are to avoid him

But there’s no avoiding Katie forever, you think, as you and Hermione walk into the Great Hall for breakfast. As if reading your mind, Katie, who is already almost finished breakfast, waves you over and you have no choice but to sit with her and a few of the sixth years.

“Wait - are you sure you want to sit here?” you ask Hermione under your breath, spotting Ron and Lavender enthusiastically entwined just a few spaces away.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. Just like you said.”

Well, at least your advice is working for someone.

“Morning!” you say brightly, sitting on Katie’s left-hand side, across from Harry Potter and Parvati Patil. At least in front of a group, you should be safe from her interrogations about Cormac.

"Hi, Parvati!" says Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

You help yourself to some cornflakes and as Parvati passes you the milk, she frowns.

"No invite," says Parvati, gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're -"

The jug slips from your hand, milk spilling everywhere. It splashes onto the table, drenching your skirt and soaking your tights. There’s a loud, wet sound as Ron, startled, pulls away from Lavender for a moment. 

"- we're going up to the party together."

Throughout all your nights studying together this week, Hermione had not shared that detail with you. 

You stare down at the mess, your heart pounding as if someone just pulled the rug out from under you.

"Oh, flipping heck,” you mutter, feeling the cold, wet fabric cling to your legs. 

Katie quickly vanishes the milk with a flick of her wand and hands you a napkin.

“No need to start throwing f-bombs - it’s only spilled milk” she jokes, taking the heat off of you but her expression is unusually careful as she watches you. You force a tight smile, but your heart is still thudding too fast, a mix of shock and something else twisting in your chest.

"Cormac?" asks Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

Even though this was your plan all along, you never expected that just hearing his name would sting.

"That's right," says Hermione happily. "The one who almost” - she puts a great deal of emphasis on the word - "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" says Parvati, wide-eyed.

Hermione giggles - a sound that cuts right through you. "Oh - yes - didn't you know?" 

A lead weight sinks to the pit of your stomach.

"No!" says Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrects her, still smiling. 

It’s too much. You think of Cormac and his stupid Quidditch jumper. Hermione wearing it at the game instead of you. Then you feel bad for feeling bad about them being together when it was your idea in the first place. Guilt makes the knot in your stomach tighten painfully, and you push your cereal away, the sight of food suddenly nauseating. 

“You alright?” asks Katie quietly, leaning towards you.

You nod stiffly, though your throat feels tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’d just better change before we go,” you sigh. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“You’re definitely still coming, right?” Katie asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she can sense you’re having second thoughts about going to Hogsmeade.

You hesitate. The idea of going upstairs, burying your face in a pillow, and screaming into it for the next several hours suddenly seems more appealing than pretending you’re okay in Hogsmeade. "I don’t know..."

“No, please, you have to come,” implores Hermione, not realising it’s her declaration that has you wanting to retreat upstairs until the end of term.

“Where are you going?” asks Harry, glancing at Ron and Lavender who have once again resumed their public display of affection, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but in their presence.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade. The three of us. Oh, and Cormac, obviously,” says Hermione loudly and for a split second you see the back of Ron’s head pausing.

Harry gets to his feet quickly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“The more the merrier,” Katie tells him before adding to you in a low voice, “We’ll wait in the courtyard - I think my breakfast might make another appearance if I stay around Ron and Lavender much longer.”

This is good, you tell yourself, getting up from the table and following them a few steps behind. This is what you wanted. You told yourself you had to get over Cormac. And now he’s going out with Hermione. Just like you suggested. Your plan is working. This is good.

But it doesn’t feel good. It feels awful.

As you trudge up the stairs to the common room, you find yourself repeating the same mantra. 

This is good. This is what you wanted.

But the more you repeat it, the hollower it sounds.

By the time you come back downstairs to the courtyard, Harry, Hermione and Katie are having a snowball fight. It’s in full swing. And in the midst of it all, Cormac is there. Of course, Cormac is there. Hermione said he would be, didn’t she? And she should know. She’s his girlfriend, now. Apparently.

Harry fires a well-aimed snowball at Cormac but he dodges it.

“I told you, Potter - lightning quick reflexes!” Cormac shouts, his voice brimming with exhilaration. There’s something about the way his laughter fills the air that stirs something inside you that you’ve been trying to bury all week.

Harry launches another snowball, and Cormac, in an obnoxious display of skill, catches it mid-air and flings it back, hitting Harry squarely in the face.

“And the crowd goes wild!” cheers Cormac before chanting his own name. “McLaggen! McLaggen! McLaggen! McLagg - oh. Hi.”

He stops when he sees you. Like he wasn’t expecting to see you here either. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” you say, putting on a brave face. 

He grins at you “You joining in for once, then? I’ve never seen you throw a snowball in your life.”

“Well, maybe you’re about to,” you say, more threateningly than you intended, thinking that you’d quite like to smack him in the face for not telling you that he was going out with Hermione.

He takes a step toward you, misreading the challenge in your voice. “I’d love to see that,” he teases, scooping up a handful of snow and launching himself at you.

Before you can react, Cormac’s arm is around your waist, lifting you off the ground in one quick motion. The world spins as snow flurries around you, your shriek of protest escaping in the form of a half-laugh.

“Cormac!” you say, breathless. But your laughter dies almost instantly when reality sets in - Hermione is bent down, scooping up snow just a few feet away. His girlfriend is right there.

“Put me down,” you say, seriously this time, the joy draining from the moment. Your voice is firm, but not loud.

He stops immediately, setting you down gently, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s up?”

You step back, brushing the snow off your coat, swallowing the tight feeling in your chest. “I think you know.”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, now embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything the other night -”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t worry about it.” You give him a tight smile as laughter rings behind you, the others clearly not noticing or caring about your hushed conversation as their snowball fight continues. You turn away from him and call out to Katie and the others, “Are we going, then?”

The walk to Hogsmeade feels longer than usual. The others chat happily but the conversation is distant, and you keep your eyes on the snow-covered path. By the time you reach the village, the promise of a hot butterbeer should lift your spirits but it doesn’t. You feel disconnected like you’re watching everything through a fog.

“So,” Katie says, as you approach the The Three Broomsticks. “What made you come along, Cormac? I thought you were studying today?”

Cormac shrugs, but there’s a slight defensiveness in his voice. “Just something I had to do before the holidays.”

You wonder if it’s picking up a gift for Hermione. 

Katie raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips as her mind defaults to shopping too. “Determined to impress Scrimgeour, then?”

Cormac stiffens. “It’s not for Scrimgeour, Katie,” he says, his voice edged with frustration. “I just needed to pick something up.”

You don’t say anything, keeping your eyes on the ground as they continue their back-and-forth. All you can think about is how wrong everything feels.

When you reach The Three Broomsticks, Hermione opens the door, letting the warmth and chatter from inside spill out into the cold air as you go to file in behind her, Harry and Katie.

“Wait,” says Cormac, catching your arm before you can go in. “Can I have a word with you first?”

You hesitate, glancing down at his hand on your arm, then up at his face. There’s something in his expression - something hesitant, almost apologetic - that makes you pause. You really don’t want to talk but as usual, Katie butts in.

“We’ll meet you inside,” she says firmly, pulling the door closed in your face with a slam.

You have no choice but to follow him away from the door. Snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk, and the cold air stings your cheeks.

When you stop, Cormac turns to face you, running a hand through his hair, looking unsure of himself. “Look, I… I wanted to see if we were okay. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me too,” you challenge back.

Your breath fogs up in the cold air as you glance down at the snow, trying to collect yourself. It takes a moment for you to find the words, but they come out before you can stop them.

"I'm just... hurt, Cormac," you say, quieter than you'd planned. "You didn't even tell me you were going out with Hermione."

There’s a beat of silence as Cormac stares at you, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? I’m not going out with Hermione.”

You meet his eyes, frowning. “I heard her say it. You're going to Slughorn’s party together.”

“I - yeah, I asked her last night because you told me to. But just as friends.” Cormac runs a hand through his hair again, exasperated. “But I’m not going out with Hermione - are you sure she told you that?”

“She told everyone at breakfast, loud and clear that -” 

“Everyone? Including Ron Weasley, you mean?” he asks, trying not to smirk.

Oh.

“She was… trying to make him jealous. Like I told her to.” You blink, trying to process what he's saying. “So… you’re not - I mean - she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

You let out a shaky breath and he steps closer, closing the gap between you. His voice drops to barely a whisper, but it carries with it the force of something that’s been buried far too long.

“Do you really not see it? Do you really not know?” he says, his tone almost desperate now. “I’ll go with Hermione to Slughorn’s if you want me to. Hell, I’d go with Filch if it would make you happy. Because that’s all I want. To make you happy.”

“...Really?” You can hardly believe what you’re hearing. 

“Yeah.” He smiles sheepishly. “I thought you’d have worked out that’s why I asked her - since it was your idea.”

“Well… maybe you were right when you said I was an airhead,” you challenge. If you’re getting all of your confessions off of your chest, you might as well tell him you overheard this too.

“When did I ever say that?” Cormac asks, taken aback.

You hesitate, the memory is painful but clear. “You told Oliver that I was an airhead. And full of myself. And annoying. It was right before -”

Cormac groans in realisation and finishes the sentence for you. “- Before the Yule Ball.”

“Yep.” You nod, the hurt still lingering after all this time.

“So he told you all that, did he?”

“No… I overheard you. In the courtyard.”

“I -” he groans, looking so painfully guilty that you almost feel bad for calling him out. “I promise I didn’t mean it.”

“Cormac, you don’t have to make excuses -”

“It’s not an excuse.” He shakes his head. “Wood promised that Angelina would make me Keeper after he left school if I set the two of you up. And I wanted to make the team more than anything. Well - I thought I wanted to make the team more than anything.” He pauses, his green eyes locking onto yours. “But I was already planning on asking you to the Yule Ball. So I tried to have it both ways. I said that horrible stuff about you to put him off. And I never told you he was interested because… I was afraid you’d be interested back.”

“But none of it worked,” he continues, the regret in his voice cutting through the quiet. “He asked you anyway, and you said yes. And I never made the team in the end, so… it was all for nothing.”

You don’t really know what to say. How much time was wasted.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, his voice steady but filled with regret. “For saying that about you. You didn’t deserve it. I was so focused on trying to have everything - I didn’t stop to think about what was most important.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you say, your heart pounding. “And, for the record, I would have gone with you. To the Yule Ball. To Slughorn’s… any of it.” You look up at him, your gaze meeting his, and for the first time, it feels like you're both finally on the same page. 

Gently falling snow lands across your nose and cheeks as you look up at him. The space between you is almost nothing now. His hand reaches up and cups your face, his touch achingly gentle, almost reverent, as he brushes a wet snowflake from your cheekbone -

But then the door to The Three Broomsticks bangs open behind him, and Katie storms out, her face flushed and her hands gripping a package close to her chest.

“Katie?” you say, taken aback by her sudden appearance. “What’s going on?”

The door of the Three Broomsticks bursts open again. Harry and Hermione spill out looking frantic but Katie is already disappearing along the snow-covered street, the package clutched tightly in her arms.

“All she said was that she needs to deliver a package,” says Hermione, looking worried.

You and Cormac look at each other in alarm before you both sprint to catch up with her. You grab her arm. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

“Leave me alone!” she snaps, twisting to wrench herself free from your grip.

“Katie! What’s going on?” asks Cormac, running to her other side.

“Can you both just fuck off?”

“Woah, woah - what’s with you? And what is that? Who gave you it?”

“None of your business!”

You try to grab it. “Give it to me!”

The two of you struggle, you try to take the package from her and Cormac tries to restrain her.

Then all of a sudden, Katie lets out a scream so loud and so high that it almost pierces your eardrums.

Everything turns black as the snow-covered ground rushes up to meet you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your eyes a split second later in a sterile but comfortable room. Have you… apparated?

You try to sit up, but the world spins violently, your vision blurring as an antiseptic smell floods your senses.

“Woah - hold on, let me get Madam Pomfrey,” comes a familiar voice, soft but urgent.

Madam Pomfrey? 

You’re in the Hospital Wing. 

You blink hard, trying to focus, and slowly, Cormac’s face swims into view. He’s sitting at the edge of your bed, worry etched into every line of his features. His eyes, which normally gleam with a casual confidence, are shadowed with exhaustion.

Cormac.

He’s looking down the length of the hospital wing, scanning the empty beds for the matron, but when you touch his hand lightly, he turns back to you, his face softening with relief.

“Cormac, what happened?” You panic as you look at the empty bed next to you. “Where’s Katie? Is she here too? And that package? What was that thing?”

His brow furrows as he tries to find the right way to explain it all. "I promised I’d get Madam Pomfrey when you woke up," he says, glancing toward the door. “It was her only condition -”

“She can wait. Just tell me. Please.”

He studies your face for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to tell you, but eventually, he sighs and moves closer, his voice low. “Katie... that package she was carrying - it was a cursed necklace. McGonagall thinks she was put under the Imperius Curse when she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t herself. You noticed it too.”

You swallow hard, the memory of Katie’s vacant eyes and her erratic behaviour flashing through your mind. “And when I tried to stop her?”

Cormac’s face darkens, his eyes flickering with something that looks dangerously close to fear. “The package split open. The necklace - it should have killed her. The curse was lethal.”

Your eyes widen, bile rising in your throat. “Lethal…”

He nods grimly. “The only reason she’s still alive is that it touched her through a tiny hole in her glove. Barely made contact with her skin, but even that was enough to put her in a bad way.”

Your blood turns cold, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. “Where is she?” you whisper, dreading the answer. “Is she… is she alright?”

Cormac’s jaw clenches, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s at St. Mungo’s. They don’t know when she’ll wake up. But she’s alive.”

The room spins, this time from the sickening realisation of how close you were to losing her. Your mind races, fear wrapping its cold fingers around your heart.

“That curse was dark magic - whoever planted it knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Katie…” Your voice cracks as you press your palm to your forehead, struggling to process it. “If I hadn’t tried to take the package -”

“Hey - no.” Cormac’s voice is sharp but softens immediately. He moves closer, his hand squeezing yours. “This isn’t your fault. None of it. If anything it’s my fault -”

“Cormac…”

“No, listen. If I hadn’t asked to speak to you outside - I mean, when do you or Katie ever go to the bathroom alone? The person who put her under the Imperius Curse might not have tried if there were two of you there.”

“It’s not your fault either, Cormac. The only person to blame is whoever gave her that necklace.” You don’t even remember seeing the package split open. “But… I didn’t touch the necklace, did I? How come I’m in here?”

“Katie, er… punched you. Knocked you out cold.”

You hadn’t expected that. You find yourself lost for words, not quite able to believe what you’re hearing.

“She was under the Imperius Curse… not in her right state of mind,” continues Cormac, watching you carefully and you give him a small nod.

Silence stretches between you. The hospital wing feels eerily quiet - no bustling, no holiday cheer, just the faint sound of the fire crackling somewhere in the distance. No usual sounds of excitement of the last night of term. 

The last night of term.

You glance at the snowflakes drifting down, a sense of dread creeping over you. “Cormac… what time is it? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Slughorn’s Party?” you ask, knowing that he’d hate to miss the opportunity to network with all the people Slughorn would want to introduce him to.

Cormac shifts a little closer. “Slughorn’s party was two nights ago.”

“Two?!”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding more casual than you’d have expected.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

“It’s… it’s Christmas Day, then?” you whisper, your voice hollow, the words barely registering as they leave your mouth. “We’ve missed the train.”

Cormac shrugs again, but the weariness in his eyes betrays him. “Yeah.” His tone is light, but you can see the exhaustion etched into his features, the slight slump of his usually easy posture. He’s trying to downplay it like it’s no big deal.

But then it hits you. You stare at him, your thoughts slowly clicking into place. “Did you end up going to -” You stop yourself, feeling like it’d be incredibly selfish to ask if he and Hermione went after all, considering everything that happened.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away like he’s embarrassed. “Slughorn’s Party? Yeah… I didn’t go. I’ve been here.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be… I - I don’t know if you remember what we talked about in Hogsmeade but -”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as soon as you recall what he said to you. “I remember.”

“Well, I didn’t really want to go without you anyway.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. You don’t know what to say. How do you thank someone for missing something like that because of you? For staying here over the holidays, for caring, for... everything.

Just as you’re about to say something - anything - the doors to the Hospital Wing swing open.

Professor McGonagall strides in, her expression as serious as ever, but there’s a flicker of relief in her eyes when she sees you sitting up. 

Behind her, Madam Pomfrey hurries in and starts checking you over, pouring a large bottle of bright golden Invigoration Draught into a cup for you. At her instance, you drink it in one gulp - it’s sharp and spicy, and less gruesome than you’d braced yourself for. As the heat spreads through your chest, you feel a bit less confused. 

“Well, it’s good to see you awake,” McGonagall says briskly. “Miss Bell is receiving the best care at St. Mungo’s. The Healers are doing everything they can.”

Everything they can. It doesn’t feel like enough.

“Have we missed dinner, Professor?” asks Cormac, hopefully.

“I'm afraid so, Mr McLaggen,” says McGonagall, less sharply than you're used to her addressing him as she looks from his tired demeanour to his hand holding yours. She waves her wand and a tray of sandwiches is summoned on the table beside you. “I’ll notify your parents that you’re awake and both of you can take the Knight Bus home from Hogsmeade tonight.”

“Not tonight,” says Madam Pomfrey. “Another Invigoration Draught tomorrow morning. Then you can go home.” 

Your heart twists painfully, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Katie’s in St. Mungo’s, fighting for her life. Christmas has come and gone, and the world outside feels like it’s moving without you.

“Do I have to stay in the Hospital Wing tonight?” you ask, thinking you’d like nothing more than to sink into your four-poster bed upstairs.

Madam Pomfrey hesitates.

“Oh, please, Madam Pomfrey. It’s Christmas,” you pout. “I’ll come back here after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Before breakfast,” she says sternly. And once you agree, she and Professor McGonagall leave.

Cormac is still here, beside you, his hand lingering on yours, his presence steady and comforting despite everything. 

“When was the last time you slept?” you ask.

“I -” He pauses. “Not for a few days.”

You insist that he go back to Gryffindor Tower and he eventually agrees. Cormac grabs a couple of sandwiches, flashing you a tired but grateful smile. 

“See you at breakfast,” he says softly, and with a quick wave, he slips out of the Hospital Wing, leaving the room quiet and still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dormitory is dark and eerily silent. Too silent. You’re used to the comforting background noise of sharing a room with four other girls - the soft rustle of sheets, the occasional sleepy murmur, the muffled creak of bedsprings. Tonight, without them, the emptiness feels vast and oppressive, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath.

You had expected Cormac to be in the Gryffindor Common Room when you got dressed and came upstairs. But he wasn’t there. He was in bed - no doubt shattered after sitting by your side in the hospital wing for two days straight. Two long, harrowing days where you were unconscious and he was busy worrying about both you and Katie.

Katie. The thought of her pulls at your chest like a lead weight. She’s at St Mungo’s. Alive but unresponsive. The cursed necklace nearly killed her. And while Madam Pomfrey has done her best to reassure you that she’s receiving the finest care, the image of Katie in St Mungo’s is enough to keep you awake.

It doesn't help that the Invigoration Draught has worked too well. You’re frustratingly alert. You’ve never noticed the grandfather clock much before but its ticking serves as a reminder of how much time is passing without you being able to sleep.

You wonder if Cormac is in the same predicament. He was tired but maybe everything that’s happened is keeping him up too. Cormac - of all people - stayed with you through it all. Missed Slughorn’s Party. Didn’t go home for Christmas - 

He didn’t go home for Christmas.

You sit bolt-upright in bed.

That means he didn’t go to the Minister for Magic’s Christmas lunch with his Uncle today. He missed it. It’s all he’s been talking about since November and he missed it.

All so he could stay here at Hogwarts. 

With you.

Something swells in your chest. A little guilt mixed with, well… overwhelming affection. Did you even thank him properly? You can’t remember - everything after the cursed necklace feels like a blur. You swing your legs out of bed, wincing at the icy chill of the stone floor against your bare feet.

You walk quietly towards the boy’s dormitory. The stone floor is freezing on your bare feet as you tiptoe. Though you’re not sure why you’re being quiet - you didn’t see anyone when you walked through the Common Room earlier. You think that you and Cormac might be the only two people in the whole of Gryffindor house that are here for the holidays.

The door to the Seventh-Year boys’ dormitory creaks faintly as you push it open. “Cormac?” you whisper into the darkness.

There’s a faint stir, followed by a groggy, half-asleep voice. “Hm?”

You cross the empty room, the cold gnawing at your skin, and perch on the edge of his bed. “Are you awake?”

“Wha?” he asks, blearily. 

The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “It’s me,” you say as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

Cormac sits up slightly, blinking at you in confusion, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing? This is the boys’ dormitory.” He pulls the duvet to his chest. You try not to notice that he’s not wearing a t-shirt. “Are - are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Cormac rubs his face, his tired brain catching up. “Katie is going to be fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll visit her as soon as we’re allowed.”

“I know,” you say. She’s getting the best care possible. And it’s not like either of you can do anything about it. “It’s not just Katie. Well, that’s part of it. But it’s that I realised… you missed Christmas lunch with your Uncle - and the Minister.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not fine. It’s all you’ve been talking about for weeks,” you insist, making a conscious effort to stop your teeth from chattering. “Missing your Uncle. Seeing Scrimgeour again. The fact you stayed here with me instead… that’s like, the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

Cormac fumbles for his wand on the bedside table, muttering “Lumos.” It lights the nearest lamp. You scoot closer to him on the edge of his bed. The soft glow of the lamp bathes the room in warm light, and he turns to look at you properly, his eyes - greener than you’d ever realised - serious and searching. 

“It was nothing. I told you already.”

“Well… I just wanted to say thank you -” you take a steadying breath, moving closer to him again. “- And… do this.”

Without thinking, you lean in, your heart racing. You close the distance between you and press your lips to his before you can second-guess it or get interrupted again.

Cormac pauses, completely caught off guard. You can feel the surprise in his stillness, but it lasts for barely a second before he responds with a surge of enthusiasm that almost takes your breath away. 

He shrugs his bedsheets aside, sitting up so he can deepen the kiss, his lips warm and eager against yours. There’s no hesitation now, just the full force of his want, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

It’s everything you wanted it to be. He’s a good kisser. Really good.

You try to put a lot of meaning into the kiss. That you’re grateful for him staying here at Hogwarts with you. That you forgive him for his stupid, blundering mistakes before the Yule Ball. 

But mostly, you try to tell him that you’ve been in love with him forever. Ever since you sat beside him on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of school.

You intended to give him a quick goodnight kiss and go back to your dormitory but the thought of leaving quickly leaves your mind when he parts his lips, tender and soft as Honeydukes caramel, as he explores the taste of your tongue. His hands wrap around your back, encouraging you closer, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. 

You were freezing a minute ago but his bare chest and shoulders are warm and he doesn’t seem to mind your cold hands traversing over his body. 

You need him. This is new territory. This is… you’ve never felt like this before. Well, maybe alone in your bed, but not with other people. You haven’t done anything more than kissing before.

But this is already more than just kissing, you think, as your tongue meets his again as he licks into your mouth. This is hot and heavy. You’re already starting to feel like you’re not close enough to him. 

And so does he. 

You feel a firm bulge pressing into your open legs and with a jolt of excitement, you realise he’s only wearing boxers. Everything below your waist throbs hot and sticky as his hips subtly twitch upwards, pressing against your pyjama shorts.

The ache between your legs is too unbearable to ignore. You adjust your hips and the friction against your bundle of nerves is white hot, almost dizzying. He responds to your movements by gripping onto your hips, his cock twitching against your pussy, just two thin pieces of material between you. You’re positively burning up now as he lets out a low groan into your mouth as you kiss him, before pulling back to suck on his bottom lip.

“Fuck…” you murmur, as you wriggle your hips impatiently. But when you say that he pulls back to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “What?” you ask.  

You don’t want him to stop - not now.

“I’ve just never heard you swear before,” he grins and your cheeks burn.

You bite your lip. “It just… slipped out.”

“I like it…” he says, eyes glancing over your chest as it rises and falls rapidly in time with your breathing. 

His fingers hook around the straps of your tank top, pausing just before they drop over your shoulders. The touch is featherlight like he’s waiting for something. Then his voice, low and careful, breaks through the charged silence.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting yours.

You nod and then, realising what he’s just said, you blink. “You’re... asking?”

Cormac tilts his head slightly, frowning just a little like something about your surprise bothers him. “Of course I’m asking,” he says, his voice quieter now, but insistent, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You swallow, looking away for a moment, feeling still warmed by the way he’s watching you. Nobody’s bothered to ask you if they could touch you before. It’s…. well, it’s classic him. Considerate. Sure enough of himself that he genuinely would respect whatever answer you gave him. 

It makes you want him even more.

“You can - you can touch me. Wherever you want.”

You place your hands on top of his and help him slip your straps down, pulling your top down over your breasts.

“Fuck…” Cormac takes a deep, steadying breath. He tilts his head up and looks at the hangings above the bed.

“...Cormac?” you ask, uncertainly. “Are you -?”

“Yep,” he tells the hangings. “It’s just - I mean, I’ve just - thought about this moment a lot. And in no version did it involve me - y’know - making a mess of myself just from seeing your tits.”

A mischievous smile creeps across your lips. “Are you about to?”

“I’ll be fine - wha - oh, that is not helping.”

You slowly grind your hips against his and place his hands over your breasts. The underside of his cock twitches again against your now soaked pyjama shorts.

“I’ve thought about it a lot too,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his ear. “You can cum like this. If you want.” 

“That would be - ah, fuck - completely fucking embarrassing,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I think it’s hot.”

As soon as you say that, his shoulders relax and he buries his face between your tits with an agonised groan. Your hands tangle in his hair as you rock restlessly against him, moving your hips in search of the gnawing need between your legs. 

Cormac swirls his tongue, open-mouthed and panting against your skin. He pushes your tits together, toying with your nipples, pinching the hardened buds between his fingertips in a way that makes you let out an involuntary squeal.

“Too hard?” he asks, concerned, and you shake your head fervently.

“Do it again,” you whimper.

You grind yourself along his rock-hard bulge, feeling exceptionally greedy as Cormac toys with your tits. Pleasure swells in your abdomen. God, this feels good. He drinks up every noise you accidentally release, as you hover on the edge - wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be close?

Suddenly, Cormac grabs your hips, stopping you from moving and you almost cry out in protest. He breathes shakily, adjusting himself.

“Did you just…”

“Not yet,” he says, and before you know it he’s manoeuvring on top of you, flipping you on your back and splaying you out on his bedsheets. “I need to find out just how sweet you taste first.”

This is more like the Cormac you know. He’s been so reserved, so unlike himself around you for the past several weeks that you almost forgot how cocky he could get.

And wow, do you like it.

“Cormac,” you whisper, feeling yourself turn crimson now under his touch. 

He plants a trail of kisses along your collarbone, down your torso and pauses just below your navel. Cormac hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pyjama shorts and you arch your back so he can remove them and toss them onto the floor in a pathetic heap.

Cormac drags the pads of his fingertips across your flushed, slick pussy. “Is this… for me?” He gives you the widest, most gleeful grin you’ve ever seen plastered on his face as he laughs once, under his breath. “You’re so wet.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout - although from the way he’s lighting up, you can tell he likes the effect he’s having on you.

“You’ve got to admit, it is kind of funny. How everyone calls you Sweet because you’ve got this ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ thing going on but here you are… sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night.”

Your hips buck as he slides his fingers through your folds, dragging your arousal across your clit. An uncontrollable whine leaves your mouth as his fingers glide up and down, up and down. He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he looks you over. “I wonder what other swear words you know…”

“I - ah - I told you it just slipped out -” you stammer. Goosebumps break out along your arms - this time it’s nothing to do with the cold - you’re burning up, hearing him talk to you like this. But the more you blush, the more it spurs him on. 

Cormac gives you a lop-sided smirk as he drags gentle, lazy circles around your clit. “So… that kind of talk is just for me, right?” he asks. You wriggle again, opening yourself up wider, silently willing him to put his fingers inside you. 

“Yes,” you whimper. He’s got you wrapped around his finger - almost literally. You’ll say anything he wants to hear. Do anything - everything that he wants. Give him anything he asks. As long as he keeps touching you like this.

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss, feeling yourself slowly falling apart at how he’s circling over that little bundle of nerves that makes your eyes fucking roll back. He hisses an inhale through his teeth, watching your reaction. 

And then suddenly, he’s pushing in and curling two thick fingers inside your eager, soaking wet pussy and hooking them tight against your g-spot.

“Oh.” Your hand flies blindly down to touch his face - just for something to feel - and his expression changes from a smug smile to stern concentration. 

Your thumb brushes along his cheekbone, grazing the rough stubble of his jaw. He tilts his head just enough to kiss your palm, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin, sending a spark racing up your arm. 

Then his eyes find yours - those green eyes, darker now, pupils blown out with a burning intensity that knocks the breath from your lungs. The way he looks at you, unflinching, unrestrained, sends a rush of heat through you, making your heart pound and your pulse quicken. 

You almost cry out when Cormac lowers his head and his soft lips envelope your clit. You clench around his fingers and tense your stomach when his tongue swirls even hotter and more dextrous than his fingers.

“Mhmm,” he says, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh before looking up with a wicked grin. His chin is wet. “You are sweet.”

You bite your lip and let your head roll back as he resumes his gentle licking. You can hardly believe this is happening. You’re trembling as you try to suppress another squeal but it’s like he can read your mind - 

“It’s okay to make noise. Nobody’s here. You don’t need to hold back,” he says between sloppy sucking. You remind yourself, that you’ve been best friends for so long he can probably read the nuances of your body language.

“Ah - okay, okay. Fuck - Cormac,” is all you can manage.

“That’s my girl.”

Oh, fuck. Why did he have to call you that? Your pussy clenches tight, neediness swelling in waves in your abdomen.

And then you don’t expect the way his whole arm moves as he picks up pace. At first, you feel jostled, almost manhandled when his fingers don’t go in and out but instead curl into you with such intense pressure that you feel like you can’t keep up. It’s too fast. Too much. 

Until it suddenly isn’t. 

The flat of his tongue rubs against your clit in time with his fingers pressing against your g-spot. Blazing, white-hot heat twists tightly in your pelvic floor muscles. Your hand slides down to the juncture of muscle between his neck and his shoulder as you grip helplessly, feeling the relentless pressure of him stimulating that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Cormac,” you pant, as your walls twitch and tighten around those two fingers. “I’m - ha - that’s - yeah, there.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, sending vibrations across your clit. His eyes move back to your face. You convulse around your best friend’s fingers as he pulls you closer and closer to the edge. You’ve stopped wriggling, chasing your release - you don’t need to. Your whole body goes limp as you just let him drill inside you.

“Yes,” you say, biting your lip, your eyebrows knitting together, losing yourself in the mindless sensation. “Fuck, yesyesyesyes -”

He looks into your eyes while you plead for him as he pulls the orgasm from you. You clutch on his shoulder, feeling his hand working between your legs, pulling you higher and higher and - 

Fuck.

Everything plummets. 

White noise rings in your ears as your insides twist and release, sending agonising pleasure rippling through your whole body, more bright and explosive than anything you’ve felt before.

His hand slows down, dragging out the boiling hot aftershock, massaging your pussy until you’re a trembling mess.

At last, he slowly slips his fingers out from inside of you and lies next to you. 

Cormac can’t tear his eyes from you, watching the way your head falls back onto the pillow - his pillow - as you catch your breath, looking up at the velvet hangings above and raking your hands through your hair. 

You think you must lie there in stunned silence for a full minute before you realise he’s waiting on you to say something.

“What -” you swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “What time is the Knight Bus tomorrow?”

Cormac tilts his head, concerned. “After breakfast, I think. But, I mean… if you need space or something, then that’s fine -”

“No,” you turn your head on the pillow quickly. “No, nothing like that.”

You roll on top of him so that you’re straddling him again and lean down. Your hair tickles his cheek as you lean in close enough to see every detail of his face - the faint freckles across his nose, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, even the flutter of his lashes. Every inch of him feels so present.

“I’m trying to figure out how many times we can do that before McGonagall sends us home,” you smirk and relief crosses his face.

“I thought you were trying to see if there was any way you could leave earlier,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sincerity. 

You shake your head. “I want to stay here forever. I want -” You plant a kiss on his cheek and slip your hand between your bodies, your curious fingers lightly dancing over his hard cock through his boxers. “- I want you. So badly. You have no idea.”

“Pretty sure I have some idea how that feels.” Cormac reaches down to catch the waistband of his boxers with his thumbs and lets you pull out his cock. It’s just as gorgeous as the rest of him. You wrap your palm around him, feeling how warm and thick he is, and slowly jerk your wrist. His jaw tightens and he jerks his hips upwards to meet your soft, clenched fist. 

“That’s - fuck, that’s good -” he says, closing his eyes, his lips slightly parted. He looks so good like this, you think, as you watch him swallow thickly, neck muscles contracting.

You adjust yourself higher up his body so that you can kiss his exposed neck. As you keep working your wrist between your bodies the tip of his cock rests against your wet folds.

“Cormac,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly, “do you want to…?”

His eyes open, searching yours with quiet intensity. “Yeah,” he says softly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your hand pauses stroking him, caught off guard by the steadiness of his answer. “You didn’t even let me finish the question.”

“I don’t need to,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “If it’s you, the answer’s always yes.”

You can’t help it - the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite the nervous flutter in your chest and the fact that the tip of his leaking cock is pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Does it… do you know if it hurts?” you ask, your voice quieter now - hesitant.

Cormac tilts his head slightly, studying you, his brow furrowing - not in judgment, but in thought. “I don’t know,” he admits, his voice honest but calm. “I’ve never - ” He pauses for a beat, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I haven’t done this before either.”

Your eyes widen. “You haven’t?”

He shakes his head, his expression softening into something almost self-conscious. “Nope.”

“Really?” The word comes out before you can stop it, your voice tinged with disbelief. Somehow, you’d always imagined him as… well, more experienced. The fact that he isn’t, that this is just as new for him, feels oddly grounding.

“Yeah, really,” he says, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. His gaze remains fixed on yours, unwavering. “It’s not like I’ve never had the chance or anything… just none of them felt right.” 

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And… this does?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” His lips twitch into a faint smile. “It’s always been you, Sweet. And if you want this too, then -”

“I do. Cormac.” You swallow, the truth spilling out before you can second-guess it. “Of course, I do. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old.”

“So have I,” he says, his voice low but certain. “So there’s nothing to worry about,” he says softly, like a promise. “I’ve got you.”

For once, you don’t think, don’t question. You lift your hips back slightly, just enough for the head of his cock to part your folds. Cormac holds the base of his length, positioning himself so that you can balance your weight, one hand on his chest, the other on the bed.

You sink down, feeling pressure as his cock pushes through your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, expecting pain but you open them again when you feel two large hands caressing your hips.

“Still got you, baby.”

A deep heat blooms within you, sweeping through your body like a tide and leaving your thoughts in a hazy, breathless blur. You slide down further - so slick and hot between your legs that there’s no resistance besides the stretch of him filling you up. As you lower yourself, his reassurance becomes a dark, lustful groan and his thumbs press on your hipbones.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck - that’s - yeah -”

The back of your thighs meet his hips as you bottom out and the sensation is all-consuming, a wildfire of longing that burns away reason. 

His cock presses up against every part of your insides in a way that your body has craved for so long while you tried to ignore it. Every smile he flashed you from across the room, every time you brushed past him as he held a door open - it always made something in your core lurch. And now as you feel those same muscles tighten you realise the extent of your primal want for him.

“It’s… it’s in,” you whisper and it feels almost redundant to say it when it’s so patently obvious but you’re trying to tell him and yourself that you’re okay. It hurts a little - but in a good way - like when your legs ache from climbing a long flight of stairs. Except you never feel fire igniting in your belly like this when you ascend the staircase of the Astronomy Tower.

“Yeah, I’m inside you,” he says breathlessly. Then his expression changes, something flickering in his eyes - an intense, unspoken longing that unfurls in the space between you. “I’m fucking inside you,” he says again, the words low and rough, tumbling from his lips like he’s surrendering to a need he can no longer contain. He thrusts upwards and you gasp breathlessly, it’s as though the world tilts on its axis. 

“You good?” he asks, grabbing firm fistfuls of your hips. You nod, your thoughts disapparating around the edges when his cock twitches inside you. “You feel perfect.”

You melt so fiercely under his compliment that you need to look away. But when you look down between your bodies and see him buried to the hilt inside you, you can see why he had to repeat himself. 

This is happening - it’s real and it’s actually happening and it’s everything you ever hoped. 

You lift your hips in slow, stuttered little jumps, experimenting with the way he feels inside you. Is this right? Are you good at this? Should you move more like this? But Cormac helps, his hands on your tentative hips aid your momentum as he decisively guides you forward and back and - oh. 

Now, this is right. 

You know for certain now, as his thick cock glides in and out of your sopping wet folds, your arousal dripping all over him, and you can’t tear your eyes away in an almost enchanted haze. You know you must feel right for him too because in almost rhythmic agreement, his cock pushes against that deep sensitive spot you need as you convulse around him.

“Oh, shit -” breathes Cormac. “Look at me, look at me.” 

With difficulty, your eyes pull up weakly, looking away from his cock driving into you and meeting his gaze. He’s so present and focused - like he’s searching for something. 

Cormac’s hand slides from your hip and his thumb finds your swollen clit. You gasp, realising only now how close you are to the edge. You curse and Cormac grins. This is the answer to the silent question he’d been searching for.

“Fuck -” you whine, your pussy clamping down hard around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck -”

“That’s it, baby. Tell me how good it is.”

“Mhm,” you huff as you pick up pace, bouncing against his lap, chasing every bit of friction he has to offer you. It all melds together, the way his cock fills you up, his wet thumb rubbing against your clit, his other hand roughly guiding you up and down on him. 

“Fuck - it’s good - s’good -” you try and keep focused on his gorgeous look of concentration as your floor muscles clamp down. “You’re so fucking good.” 

He closes his eyes and an agonised groan tumbles from his lips when you say that. 

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Yesyesyesyes,” you whimper, every syllable punctuated with you riding him. Your eyes roll back as everything winds tighter and tighter, your nerve endings alight and sparking pleasure through your body. 

“Fuck, say it again,” he growls, his hips jutting up to slap against the back of your thighs. 

You don’t even know when you say next. All you know is that whatever filthy words spill out, make Cormac laugh triumphantly through gritted teeth as your world shatters. 

He murmurs your name - your real name, not that nickname everyone calls you - as he rubs your clit and fucks you exactly where you need him to, throwing you towards raw pleasure. 

“Are you cumming again, baby?”

“Ah - uh-huh,” you choke and even that little moan in the affirmative is a struggle. 

Every unbridled bounce of your hips sends your mind reeling as your orgasm crashes down over you. Your pussy throbs and twitches around him, squeezing him hard as you ride out the beautiful wave.

Fuck.

It’s messy, it’s aching, it’s blurry, it’s debilitating. You can barely see straight.

You twitch from oversensitivity as Cormac fucks himself up and into you in search of his own high. His hips thrust erratically and his face contorts in pleasure and then suddenly he’s forcing your hips down onto him, and with a guttural moan, he’s cumming deep inside you, holding you in place even as you squirm and shake through the aftershock of your own ecstasy. 

Everything goes dark - you see actual stars behind your eyelids. Vaguely, you’re aware of Cormac tenderly manoeuvring you with strong, safe arms so that you’re lying at his side, your head resting on his chest. He pulls his duvet over you - it's cosy and smells like him. It's wonderful.

“You’re shaking - are you warm enough?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, feeling your eyes grow heavy as you try to keep them open. “Just tingly. It’s… it’s nice.”

Cormac tilts your chin up and he leans down to kiss you, slow and lazy. He’s soft and warm. You’re safe and pliant. His fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and sweetly brush the curve of your jaw.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you say. It's an understatement. You're barely able to lift your eyelids to look at him. There’s something about being nestled here on his shoulder - like you were in front of the common room fire a few weeks ago - that just signals to your body that it’s secure and that you can relax fully. “You?”

“Yeah… I just don’t wanna fall asleep in case I’m already dreaming. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” you sigh pleasantly, feeling his very real heartbeat in his chest as you snuggle in closer. The way he’s looking at you - like he’s seeing something precious - makes your chest ache. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he lies back on his pillow. “Because I don’t want this to end.”

You don’t want it to end either.

“I know you probably want to catch the Knight Bus tomorrow and see your family but -” he starts, hesitating slightly.

You cut him off gently. “We could stay here. For the holidays. If you want to.”

He closes his eyes, the softest smile curling his lips as his thumb brushes your shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, his voice steady now. “I want that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gryffindor Common Room is a blazing display of gold and red. Laughter and cheering fill the room so loudly that you can barely hear yourself think as you weave through the crowd with two butterbeers in hand.

“Cheer up, Cormac,” you say, finding him on a plump armchair in the corner of the room. You hand him a butterbeer and sit on his lap. He pulls you close, his hand resting on the back of your thigh. “We won the cup, didn’t we?��

“I really thought this was going to be my year,” he grumbles. “I might just have to face it - maybe I’m not cut out to play Quidditch.”

“I think you’re brilliant,” you say, although your words are probably meaningless - you don’t know the first thing about Quidditch.

“Oh, come on. You were there - you watched me knock Potter out with a bludger in the last game.”

“Well, Katie was still in St Mungo’s, wasn’t she? You had other things on your mind.”

Cormac tuts, as if he’s annoyed at himself for being distracted by one of his best friends being in mortal peril.

“Besides,” you say, leaning in and pressing your mouth to his ear. “You have plenty of other talents. Ones that are more… useful than Quidditch.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, turning to give you a lopsided grin. His tone is low, teasing, but the heat in his eyes makes your pulse quicken. “Care to elaborate?” 

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you press your lips to his, letting the butterbeer bottle tilt precariously in your grip as his arms tighten around your waist. His hand slides a little higher up your thigh, the warmth of it sending sparks skittering down your spine. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and suddenly it feels like the whole room could catch fire from how hot your skin feels against his.

“Alright, that’s enough of the Devil’s Snare impression” Katie’s voice interrupts, dry and sharp as she drops into the armchair beside yours, looking equal parts amused and exasperated.

You pull back, flustered, trying to regain a sliver of composure. Cormac shifts slightly, but his arm stays around your waist, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

“Do you have to keep doing that where I can see? I’ve had enough trauma this year without adding that to the list,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry,” you grin sheepishly. 

“Don’t be,” Katie snorts. “Honestly, I prefer this to whatever you were doing before. It was unbearable. I mean, the pining - ” she shudders theatrically “- disgusting.” 

You laugh, but Cormac just raises his butterbeer in mock toast. “Thanks for your support. Truly heartwarming.”

Katie waves a hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. “Just get me my next butterbeer so I don’t need to fight through that crowd again, and we’ll call it even.”

Cormac reaches over without missing a beat, handing her his unopened bottle. “Here. You’ve earned it.”

She raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Why, because I nearly got cursed to death and inadvertently set the two of you up?”

“No,” Cormac says dryly, though his lips twitch. “Because you’ve basically just won us the bloody Quidditch Cup.”

You raise your butterbeer in solidarity. “To Katie.”

“To me,” she says smugly, clinking her bottle with yours before taking a long sip.

The three of you settle into easy conversation, as easy and as natural as it’s always been.

Sitting here in the glow of victory, with Katie healthy and whole, and Cormac’s arm around your waist, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Things are pretty sweet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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