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sehnsuchts-trunken · 8 months ago

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Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)

summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:

pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.

Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.

So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.

You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.

So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.

He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.

You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.

"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.

Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.

He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.

The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.

He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.

"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."

You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.

It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.

You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?

It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.

You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.

Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.

Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.

When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.

"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.

"Really? That quickly?"

He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.

Also, he's hot.

"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.

"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.

"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"

He chuckles.

"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."

You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.

"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."

"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.

"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"

And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.

"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."

He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.

"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"

Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.

"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.

"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.

He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.

You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.

But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.

He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

...

The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.

"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.

Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.

Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.

You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.

The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.

Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.

Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.

So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.

Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.

But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.

"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."

Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.

He fails miserably.

His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.

You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.

So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...

Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.

...

He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.

And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.

All around him, all the time.

At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.

But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.

The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.

Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.

He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.

He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.

It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.

He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No.

No, he can't.

Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.

And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...

It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.

He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.

You can't.

You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.

You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.

You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.

Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.

The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.

He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.

But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.

And then twice.

Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-

Look right at him.

Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.

The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.

"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.

"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."

So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.

But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.

There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.

"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.

You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.

She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.

You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.

"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"

Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.

"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.

It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.

You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.

But it isn't.

It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.

But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.

His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.

This could all be normal. This could all be usual.

Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.

Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.

You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.

He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.

He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.

"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.

You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.

"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.

It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.

Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.

The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.

You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.

You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.

At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.

It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.

"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."

You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -

Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.

And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.

"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.

You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.

"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.

"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."

You take a long look at him.

"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"

You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.

He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.

"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.

"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.

You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.

You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.

"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.

It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.

You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.

"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."

You can't nod quickly enough.

"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."

His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."

You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.

"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."

You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.

Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.

When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."

You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.

You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.

If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.

But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.

So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.

Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.

That's when the movie stops.

You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.

You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.

He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.

Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.

Which is about the last thing you can take.

Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.

The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.

Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.

With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.

You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."

He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.

"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."

His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.

"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.

Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.

Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.

"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.

He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.

"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."

You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.

You don't. Of course not.

Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.

So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.

You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.

He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-

Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.

"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."

His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.

You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.

Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.

So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-

Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.

Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.

Shit.

Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.

Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.

"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.

Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.

"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.

"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.

A moment too long.

Way too long.

Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.

"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.

"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."

His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.

But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.

You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.

Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.

He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.

"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.

"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.

You're close. So close.

"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.

Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...

"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."

He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.

"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"

It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.

And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.

You're really fucking unbelievable.

He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.

He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.

His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.

But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.

"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.

You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.

"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.

"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.

You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.

"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.

Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.

He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.

He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.

And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.

But you can't feel bad.

You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.

Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.

"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.

You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.

He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.

"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.

Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.

"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."

...

It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.

The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.

And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.

Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-

"Oh, that-"

Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-

"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"

"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.

"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."

Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.

"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

You choke on your breath.

"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.

"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.

"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."

Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin smut #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut

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safyresky · 8 months ago

Text

I HAVE YET TO GO TO BED SO IT'S STILL TECHNICALLY MARCH 13TH SO WOE, FROSTMAS YEAR THREE BE UPON YE, AO3!

Give it a read on ao3 HERE.

Year Three

After failing to "make amends" over dinner with Jacqueline, Santa Jack visits the other Frosts to extend an "olive branch".

Physically PAINED ME to write--because I 100% essentially rewrote this chapter while prepping it for crossposting--this year because it's the year Jack goes to see the rest of the fam. And man, reading THIS VERSION OF A REUNION, WHERE MTF DIDN'T HAPPEN, AFTER CRYSTAL SPRINGS HAS BEEN FINISHED? I dealt so much psychic damage to myself, oy vey.

Would've been up sooner but we had a BIG EMOTIONS night here at safyresky industries. Eh, what are you gonna do? Bottle it up like these sprites do? FUCK NO! THAT'S HOW YOU FUCK YOURSELF UP! AH!

Word count went from 7k to 12k. I am SO skilled out of control. RIP.

Not sure what to heck a Frostmas is? I got you, boo! Have a summary:

The Twelve Years of Frostmas

Nobody but he and I knew the truth. Jack wasn’t supposed to be Santa; I wasn’t supposed to be Jack Frost. He thought being Santa would fix everything. He was horribly, horribly mistaken. [My take on Jack’s reign as Santa during the Escape Clause. MAJOR OC involvement AND First Person POV from said OC. Finally cross posting THIS behemoth! Enjoy!]

Interested? Take it from the top HERE on ao3! And here on ff dot net, where it is done up to Year 10.

And, of course, take a snippet from Year Three below the cut!

It was a moment before the doors swung open, revealing nobody. Jack frowned, confused. He blinked, peering into the foyer. “Can we help you?” Jack slowly lowered his gaze, taken aback by the new, slightly sassy voice. It was high pitched; gratingly so, almost. His heart skipped a beat when he finally came face to face with the figures that had answered the door. They were a matching pair. A boy and a girl. The boy held one of the doors open; the girl stood beside him, holding the other door open with one hand, the other sitting on her hip. They looked remarkably similar: same facial structure, freckles in all the exact same places along their faces. They were also very much on fire, the boy’s hair burning up, the girl’s hair lit at the ends, sparks cracking as she and the boy stared him down, unblinking. And that was when Jack realized that he was a big brother. AGAIN. Doubly so, in fact. It was the only logical explanation, after all. Twins. On fire twins. With very familiar noses and jawlines under the roundness. And very familiar golden eyes. Seems the next set of kids had finally taken after his father. “Hi,” he said, finally finding his voice. “Hey.” “Sup.” “Who are you?” “Who am I? You don’t know who I am? Actually, I should be asking you that. Both of you.” “Well, we asked you first, so…” the boy shrugged, looking up at Jack perplexed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You don’t know who I am? Really?” They shared a look. “Nah.” “Not a clue.” “The jacket doesn’t give it away? The silly hat?” “Ha. It is a silly hat, isn’t it?” The girl snickered. “What about our faces? We have very similar noses, don’t you. Don’t you think?” “Yours is way more crooked,” the boy pointed out. “Do you get punched a lot? I bet you do.” The girl turned to the boy. “He has a kind of gets punched a lot aura, don’t you think?” The boy ignored her, tilting his head. “Are you supposed to be Santa?” “Yes!” “You don’t look like Santa at all.” “Yeah man. Way too frozie around here,” the girl squinted, gesturing to her chin. “And you’re way too skinny,” said the boy. “I’ve been watching my weight! Way too many cookies, and you know, the holly jolly look just isn’t my thing.” “Too many COOKIES?!?!” “The holly jolly look? Isn’t? your thing? But that’s Santa’s thing. That’s his whole shtick!” “YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY COOKIES! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

WHAT INDEED, FIERA! WHAT INDEED.

Down to see how the Frostmas Family Reunion goes? FEAST YOUR EYES HERE!

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And mind my errors, ehehehe.

I wanted to get this posted tf UP so I whooshed it in there after read through #2, and read through #3 is happening presently, if I manage to make it through without distraction. I started a thing called Frostmas Asides? More on that later, but it has my attention rn, and also I am EMOTIONALLY E X H A U S T ED and may just crawl into bed. Absolutely wildin given my penchants for late nights and that it's only midnight o'clock. Does NOT bode well for CR tomorrow, which is funny bc Time Change had me staying up ALL SORTS OF LATE THIS WEEK! AH!

Anyway, some fun changes abound! What's 🆕 for Y3: 2024 Edition:

Upped Bernard sass (delightfully so I think)

Wrote a whole new set of notes to get a vibe of where everyone actually was at, keeping MTF in mind and how the parents specifically are feeling when it occurs in CS

Added another brief bop into the present, with Jack recounting to Jacqueline where she, of course, interrupts him 🤪🤭

And then hits you with angst 😶

Winter's fierceness was upped; Fiera's anger is apparent, and Fino's general inquisitiveness/unease after it all is more apparent lol

WHOLE ASS ENTIRE NEW SCENE OF BLINTER COMFORTING THE KIDDOS POST JACK'S LEAVE. IT PULLS AT THE HEARTSTRINGS, AND, Y'KNOW, IF YOU'VE READ FROSTMAS UP TO THE MOST RECENT YEAR, MORE HINTS THAT WINTER KNEW ABOUT THE BAD THING ALL ALONG >:)

That takes place in the morning room by the window where Jacqueline waited, but this time Blinter's waiting for her, and it's--they--IT'S POETIC, OKAY??? AH!

I think that's everything. I'm too tired to properly recount??? Despite having this rotating in the head all day, lol. Hmu if you notice any GLARING typos! And enjoy Year Three! >:)

#dani speaks #ttyof #frostmas #the twelve years of frostmas #fanfic #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #aus #ocs #dani writes #frostmas on ao3 #hey! tag readers! if you hit these before clicking the readmore! there's new shit in this chapter now!!!#okay let me get this out now lol #can't wait to look at this post tomorrow afternoon and find twenty typos all over again 🤣🤣🤣#i'll update the chapter on ff dot net after i edit it proper on ao3 lol #and i'll reblop with those links too afterwards #tho this is mainly about frostmas on ao3 tbh!#OK ENOUGH OUT OF ME. TIME TO CHUG FIZZY LIFTING DRINK AND GO TO BED #SLEEBY HOURS.

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satancopilotsmytardis · 1 year ago

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7, 9, and 17!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I like just being able to make something entirely with words! Whole worlds, histories, feelings! Just made out of strings of letters. I have always been a person who like making things, so writing is a wonderful way of doing so for me.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I believe that the energy of living things must be changed in some fundamental way when it leaves the body and I believe that people may not fully understand that process. (I have no fucking clue but sometimes places do be 'spooky' in strange imperceptible ways and I'm open to the possibility that ghosts are the cause.)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I have. NINE current WIPS. Thankfully I can group up a good number of them.

I have a bunch of installments in the Mishap series that I'm working on which while looking like nothing more than PWPs, are actually a fun way of exploring emotional intimacy as much as physical intimacy because one of my favorite things to do is discuss the idea of BDSM as a way of exploring vulnerabilities that it might be uncomfortable or frightening to do in other settings.

There's also Bonded, which I am really struggling with. I started writing the series just because I was having fun playing with a lot of silly ideas, but Shattered is much more serious in tone and while I usually love that, and I have a full outline of Shattered as well as outlines for the next two installments as well, I just haven't found the joy in it that I did in the beginning. I really like how chapter 6 wraps up, and it's been torture trying to move on to chapter 7. I don't know when I'll get over that hump, but it's been 3 months and I still haven't managed it yet.

Tumblr prompts, going well enough. Taking this as an opportunity to just write fast(ish) snippets. I often really want to linger and show how relationships develop thoroughly because (and especially with ShigaDabiHawks) I need a believable progression to show how those character could have possibly ended up together when they're at odds with each other's goals. However, for these I'm just going ham and that's a nice little change of pace.

Stalling out on the original piece (shigadabi with the serial numbers filed off because I wanted to use an original fantasy setting I've used for other OC work). Having trouble balancing how to progress the plot without losing the spark between the two characters after a... disagreement.

The Hanahaki piece is my fucking baby right now. Feeling as good about this one as I did about Honeytrap and Grey Area. It's so achingly tender and I love it to absolute bits. I have one area that I'm still trying to make a decision on and thought that the tumblr prompts would be a good way to step back and give it some breathing room after banging out 27k for it in two days. I'm very excited about this one.

And last but not least, the Time Travel fic! I'm enjoying this one too but I'm thinking about it logistically right now and trying to decide if I'm going to make it a multi-chapter or not. I usually don't like to do that because I write very differently for a multi-chap than I do for a one-shot and I much prefer the style of writing for an insanely long one-shot than a multi-chap (yes this may be why Shattered is fucking me up so badly, also why I really hated Playing Favorites by the end), but I'm not sure if it would be too jarring to go from Hawks' POV to Dabi's after minimum of 12K in Hawks' POV, but I need some scenes to be from Dabi's so eeehhhh. I'll figure it out. I like this one, alternate timelines are always fun to play around with and the butterfly effect here is so fucking strong.

I think I'm going to be finishing the Tumblr prompts before going back to the Hanahaki fic, but we'll see! And this is all dependent on me not starting any more pieces in the meantime. Which. Oof.

Thanks for asking!

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #writer ask game

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watery-melon-baller · 5 months ago

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as promised here are a few charts (this is not all of them) (im still not done I have more charts im working on)

ships over a 6 month period. lumity keeps skewing my data because it has an insane amount of fics which is great but also very annoying

this might not be 100% accurate due to there being overlap in fics that share the same tag but the other category is all of the gen fics. itheres like 9.5k gen fics, and 12k lumity fics. incredible.

now these next 3 graphs are a bit weird so lemme explain: I graphed how many fics with X tag were created in Y time period, and I did two of these. the purple line goes by 6month time periods, while the red line goes by fandom time (aka hiatuses and length of seasons). once the show ended (s3e3) then I just switched to 6 month periods. the red line on all 3 of these graphs is always the hiatus time line. the light blue vertical lines are the hiatus graaph times and the dark teal lines are the 6month graph times (and also the fic graph times). i know its confusing to look and I am sorry <3

anyways this one here is lumity! once again dominating the charts and skewing my data. very interesting how there's a decrease in fics during the first half of the year! my current theory is that its a mixture of a lot of toh episodes airing later in the year and schools getting out in late may/june so now people have time to actually sit down and write fic. very funky!

this one is the raeda graph. dont have too much 2 say about this one but its funky how similar this and the huntlow one are! i think the reason why it looks like there's a big spike In popularity on the hiatus graph is related to how its suddenly a 6 month period so more time = more fic.

here is the huntlow data! i have no fucking clue whats going on with it man. the hiatus one is doing its own thing. interesting how both the 6month raeda and 6month huntlow peak around the time S3E2 came out. not sure whats up with that tbh. really don't know why huntlow drastically drops because S3E2 had great huntlow moments?? who knows. again I'm not a data scientist I'm sure there's people who know how to analyze this and draw conclusions I'm just doing this for funsies. feel free to share ur thoughts/hypothesis below I LOVE 2 chat about this its so interesting to me :3

lads im graphing out the ao3 ship data and it's fucking wild to see

#i made these on multiple different programs so thats why it looks kinda weird #i couldnt find a graphing tool that would do what i wanted for the 6months/hiatus graph #so i had to use a virtual graph paper website and a straightline tool #very tedious #i havent even touched the survey data yet #mainly because i need to send it to the toh discord server hnfhhg #i keep pushing it off bc im a coward #im probably not gonna get harassed. like. no one has harassed me at all and im sure itll be fine #unless they thik its weird that im just there to share the survey and kick me which is. eugh #lilac post #toh #fandom #fandom meta #now i just gotta take all this data and make a coherent argument

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wangxianficfinder · 3 years ago

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Fic Finder

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1. I'm hoping you can help me find a modern hospital AU that I vaguely remember but don't have a clue who wrote it. Wei Wuxian is a hospital volunteer (very good with young patients) but also a long time patient (maybe cancer) who encounters Lan Wangji and his family. I'm not even absolutely sure it's Lan Wangji who's the patient. However, it was clear that living to an old age was definitely not guaranteed for either. Lovely story, so I'd be very grateful if someone can track it down.

FOUND! some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, wangxian, modern, hospitals, teenage drama, slow burn, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Mojo’s post)

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2. Hello! I'm looking for a fic - WWX returned to Cloud Recess and has been staying at the Jingshi with LWJ. But he thinks he should move out so he moved to a guest room. I remember a scene where LWJ came rushing in a panic because he thought WWX left :(Thank you!! @kayechan-blog

FOUND? can i look the other way by shipyrds (G, 2k, wangxian, post-canon, misundesrtandings, fluff)

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3. hi hello🥺 I need your help finding a fic, maybe you've read it!!! All I remember is that xicheng go on a much needed vacation but on their way they meet two kids and end up adopting them. I can't find it anywhere😭😭 @hissingfire

FOUND? For the heirs to come (be brave) by velithya (E, 24k, JC/LXC, post-canon, canon typical violence, smut, hurt/comfort, insecurity, fluff, accidental child acquisation, found family, PTSD, grief/mourning)

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4. Hello! I'm looking for a fic that I don't recall in nearly enough detail to even know where to start looking. I just remember this one specific scene where wwx is injured(?) and manages to climb up the stairs to cloud recesses, but he's not allowed in bc he's only allowed in for the winter/when it snows. I think it happened to be the day before or something? And the juniors discover him outside and are outraged. Does anyone recognize the fic? Tysm!!

FOUND? Scenes From Three Winters by LtLJ (G, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, romance, family feels, family issues, family drama, PTSD, body horror, bad parent LQR, happy ending)

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5. Heyo Mod L! I’m looking for a fic where WWX and the Wens moved to Yiling. It started as WWX teaching the kids how yo write and escalated from there. He has a small school there and JC came to see when he found they weren’t paying taxes? Please help me and Thank you!!

❤️ Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, wangxian, my post)

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6. Hello i'm trying to find this fic which i suddenly remember while reading Like Rabbits by Setari I'm saying that cause i think the fic i'm looking for is similar in terms of them having multiple kids but WWX going to gusu to ask for help cause there's a wangxian baby on the way/is born but WWX and LWJ already had a couple of kids that WWX keep secret (i think) so he gone to gusu to ask for LWJ to help care for the kids. Timeline events wise i think it's when the Wens and WWX are living in the Burial Mounds i'm not really sure on that. It's been a while back since I've read that fic the details might be completely wrong from what i said vs the actual events in the fic. Also sorry if that's short on details but that's all i remember and hopefully the fic i'm looking for isn't just a figment of my imagination.

FOUND? The Third Time by CordeNarcissus (M, 12k, wangxian, ABO, mpreg, unplanned pregnancy, marriage, everyone lives au, alternate endings)

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7. Hello! Im looking for a yizhan fic (please just delete this ask if it's not within the bounds of the blog but if it is, plspls help me find it) It's a getting BACK together fic, future (?) fic and all I can remember is Yibo is almost retired, living somewhere where there are mountains (?) And xiao zhan just keeps on dropping by without a heads up, and sometimes even waits for him. It actually takes a while for them to get back together or even kiss againI really want to re-read that delicious pacing of a fic, thank you so much for your hard work! <3<3 (Is it obvious that i would die without this blog, i love you all so much) @losing-victor

FOUND! A Long Time Ago… We Used to be Friends by DeviyudeThoolika (E, 49k, WYB/XZ, slow burn, angst)

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8. LWJ is the head of the Lan, who were devastated in the war against the Wen. None of the other clans protected them, despite both them and WWX requesting. LWJ asks for WWX's hand in marriage. Everyone thinks it is to punish him or get revenge, but actually it is because WWX snuck out to help the Lan and Jin-asshole was going to have him killed for it. @fightmehomework

FOUND! golden when the day met the night by Anonymous (not rated, 67k, wangxian, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light angst, fluff, eventual smut, WIP)

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9. hi! i was looking for this one wangxian fic that’s inspired by a richard siken poem or something like that, but i cant find it :( so i was wandering if anyone remembers the title or has the link

FOUND? drop me down to the dream below by AroPeterWam (E, 44k, wangxian, time travel, comfort, angst w/ happy ending, reincarnation, dimension travel, sick WWX, noncultivator WWX, WIP)

FOUND? the landscape after cruelty, which is, of course, a garden by Folderol (G, 3k, WWX & WQ, burial mounds settlement days)

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10. Hi! Can you help me find a fic where Lan Zhan is a God of Death or something close to that wherein whenever lwj touches smth, it dies. I remember reading it on AO3. The story goes something like lwj accidentally touched wwx and then wwx dies. :(( Thank u so much!

FOUND? Destined to Meet You by Reader997 (E, 30k, wangxian, hades/persephone au, mpreg, first time, childbirth, smut)

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11. HELLO!!! love all the hard work that you do!!!!!! i was wondering if anyone has the link to a wangxian fic where lwj’s mom lived in a cottage (?) and was sick, so wangxian moved there to help her, oh and it was an modern au, and i think had only one chapter out of 2 when i read it, that’s it thank u so much!!

FOUND? paired wings soaring by typefortydeductions (E, 33k, wangxian, modern, domestic bliss, slice of life, angst & fluff & smut, hurt/comfort, kissing, BDSM, light somnophilia)

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12. Hello, here's one for the next Fic Finder post -- It was a TGCF crossover where Wei Wuxian's soul, during the 13 years he was dead, was being kept safe by Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng was willing to intervene on WWX's behalf because Lan Wangji prayed to Xie Lian for the safety of his soul, and Hua Cheng approves of other people who worship Dianxia. I read it back before I knew anything about TGCF, and I'd really like to read it again! @mikkeneko

not FOUND happiness, with you by glowelegans (M, 5k, wangxian, TGCF crossover, grief/mourning)

'happiness, with you' does not seem to be the one I'm thinking of, though I'm happy to read it too! The one I remember had WWX talking to Hua Cheng throughout most of it, in some kind of spirit-trapping pouch or vessel in Hua Cheng's possession.

FOUND! The Pros and Cons of Keeping Wei Wuxian's Spirit Hostage by cringewerewolf (T, 12k, wangxian, hualian, angst, suicidal ideation, humor, happy ending)

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13. Hi! This is such a great resource for finding fics y’all do so much. I’m looking for a fic where most of the ensemble cast is in acting school together and the final production of the semester is Much Ado About Nothing, and WWX and LWJ play the leads. Could you help me find it? Thank you!!! @waterlilyvioletfog

FOUND? too wise to woo peaceably bybhere_perishing (M, 43k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, drama school, actors, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, pining, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff & smut)

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14. hello! I'm looking for a fic where LWJ sleeps with Burial Mounds era WWX. It was not a very long fic, and they were not together. LWJ does not go to the Burial Mounds. I think they meet up in some dusty room in Yiling. He may have talked to Wen Qing about WWX's condition and that he needs to dual cultivate. There was definitely mention of what terrible shape WWX is in after his fall into the Burial Mounds, broken bones,I think it mentioned his wrist held together with resentment. @significanceofmoths

FOUND? A Cup of Tea by Silvers_Hidden_Corner (Silver_Flame_2724) (E, 4k, wangxian, burial mounds settlement days, dubious consent, aphrosidiacs, porn w/ plot, dual cultivation, WWX has new golden core, communication, fix-it of sorts)

FOUND? sometimes my hands don't feel like my own by northofallmusic (tofsla) (E, 8k, wangxian, resentful energy tentacles, tender body horror, weird sex, golden core mad science, relationship negotiations, chronic pain, sex magic)

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15. Okay I really need your help!! I know I've seen you answer this on a fic finder post before but I've been scrolling through for HOURS and still haven't found it 😭 basically the fic is an arranged marriage between lwj and wwx and wwx has a really hard time adjusting to cloud recesses. Lwj and lxc try their best to help him but lqr is punishing him for every small little thing. I think there's a scene where wwx breaks down while getting fitted for new clothes maybe? I remember near the end jc comes to visit and lqr comes to apologize while he's there and wwx just starts crying bc he thinks lqr is going to make him leave just as he and lwj finally got close. Please please help me find this fic!!! Thank you so much for all you do!!!! @dekus-gonna-wreck-you

FOUND! Mourning Robes by Starlight1395 (T, 17k, wangxian, arranged marriage, no sunshot, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, depression, dissociating, fluff)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder

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sitp-recs · 3 years ago

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Some Cluefest 2022 recs…

I took some time to check H/D Cluefest this weekend and had a lovely time reading these. As usual these are personal picks based on my personal preferences, but I highly encourage everyone to check the full collection here. You can also check @ghaniblue’s wonderful reclist here. Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments before the reveals. Happy readings!

🧪 [Fic & Art] Search & Find at Narcissan Blooms (T, 634 words) by @the-starryknight and @gryffindorhearts

You should have known Auror Potter would be useless when you agreed to shadow him on this case. Yet, here you are, standing in Malfoy's stupid Apothecary and investigating a murder. It's up to you to solve the case, so you might as well start looking around... A Drarry I-Spy Investigation: can you spot all four clues? Feat: SECRET BOYFRIENDS, that’s all I have to say

🪟 surely some revelation (is at hand) by @opalesqueopioid (M, 12k)

In a dystopian society where peacekeeping dementors are employed to stamp out resistance by damaging souls of the dissidents, Draco strives to do what's right. Or: Harry is in a cult and Draco becomes the cult leader. Feat: cool dystopia, Unspeakable power couple, soul reapers (yes pls), spy Draco, domesticity, Amortentia for the angst!

🥩 Operation Dragon's Shenanigans by @nv-md (E, 14k)

Harry's in love with Draco, but it's complicated. Even more complicated than 'I'm in love with my ex-archnemesis and I get dizzy every time I see him smile'. No matter that Harry's an Auror, and always loved a good mystery, he's still having trouble figuring Draco out. And he's the only one who can see that Draco isn't a regular human. Feat: thirsty pining Harry, creature Draco, meddling friends, top notch humour

🔥 Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (T, 22k)

Just as Draco Malfoy's life seems to be getting back on track, the magic at Malfoy Manor is spinning out of control. Auror partners Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson are assigned to the case and quickly find that nothing about the situation is obvious. The flare ups are unpredictable at best, downright dangerous at worst, and why has a Hogwarts first year gone missing at the same time? Feat: reluctant bodyguard Harry, recluse Draco, strangers to lovers, pining Draco and a delightful amount of unexpected humour

💐 [Fic & Art] Memento Mori by @fantalf and @crazybutgood (M, 24k)

Seven is the number on my door. It’s the amount of scars I bear on my chest. It’s the time I wake up every morning. Seven is how old I was when father beat me for the first time, and seven years later I felt the force of a Cruciatus by the same hands. Feat: Unspeakable shenanigans gone wrong, memory loss, previous est relationship, gore, implied suicidal attempt, hardcore angst, hopeful ending

🐰 F*ck! by by @orange-peony (E, 28k)

Harry is trying to enjoy his busy life as a Healer (in spite of his dreadful lime green robes), when something mysterious happens. Why on earth is Auror Draco Malfoy suddenly appearing out of thin air in Harry's kitchen? And why is he always injured? Harry needs to investigate. And also get a new pair of robes, but one thing at a time. Feat: healer Harry, slow burn, low key angst, domesticity, comfort food, ultimate fluff

🦋 [Art] a living thing by @babooshkart (G)

The closest house is miles away, and the red clay earth eats sound. He had married Draco, had moved here in hopes of a perfect love, a fantasy romance, but something is terribly wrong with this place. Draco is nervous, and tells Harry with his eyes not to drink the tea that his mother serves. A Crimson Peak AU. Feat: fantasy AU, gorgeous outfits, perfect eerie aesthetics

#h/d Cluefest 2022 #drarry recs

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meili-sheep · 3 years ago

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So since I was updating, I figured I'd update on where some of my writing is at.

Blind!Diluc AU has been progressing very smoothly and is turning out to be a really chunky boy (currently at 12k and still only in raising action)

Diluc’s Adventures in Babysitting already has some parts complete, but I need to reread and edit them. Yes, there is a Klee thing I thought about putting out on mother's day, but meh.

I also wanted to do some quick one-shots for AyaLuc and IttoLuc since both those tags are bare. And I feel compelled.

I have an Albeluc thing planned but No clue how long it's gonna end up being tbh.

Abyssal!Diluc will be the next up to be finished after Blind!Diluc though.

I've gotten a lot of other things on the backburner, So under the cut, I'll put what's there but don't expect it anytime soon. (I have finals coming up, man.)

And I'll just remind people this is my google drive.

A Crimson Eyed Witch and Banished Sailor (chiluc working title) / A Little Flame Among the Gods (Archons and a Baby working title) / I Wish You Happiness (chiluc and kaejean working title) / Something Ever So Dear (zhongluc working title) / A Mother's Love (Diluc's Mother/Crepus slander working title)

Now some of you might be thinking. "Hey, Kai, didn't you mention in the last fic you posted about another entry for Color in Your Eyes?" Well, yup, I did. And that's still in the early stages. But I will say you all will be getting that Harbinger Diluc you've been craving.

I've been thinking about Merluc thing, but I might just stick with little comics for that.

#fanfic update #My food is here so i'm gonna eat #It's my day off and i'm feeling better

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hepalien · 4 years ago

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Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

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In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #steve x bucky #my stucky recs #fic tag #mine #fic rec #mcu fic #tumblr ate this the first time [my longest sigh ever]#i read art nouveau for the first time last week and I've been thinking about it ever since

121 notes · View notes

babiesdreams · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Allies and enemies.

Go check out previous chapters here so that you don't get lost

Word count: 12K ~ 20 pages

Johnny and Jaehyun bodies start reappearing on the same spot they were before leaving the room under the suspicious circumstances that nobody seemed to understand. Taeyong gets up from the floor finally recovering some light on his eyes. “What happened. Are you both okay?” Taeyong says looking at both of the boys alternatively with a worried look in his face.

“We are, but we need to talk” Johnny says in a low tone, completely worried about the situation. “Everyone older than Lucas, including him, come with us” Jaehyun says, backing his friend up. “Wait, Lucas and I are the same age” Mark says angrily. “Not you, Mark” Johnny says in a serious tone, which makes the younger boy give up on his intentions and shut up for the moment. All the mentioned boys leave the room, following Johnny’s steps to a longer and bigger room far enough from the previous one to not let the younger boys hear.

“Okay, What the hell happened?” Kun says getting slightly aggressive. “We had a mission assigned. We just had to follow it and we received points at the end of it” Jaehyun explains, leaving some empty holes to cover up for the rest to understand. “Why did you call us apart to tell us that?” Lucas says, not understanding the separation made by his friends. “Because, the missions are sexual” Johnny says in a low tone. “We don’t know that yet” Jaehyun complains at his explanation. “Our mission was sexual, but we don’t know if all of them will be like this” Jaehyun explains, giving more details.

“What was the mission?” Yuta says with a serious look in his eyes. “We had to-” Johnny tries to explain but Jaehyun stops him. “We had an agreement, what happened in the mission, stays in the motherfucking mission” Jaehyun says holding Johnny’s shirt on his hand in a threatening action. “Fine” Johnny grunts out, slapping the boy’s hand out of his shirt. “So about the points, How many of them did you receive?” Taeil says, trying to calm the heated atmosphere. “One each, and two for the reader” Johnny says looking into the oldest eyes.

“So, if I understood correctly, we fuck, and receive bonifications for it?” Jungwoo asks in a teasy tone. “I don’t see the problem here” He says raising his arms in a not-understanding pose. “Then you tell the virgins how they’re gonna lose their v card in a fucking game with a stranger” Johnny says, agressively getting closer to the boy, who looks away, kind of regretting his words. “Wait, the game forces you to have sex?” Doyoung asks worriedly. “No, It gave us an option to decline the offer, but we don’t know what will happen if we do'' Jaehyun explains.

“We have to figure it out. Whoever is next has to decline the offer” Taeyong says, speaking up after a long time processing the situation. “What? What if we die?” Lucas asks, almost offended by Taeyong’s offer. “I’ll do it then” Taeyong says, challenging the boy with his look. “Declining will not make us die, nor disappear” Ten says, interrupting the, in his eyes, pathetic scenario. “The game wants all 23 of us to play, they wouldn’t let us die so easily. We have to figure out how to get points though”

“By fucking, it’s obvious” Jaehyun replies to him, but ten shakes his head. “It isn’t like that at all” He explains. “Why not?” Lucas asks slightly altered. “You guys had a threesome right?” Ten asks, looking at both of them, trying to read their expressions. “Yes” Johnny replies honestly and Jaehyun reacts instantly. “Dude” He says, slapping the boy’s chest. “What? Does it matter at all? We don’t even know what they’ll have to do in the future. Let’s just not judge each other. Ten, continue please” Ten nods before continuing with his deductions. “If both of you had a threesome with the reader, that means she had sex with both of you, which gives us our first hypothesis. Points are simply a body count. We can actually verify that, on the next mission that implies any of you, because if they get more points, this theory will be impossible and completely wrong” He explains to the group that look at him amused by his abilities. “and what if that happens, and the hypothesis is wrong?” Kun asks genuinely curious. “Second hypothesis: Nothing to do with sex” Winwin finally speaks up, stealing Ten’s words.

“This makes no sense at all” Doyoung says, holding his head in between his hands, in a desperately confused action. “It’s too soon to fully understand the game” Winwin says, tapping Doyoung’s back in support. “Can you explain to us everything that happened, so that we understand the enemy?” Jungwoo asks, genuinely scared now.

“Dude I’m done with this” Johnny says angrily “Enemy? Do you even know what you’re saying?” She’s not our enemy. I don’t know about Jaehyun, but I had fun. It’s true that we didn’t want to at the beginning, but then we both wanted, and personally it was the best sex I had in my life. And the girl was just, perfect, she was all I ever dreamed about.” He explains in a heated tone of voice. “Dude, calm down” Jaehyun says, putting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, but he puts it away. “No, dude, I won’t calm down. And you also told me this, you love her. We don’t even know her and we love her, how is that possible?” Johnny says almost tearing up.

“The game master” Winwin says looking at the wall. “They will make us do whatever they want, they control us. So in order to defeat the game” Winwin starts explaining. “We need to know the master” Taeil finishes, understanding the logic. “I don’t care about the master, but the reader is innocent, I don’t think she knows what’s going on” Johnny explains, defending you.

“Hyung!!” Mark screams, as he rushes his way to the room’s door. He catches his breath slowly and says “The screen, has lighted up again” He says in between heavy breaths, provoking all of the boys to leave the room, rushing themselves to the “mission room”

The message “Mission Two: Reaction” Can be read on the screen. The boys’ eyes are fixed on the screen, until something appears on the huge table positioned in the middle of the room. All of them look at the objects that just appeared, appreciating the 23 rings. They start grabbing them, until each one of them has one ring.

“The rings will take the shape their owner wants them to be, and it will help you on your missions” The message appears on the screen making the boys turn and look at it. Almost instantly, Taeyong’s ring turns into a fancy looking ring with a red gemstone in the middle, Haechan’s turns into a simple ring with a sun drawn on it and Johnny’s turns into a futuristic looking clock.

The rest of the boys are quite unable to change the rings as they can’t picture them to be anything else but a simple silver ring. “Team 1’s turn” The screen types making everyone look around trying to understand what it meant. Seconds later the older boys start disappearing (Taeyong, Taeil, Johnny, Yuta, Kun, Doyoung and Ten)

They all appear in different rooms, far away from each other so that when Taeyong screams his lungs out, nobody can hear him. The rings of the boys (and Johnny’s clock) lets them see a new screen, this time projected on the air. “Mission: Walking on the reader changing, Team 1” The boys prepare themselves mentally, before two buttoms appear in front of their eyes: “Accept” and “Decline”

All of them press accept, not even thinking about it. All except from Taeyong, who recalls the others’ words from before, about dying if declining, about how it wasn’t that bad… But he also listens to his inner voice, telling him how he must protect the youngest members from this forced situation, how he has to do something about this, get them out of this game. But he can’t decline now, not when everyone’s lives could be at risk. So he presses the “accept” button as well after a couple of minutes of pure hesitation.

The boys appear in front of a door, knowing damn well that they had to open it. Taeyong hesitates at first, but then he’s definitely determined and he opens it up quickly, seeing your half-naked body in front of his eyes. He asks you “Who are you?” And then everything shuts down, with a “Mission failed” message, written all over.

“As it’s your first time, we’ll give you a second chance, act like you normally would to win the game” His ring projects out in front of his eyes. He sighs and opens the door again. After a couple of minutes, everything disappears, letting him alone in the room once again. “Reaction: walking on Y/N changing: Mission completed. Points gained: 0” Appears in front of all of the boys’ eyes.

And like that, their bodies start disappearing once again, to reappear in the common “Mission room” All of the boys that went on the mission look at each other, not knowing what to do. And Kun, taking the lead for Taeyong gets closer to the younger members, explaining how the missions work. “This one is kind of a reaction thing, so you just react naturally to the given situation. You don’t need to do anything at all just be yourselves okay?” He explains and the boys nod, still confused at the situation.

Yuta wanders around the room, looking for some sort of door, or even a clue of how to get out of there. His mind remembers the screen message about the rings and in his mind he pictures the ring turning into a nice necklace with a stone hanging on the middle of it. He smiles looking at how it changes its form on his hand. He then pictures a key on his head, but the picture of it isn’t clear enough to change the object again, so he just puts the necklace around his neck.

Johnny and Taeil try their best to calm Taeyong down, as his shaky hands hide his face from the rest of the members. Taeyong’s sensitive nature really makes him break at this stressful situation. In his mind there are only thoughts of how he should have somehow avoided this situation and protected his friends from this cruel game, but he knows deep down it’s nobody's fault, except for the creator of the game.

Meanwhile Doyoung and Ten discuss some theories about the game’s rules, how to beat it and the rings’ posible uses. Getting to the conclusion that they have one chance to change the ring’s shape in their own benefit. “Everyone, please do not change your rings’ shape just yet” Doyoung shouted loudly. “It may be useful in the future” Ten explains further in.

But all of these situations stop as the screen lights up again, this time with the message “Team 2’s turn” Before the second team (Jaehyun, Winwin, Jungwoo, Lucas, Mark, Xiaojun and Hendery) starts disappearing slowly. They are mentally prepared for this after listening carefully to Kun’s words and they get the job done pretty easily. They all open their doors right away, giving real reactions to the given situations, just as Kun instructed and getting out of the game pretty quickly.

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

The common room is filled with different theories, “The writer’s our only enemy” Taeyong says angily. “We don’t know that” Doyoung interrupts him. “They could not be conscious of what is going on” Doyoung explains calmly. “Guys” Haechan says softly, but everyone ignores his words. “Guys!” He shouts, getting everyone’s attention. “We can read what she writes” He says looking at the screen he’s been touching for the past hour.

“What?” Renjun says turning his gaze to the screen. “Look, Here’s Johnny’s and Jaehyun’s first mission. And here’s the first team reaction” He says pointing at the screen. “Don’t read it” Johnny says intensely, running towards the chuckly boy. “You think I didn’t already? Cute” Donghyuck coos at the older boy. “That was private, you little” Johnny says, grabbing the younger boy's shirt in his fist. “Calm down Johnny” Ten says patting his back and he lets Haechan’s body go. “How did you get in?” Ten asks curiously. “There was a password, and it was “nctot23”, not really imaginative, don’t you think?” Ten chuckles lightly at his joke.

“And, the writer’s name is Sam. Look at her first post. Her name is Sam and she clearly has limits established on her writing. Also, she’s asking for requests, which means the readers can actually tell her what to write, but she hasn’t got them yet. Also she talks about how we are the first group, not the only one. Conclusion: She’s clearly a fan and not plenty conscious of this game she created.” Haechan exposes his theory and the others listen carefully. “How do you know she’s a girl?” Jeno asks, still confused at the situation.

“Mainly because of her profile pic, but also because the only fic with a clear gender for the reader is referring to a girl, which leads me to the conclusion she’s most comfortable with that type of fics, as it’s also her first one, so 99% sure she’s a girl.” Donghyuck explains, feeling proud of himself. “Okay, let’s define limits in here. The screen will only be used to get information about Sam, not to read others' fics, as it is an invasion of our privacy '' Johnny says looking fiercely into Haechan’s eyes, who smirks. “Agreed” He says smiling lightly.

As Team 2 gets back in the room, the boys see how their reaction mission appears on the screen. The boys explain the new information to the Team 2’s boys. “This is too much information” Winwin says, getting his hands to his head, exhausted and overwhelmed by the whole situation. “So you’ve read what happened that night” Jaehyun says with fierce eyes looking right into Donghyuck’s, who chuckles. “Yes'' He replies teasingly. “So it’s just fair that we read one of yours when you get them” Jaehyun says, challenging him. He smiles and just says “Whatever, dude, I don’t think I’m Sam’s bias anyway, so I doubt she’ll write about me that way. But if you wanna learn from my abilities, I don’t mind teaching you” He says in a teasy tone that gets into Jaehyun’s anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him” He growls out getting up, but Johnny stops him. “It’s fine dude” Johnny says, calming him down. “I still don’t see this as a bad thing. I mean, today’s mission wasn’t even hard” Jungwoo says, raising a brow. “And our youngests friends won't have to do weird stuff, so like, everything’s fine” He explains.

“We haven’t even eaten since we got in here” Chenle says with a pout on his face. “Game, we want to eat” Sungchan says, after the boy’s comment. The screen changes into the lettering that normally can be seen on it. “Food on the dining room ← ” Types on the dark screen. Everyone looks at it and follows the arrow direction, getting into a big ass dinning room, with a luxurious table, set and full of their favourite foods and a lot of different technology devices, 23 phones, along with different game consoles and a huge Tv that could be seen from every corner of the room. Apart from the table, big couches, able to fit all of them and even more people.

Their eyes shine, mesmerized by the expensive looking dining room, which contrasts with the minimalistic common room. “Dude” Mark says. The younger members chuckle and explore around the room, while the oldests get right to the food. Everything looks delicious, the different plates full of food and the expensive wine, beer and other alcoholic beverages. Hendery’s mouth starts drooling at the view and delicious smells. “Thank you sam!” Lucas shouts happily, getting some chicken into his mouth and eating it right away. “Dude, shut up, we don’t know if she sees us” Winwin says shily hitting the boy’s arm.

“Oh I hope she is” Lucas says with his mouth full of food. Ten looks at the plate from where Lucas got his food and points out. “It’s obvious she likes Harry Potter” Chuckling “The food plates get filled when you eat them” He says. “And there’s no doubt she likes us” Taeil says, smiling as he gets some food as well. “It looks like it’s not too bad, at the end of the day” Taeyong says sitting on one of the chairs and Johnny sits next to him, getting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I told you” he simply says, smiling at him.

Everyone sits up and eats as much as they want. Filling up their energy as they do. The magic atmosphere of the room makes them forget about the whole situation. Well, not all of them forget. Renjun, who’s stayed silent through almost the whole experience, keeps in mind how the youngest members haven’t yet entered the mission, wondering in his head when it would happen. He also can’t help but wonder how Sam would be, how she would look like, how her life was like… Everything was a question without answer in his busy mind.

There’s another member whose mind can’t keep quiet, Sungchan. For him it was strange to see how a fan was writing about him too. Why write about him that soonly? And also was he old enough? He was 18+ but he hadn’t yet had his first time, so he really was wondering about all of that.

After a couple of hours, Team 3 were called for their part on the mission.

Nervousness was constantly present. The boys get into different separated rooms, just like the other Teams did. All of them recall Kun’s instructions about the mission, however Jaemin and Shotaro can’t help but be anxious and hesitant. Jaemin’s mind is busy thinking about which approach he should go for, a sexy vibe or a cute approach. He thinks about the vibe he gave as an idol, of the image fans normally have of him. He thought of that mix of cute and sexy and acted upon it.

Shotaro just was insecure about the situation, after listening to the rest of the boys' plans. The funny approach of chenle, the cute and innocent approach of Jisung, the sexy approach of Haechan… He was just confused on how to react. But he finally decided to let go and react like he would have naturally done.

They finally finish the mission, getting out of the rooms with, yet again 0 point.

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

The rest of the members explored the place, which happened to be huge, almost like a whole city. There were three different buildings, equipped with their own kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms, the doors to the three buildings were completely open when they found them.

The first building said “Team 1” The second “Team 2” and the third one “Team 3” So they deduced where they had to stay at night by the labels. Also the outside wasn’t normal. There was a sun, but it was quite brighter than the regular sun, there also were clouds, but they looked fluffier than the regular ones. And the grass? The brightest tone of green. The color palette was really something. At the distance there was a whole city to be explored, but since it started getting dark, the boys decided to just stay in the huge buildings for the night.

The team 1 building was simple, minimalistic and modern-styled. The walls were completely white, the details, and furniture were black, contrasting the walls. The bedrooms upstairs were plain, simple and pretty much non-personalized. There was a lack of decoration in them that made them feel empty.

The team 2 was a castle looking house, more classy, big columns, nice sculptures, huge chandeliers… The general vibes were royalty like (Just like the residents). The bedrooms had more personality than Team 1’s but still pretty basic, given the royalty vibe of course.

Team 3’s building was simple yet fun. There were a lot of different games, technology devices and pcs. It had a neo/ futuristic vibe to it. Each room was a different colour themed. Still there was no personality into them, it was more of like a well decorated, general room exposition (?

Each team entered their assigned buildings. Closing the doors behind them, even though they were alone in that world, you just never know. The boys have a nice sleep, the best they had in years. The beds and buildings were specially designed for having the best sleep and rest possible.

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

Next morning, Doyoung was the first to wake up, going directly to the main door, in search of some fresh air. But when his hand went to open the door it was completely locked. He was unable to open or break it, making him frustrated. After calling all of the Team 1 boys in, they cleared out how it was definitely locked.

The boys tried to scream, to communicate with the other teams, but they received no answer whatsoever. In their heads there was still a possibility that they didn’t close the door, but reality couldn’t be changed.

Meanwhile inside Team 2 building, everything seemed fine, Jaehyun made breakfast for the rest, even if they could have just gone to the great dining room and wished for whatever food they wanted. But he felt the sudden need to cook, and the faces of the younger boys made it worthy. But this magic moment broke into tiny pieces when he tried to open the door to share the food with the rest of the members, but it didn’t open. Just like Team 1’s door, it was locked and impossible to get open.

Team 3 was completely aware of the issue before any of the mentioned noticed. As Jeno and Jaemin saw a lot of bicycles, they wanted to go on a ride around the fantasy looking village. But it never happened, as the door was completely closed. But fortunately, Jisung, who had been playing with the phone he chose from the dining room, thought of a way to communicate.

“Okay, there are only three apps. The first one is the app about the game, where we receive the missions and where the writer posts. The second app is an app that connects the phones with the rest of the devices, so that you can play, watch tv, etc. in here. And the third app is a communication app. It connects all 23 phones together, so we can just talk to them through the phones” Jisung explains calmly. “Yeah but there’s no guarantee that they’ll see it” Chenle says looking up.

“Maybe, but yesterday I texted Taeil to test it, and he responded, so maybe we should try” He says and the rest of the boys give up. “Fiiine” Jaemin says, getting his phone.

--General chatroom--

10:30 A.M [Jaemin] : “Are you locked as well?”

10:31 AM [Taeyong] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Johnny] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Jaehyun] : “Yes”

10:31 AM [Winwin] : “yes 😔”

10:32 AM [Yuta] : “Winwin don’t be sad TT”

10:33 AM [Ten] : “Do you all have passwords pads on the door?”

10:34 AM [Haechan] : “Yes”

10:34 AM [Hendery] : “Omg I hate this place”

10:34 AM [Lucas] : “I can’t solve this things 😭😭😭”

10:34 AM [Yangyang] : “Are there hints or something?”

10:34 AM [Taeil] : “Have you all eaten???”

10:35 AM [Jungwoo] : “We should choose a member per Team to talk, os this is going to be messy”

10:36 AM [Haechan] : “Done, I’m my team’s representative member”

10:36 AM [Chenle] : “@Haechan, you’re not”

10:37 AM [Xiaojun] : “Let’s just not talk unless it’s something important”

And just like that the whole chat room went silent, as every team decided to just try to figure out on their own and, if something worked, they could tell each other.

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

Team 1:

“Stop trying, It won’t open” Taeil says exhaustedly to Johnny. The strong boy has been throwing himself towards the door for hours now, making it look even more impossible that it originally looked like.

“So we’re stuck” Yuta says, sitting on a comfy white and black sofa. “It’s because we closed the door, the lock was already designed. but we made it work like that. If we knew that before, we could have changed the password” Ten slowly explains.

“So, can we cook? I’m hungry” Johnny says, finally giving up. “I’ll do that” Kun simply replies before getting lost in the kitchen. “God, I hate this place” Doyoung says, leaving for the outside backyard, getting some fresh air finally.

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

Team 2:

The atmosphere was somehow chilled. The situation wasn’t really planned, but these boys were having a nice time together. Mark, Lucas and Hendery were constantly laughing at each other's jokes. Jaehyun, Xiaojun and Winwin were casually discussing what to try for the password. And Jungwoo was just chilling, trying to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere.

Maybe it was the fact that the place was really comfortable and more than what they could ever wish for, but they weren’t feeling anxious at all, which completely contrasted the atmosphere on Team 1’s building.

“Have you tried 127?” Jaehyun asks. “Duh, It was one of the first things I tried” Sicheng replies teasingly.

Their constant jokes and comments made it the best atmosphere among the 3 Teams.

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

Team 3:

They were all chilling, busy playing games, or watching TV, or using the pc, not really worried about the situation. Except for Haechan, this boy had stuck in his mind how he should know the password of the lock, even if he wasn’t really able to. It was not that he was worried tho, more like he wanted to prove himself.

“No, no, no, Fuck, I missed” Jaemin shouts “You suck at this game” Jeno teased him. “Shut up” Jaemin said, getting into a fake fight with the boy.

“You both shut up, I can’t think” Donghyuck shouts from the door lock. Shotaro, who walks beside him, offers the boy some chips from a bag he was holding “Thank you” The angry boy says, grabbing a chip. *angrily eats the chip*

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

Days quickly pass by. Stucking the boys into a routine, based on getting the missions done and returning to the comfort of the buildings. Once they finish their missions, they appear right where they were before, so they’re still unable to exit. The missions can be summed up in something like this:

Members chronicles:

→ How to say this: [+18]

Yangyang was confused. Why him over other members? He wasn’t really that popular and he wasn’t usually the target of this kind of stuff. Yet all of his thoughts disappear when he sees your body, your face, the natural glow on your skin, your perfect shade of hair, you were everything he ever dreamt or wished of. The mission went off just like a lucid dream, a completely perfect one, making him want to stay forever with you.

But when he returned, he faced reality. You weren’t more than just a game’s character, so he really shouldn’t fall in love with you. That was the reasonable thing to do. But his mind… His mind was completely out of reality, only thinking on your face, your hair, your body… Your voice, your smell, your touch. He can’t stop thinking about you, because you were the most perfect thing he ever saw, or touched.

He just can’t quite understand how it is possible. And why he should just forget about you. It wasn’t fair at all.

→ Mirrors:

Doyoung wakes up, heavenly breathing. “Was that a dream or a mission?” His mind wonders, but the points board showing on the projection of his ring confirms it. He moves tiredly towards the shower. He really promised himself not to fall in love during this thing, this game. But how could he ignore the memory of a perfect, real looking dream?

The cold water brushes away his thoughts, letting him free of thoughts, of your memories. The fact that this was all a game made him anxious, thinking you could die or disappear every moment. But mostly, the thought of not being able to know where you were, was just something superior to him.

→ Day 1: Kun. [+18]

His hands were shaking, moments ago they were grabbing your figure in them, your perfectly designed figure. Yet why weren’t you there? Who was the reader? Who was Sam? Why was she so cruel?? Kun’s mind was angrily wandering around the different things that this game gave him, and the one it took away from him. Feeling uneasy, and confused.

→ *Haechan’s pov: “Fuck” He curses, seeing the 23 nights with nct masterlist. “We’re all going in” He didn’t really have a problem with this game, or the situations, but he liked his sexual stuff to stay private, he could get really… Kinky sometimes and he didn’t want the members to judge him.

→ Day 2: Jaehyun. [+18]

“That was hotter than Mission one” He simply thinks, letting his body rest on the comfortable bed. The soft blankets and mattress hug him in, making him sleepy fastly. “I might love her” He simply thinks before falling completely asleep.

His dreams are full of your image, being that the only deep wish of his mind at the moment. His dream recreates the mission, every detail, every moment, every touch...

→ Day 3: Jisung.

“Is this how love feels?” Jisung’s mind was really full of different thoughts. He never experienced something like that before and it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, he felt good, almost happy(?. He couldn’t quite describe it properly… It was just weird. And after a long time lying down on his bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking about everything and anything, he finally got back to his usual self. He played games with the boys and tried to forget about the fictional person he fell in love with, though it seemed like an impossible mission.

→ Mlt tease you.

A survey appears in front of the boys’ eyes. The questions were really weird too. “From 1 through 10 How much do you enjoy teasing people around you?” There are quite a lot of questions but they eventually manage to complete it, the last question was the only one marked as required. “Which member is the biggest teaser?”

The answer was unanimous, “Haechan” “Lee Donghyuck” It was quite easy to determine the boy’s nature.

→ Drawing post.

“She drew me?” Doyoung asks and Donghyuck simply nods. “It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” He says, showing the drawing to the older boy. “Yeah, but why me? Out of all of us, why me?” Doyoung's words really reflected how serious and worried he was. “Maybe you’re special, who knows?” Haechan says shrugging.

→ Day 4: Sungchan.

“Game take me back” He shouts. Sungchan’s screams can be heard everywhere around the building. “I promised her she wouldn’t have to leave my side” His eyes become teary as he shouts the words. “Why did you take her from me?” His voice breaks, getting into a tone that could break anyone’s heart. “Why are you doing this?” He screams even more, yet no answer is given to him. Renjun runs towards him, as the rest stay quiet, pale at the situation.

“It was just a mission Sungchan” He says calmly. “It was more than a mission Hyung” His cries suffocate against Renjun’s sweater. “Sam’s crossing the line” Jeno says, clenching his teeth as he gets out of the room.

→ Day 5: Johnny. [+18]

“Fuck” He whispers. His hands try to hide his bulge as he gets to the shower, trying to calm himself down. He’s heard how everyone’s been sad or mad about their missions,, but his missions were really getting him horny and needy. It’s almost as if they were made for him, as if Sam knew him. The cold water makes his skin bristle.

His wet body leaves the bathtub, getting out with a towel around his hips. Even if he took a cold shower and tried his best to forget about the mission, he couldn’t get his bulge to disappear.

→ Lucas blurb w/ kids.

Lucas appears again, in front of the rest, all of the guys’ eyes fixed on him, trying to decipher what his mission was about. Lucas looks away and walks upstairs, trying to hide from everyone else. “Hey, tell us what it was about” Hendery shouts but Mark hits him lightly. “Dude leave him alone for a while”

Lucas' figure hides in the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. His eyes get filled with tears as he looks in the mirror, looking at his arms, where he previously was holding his newborn child. Tears keep falling down his cheeks, as he felt he lost his whole world, a world he didn’t even know that existed, yet a world he couldn’t live without.

→ Day 6: Taeil. [+18]

“I’m not like that” He thought to himself. “I’m not like that” The thought repeated inside his head. His hand hits his head, as he was trying to convince himself of his inner thoughts. ��I’m not jealous” He screamed inside of his head. “I’m not jealous of him” But then he remembers the mission, the way your body felt around him, your moans, his heavy breaths. “Fuck” He whispered.

He lets his body fall into the soft mattress. His eyes look at the white ceiling, but instead of white he sees your image, moving in front of him. Instead of the silence he hears your moans and whimpers. It felt like the movie was replaying in front of his eyes.

→ Day 7: Yuta. [+18]

05:45 AM [Yuta] to [Haechan] : “You had fun huh?”

05:46 AM [Haechan] to [Yuta] : “I wasn’t in, you stupid.”

05:47 AM [Yuta] to [Haechan] : “Okay, okay, don’t kill me, I’m just saying you’ll have fun kkkk”

Yuta’s laughs fill the silent room. “That was fun” He thinks to himself. His smile can’t disappear from his face. He remembers your face, your laughs, your whimpers, Everything is just too blurry to remember, yet too perfect to forget.

→ Roleplay w/ Johnny.

Johnny’s screen lights up showing a notification: [To Johnny: "Hi baby, looking handsome lately ;)"]

“What the hell is this?” He thought to himself. But the screen soonly showed instructions. Answer the reader’s questions/ talk to them. He scratches his head. “How should I answer this?” He thinks, while he remembers the missions he’s been in and starts typing:

[“Okay, first of all, thanks for the compliment, but, babygirl, Who told you to call me baby? Cause they’re so wrong, bet you don’t wanna be a nasty girl. -Johnny suh I like to be called daddy or just Johnny thank you ;)”]

→ Roleplay w/ Yuta.

[To Yuta💕✨ “I might be falling for you deeply” - baby anon.] Yuta chuckles when he sees the message “She’s so cute” He thinks before he types his answer [“Oh baby I don’t blame you for that. But with this pretty words of yours I might be falling too. -Yuta”] He throws the phone to the bed and hides his face inside his bog palms, as his cheeks blush like they never did before.

→ Day 8: Ten. [+18]

“I’m gonna fucking kill that guy” He thinks to himself, but his body disappears from the scene. “Fuck” He says, throwing something to the floor. Johnny enters his room, wanting to check on his friend, after the loud noise. “I need to punch something” Ten says, looking angrily at the floor. “What happened?” Johnny asks curiously. “A dude fucking recorded us. What if it gets leaked?” He says worriedly. “Dude, this is not even real, it was just a mission, remember?”

“Right” He thinks calming down, breathing in and out slowly. His look loses life somehow, as if reality just hit him. “She’s not real” He whispers slowly.

→ Day 9: Doyoung. [+18]

He gets up off the bed, slowly. His lids close, remembering the image, the clear image of the mirror reflection. But this image starts getting blurry, your face, your body, they’re all mere distant thought, memories of what someday happened and what may not ever repeat again. His hand punches the wall, getting some wounds on his knuckles.

He wants to punch himself, he wants to stop his mind from thinking what he’s thinking, but how could he? How could he ever forget this? How could he live out of this game?

→ Chapter 0 .

“It's all written, everything that happened” Jungwoo thinks. He’s been reading the blog too, even if he wasn’t interested at first, he thought knowing the enemy was essential. “We are here because she’s writing it” His inner voice is angry as he’s able to tell now that this is completely Sam’s fault. “I’m getting revenge someday” He finally thinks, putting his phone away.

Haechan on the other hand, had another vibe when he read it. “I think she just wanted to write something different, I don’t think she knows we really exist” He explains. “Well that makes sense” Jeno says, understanding his words. “But that means she’s not gonna be able to take us out of here. Because she doesn’t know we’re here” He says looking down. “I guess” Haechan replies. “But honestly, it isn’t so bad, is it?” Yangyang says from a distance. “I mean, this place is really comfortable, and the missions aren’t dangerous”

“He’s right” Jaemin agrees as he eats some snacks. “It isn’t that bad” Chenle looks at him offended. “Well it could be better decorated. I hate my room’s wallpaper. It’s so ugly” He says and Jisung laughs “At least we have games, I heard Team 2 members live in a palace, they don’t have technology” Jisung says laughing. “A palace?!” Chenle’s high pitched voice screams “That’s so unfair” His disappointed voice says.

→ Reaction clumsy

Team 1 talked all night about Chapter 0 and how it could affect them. The change of topic in the posts was something really dangerous. From basic romantic stuff to a far more detailed and thriller matter. That meant the topics could change to very different matters, putting them in danger. That’s why they decided to break the game, break it from the inside.

The boys planned on destroying the scenario, making it impossible to complete the missions. However, when they were in, nobody was able to break nor do anything, except for Johnny. He managed to punch a wall, breaking it and the game suddenly shut down, for a split second. But it gets back on. This time letters and even the image is glitched, almost like a regular game.

He sees your body and walks towards it, before everything restores completely he whispers at you. “We are trapped in a game you have to do something to get us out” You look at him confused, but his serious gaze gets you doubting about his words. Was he being serious?. “Just act normally for now okay?” He whispers and like that the whole game comes back to its normal state.

When he reappears with the rest of the members he proudly speaks to them. “I talked with her about this” He says and everyone looks at him. “You did what?” Taeil asks. “What? It’s something good for us” Johnny explains but nobody is convinced by his words. “You broke the 4th wall dude” Yuta says scared. “It’s fine” Kun starts speaking while showing them his phone. “She deleted what you said to her, but the file is corrupted”

“Then we got what we wanted right?” Johnny asks but everyone shakes their heads. “We want to break the game, not confuse the reader” Yuta explains while he leaves the room with a disappointed look.

→ Day 10: Chenle.

“NO” He shouts, still crying. “Don’t take her away again” His desperate voice breaks all of the boys’ hearts. “Please” His voice and cries get weaker as he lets himself fall into the ground, on his knees. Jaemin comes inside of the room, while the rest decide to stay away from the situation. “What happened Chenle?” He says hugging the younger boy in his arms. Chenle manages to tell him, in between cries. “You’ll see her again” Jaemin says, trying to make him feel better. “That’s not true, nobody requests anything about me. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to see her again” He whispers, with a sad tone.

→ Day 11: Yangyang. [+18]

“Hey, can we talk?” He asks Chenle and the younger boy nods lightly. “How did she look for you?” He asks curiously. “I don’t know how to describe her, but I remember her dimples” Chenle says as his mind travels back to the previous night. “Why?”

Yangyang looks at him and then looks away “Because mine didn’t have dimples, I guess it’s different for everyone” He says looking down. “I guess we see what we want to see, just like the readers read about their favourites, we get to picture how they look for us” Chenle says, expressing his inner thoughts “That’s why it is so easy to fall for them” He finishes. Yangyang sighs “I guess so… It just… That means they’re not real right?”

Chenle looks at him with a disapproval expression “Not like you see them, but they exist” He simply says. Yangyang sighs louder. “Let’s play videogames” He says as he tries to forget about the mission.

→ Dream of Hc.

“Oh she dreamt of me...Cute” Haechan thinks to himself. He sighs as he reads the words. “Is she anxious?” “Why would she be?” His thoughts fill his mind, completely. “She says she’s not whipped. Sureeeeee Sam, sureee” He uses a teasy tone on his mind and smiles like a fool at the thought.

“We cooked ramen, do you want some?” Jaemin asks, getting into his room. “Yes, I’m coming” HE says getting up.

→ Day 12: Jeno. [+18]

Jeno brushes his hair, looking into the mirror. His hand touches it, as he recalls your face reflected on the mission’s mirror. His hand hits the mirror, breaking it into pieces, but getting fixed instantly. His hand, however, has cuts everywhere, letting blood come out of every tiny cut. He’s not even worried about that. He gets some bandaids from a first aid kit and puts it around his hands, making pressure so that the blood would stop coming out.

His mind just can’t stop thinking about you. Your ghost hunting his dreams and days, he’s not himself anymore and he can’t do anything to make it better.

→ Like this forever XJ [+18]

He lays down on the bed, on a spooning position, just like he was doing on the mission. His hands caress the empty spot next to him, recalling how your figure looked minutes ago. Tears keep falling from his eyes as he hugs the air. “I’ve missed you too” He whispers.

He stays like that for hours until he falls asleep, trying to dream about you so that he could see your face at least one more time. Yet knowing he should not think of you that way.

→ Day 13: Taeyong. [+18]

Team 1’s eyes all look in one direction, helplessly. The girl’s lying exhausted figure in the middle of the room. Her head was bleeding from the hit the strong man gave her in the Mission. “Who is she?” Johnny asks. “It’s the reader” Doyoung says calmly. “No, she looks nothing like the reader” Yuta answers, getting closer to my body.

“Is she dead?” Taeil asks, covering his eyes from the bloody scene. “No, she’s just hurted” Taeyong clears out. “We need her to get info” He finishes. “She’s Sam” Ten finally points out. Everyone owes, not believing his words. “We need to kill her” Yuta says seriously. “Are you crazy? She’s our way out” Doyoung says to him.

“Let’s calm down and wait for her to wake up” Kun says as calmly as he possibly can. “Then we can ask her whatever we want” He finishes, letting the cold atmosphere calm down a little.

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

6th January, 2021

I wake up in a room just like I described, just like I imagined. The boys were all looking at me, intimidatingly. They looked just like I had always imagined, like I had always seen them through my computer, yet I knew they weren’t happy with me at all.

“Don’t touch me or I’ll kill you” I say aggressively, getting ready to fight. “Calm down, we just want to talk” Kun says slowly. “Are you Sam?” He asks and I nod.

I felt the need to explain myself, my actions, my existence. I felt like I didn’t belong in there.

“I didn’t mean to trap you in here...I- I swear. I’m not even sure how I got in here”

I was so scared of them, but I felt like they were also scared of me, I just couldn’t control my stutter.

“She’s lying” Johnny says, looking away from me.

My brows furrow, forming an angry expression. Before I couldn’t control my fear, but now I couldn’t control my anger. This was not my fault, I was sure of that.

“Why would I get myself in here?” I say challenging the boy. “Because you want to do the things you write about with us” Johnny shouts, making me back up. “Shut the fuck up Johnny” Doyoung says, still looking at the floor, as he did since the beginning.

“What?!” I say laughing. “You didn’t get the password?” I tease the boys, who look at each other kind of surprised. I started walking down the stairs, walking my way to the front door, as the boys followed right behind. “Did she laugh?” Taeil asks, still kind of confused. “I think so, It might be an easy password” Yuta whispers to him.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Kun asks me slowly. I try my best to calm down, breathing in and out slowly. “You mean the game?” I ask him and he looks to Ten and Taeyong, as if asking for an answer himself. “For now, we want to get out of the building” Taeyong says calmly.

My mind is full of different thoughts but somehow the fact that they didn't get the code correctly was so funny to me.

“Look. How many units are there in NCT?” I ask them and they look at each other again. “Four?” Taeil asks, breaking the silence. “I mean, like fixed. The ones that have a defined number of members… there are three right? 127, dream and wayv. Yours was really the easiest. You are the oldest members, so it was in between 127 and wayv. But most of you are from 127 so…”

“So it’s just 127” Ten says, hitting his forehead in disbelief. I nod and press the said numbers on the password pad. The door instantly opens, making a fool out of the boys. “So what about the rest?” Yuta asks, genuinely curious.

“Okay so dream and wayv are based on letters, but the passwords only allow numbers, so you have to convert them. Using a phone, you can see how every number has 3-4 letters assigned, so just like that, you type the word…” I start walking towards the Team 2 building, and stop at the front door. “So.. Wayv, should be 92999888” I say pressing the numbers and opening the door. The view from the inside is quite messy. The combination of Team 2 boys was really something… questionable.

“Didn’t you guys clean?” Doyoung asks with a disgusted expression on his face. “We were gonna, eventually” Hendery says from the inside, with a piece of bread in his mouth. “Who is she?” Mark asks from the distance pointing at me.

“We’ll explain to you later” Johnny says, hugging Mark as I keep walking towards the dream building. then I type 37773326 on the password pad. This time, as the door opens, a far more neat environment can be seen. That said, though, all the boys were eating junk food while playing games, on the main couch.

He follows my steps as I try to get away from him. “I need answers” He says calmly. “I’ll give answers to everyone, but as I said I don’t know everything about this” I say turning back to look at him again. “Tell them to meet me in the dining room… I’ll prepare some things”

I decided to let the boys talk as I went to the main dining room, waiting for them to clear things up. But I got so distracted in my mind that I didn’t notice how Doyoung followed me inside the main building.

He grabs my hand, stopping my steps, only when nobody could see us. “I know you from somewhere” He says looking deeply into my eyes. His gaze could have killed anyone within seconds, but I stayed strong. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” I simply say getting off of his hold.

But, even if I want to ignore his words, they get stucked in my head. Did I really know him? Apart from his idol image... Was there another relationship between us???

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

Doyoung stays quiet for a while, looking at how Sam disappears in the infinite corridor to the dining room. His mind is still confused. He has seen her before for sure. He had to know when and how it happened.

He comes back to the boys tho, letting himself enjoy the cute reencounter moment. He tells everyone what Sam just told him and all of the boys went inside of the main building. When they arrived inside the main building they were all too amazed by how changed inside of it was to notice how Sam turned her back to them. That said, Ten and Renjun noticed the weird movements she made, but they didn’t really think it was important.

The dining room was like ten times bigger now, and the ceiling was so tall that they couldn’t even guess how many meters tall it was. The big table had a fancy vibe now, and the chairs also looked somehow expensive. A big chandelier was the cherry on top to everything. The tiny crystals reflected the white light of the light bulbs.

“How did you…?” Winwin asks and Sam simply chuckles. “Take a seat please. I’m Sam, you also may know me as the writer or the creator of this place. I don’t know how I ended up in here, nor how you guys got trapped in here. But I have the power of modifying and creating things inside this universe. You also have this power in different ways like the…”

“The rings” Jeno says looking at his finger. “Exactly, you can change the ring’s form for your own benefit, though it might be tiring and hard for you. You can also change your rooms and building decorations if you picture it on your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we don’t care about that” Jungwoo starts speaking “How do we get out of here?” He finishes his sentence, finally allowing Sam to talk. “I’m still unsure, but I think it’s related to the points you receive when you complete the mi-”

“So we have to do a lot of missions to get out of here?” Chenle shouts, in disbelief. “Not exactly..” Sam tries to explain but Sungchan interrupts her “I’m not doing this” He says almost getting off his seat. But Sam was faster, as she shut the door, making a loud and scary sound with it. Everyone starts looking at her, amazed at her powers and her reaction.

“Let me explain first. Points aren’t what you guys think. You receive points according to how much the reader falls in love with you” They all look at each other, confused, not quite getting the concept. “The way you act provokes a reaction in the readers, comments, likes or even just their reaction on the fic count as points. And these points are how you get out...I guess” Sam finishes her explanation, relaxing her shoulders now that everyone is more calmed down. “And how will you get out of here?” Doyoung says with a deep and concerned voice. Sam looks at him, confused at his question but also kind of frustrated. “That’s my problem”.

Everyone starts discussing the different topics the new info bringed up. Sam simply starts walking towards the door and disappears in the dark corridors. Nobody is able to notice, at first, though within minutes Mark noticed her absence. When he walked outside, looking for the stranger, he found her sitting down on the floor, eyes closed and head looking down. In front of her, a huge new building was getting built, well at least until she opened her eyes, noticing an unwanted presence. The whole building disappeared like that, not letting a single brick behind.

“I didn’t hear you coming” She says getting up, looking at the boy’s confused eyes. “Your nose…” He points out and she simply wipes off the blood coming from it. “I got beaten up on the mission, don’t worry for me” Her voice sounds kind of exhausted, but she smiles at the boy anyways, in a failed attempt of fooling him.

Another presence breaks the atmosphere though. Johnny’s big arms lead her body, pulling her by the wrist. He leads her to a more private spot and starts talking. “We need to talk. What you’re doing is not fun, and it’s not good for us. This game you created, needs to stop” He says threatening the shocked girl. But none of the words he says get into Sam’s head, as her lids start shutting down and her nosebleed gets heavier.

Johnny’s hands shake as he holds her, shocked and confused as to what happened. His mind is full of regrets and concerns now. “Hey Sam, Sam…” He tries to wake her up, now lying her body on the floor, letting it rest. “GUYS” He shouts, and everyone around runs towards him. “You’re gonna get well, I promise… Fuck… GUYS, HURRY UP” His shouts sound like a father who’s about to lose a child, that level of desperation can be heard in his broken and raspy voice.

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

7th January, 2021

I woke up in a different room this time, completely lonely, or so I thought. By the decoration I guessed it was from the dreamies building. I sit down on the bed’s edge and put my head in between my hands. “You are already awake?” A voice said in the distance and I was able to recognize his tone from miles away.

“Haechan…” My voice sounds like a whine, wishing with all my might it wasn’t him. “Hey, you should thank me, I was the only one who wanted to stay awake at this late hour” He says, not looking away from his noisy game. “Well, whatever, have a good night” I say, trying to leave the room but his hand stops me.

“You can’t go, you’re still not feeling well” He says with a concerned look on his eyes. “I’m fine” I let out with an exhausted tone, but just when I’m about to go, his arms trap my whole body on a back hug. “You need to stay here” He whispers and I simply sigh. “Turn that thing off then” I say, giving up.

He obeys, not wanting to fight for longer. “Okay so… I’ll sleep on the floor” He says looking at the floor, his cute offer makes me chuckle. The spacious room lets me imagine another big bed far enough from the initial one, making it appear right after, just where I pictured it to be.

“You can sleep there” I say, pointing at the new bed, and getting back inside the bed I was previously on. “But this was my bed” He coos. “I already slept in here for hours, why does it matter?” I say turning my back to the boy, who smirks, knowing I couldn’t see him. “Do you wanna know what I did on this bed?” He whispers and that’s enough to make me jump out of it. “EW” I simply comment on the boy’s little teasy chuckles.

Night passed fast enough, though my mind couldn’t rest from thinking how to get out of the game or how I got in in the first place. It had to be with Taeyong’s night, for sure. Maybe the idea of introducing myself into this fics wasn’t the best one after all. But it gave it a different kind of vibe right?... I don’t know, at this point… I just wanted to come back.

“Are you gonna sleep forever?” Hyuck’s voice really gets me on my nerves. “You know… I still control who goes into the missions, It would be a pity to make you suffer somehow....” My teasy tone makes him chuckle. “That’s a lie, You’re just doing requests now, so it depends on the reader” He’s so sure about his words that it is almost concerning. “How did you…?” My voice on the other hand, is confused and insecure.

“I guessed your password, have been reading everything” My eyes widen at his comment. “Everything?!!!” I say sitting down on the bed. “That’s right, I’ve seen your post simping over my photos… You could’ve just told me. And you even dreamt of me so...” He says trying a seductive voice, but completely failing at it. “EW” I shout as I get out of the bedroom. As soon as I step out, Yangyang collapses with me.

The boy was holding a bag of chips on his hand and he had a single chip inside of his mouth. I widen my eyes and apologize to him. “I didn’t know you were awake” He says after eating the chip in his mouth. “Weren’t you supposed to tell us Haechan?” The boy shouts to Donghyuck, who acts like he hadn’t heard it. “Anyways, it’s nice seeing you’re fine” The boy says with a smile. “You should talk with Johnny though, he’s kind of… down” His words vanish as his figure disappears downstairs.

I follow him and get out of the building. Just on the front door, Johnny’s concerned figure walks in circles. When I get out, the boy looks at me right away. “You’re awake, thank god” He says, hugging me. “Umm…” It’s all I can say from his tight hold. “What the hell happened?” He says getting off the hug and looking right into my eyes. My eyes try to avoid eye contact as his gaze was just too intimidating. “I don’t know” I say looking down.

“You’re scaring her” Ten says from the distance. “I’ll talk with her” He says, getting closer. Johnny is still confused “Did I scare you? How am I scary?” He says to me and I chuckle. “You’re not scary, just slightly intimidating” My hand taps his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Ten finally gets closer, taking my holding my arm with his hand and we both walk together into the distance.

“I think it’s your powers” He simply says looking straight up. “I’m fine, I was just overworked. When I overwork myself my nose bleeds, it’s not about my powers” I say looking at him and smiling. “Well, now you gotta take care of yourself. Our lives also depend on yours. We can’t get out of here without you. That’s pretty obvious” His concerned tone makes me realize just how serious the situation is. “I’ll try my best to get you all out of here. I promise” My body stops and I lend him my hand, shaking his as in a promise.

The boy smiles, shaking my hand too. “We need to talk about a couple of things still” I say in a more serious tone and he simply nods.

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

The dining room is full once again, everyone sitting on their usual chairs. Sam’s chair floats in the air, standing higher than the rest. Everyone is looking at her, still amazed by her abilities in that world.

“Okay, First of all, I’m gonna show you how to use your rings to your own advantage. I have this ring of my own” She says getting her golden ring off. The ring is simple yet a heart decorates it. She takes the ring inside her hand and throws it into the air. The ring spins in the air, turning into a phone that she catches right away.

“You need to picture something that you may need, this way, you’ll have it easier on dangerous scenarios, like the one Taeyong and I went to” She shows the phone to everyone, the tiny heart was still present on the phone, being the shape of both cameras. “And if you do it again, it can turn into another thing like…” She throws the phone into the air, making it turn again, this time turning into a sword that she grabs easily.

“You have to be careful with these, and never. I repeat NEVER, hurt another member, we don’t know what happens if someone dies in here” Her tone is quite serious, and her actions are still confusing to everyone. That said, Yuta, whose ring already got turned into a necklace, finally gets it to turn into a pair of green earrings which he shows to everyone.

“Look” He says happily and Sam smiles from her place. “You got it” She says as her chair slowly gets into the ground again. “Now, we need to talk about where I should sleep at least for a couple of days. I tried to make a building for myself, but I’m just too exhausted right now” She explains and the boys nod in understanding.

“She’s already sleeping in my bedroom, we should keep it that way” Haechan says, starting the discussion. “Your building is the one with more people, she should come with us” Lucas replies to him. “With you, the messy team, I don’t think she wants that” Taeil says teasingly.

“We are not that messy” Xiaojun clears out slightly offended. “She should come with us anyways, we are the most responsible team” Kun says to him. “Why does that matter?” Xiaojun replies, even more offended this time. “Hey guys, shotaro wants to speak, let him say something” Sungchan says tapping the shy boy’s shoulder so that he would start talking. “She’s our age, we... should.... be..... together” He says shyly and everyone goes crazy, discussing different topics and which dorm was the best.

“Can we just let her choose?” Doyoung says, already tired with the pointless discussion. “T-Thanks” Sam says, after she had to hear the whole discussion. “It would be just for a couple of days, and I already made a bed into Haechan’s room, and, as much as I hate his presence, I feel like it’s the best option. If anyone wants to change rooms with him, that’s your decision, I truly don’t care about it” She says standing up and leaving the big room.

Everyone stays silent for a while, but then they start arguing about who should sleep in Haechan’s bed.

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

7th January, 2021 - 8th January, 2021

My mind tries its best to turn the ring into a laptop and, after a few minutes, I finally get it. The laptop is a nice shade of white, with golden strides along it, and in the back, a cute golden heart can be seen. I smile, as I’m finally able to rest and simply write whatever comes next.

I put on strawberries and cigarettes and start writing the fic for 🔮 anon. Until a hand poses on my shoulder, I turn back and look into Taeyong’s concerned eyes.

“Is she alive?” He says slowly. I smile lightly trying to comfort him. “Look here” I say pointing at the screen. “It says to be continued. If there’s another part, she’s not dead” A smile appears on his face for the first time since he got out of the fic.

“That doesn’t mean she’s not in danger though. But we’ll figure it out” I say calmly. “As I’m also inside this fic, I’m not the one writing it” He looks at me confused “Then who….”

“That’s what I’m trying to guess” I say looking back at the screen “Can you tell Ten to come here whenever he can please?” He nods and disappears out of the room. But I don’t get much time alone as Donghyuck enters the room tapping my shoulder so that I would look at him.

“What do you want?” I say slightly irritated. “You said you hate my presence and now we are rotating on who sleeps in here” He says with a sad tone. “So what?” I say turning my back to him and resuming my work. “Why would you say that. I know deep down you enjoy my company too”

“The problem is” I start saying “that is soooooooo deep down” I say looking at him for a second with a smile drawn in my face. “Oh come oooon” He whines out but Ten’s steps into the room stop him. “Did you call me?” He simply says supporting his figure on the door frame. “Yes, please, sit somewhere. Haechan get out, this is private”

The boy pouts before leaving the room and Ten sits on a chair next to me. “Look, I got this request, well it was more of like a story that happened to this girl. It is really sad and I just wanted you to know that you should be extra soft with her. I know we’re in a stressful situation, but she needs this” I say, my voice cracking at the middle of the sentence. “Just try your best please” I say looking down, controlling tears from falling down my cheeks.

“Hey, I promise” He says, lending me his hand, so that I would shake it, just like we did before. “We’ll get out of here together” He says smiling and I simply nod at him. He stands up after a minute and steps out of the room. “It’ll be ready for tomorrow, so prepare yourself” I shout and he replies with a “YES” I got some minutes alone, yet again, being alone in a world with that many people wasn’t easy.

Renjun enters the room and sits on Haechan’s bed, while eating some kind of sugary snacks. “Do you want some?” He says lending me the bag he was holding. “No thanks, I can’t eat those” I say with a smile. “You can’t eat them?” He says, widening his eyes, I simply shake my head. “I'm intolerant to a lot of stuff, so I really shouldn’t, plus sweet stuff isn’t really my thing” I say and he lays back on the bed, humming.

“I’m intolerant to Haechan so I get what you say” The boy says and I chuckle loudly. “He really is something else” I say in between laughs. “I’m sorry that you have to share a room with him. Or really with any of us, It might be really uncomfortable” Renjun says looking at the ceiling, getting lost in his words. “It won’t be for long. And I think it’s worse for you guys than for me. I mean… It was my fault that you had to be in here and you’ve all been nice to me. I feel like I don’t deserve that.

Renjun sits down, now looking at me as I talk. “I don’t know about the rest. But I’m happy that you’re here. At least we have something to do in between missions” He says and I look at him confused. “Something to do?” I ask blushing. “Yeah, like getting to know you” He says and I hide my face out of embarrassment. “What did you think I meant?” He shouts in shock. “I don’t know” I reply laughing.

My eyes return to the screen, as I continue writing, after a conversation with Renjun, he gets out of the room. I keep writing and writing, getting some extra fics done, so that I have more time for other stuff later. I check out the clock at the bottom of the screen and my eyes widen at the view [3:30 AM] “Fuck” I whisper before someone knocks at the door. “Yes” I say and the person enters the room. Doyoung’s figure appears calmly and slowly. “We decided to take turns to sleep with you” He explains softly.

“Yeah, Haechan told me about it. That’s his bed” I say smiling, my voice is almost a whisper so soft, so calmed. He simply nods, sitting on the said bed. “You should go to sleep too” He says softly and I nod. Even if I wanted to disagree, I knew I should rest and sleep so I obeyed, getting up and walking towards my bed.

“Do you think we’ll get out of here?” He says, looking down. “I hope y’all get out of here someday” I say looking up as I layed on the bed. “What if we don’t want to?” He says laying on his bed too. “Why wouldn’t you want to?” I say curiously. “This place is nice, we get to rest… I don’t know… I like this” He says sighing. “Well, we can talk about it tomorrow, we should go to sleep” He says and I nod, laying on one side, facing the wall.

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A high-pitched scream and heavy breaths wake Doyoung up. He looks to both sides, confused as to what is happening, until he sees Sam’s figure. Her chest was rising with every deep and fast breath, her forehead was really sweaty and her eyes teary.

“Sam, are you okay?” He says slowly getting closer to her, but she doesn’t answer. Once he sits on the girl’s bed, she hugs him tightly, crying on his shoulder. “I had a nightmare” She says in between cries. Doyoung smiles lightly, appreciating her cute nature, yet worried about her state. “Do you need something?” He says tapping her back.

“Can you…” She tries to say something but stops herself, as if she was too afraid of speaking her mind. “Tell me” He whispers in her ear. “I need to hug something when I sleep…” She says cutely and he chuckles. “Do you want me to sleep with you?” He says pulling off the hug and looking at her right into her eyes. She blushes and says “N-not in like- Nothing weird... Just sleep” She stutters and he smiles nodding. “Just sleeping”

His body lays right next to hers, letting her arms hug his waist. She quickly falls asleep again, which lets the boy calm down for a while.

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

8th January, 2021

“Oh My God. We agreed on this” Haechan’s voice gets me up, as I slowly open my eyelids. Doyoung was already standing up, leaving my arms empty. My cheeks blush as I remember what happened last night. “Nobody was allowed to do that and you know it” His screaming voice really gets into my brain. “For the last time, WE DID NOT HAVE SEX” Doyoung screams back at him.

I get up and look at Haechan, asking for answers. “Was that the reason for your scream last night? What did he do to you?” He says worriedly. “I had a nightmare LEE DONGHYUCK. And I needed someone to hug. He was just nice to me god” I say, already exhausted at the situation. “You had a nightmare?” He says worried. “Are you okay now?” I look at him, tiredly. “I’m fine” I say, tapping his head.

“Also what the fuck was the “we agreed on this” about?” I say tilting my head and the boy simply disappears out of the room. My eyes turn to Doyoung who also leaves the room and says “Good luck on your work” before he completely disappears. I sigh, already tired of being surrounded by 23 guys.

But I’m not able to think for much longer as blood starts coming out of my nose again. “I didn’t even write anything yet” I think to myself, still unsure of what these bleedings were about. I still don't know what it is, but it’s definitely something that concerns me. I’ve never gotten that many nosebleeds in my life. But whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out on my own.

......................................................................................................Sam.

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hogwartsfirebolt · 5 years ago

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Hello there! I’m finally here with the third and last part of my favorite drarry fics I read in 2019!!! In the first part and in the second part I recommended 10 stories that made my year, and in this post I’m recommending 10 more that I absolutely adore. The banner art is by @spielzeugkaiser who was really kind and let me use this GORGEOUS piece, which you can (and totally should) reblog right here. Now, without further ado, here’s my,

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2019 PART THREE

1. The Company of The Rose - @lower-east-side - 31k - E - Six years after the war, Draco Malfoy has been restoring magical estates, while sidestepping his mother’s plots to marry him off and resolutely avoiding his issues. An advert in the Prophet takes him to a remote island, where a mysterious stranger has purchased an abandoned retreat. But the house has a few secrets of its own, and Draco will be forced to deal with not only his past, but the possibilities of the future.

We’re starting out this list with one of the last fics I read last year, and undoubtedly one of my absolute favorites. It’s gorgeous, sweet, breathtaking, a dozen other adjectives I can’t even think of. Stories that take place in beautiful, secluded places have a special place in my heart, and with a sure hand the author leads us through some of my favorite aspects of the trope: slow forming friendships, the feeling like they’re living in a world of their own as they get to know each other for who they really are, wonderful, delicious sexual tension keeping me breathless until the moment it snaps. The sex pollen element is also worked in a way I had never read before, with an exploration of what happens in the aftermath, addressing the issue of consent it creates. It’s just absolutely phenomenal, every single word of this.

2. I could be wrong, I could be ready - @harryromper - 57k - M - At first Harry wonders if they’ve managed to destroy his vaults and are trying to tell him in the most oblique way possible. But when he turns the page he realises they’ve found a vault. A vault in the name of Lily and James Potter.The parchment trembles a little in Harry’s hand. He takes another gulp of wine. Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter.

Explorations of Harry as a character and his post-war issues never fail to hook me right in, and this beautiful fic takes us with him on a journey where he changes so, so much, and at first he does it by running away, thinking everything will remain unchanged as long as he doesn’t acknowledge it, which, of course, isn’t the case. We see him having to face his past, reconnecting with his friends, finding and coming to terms with pieces of himself that he forgot about, or never knew existed in the first place, and it’s absolutely exquisite. The tremendous amount of character development, the regaining of trust in himself and others, the way we can witness a love story blooming slow and steady, and see Harry grow into a confident, wonderful man. God, I have feels for this one, for every detail, every character and setting and emotion. It’s absolutely fantastic.

3. What Real Thing? - @l0vegl0wsinthedark - 12k - E - They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

This was my year of falling in love with l0ve’s fics. I had read some of her work before, but it was a few months ago that I found myself deep into her ao3 page, nearly weeping with the amount of emotion every single one of her stories stirs up within me. Picking just one was extremely difficult, but I finally chose this one, because the way she paints the relationship between Harry and Draco is masterful, their dynamic shifting and changing little by little, baby steps that become full-on sprints, single-minded and hesitant all at once, until we see them elbows deep into a feeling they don’t even know they’re experiencing, and it’s just brilliant, scorching hot, all-encompassing in a way that made me feel caught up in the whirlwind that is their relationship. If you haven’t yet read anything by l0ve, then I strongly, strongly recommend you start right about NOW. You won’t regret it.

4. Teeth - @amelior8or - 5k - E - Potter’s been practically begging for it, for months, constantly staring until the air crackles with the intensity of it. Draco always stares back, until all it takes is a brush, a spark, before they go up like flash paper. The crash into each other is inevitable. Draco’s heart has got teeth. And there is nothing he won’t do to keep up the fight with Harry fucking Potter.

I am absolutely, 1000% weak for werewolf stories, and in just 5k words this one managed to enchant and entrance me. It’s hot and fast-paced and intense in the way I love, with their relationship charged with emotion and intensity that transform bickering into passion in the blink of an eye. The moment I reached the end, I went back to the top of the page and reread it that very second, because I had to experience it all over again. Amazing characterization, banter to die for and explosive chemistry are all present in this gem. I kid you not, I’ve read it about six times at this point and just keep going back to that moment in the showers because THAT DIALOGUE IS JUST- wow.

5. Hush, darling - @magpiefngrl - 23k - E - Draco is in trouble. To get out of it he needs to seduce Harry Potter.

My god what a story this is. Absolutely unique, 23k words that felt like so, so much more because of everything they made me feel. There isn’t a single line of dialogue in this story that doesn’t feel purposeful, the characterizations constructed with such skill that every step the characters take rings true to their essence and gives us another clue to add to the puzzle that is Harry Potter, vulnerable man, powerful man, and Draco Malfoy, in all his darkness and his light. It also features some of the best sex scenes I have read, EVER. I could go on and on about this one, so let me just refer you to my long, individual rec for some more flailing.

6. The Pirate and the Prince - @nerdherderette - 49k - E - Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

YES!!!!! YES!!! The moment I saw the cover art for this fic on tumblr my entire being just screamed YES, and it was everything I could’ve hoped for and more. Listen, there is nothing I love more than fics where I get to see Harry as a powerful, ruggedly handsome man who’s not afraid of getting his hands dirty, and in here there’s some of that and MORE, because he’s a freaking PIRATE. And not only did I adore that aspect of it, but the writing pulled me right in, the setting so vibrant I could feel it in my bones, and I just genuinely enjoyed every second of reading this so, so much. There’s ships and adventure and fighting for what’s right, there’s lovely kisses, heated kisses, secret identities and parrot Hedwig. Just, all in all, a great freaking time.

7. Falling for a Golden Boy - @rockmarina - 44k - E - Merlin. Why couldn’t Draco have moved to a forgotten village in the Alps? He could have turned into a shepherd, learned to make his own damn cheese and given up his damn magic. But no, he’d had to come back to his Eighth year, hadn’t he? And this was his life now. Draping himself over Potter to hear words from him that he knew Potter wouldn’t ever mean.Great. The school year ahead of him looked simply great.“All I know is—when I’m with you, I…” Potter, the heathen, grunted when he read the rest of his line. “Do I really need to say this?”“What, scared of believing your own words, Scarhead?” Draco spat.“Boys,” O’Neill warned them.“All I—all I know is you’re the most amazing person with weak ankles that I've ever met, Meg.” Potter scowled. He was blushing again. “And when I’m with you, I feel less alone.”

My favorite eight year Drarry of all time, probably. I had never before experienced such a beautiful balance of the aftermath of the horrifying events of the war and how they impacted each character, and the light feeling of youthful fun. There are so, so many things to love in the 44k words that make up this masterpiece, so many details that warmed my heart and made me melt inside, so many moments that had me laughing or clutching my chest. In here, you’ll find quite a lot of Hercules references, wonderful teachers, drama club, healing, characters learning to trust, learning to love, learning to cope, beautiful friendships, hopeful romance. It is everything. I talked more about this fic in this individual rec, and I will absolutely talk MORE about it if given the chance. Everyone should read this.

8. Tease Crossed, Eyes Dotted With A Little Heart - @diligent-thunder - 18k - M - Draco's a curse-breaker, Harry's an Auror, and they're... something? Maybe? It depends. Harry definitely wants to get laid, Draco wants to follow procedure, and their work wives just want them to stop hiding from the truth.

I hope you’re not sick of my rambling yet because oooooh boy, THIS ONE. It’s funny, in the way that makes you cover your mouth because you’re about to burst out laughing on the bus, it’s hot, in that casual way that makes you clear your throat and shift your phone just a little, just so the screen can’t be seen by the person sitting beside you because like HELL are you going to stop reading now, it’s sweet, in the way that makes you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, and it’s so detailed and all around so, so much fun to read, in the way that grips you and doesn’t let you go, only to release you when it’s over so you can go and recommend it to your friends, IT’S. SO. GOOD. Real quick: auror + cursebreaker pairing, are-they-friends-with-benefits-or-more, guess-they’d-have-to-actually-TALK-to-know-that, teasing each other in public, getting trapped together for a bit there, powerful female characters, should you guys really be flirting right now? and MORE. Listen, just go read it now and thank me later.

9. That which hurts (and is desired) - @shealwaysreads - 19k - E - Draco was lying still, and pale, on a bed in a private room in St Mungo’s. The sheets were white, clean, enchanted against stains, vanishing the blood that kept spilling out of him. He hadn’t moved in two days. Not a twitch of his elegant fingers. Not a blink of his fierce eyes. Harry couldn’t even see the faint flutter of his pulse in his throat from where he stood at the foot of the bed, helpless, impotent, furious.

This fic is written so, so beautifully that it aches and leaves such an impression that, thinking back on it, every emotion hits me just as hard as it did when I was reading it. Everything Harry felt, I felt, every moment where he found himself just a little bit more in love with Draco, I was there, every moment of his frustration when Draco is hit with a curse nobody can decipher, I was there for it. With non-linear storytelling, it is evocative, a masterclass in narration, pacing, characterization and beautiful, lyrical writing. I nearly have no words for it. It features: auror partners that work together seamlessly, a dash of pining, a helping of very, very hot sex, and a love story that feels soft like a dream and thrilling like a race. This was the very last story I read in 2019, and I could not have ended the year on a better note. Definitely check this one out.

10. For Thine Is The Kingdom - @kedavranox - 66k - E - On a secret mission, Draco is Turned. With no memory of what happened, he learns that to save his missing Auror partner and regain what he’s lost, he must uncover the long-buried secrets of the vampire covens. To do that, Draco must open his mind and heart to what he has become, the new-found family that surrounds him, and the man who has remained steadfast at his side through it all.Harry spent five years avoiding the man he fell in love with, but when Draco needs his help, he cannot refuse. As they race against the clock to find Draco’s partner, Harry discovers that the bond they share is nothing to hide from, and that he'll never outrun the pace of his own heart.

And last but absolutely not least, there’s this freaking diamond of a story. I swear I want to squeal whenever I remember it. I’ll be brief: it is one of my absolute favorite fics of all time. In here, there’s vampires, unspeakables, a big investigation, wonderful side characters and information given in small little doses as we learn alongside the characters and piece together an entire picture. It’s dazzling, incredibly detailed in every way, with shades to each character and nuances to every interaction and bit of magic we get to see. I feel like anything I can say is not enough, I can never do this story justice. I have tried before, and written the gushiest individual fic rec of my LIFE but just- I honestly have no more words to express how much I think everyone needs to read this. Please, check that rec out, please, check this story out. There is absolutely nothing like it.

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And that wraps it for 2019! Thank you to all who take the time to check out my lists, and THANK YOU specially if you give these incredible stories a chance, because they deserve all the love in the world. Once again: All the way from here, behind a username and a few tumblr posts, I can honestly say that these 30 stories made my year. I hope they can make yours, too ❤️ If you ever want to discuss these (for tag concerns or plain flailing) (or any story really) my DM’s are always open!!!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic recs #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #2019rec #ficrec

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swissmissficrecs · 5 years ago

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My favorite fics of 2011

Continuing to sift through old bookmarks, here are my favorites from 2011 that are still up:

26 Pieces by Lanning (28K, E, Johnlock) Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (20K, E, Johnlock) ‘John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.’

A Love with No Name by aceofhearts (49K, M, Johnlock, Warstan, Mary/Irene) In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

A Thorough Examination / In Depth by emungere (15K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock watched John's mouth as that smile slid away too quickly. There had been something there, something he'd not had time to analyze. He was left with the unsettling impression of having witnessed an expression that didn't belong on John Watson's face at all. In its wake it left the equally unsettling thought that perhaps he didn't know John as entirely as he thought he did.

A Week in the Country by chainsaw_poet (20K, NR, Gen) Sherlock's lifestyle has taken its toll on his health and John is worried. With Mycroft's help, John coerces Sherlock into taking a holiday in the country to get some rest. Unfortunately, their trip doesn't quite turn out to be a relaxing as John had planned, when Sherlock's latest case decides to catch up with them.

Blind Man's Bluff by Rae666 (25K, T, Gen) "We are gods among mortals. But even gods must be tested." Sherlock loses his sight temporarily and must rely on his other senses and John in order to solve the case at hand. But as the killer draws closer, could the pair be in more danger than they first thought?

Contamination by LauraJV (16K, M, Gen) In which an artistic murder draws Irene Adler and her brother Nathan into the lives of Lestrade and Holmes, and Dr John Watson balances his morals against the happiness that is a warm gun.

Dehumanise Me by deuxexmycroft (26K, E, Johnlock) John is sent down for life after accidentally murdering someone, and gets snatched up to play prison wife for a strange man named Sherlock Holmes.

Disguise by kaalee (55K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's disguises are little more than a nuisance to John until one day he walks into the kitchen dressed as someone from John's past, someone John had tried to forget.

Evidence of Human Life by thesardine (16K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's sanity deteriorates while he and John are stranded on a deserted island.

Floriography by lbmisscharlie (21K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Florist!AU - Sherlock is a florist and he's doing the flowers at the wedding of John Watson and Mary Morstan. John's about to marry his best friend in the world. He's happy, in love, and content with Mary. So why can't he get tall, enigmatic man who did the flowers at his wedding out of his mind?

Getting Better by noxcandida (75K, T, Gen) Tristram Holmes dreads attending his new primary school, fearing he'll be teased and bullied as usual. Only, nothing goes exactly as he thinks it will when he finds himself with a seemingly unlikely friend in Emily Watson.

In My Master's House 'Verse by BrighteyedJill (185K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade) As a new slave in the Holmes household, John is having trouble finding his place. (This series began posting in 2011 and continued until 2014)

In The Land Of The Blind by entanglednow (12K, M, Johnlock) Apocalypse.

Indecorous by Basingstoke (55K, E, Johnlockary but it’s a different Mary than in the show) In which John learns to balance a kinky girlfriend, an asexual boyfriend, a ten-inch cock, his sister, the neighbours, his friends, and his blog. Some are more balanced than others.

Lacuna by coloredink (15K, E, Johnlock) God, it must have been terrible, to think that he would never have this again.

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (17K, M, Johnlock and Warstan) John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

Level 65 Paladin Looking for Group by etothepii (10K, T, Gen) "I think I met someone," John says at his next therapist's appointment. "A friend." "Really?" Ella asks. She sounds pleased, and also surprised. "What's his name?" John nods. "Really. His name's Sherlock. He -- he plays the same game as me, the online one. We party together."

Major Pieces by Lindentreeisle (31K, T, Gen) Sherlock knew that he could thoroughly rely upon John Watson's moral sense. And that's why he knew that Lestrade was wrong, wrong, wrong.

My Phone’s on Vibrate For You by misslucyjane (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock texts John all the time. Today’s different.

Never-Ending Cycle (orphaned) (17K, T, Johnlock) Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he's a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

On The Ice by berlynnwohl (35K, E, Johnlock) "Sherlock, I once saw you taste a vacuum cleaner attachment that had been used as a murder weapon, so can we please not pretend that Dungeons and Dragons is too weird for you?"

Parallel by brbsoulnomming (77K, M, Johnlock) There's a case at a secondary school/University, some series of threats or string of bizarre murders that has the entire campus shaken. In the course of the investigation, Sherlock and John meet two students. And, because they both want to help with the investigation, they get to watch them become friends and fall a little in love. And that makes them feel things about themselves that they've been working very hard to not feel, thank you.

Secondary Exposure by thesardine (18K, T, Gen) After twenty years, the killer who abducted John as a child has resurfaced. Now John and Sherlock must track him down before he claims another victim, and at the same time navigate the shifting nature of their relationship.

Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii (20K, M, Johnlock) "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc. It's the family motto." "What does it mean?" "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us." (Addams Family crossover)

The Art Of Seduction by flawedamythyst (97K, E, Johnlock, Mystrade, Sheriarty, John/OMC, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague. AU in which Sherlock treats sex like he does crime in canon.

The Baker Street Series by magicbunni (199K, T, Gen with background John/Sarah) Conspiracy and murder find Sherlock Holmes and John Watson surrounded by covert enemies in the heart of Scotland Yard. Together, they unearth clues that illuminate the scope, depth, and distorted psychology behind the crime. And, after a preemptive strike ordered by the mastermind they pursue, Holmes elects to continue the investigation under conditions that will force John Watson to fight for his friend's -- colleague's -- life.

The Penultimate Problem by Random_Nexus (18K, E, Johnlock) Angst, apocalypse-light, pseudo-hiatus, and other hijinx ensue.

The Love Song of Dr. John H. Watson by Kate_Lear (11K, E, Johnlock) John takes Sherlock out for the evening on Valentine's Day.

The Perfect Specimen by Cleo2010 (27K, E, Johnlock) After seeing John undressed for the first time and making certain observations, Sherlock quickly becomes obsessed with a certain body part belonging to his flatmate. This is the story of how that first sighting came to be and the following attempts to learn more. An unashamed masturbation-fest, first person and very detailed. It's rated explicit for a good reason!

The Poster Girl by stardust_made (67K, M, Gen) A seemingly straightforward case has Lestrade calling for Sherlock's help. Written from John's POV, this story takes place two months after the events in "The Great Game" and follows the investigation of the murder of Veronica Havisham: seventeen, popular—and murdered in Hainault Forrest on a Friday night in June.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (62K, E, Johnlock, Warstan) “I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”

The Pull of One Magnet to Another by ellie_hell (46K, M, Johnlock) Mummy has arranged Mycroft’s marriage with an ex-army doctor. However, John meets Sherlock first, and sparks fly.

The Top-Secret Livejournal of Sherlock Holmes by malacophilous (23K, M, Johnlock, Sarah/John, Sherstrade) Sherlock has a Livejournal, which he updates constantly via his mobile phone and netbook. Everyone offline thinks that he's this stoic super-genius, when in reality he's a bonkers super-genius.

There's A First Time For Everything by Kate_Lear (21K, E, Johnlock) A series of 'firsts' in Sherlock's life.

Those Left Behind by nickelsandcoats (33K, E, Johnlock) After the events of The Great Game, Sherlock is on the hunt for revenge as John waits for Sherlock to join him. But deception abounds as both men struggle to come to terms with the paths their lives have taken.

What Makes Us Rich by flawedamythyst (31K, E, Johnlock) Agreeing on a compromise is one thing, living with it is quite another.

Whirlwind by rubyofkukundu (19K, E, Johnlock) You may be familiar with the following fanon ideas: 1. Sherlock was very sexually active at university. 2. It was while John was a student that he discovered he was bisexual. I decided to put the two together :D

#rec list #best

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dietraumerei · 4 years ago

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Weekly Writing and Reading Update

I just went on a very cold bike ride but at my take-a-break point I got to watch seals fucking around in the water, so could have been worse. Also I guess leaving the house and moving my carcass about is good or whatever.

Writing

Whumptober 2020 - I think I have now fulfilled the promise of the title, featuring both broken wings and bandages! I’m having lots of fun playing with different gender expressions and levels of whump and styles, and I’m really glad I took the pressure off of myself to put out a chapter a day. I’m about to hit some chapters I wrote early on in the month (is it another wlw AU? of course. do I set up a 60k semi-slow-burn epic full of h/c, Disaster Gays and disability rep? HAVE YOU MET ME.) so that’ll be really exciting to finally show them to you all!

bikegirls - speaking of wlw human AU’s featuring h/c, Disaster Gays and...well, autism rep. And I guess temporary disability, since Aziraphale still has her broken wrist. Anyway, I’m not 100% sure how or when this will end, but it’ll likely be around 12k and I’ll post it when it’s done, maybe in a week?

Also, aw, I miss writing Castle Terra. Gonna get on another story for that soon. Something happy and not h/c, I think, just for a wee break.

Reading

Finished Blackfish City. Ugh, this book. It is entirely made up of elements that I love -- Indigenous futurist setting! A lesbian bonded to an orca whale! Really really cool worldbuilding! and by the end I haaaated it. It starts off...fine...but my first clue should probably have been when I couldn’t stand one of the three narrators. It just doesn’t really tie together, and it’s about a third too long, and there’s exactly one character who is even remotely likable. Bleargh. I’m glad I ordered a bunch of LeGuin yesterday, I really need to read some good SF.

#weekly update

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riskeith · 4 years ago

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happy weekend dearest!

other than the snow angels, i haven’t done much.,, just been cozying it up with coffee and blankets at home hehe. 30 degrees... amazing. ideal feeling like a rotisserie chicken weather. 😌 bc of global warming we’ve been having some great summers these past few years. it even gets to 30 degrees as well which was unheard of tbh.

you’re so cute for caring ilysm <3 and aaa! a walk! do you have any perticular place you enjoy walking to or does the winds guide you, hehe? EDITING A FIC... 👀 i’m looking respectfully...... 👀 wait did the event open up for you already? i tried to play it earlier today but it wasn’t there yet... the lost riches one right?

bennett is best boy i still can’t believe it either!!! he’s seriously the cutest he just makes me so happy. when i need to explore and run around i always run with him bc i love his lines so much. what a bebie. you should go for it there are still some days left! + he’s a four star so he’s easier to get. GUOBA IS SO FUNNY he’s just.... a little fucking bear i can’t stop laughing... tbh the little creatures like amber’s bunny too just 😭 have you seen those yt clips of them dancing? obsession..

i need to ask you this bc when i found out i lost my mind: did you know that the japanese va for razor is also the va for tsukishima (haikyuu) and shigaraki (bnha)???? insane!!! it made me consider switch to japanese dub tbh.. which dub do you use?

maybe i’ll send you a little part and you can read or something shdkdhskdjdjf help 😳 it’s not edited or anything so it might take a while plus i’m super into writing bnha these days so.... but hey if You have any prompts you want to read maybe i’ll write a drabble for you. i don’t mind at all! <33333 ask for anything!!

(FIC-COLLAB!!:!/$:)!:&//&/!$:’sidnd HELP.... omg what kind of fic would we write....?)

exactly! i think when you realize that there’s nothing keeping you there anymore that brings you joy, that’s when you need to step back. social media is a bit fucked up that way imo. like you want to be there to be informed and to have fun but it takes so much.. hm. also you always tell me this but i wanna tell you to that YOU are the reason i enjoy social media these days so.. thank you <3

you relate to bakugou and lance? that’s super hot of you.. 🥵 my wifey is a self assured, super intense and talented person.. couldn’t ask for better tbh. i think out of them both i’m pretty much like todoroki.. we’re super similar in so many ways now that i think about it shsjdhdhdj.. how about we just stay c.r and m.a our dynamic is perfect as is LMAO

DOUBLE VENTI! I’D LOOOOVE THAT FOR US. bow users are difficult indeed but venti is one of the easier bow users it feels like... idk watching others game play he doesn’t have as much pushback as say amber for example. 12K PRIMOGEMS..... babe you’re getting your xiao!!!!!! how long have you been saving? also i seriously don’t mind if it comes down to it hakshddkhd i can be your genshin sugar mommy... ;) imagine a c6 venti though that seems insane. literal insanity.

SPEAKING OF SHIPPING.... THE POST YOU POSTED... THEY STOLE OUR IDEA AND IT LOOKS SO CUTE AND ITS CHONGYUN AND XINGYUN WHICH IS EVEN BETTER... THEY LOOK SOOOOO CUTE TOGETHER I’M OBSESSEDDDDD!!!! <3333 dude idk how but we are doing that co-op date somehow i’m super inspired i want that for us so badly... (also i need to say smth... my love language is when people say ‘i thought of you when i...’ and the fact that you said that just hsjdfhjdjdksk shit)

actually you’re right.. the only way we’d get a sequel is if they did something with the mfe fighters.. like kinkade james veronica nadia and ina. idk how attractive that would be tho...

i’m a lady, my dearest *dips* no but my pronouns are she/her!! sorry i didn’t mention it before i thought i made it clear shsjsjdkdj. ty for asking tho ♥️ super sweet!

AAA!!!!!!!!!! EEE!! i’m super super excited. if it’s like,, too public and you don’t just wanna post it i might think about exposing myself or smth... if that would make you more comfy. no matter what you do i’m just gonna be here buzzing, *hinata voice* one more one more one more.

oh!! i listen to everything but kpop sjdjdkdhdk i did have a semi-phase around like 2014-19 ish but dropped it pretty hard . now i have no clue what goes on there anymore i mostly enjoy rnb indie n rap/hip.. my gay ass was considering making a little playlist or smth for u but i want to make it with songs You’d like so i might pull up my old kpop faves hehe..

guess chilling is out of the question then, heh. hope you slept well!! i’m gonna try to wake up earlier so we’ll have a chance to send more messages during the weekend perhaps... mwah!!

YOURS, m.a. <3

happy weekend!!!! hope you can ease up a bit since there’s no school hehe

“feeling like a rotisserie chicken weather” FHSKFHKSDF yes!! but it honestly sucks when it gets any hotter bc we don’t have central cooling in our house so rip... and my laptop fan goes crazy ahaha. 30 degrees being unheard of.. can’t relate! fsdfjs. have you guys had to adjust to those changing temperatures? rip climate change tho :’(

<333 i do!! i usually walk to the local park and then the streets around that.. omg speaking of... do you play pokemon go? DHAFKHSDKFHSKDFHKSDH i got back into it again recently ahaha. it’s for a free bakudeku zine!! hehehe it’s out at the end of jan so 👀

i just checked and the event is open !!!!!!!!! good luck hehe !

yup lost riches!! and the event opens at 4am server time, so since i’m in asia i get it earlier hehe which colour seelie are you gonna go for tho omg i was debating it with my friend last night.. i’m gonna pick gold!!

baby bennett!! that’s true but i can’t risk getting a 5 star otherwise my pity will reset for xiao fhdskfhskjfhkjshkfj next time :(((( but albedo /is/ super pretty and i see a lot of people saying they like him... NO !!! xiao only >:( no omg i don’t think i’ve seen those clips ? is it mmd where they like dance to other songs and stuff ahah

yes i did!!!! and the VA for diluc is giorno from jjba and kuroko from knb!! omg wait and venti’s VA is hinata did you know that? fun fact i guessed it was him when i first heard his voice LOL that’s my secret talent 😩 and i use japanese dub!! i’ve considered using chinese too bc i can understand it but i just like the japanese voice actors tbh and also i can excuse it as “listening practice” AHAH

yes pls!! sending something bnha is fine too, or legit anything else lmao i’m open arms over here~~ 🤗👐 and ooft... it’s hard thinking of prompts that’s why i always ask others HSDKFJHSDKFHSD but i’ll let you know if i think of something!!!

(no clue!!!! but we could each write from a character’s POV so hopefully it’s more consistent 🤪🤪 idk i have no clue how fic collabs work AHAHA)

yeahhh one of my mutuals said “social media is a curse” and honestly hard agree.. we’re all kinda trapped in a way LMAO. and no pls don’t thank me.. you’re the one who found me first 😩💘 ily..

FSDHKJFS pls you’re making me blush come on 😳😳 but yes i love that for us... m.a. x c.r. the only valid ship 😩

woooo!!!! yeah you’re probably right, like given the fact he’s a 5 star his mechanics are probably different.. i know that diluc’s charged attack is different to the other claymore users so! IM GETTING MY XIAO!!!! and hm i’ve been saving since the middle of zhongli banner! so december 10 ish around then? dragonspine was a blessing tbh i reckon i got sooo many primogems from that. FGJKSHFKJSDHFKSDHSHKJFH my genshin sugar mummy 🥵🥵 c6 venti unstoppable..

AHAHAHA YEAH THEY LOOK /SO/ CUTE TOGETHER!!! i wonder how they got so many of the images tho like they must’ve been so in sync?!?!? ugh that could be us but no cross-server co-op be playin’.. (fhdskjfhdskjfhs um!! noted for future reference 🤪)

omg them.. i always forget about them LMAOOOOOOOOO ugh. actually i wouldn’t be mad if we got a prequel of like when keith was in the garrison... or even when shiro was with adam... ugh so much they could’ve given us and they chose not to

*waggles eyebrows* well hello there, m’lady ;) and it’s fine fhdskjf i had some inklings but didn’t wanna assume ya know? ahah :p

no!! it’s all g, i’ve thought about posting it before anyway. like, just releasing all of my WIPs and letting people do what they want with them HAAHA. (i could also just put the link under a read more and less people would see it, so it’s no biggie!) fkdshfkjs the hinata impression omg precious <33

FJHFDSKJ awks ahah which groups were you into tho! if it’s not like scarring for you to think back to LOL. and oooo i like indie too! i think.. or is it alt? honestly i don’t even know, tbh my music taste is pretty diverse and a mess, i can usually listen to a lot of things. except slow songs i don’t really like those hfdskj. and i don’t like rap too much either FHSDKJS whenever my friend gives me a rec i’m just like “oh i liked the singing parts in that” FDSKJF. a playlist tho huh 😳🥺

and pls!! if the weekend is your only chance to sleep in then do it.. for me 😩 i’ve been legit waking up at 12pm these past few days FKJHSKDF idek why like i’m sleeping 10 hours?? yikes. but as always i shall be waiting for your response <3 💌

#marriage anon #wowclunaanswers #long post

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gukyi · 6 years ago

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boats against the current | pjm

summary: park jimin thinks his life is all well and good, that is, until he finds out that if he wants to play quidditch for his last year at hogwarts, he needs to pass a presentation in muggle studies. and, just like the novel he needs to research, he realizes that maybe his life would be easygoing and simple, if only he didn’t fall in love along the way.

{hogwarts!au, opposites to lovers!au}

pairing: park jimin x female reader word count: 12k genre: fluff, angst warnings: spoilers to the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald. felix felicis consumption (main characters under the influence but not aggressively drunk), actual literary references, possible incorrect feeding of owls. a/n: hi i’m guyi i’m 19 and i never fucking learned how to read or write, especially after finishing this. this has sucked the lifeblood out of me. i’m actually deceased. but hey, at least the banner looks good.

“Hey, Park! Quidditch after class?”

The words bounce off of the walls of the corridor, the other students paying little attention to the random shouts. Hogwarts has always been loud. Jimin’s friends just make it the slightest bit louder.

Jimin whips his head around to find the source of the noise, finding the fifth year, Jungkook, calling after him. Despite being of another house, Jimin enjoys practicing Quidditch with him—he’s a budding seeker who definitely has the potential to go professional, if he practiced enough and didn’t spend most of him time during actual games flirting with the audience. They get along well, and sometimes Jungkook accidentally calls Jimin “hyung” from force of habit as a young Korean, something Jimin holds over his head as many times as he can.

“Sure!” Jimin shouts back. “Meet in the courtyard?”

Jungkook shoots him a thumbs up above his head before his tuft of brunette hair bounces down the hallway, on the way to his next class.

It won’t be just Jungkook—it’s no fun to play a game of Quidditch with two, not to mention the fact that Jungkook’s a seeker and Jimin’s a chaser—but a group of them, all different years and houses because all that house rivalry bullshit stays on the Quidditch field or in the Great Hall for the end-of-year ceremony, and also because Jimin met them all once or twice at different Hogwarts common room parties and Quidditch happened to be something they all had in common.

In the beginning of the year, his Muggle Studies professor showed a movie representation of muggle secondary school, something akin to the second half of a student’s time at Hogwarts. Only, none of the students wore uniforms and instead showed up to class in slouchy jeans and oversized sweaters. And every student seemed to be very aggressive to every other one, like they truly despised being in each other’s presence. And there were certain students who walked down the corridors and everyone else seemed to know their name, where they came from, who they were. According to the guide distributed by his professor, they were the “Popular Kid” archetype, at the very top of the social hierarchy.

Jimin wouldn’t consider himself at the top of the social food chain at Hogwarts—that position is reserved for the Head Boy and Girl—but he does know a rather large amount of the student body. Or, a rather large amount of the student body knows him.

Speaking of Muggle Studies, that’s his next class, and he’s got about three minutes to get to the room before he gets Slytherin’s points docked for being tardy. He breaks out into a small jog, getting progressively speedier as time passes. Another seventh-year Slytherin is heading the other way, pats Jimin roughly on the back as they pass each other with a grunt of “Park!” and moves on.

Jimin makes it to Muggle Studies just in the nick of time, sliding into his seat just as the professor enters the room.

Muggle Studies is, admittedly, not Jimin’s strongest suit. It never has been—not when he comes from a long line of purebloods, some of whom frown upon the integration of Muggle-borns into wizarding schools such as Hogwarts. Jimin’s not like that at all, extremely progressive in comparison to the stereotypical conservative pureblood, but he has a difficult time wrapping his head around the Muggle world and all of its strange and peculiar doodads. It just seems so complicated in comparison to the Wizarding World, where everything is exactly as it appears. Well, mostly everything.

He begins to zone out, as he normally does in this class, the droning of the professor fading into background noise as he doodles in his textbook, drawing pictures of old muggle telephones and candy bars. Muggle Studies is also one of Jimin’s objectively least favorite classes because nothing magical happens. It’s almost all textbooks and essays and homework about non-magical topics. Although, Jimin has to admit that the Internet, whatever the fuck it is, seems pretty magical.

Crack!

Jimin jerks up to see his professor standing above him, glasses sinking down his pointy nose bridge as he glares at him. His wand is held in his hand, clearly having just aggressively tapped on the front edge of Jimin’s desk.

“Park, do you know the answer?” His professor asks angrily, clearly unimpressed.

“Answer to what, sir?” Jimin asks, trying to simultaneously maintain eye contact with his professor and looking around to anyone who might actually know the answer to whatever he’s about to be asked.

“The author of The Catcher in the Rye?” It’s obvious his professor doesn’t think Jimin knows the answer. He’s correct—Jimin has no fucking clue who wrote The Catcher in the Rye.

“Why would you need to catch rye? Jimin asks, trying to buy himself some time.

The professor rolls his eyes, turning away from Jimin to go find another victim. Someone across the aisle sends Jimin congratulatory finger guns for somehow managing to ask a question so ridiculously stupid that it allowed him to escape the wrath of their professor. Jimin gives a thumbs up in return and dips his quill back into his ink pot, getting ready to draw.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he hears the professor’s croaky voice say. “Do you know?”

Interest only slightly piqued, Jimin turns his head to the student being interrogated. You seem to have curled as far into your Hufflepuff robes as possible, in an effort to pretend to be a metamorphosing butterfly or something like that. Jimin knows you very briefly, if at all. Your name, your house, and the fact that you almost never speak.

Jimin starts to think that maybe he should have just sacrificed some House Points and answered the professor’s question, because you don’t seem to be having any fun at all with the professor breathing down your neck, waiting for an answer. He’s about to do something dumb and stupid to get the attention on him and off of you when, soft as a mouse, you whisper, “J. D. Salinger.”

He shuts his mouth. The professor smiles, awards five points to Hufflepuff, and moves on. Jimin sinks down into his seat, turns to the boy next to him.

“That’s Y/N, right?” He asks, motioning to you. You seem to be shriveling back up into your robes, only hints of your skin peeking out, just enough for you to hold onto a quill and write with it on a piece of spare parchment.

“I think that’s her name,” the boy responds, skeptical. “But I’d stay away from her, Park. She’s… strange.”

Jimin frowns, an eyebrow quirking up out of curiosity. “Strange? How so?”

The boy shrugs, unhelpful. He seems to quickly be realizing that his word choice when describing you was particularly poor. Jimin’ll say. “I don’t know, she’s just… weird. She never speaks and you only ever see her in classes, not during our free hours. I hear she draws a lot.”

“But drawing isn’t weird,” Jimin protests weakly, quietly. Though, he doubts you’re paying attention to the conversation he’s having with the boy next to him, a Slytherin he speaks with sometimes, but not frequently. Usually about the latest professional Quidditch match, or to double check something in class. Jimin supposes that the two of them would be friends. But only supposes.

“I know, but disappearing the moment you step out of class is,” the boy says, leaving Jimin no time to respond as he immediately sits up straight, the professor striding back into view.

Jimin shuts up immediately, reverting back to his classic “I swear I was paying attention to you the whole time” stance, though it is blatantly obvious that that was not, in fact, the case. The professor can see right through Jimin’s act, even goes so far as to sneer at him as he heads back to his desk. Jimin really treasures the relationship he shares with his Muggle Studies professor.

“What an enlightening discussion on twentieth century Muggle literature,” the professor drones. Jimin can feel himself falling asleep. He definitely shouldn’t have stayed up late last night playing a game of Wizard’s Chess where, for every piece you lose, you take a bite of the homemade pastries Sprout brought in for their class yesterday. Both his mind and his stomach are taking massive losses. Lots of casualties. Too much time spent on the loo.

Jimin’s about to start making soft snoring noises to amuse the students around him when the professor’s moderately angry, crackly voice breaks through the walls he’s built inside of his head. “So enlightening, in fact, that I am assigning you all a partner project on a Muggle book of literary merit from the twentieth century, to be due in two weeks sharp.”

Groans fill the air. Jimin sees his already low grade in this class plummeting.

“And I expect that those of you who are not doing as well in this course—,” the professor narrows his eyes at Jimin in specific. He feels the slightest bit called out. “—should want to work extra hard. I will give you your partners momentarily—,” more groaning since the students can’t choose, “—and you will have until the end of this class to decide on a novel. Novellas and plays are also acceptable.”

Jimin doesn’t even know what a novella is. This is going to be an absolute disaster.

Within the next few moments, the professor begins to list off the group partners, and Jimin watches as every single person in the room he thinks he might actually enjoy himself with gets paired up with someone else until all that’s left is—

“Park and Y/L/N.”

Even amongst all of the chatter, Jimin can make out the faint sound of something akin to a gasp leaving your lips. Jimin’s certain he feels the same way. Of all of the people in the room, it’s just his luck for him to get paired up with you. Not that he minds, of course, but trust the Muggle Studies professor who’s out for Jimin’s blood to pair him up with the quietest student in their year. Meanwhile, Jimin causes a ruckus simply by existing.

He turns to find where you’re sitting to see you very obviously avoiding his gaze (along with anybody else’s, for that matter), staring straight down at the parchment in front of you before watching as you crumple it up between your fingers and stuff it into your bag, along with the rest of your belongings. Peculiar.

Jimin gathers his items to head over to where you’re seated—because it’s clear you have no intention of moving from your location, the corner in which you have settled—when the professor calls him over with a grunt of “Park.”

He trots up to where the professor is seated at his desk.

“Park,” the professor says, peering over the beady glasses that sit on his all-too pointed nose bridge. “You currently have a Dreadful in this class.”

“Yes, Professor.” Jimin doesn’t need to be reminded. He absolutely tanked on the last assessment they had been given.

“Do I need to remind you that if you have either two Poor’s in your classes or one Dreadful, you are not allowed to participate in the Quidditch games?” He continues.

Jimin may have needed reminding of that. The next match that Slytherin is playing is in two weeks from Friday, which is a mere two days from when this ridiculous partner project is due. And suddenly, Jimin realizes that if he doesn’t ace this project, he won’t be playing in the next match. Or any of the other next matches, because Muggle Studies may very well be the bane of his existence. Shit.

“No, Professor.” Jimin says through gritted teeth. He’s fucked. He’s already starting to resign himself to his fate of a Jimin-less Quidditch season for the Slytherin team and a Quidditch-less final year for himself.

“Good. I suggest you work well with your partner. She has the highest grade in this course, so you’d do well to learn a thing or two from her. Merlin knows you don’t pay attention to me.” The professor motions for Jimin to leave, dampening his already-sour mood.

That’s something new Jimin didn’t know about you. The highest grade in this course? How is that even possible? Jimin steps up to where you’re seated in the corner, staring down at the closed textbook in front of you like it’s just called you ugly.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, fearing his usually-raucous nature may be a bit much. “Y/N, right?”

You nod silently, letting Jimin take the seat next to you.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, feeling obligated to introduce himself despite the fact that the two of you have been classmates for the past six and a half years now.

“I know,” you say, barely above a whisper, before your eyes widen, like you had just spoken incorrectly.

Jimin doesn’t know what to say to that. Of course you know who he is. Jimin has a name that gets around. He plays Quidditch, attends every party he can get to, and knows everyone on campus. This conversation stinks.

“I’m sorry you had to be paired up with me,” Jimin says, trying to break the ice, only it feels like he’s sawing through the tension with a plastic spoon. “I’m not very good at this class.”

You nod again, choosing to keep your mouth shut as a means of responding to him. Jimin can’t blame you. An awful lot of dumb shit comes out of his mouth. He should probably pick up a tip or two from you.

“What book were you thinking?” Jimin asks, hoping you have a substantive answer because Jimin’s got absolutely nothing. All he’s thinking about is the future (or lack thereof) of his Hogwarts Quidditch career if he can’t get an Outstanding, or at least an Exceeds Expectations, on this project, and the parchment you crumpled up into your bag. Curiouser and curiouser.

You mumble something unintelligible.

“What?” Jimin asks, leaning in closer. You seem to be alarmed by the sudden shrink in proximity, though you make no efforts to move away, instead hoping to curl deeper into your dandelion yellow robes.

“The Great Gatsby,” you say, a bit louder this time. Jimin can feel himself exhaling. He at least recognizes the title of that book, which is a win as far as he’s concerned.

“Sounds good,” Jimin says with a smile. It’s not as if he has anything better to suggest. “I’ll tell the professor we’ve chosen a book.”

You nod your agreement and Jimin stands up to head back over to the professor to inform him. On the way, he passes by some of his friends in the class, who all seem to be giving him pity looks for his partner. Jimin, for the life of him, cannot figure out why everyone finds you so strange. You seem perfectly fine and dandy to him, albeit a tad quiet. But Jimin’s not going to complain. You seem extremely capable.

“Professor!” He calls as he makes it back over to the desk.

The professor seems thrilled to see Jimin again. “Park.”

“We’ve chosen a book,” Jimin says excitedly.

“And that is?”

“The Great Gatsby.”

This makes the professor raise his eyebrows. He looks up from the paperwork he’s completing to meet Jimin’s eyes, something sort of like a knowing smirk plastered on his face. Jimin feels uneasy. “Really?”

Jimin nods.

“Well,” the professor says, “I will write you down for Gatsby.” He still has that knowing grin dancing along his cracked lips.

“Is there something else, Professor?” Jimin asks, unable to stop his intrigue from getting the better of him.

“No,” the professor says with a shake of his head. “Only, you may find that with The Great Gatsby, there is more to it than meets the eye.”

Jimin’s starting to regret ever asking.

“I’m serious, Jeon,” Jimin says as they toss around a Quaffle on the Quidditch field, brooms barely four meters above the green below. Even though Jungkook’s a seeker, neither of them have much intent to practice Quidditch for what it is. “I’m fucked.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook responds, skeptical. Even as a measly fifth year, his coordination with the Quaffle is pretty damn impressive for a Seeker. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Your next match isn’t for another couple weeks. Meanwhile I’m gonna crush Gryffindor next week.” As he says this, he chucks the Quaffle towards a Gryffindor sixth-year that’s part of their intramural Quidditch group, catching the kid entirely off guard and causing him to swerve on his broom so the ball doesn’t break his nose. Jungkook giggles.

“I know, but I have a Dreadful right now,” Jimin sighs.

“In Muggle Studies?” Jungkook says, looking severely unimpressed. “Well, I suppose that’s what you get for being a pureblood.” Jungkook always teases Jimin about his blood status, as a half-blood himself, he sort of gets the best of both worlds. He’s always calling Jimin old-fashioned for not knowing what Muggle objects are. “I bet you don’t even know what a cell phone is.”

“Fuck you!” Jimin shouts, getting his hands on the Quaffle just in time to hurl it straight towards Jungkook’s face. With reflexes as good as they always are, Jungkook dodges easily. “I know what a cell phone is.”

Jungkook obviously doesn’t believe him. “So what are you gonna do to get your grade up before your game? Because if we win our game against Gryffindor, then we’ll be up against you next. And without the top Chaser, Slytherin’s fucked!” Jungkook starts cackling.

Jimin sighs, one hand holding onto the broom and another rubbing at his temples. “I don’t know,” he says, flying up to Jungkook so their conversation isn’t shouted across the Quidditch practice field. “We have this dumb partner presentation on Muggle literature due a couple days before the game, so if I can miraculously do well on it, I should be alright.”

“Sweet!” Jungkook says like it is a God-ordained miracle. “Who’s your partner?”

“Y/N.”

“Never heard of them!” Jungkook exclaims like it’s the happiest thing in the world. “Good at Muggle Studies?”

“Highest grade in the course,” Jimin says softly, only the slightest bit envious of you. All of his life’s worries and toils and troubles would instantly vanish if he had the highest grade in his Muggle Studies course.

Jungkook hoots and hollers. “Well, there you go! You’re guaranteed to play in the game in a couple weeks.” He gives Jimin a heavy pat on the back, one he feels deep down in his bones, and then gets the Quaffle tossed to him from another kid in their group. “So you better get practicing, Park!”

Jungkook chucks the Quaffle down the expanse of the Quidditch field and immediately Jimin dives after it, still wondering if he really is guaranteed a good score on his Muggle Studies presentation because of you.

The next time Jimin has Muggle Studies, his professor is having a decidedly good day, seeing as the whole class is allowed the entire duration of the forty-five minutes to themselves, time meant to work on the project.

For Jimin, this would normally result in forty-five minutes of doing anything but the project, much to the dismay of the professor (and Jimin wonders why he hates him so much), fooling around and being a shit student, as one does. But today, as his legs carry him towards the empty seat in the corner next to you, Jimin finds that his superego seems to win out.

“Hey,” he says. He isn’t sure if it’s his voice or the book he plops down on the wooden desk that makes you jump in surprise. “Ready to get started?”

You nod wordlessly, pulling out the battered copy of The Great Gatsby you keep with you. It dawns on Jimin that perhaps he should have gotten his hands on his own copy before arriving to class. He makes a mental note to drop by the library after class.

“You must like this book, huh?” Jimin asks, attempting to stir up some conversation. He’s always been quite the talker and you, evidently not.

Again you nod as you pull out a quill and some parchment from your bag. As you do, some extra parchment caught on the clean sheet comes with it, making your eyes widen as you quickly stuff the offending piece back into your bag, hoping no one’s caught you. Peculiar.

“Well, I gotta be honest with you,” Jimin says as he leans back in his seat, trying his very best to resume his “cool kid” persona so he stops making an absolute fool of himself in front of you. “I haven’t really… read the book yet. Or pay much attention in this class, so I suppose I need to work on that,” he adds on a self-deprecating chuckle for good measure.

It’s unclear if you’re picking up the vibe that Jimin is putting down. Or anything Jimin is putting down, for that matter. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “I can do most of the work, if you’d like.”

Normally, an offer like this would have Jimin jumping to his feet to accept, seeing it as his way out of doing anything of substance without having to sacrifice a grade for it. Jimin’s always been kind of a terrible partner to have for a project, but he puts in some effort where it counts. Sometimes. But now, as Jimin sits in Muggle Studies with a professor that glances up specifically at him every now and then, Jimin doesn’t see slacking off as an option. Especially when the fate of his Quidditch season lies in this project. If he doesn’t contribute, the professor will know. And thus will happen the brutal end to Jimin’s Hogwarts Quidditch career.

“No, I couldn’t let you do that,” Jimin immediately refuses your offer, thinking of the greater good. “It seems like an awful lot of work. Plus, you’re probably extra busy with stuff yourself.”

“No, not really,” you respond with a shrug. No additional comments.

“What do you mean?” Jimin says with a small nudge to your elbow. “Everyone’s busy with stuff. Don’t you draw?”

“Well, I—”

“I don’t know very much about art, but I imagine that takes a lot of time,” Jimin says, grinning to himself. He’s won this battle. “So I will help you with the work because we are both equally as busy. No buts.”

You open your mouth to say something, but immediately close it, like the thought’s vanished from your mind. Or maybe, you’ve forced it away.

“I know I was probably your last choice for a partner in this class,” Jimin says with a sigh, “but I promise I’ll actually help you with this project. I need to actually start paying attention and learning in this class, and there’s no better time to start than now. Plus, you’re way better than that old geezer up there. So I promise I’ll do my share. This is a partner project, after all.”

“I don’t know, I feel like in order to help me do this project, you’d actually have to read the book first,” you say with the slightest hint of a giggle, the faintest outline of a smile gracing your lips. It’s the first time Jimin’s ever seen you smile. He decides then and there that he wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

“Wow, okay, attacking me from the start, alright,” Jimin says dramatically, hands up in surrender. “Fine, I see how it is. Guess I’ll have to pick up the slack and start reading.”

Another small giggle. “There’s a Muggle section in the library that should have Gatsby in there. It’s a short book, so you should be able to get through it relatively quickly. Emphasis on should.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to head to the library after class, then,” Jimin says. “Come with?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need to, though,” you say, holding up your own battered copy, worn at the edges, clearly read multiple times. Jimin’s thankful that you’ve selected a book you’re enthusiastic about—it would be an awful long two weeks if the two of you spent it slaving over a novel that not even one of you enjoyed.

“Aw, come on? What else would you be doing?” Jimin asks. He won’t push the topic if it makes you uncomfortable, but that one student did mention how you have a habit of disappearing post-class.

“I have places to be,” you mutter, clearly not wanting to go too in-depth on the matter.

“To do what?” Jimin asks, pressing just a little harder. He’ll cease if it gets to be too much, but it’s obvious that you’re having fun avoiding his questions.

Head facing the book resting on the desk in front of you, you say, “Things that don’t concern you, Park.”

The clocktower chimes, signalling the end of the class, and, just like clockwork, you’re out of your seat in an instant, disappearing down the hallway like you were never there in the first place.

Jimin drops by the library after class, Muggle Studies being his last course of the day before he resigns himself to his room to an evening of homework and chicken legs. Madame Pince helps him find The Great Gatsby in the little corner of the library that has all of the Muggle, non-magical books. She seems quite surprised that someone like Jimin would have any interest in Muggle literature.

After he finishes his supper, one of his friends, Joshua, drops by their shared dormitory to ask if Jimin’s up for a game of Gobstones.

“No thanks, Josh, I’m busy tonight,” Jimin says with a smile, holding up the copy of The Great Gatsby he’s borrowed from the library. Jimin’s only a couple of chapters in, but he finds the book quite enjoyable.

“Reading?” Joshua says in disbelief. “Is that even you, Park? You don’t read.”

“I’ve got a Muggle Studies project due,” Jimin says.

“Oh, Cheol told me about that,” Joshua responds, like Jimin mentioning his project is just a reminder to him. “You’re paired up with Y/L/N, right? She’s strange, I heard. Smart, but strange.”

“I mean, she isn’t really that weir—”

“I can’t believe she’s got you actually reading! I don’t think I’ve seen you open a book since third year,” Joshua says with a chortle. “I’m impressed, I have to say. What’s with the sudden increase in productivity? Are you actually trying to impress her, or something?”

“Just trying to do my share of the work,” Jimin says with a grimace, wanting nothing more than for Joshua to just go away so he can read in peace.

“Ha! You’re doing work, too?” Joshua says, like he can’t believe his ears. “Damn, she’s got you in deep. Bet you’re just trying to woo her so you get a good grade before the Quidditch match next Friday.” Jimin opens his mouth to defend himself, but Joshua keeps going. “Well, we’re playing Gobstones in the common room if you wanna come join after you’re finished reading, or whatever. Enjoy your book, Park!”

With that, Joshua marches off, heavy footsteps on the cement of the Slytherin common room. Jimin leans back against his bed frame, wondering if a good grade is really all there is to it.

“I read the book,” Jimin says in lieu of a greeting as he takes his seat next to you. You’re much less surprised to see him there today than you have been on days past. “It was good. I liked it.”

“I thought you would,” you muse to yourself. There’s a black notebook in the top right corner of your desk, no writing or any other sort of label identifying it. Just a leather bound book with a piece of hard ribbon wrapped around it, like its contents are secret.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin asks, smile dancing along his face. He even went as far as to take a few notes on the story, though he bets that they pale in comparison to the knowledge you hold of the novel.

“Oh, nothing,” you say softly, playing coy.

“Hey, come on! You’re definitely insulting me right now except I’m too stupid to realize it,” Jimin pouts, beginning to think that maybe he didn’t look at Gatsby close enough and there’s some subliminal message to the story that went right over his head.

“I’m not,” you insist, “I just had a feeling you’d enjoy it.”

Jimin’s skeptical, but he drops the topic. “Well, you were right, I did. I finished it last night.”

“You read the whole thing in a day? What happened to Master Slacker Park Jimin, hmm?” You ask, curious. Your fingers are fiddling with the ribbon wrapped around the notebook on your desk, untying the bow and tying it back up again.

“He’s still here, I promise,” Jimin says with a wink, making you roll your eyes slightly as you turn away from him, not wanting to be subjected to his sleaziness any longer.

“What did you like most about it?”

“The book?” Jimin ponders an answer. He did actually enjoy reading it—something he hasn’t experienced in quite a while. He can’t remember the last time he actually read a book for class. It must have been years. “I don’t know, I just… it was very well written. And Gatsby’s character was so intriguing. A man who has everything willing to give all of it up for the girl he loves. Including his time.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “The thing about love,” you muse, more to yourself than to Jimin, though he listens in anyway. He always wants to hear what you have to say. For someone of so few words, you’re very careful how and when you use them. “Is that it makes people feel like they’ve lost control.”

“Presentations due in a week! I trust that you are all making good, steady progress and that you have been working diligently these past few days,” the professor eyeballs Jimin again, and he sinks down into his seat, almost like he’s trying to melt into it. “Remember that next week I will not be giving any time in class to work on this, so you will need to find time on your own to complete them.”

The clocktower rings.

“Class dismissed!”

Everyone immediately begins to herd out of the room, but Jimin realizes that you and him have only spent class time working on your presentation and it’s only about halfway finished. You’ll need to meet outside of class, during your free periods or extra time.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jimin says as you’re gathering your belongings, placing your textbooks and quills back in your back, black, leather bound notebook still held tightly between your fingers. “When do you have time to meet outside of class to finish this?”

“Uh… I’m free most of the time,” you say as you head towards the door, Jimin following suit.

“Okay, I have Quidditch practice every Monday and Wednesday from three to six and Tuesdays from six to nine. This weekend should be free for me, except I’m going to Hogsmeade on Sunday afternoon,” he tells you, walking alongside you. Jimin doesn’t know where you go after Muggle Studies, only knows that you disappear down the hallway and no one can ever seem to keep track of you. He’s curious—eager to find out where you flutter off to when no one else is looking.

“Alright, well. Whenever works for you,” you say, speeding ahead.

“Hey, why are you in such a rush?” Jimin asks, catching up to you easily, limbs nimble from riding around on brooms in a competitive sport constantly. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you mutter to yourself, Jimin hot on your trail. He’s not trying to chase you down or anything, but you’re walking against the current of students headed down the hallway, taking odd little staircases here and there as Jimin tries to keep up with you.

“You’re clearly headed somewhere,” Jimin says with a scoff. “We still need to discuss when we can work together for our project, Y/N.”

“I know, I know,” you say. “We can figure it out. Whenever you’re free.”

“Hey, Y/N?” Jimin says, finally catching his breath as the two of you wait on a moving staircase, slowly rotating you around the inside of the castle. “You know that you don’t have to hide from me, alright?”

“I—”

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave, I promise,” Jimin says. “But if you do, then… please. Don’t run away from me,” he pleads. He feels a little strange, standing here on a moving staircase in Hogwarts, asking you to open up your private life to him after hardly a week of constant contact. It feels personal. It feels like an invasion of privacy.

You seem to be waiting on yourself for an answer, like there are words on the tip of your tongue but you don’t know if you should open your mouth. Jimin’s definitely overstepped every boundary currently within a five-mile radius, asked something of you that is going to make the next week painfully awkward before the two of you go back to not speaking.

“Okay,” you murmur, so quiet that Jimin can hardly hear you, isn’t even sure if you’ve said anything at all.

When you reach the top of the staircase, you and Jimin find yourselves face to face with a thick wooden door, one Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Granted, he’s not necessarily a big explorer of the castle, so there are definitely places he’s never come across, but this door has been right under his nose the entire time, totally overlooked, even after seven years.

Jimin begins to worry that whatever you’re about to show him may not necessarily follow school rules, but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind as you open the door.

It’s the owlery.

Well, it’s not the owlery that Jimin’s familiar with. Jimin’s been into the owlery before, but this isn’t what he remembers. It’s higher, less crowded, cozier. Gets more light from the windows at the top, bright blue sky slowly fading to night as time passes. Jimin also doesn’t recognize any of the owls, can’t find his own in the crowd.

“What is this place?” Jimin asks, in awe. You place your bag down on a pile of cushions in a corner before making your rounds, saying hello to all of the different owls, poking your fingers through the wire of the cages.

“It’s the school’s owlery,” you explain to Jimin, pointer finger rubbing against the beak of a barn owl. “The school’s owls don’t get as much love or use as the students’, so I… I guess I pick up the slack.”

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” Jimin says, peering into a cage to say hello. The owl sniffs his finger before determining Jimin as a non-threatening being, accepting pets.

“Most people don’t,” you say softly,

“It’s incredible,” Jimin admits. He had no idea the school had its own owls, but he supposes that makes sense. How else is the school supposed to receive news and other business? Through the students’ owls? Magic stretches far and wide, and oftentimes it’s rather inconvenient for every minister and magical official to make the trek to Scotland. Jimin has to admit he never gave much thought to the school’s postal system. He had always received his mail from his own owl, Beanpole, without much concern. Fascinating. “How long have you been coming up here?”

“Ever since I found out about it,” you admit, settling down in the cushions as you fish around in your bag for something. You pull out your leather bound notebook, a strange little writing device in your hand that Jimin believes is known as a pen in the Muggle world. “Since fourth year.”

“Unbelievable,” Jimin says, still shellshocked. He’s afraid that sitting down next to you on the cushions may be too much of an invasion, seeing as he’s just been shown one of the most private parts of you, so he stays standing, feet wandering as he visits each cage. “It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

From up here, where Jimin looks out of the window, he swears he can make out the whole lake by Hogwarts. Can visualize the boats on the lake, taking the scared first-years to the Great Hall to be sorted under the lanterns’ light. He’s hardly ever up this high, just for Astronomy, since the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons. And even so, he almost never gets to look out of the window, at the earth below. It’s like he’s flying.

“You come up here every day?” Jimin asks. It’s no wonder that this is where you’re always disappearing off to. It’s peaceful, homey, cozy. All things that Jimin has definitely ruined by barging into your life.

“I try to,” you say sheepishly, pen scratching against the parchment of your notebook as you pull your knees up to your chest.

Jimin makes his way over to you, footsteps careful so as not to scare you off. “I’m sorry if I’ve invaded something of yours,” he feels the apology is long overdue. “If you want me to leave, I totally will. Just say the word.”

“No, it’s alright,” you say. Hesitantly, you tuck away your little notebook, clicking at your pen so that the ink tip disappears into the contraption. Jimin thinks that you’re ready to leave, finished with the owlery now that he’s here, but instead you simply shift over slightly, motioning to the empty cushion on the floor next to you, like an invitation.

Jimin walks over trepidatiously, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to sit down so close to you, press into your personal bubble like it’s nobody’s business. But you make no attempts to move away, not seeming to mind in the slightest that Jimin’s there with you. Jimin sits down beside you, instantly relaxing from the comfort of the cushions amongst the both of you, falling into a peculiar but pleasant silence.

He turns his head to look at you slightly, but you’re not looking back at him. You seem to have lost yourself in thought, staring off towards the sky, aimlessly. From here, Jimin can see the way the light reflects in your eyes, making them appear like skies in and of themselves. Twinkling. Jimin reaches the conclusion that he likes it here, in the owlery, but he likes being here with you just a little more.

“You know,” you say softly, almost inaudible, “it’s kind of nice not to be here alone.”

“You don’t mind?” Jimin asks. He could have sworn you’d kick him out of here by now.

You shake your head slightly, “No, I—I enjoy your company.”

“We could always work on our project up here,” Jimin suggests. “No one else to bother us. It’s quiet here, too. Good place to study. No wonder you get such good grades. This place is your secret weapon.”

“Well, it can be yours, too,” you tell him.

“If you’ll have me,” Jimin jokes back. You sound completely serious, but he wants to make sure that he isn’t disrupting anything by being here.

You nod. “It’s—it’s nice being up here… with you.”

It sounds a little like an opened door, welcoming him in. Feels a little more like an invitation. And as you and Jimin sit up here, far above the noise of the rest of the Hogwarts student body, the comfortable silence surrounding the both of you, Jimin realizes that, even if only just for a moment, you bring a calmness to his hectic, rowdy life. One that Jimin never realized he needed.

“But one thing I don’t understand is why Gatsby would sacrifice so much of himself for Daisy,” Jimin says, biting on the edge of his quill as he ponders the notes in front of him. The presentation is pretty straightforward in terms of content, just the historical context to the story, the basic plot, major themes and characters, all of the usual book report requirements. But despite this, Jimin can’t help but wonder aloud why Gatsby’s done what he’s done. “Especially when Nick was standing there the whole time, trying to talk him out of it.”

“Well, Gatsby was so hung up on Daisy’s presence in his life before she left that he was determined to get back that time again. Even if it did cost him his life,” you say, staring down at the pieces of parchment all spread around around you, a sea of almond and beige against the hardwood of the owlery.

One of the younger owls you had let out of its cage—not a baby but not a disgruntled adult—pecks away at Jimin’s belongings. Jimin sifts through his bag until he pulls out an old granola bar, unwrapping the snack and feeding bits of it to the owl.

“But why? He must have known it never would have happened, with Tom and everything.”

“That’s the thing,” you say, plucking one of the sheets off of the ground. It’s the one Jimin and you had written down research of the decade at the time. Admittedly, it was mostly you, since Jimin doesn’t know the first thing about American history. Or any Muggle history, for that matter. “Fitzgerald wanted to emphasize the darker parts of the Roaring 20’s through Gatsby. He used Gatsby as a lens into the newly rich. Naive and clueless. Blinded by their wealth, and their passion.”

“That’s so… sad,” Jimin huffs. “I mean, Gatsby’s sad as it is, but knowing the context just makes it… sadder.”

You hum, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. Like there’s something uncanny to it, to this whole thing. “Well, people with power and popularity think that nothing they do is wrong.”

Before the clocktower chimes to signal the end of class, Jimin turns to you. You’re slowly putting away your belongings, humming a soft tune to yourself.

“Hey, I have Quidditch from three to six today, so I won’t be able to meet you until later,” he tells you.

You nod in understanding. “That’s fine,” you say. “I mean, I’ll be up there anyway, so you can just meet me there when you’re finished practice. Bring food.”

Jimin chuckles. “You ever seen a Quidditch practice before?”

You shake your head. “It’s not really my kind of thing. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not big on sports.”

“You can come to mine,” Jimin immediately invites. It is, admittedly, not as private as your owlery, but it feels right to return the favor, however he can. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say, tentative.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jimin immediately backtracks. “But it would be nice to have you there. You can see me look super cool as I fly around on a broom and toss balls at my teammates.”

“You don’t need to be on a broom to look cool,” you say, rolling your eyes. It’s a welcome ego boost for Jimin.

“Plus, afterwards we can just go straight to the owlery together,” Jimin suggests, seeing the practicality in it. In all actuality, he just sort of wants you there, but any sort of logical reason as your being there will help. “After dropping by the Great Hall to get dinner, of course.”

You giggle to yourself, nodding. “As long as you’re okay with it. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. I—I wouldn’t really mind having you there, you know,” he says, a little more shy. He swears, he can feel the faintest hint of warmth rush to his cheeks, and can only hope that the green in his robes counteracts the red in his skin.

With another nod, Jimin leads you the opposite direction of the owlery, taking you down to the field where the Slytherin team practices. You stick out like a sore thumb, golden Hufflepuff robes against not only the green in their uniforms but the green of the grass, as well. It’s clear you’re out of place, a little awkward and a little shy, but Jimin does his best to keep you comforted, telling you sit at an empty bench in the shade of a large oak tree as the rest of the team filters in. He promises that they won’t bother you, adding in a couple of glares to his mates as they walk past him. He trusts that any tormenting concerning the situation will be directed at him rather than you.

“Keep an eye out for me, yeah?” He tells you as he begins walking towards the back locker room, where his broom and practice robes are. “I promise I’m good.”

As Jimin comes back out of the locker room, sweaty, old practice robes draped over his body and Firebolt in his hands, one of his teammates punches him in the shoulder as they head towards the field.

“A girl, Park? Seriously?” He asks, motioning towards you. Jimin shoves off his teammate.

“So? What’s the big deal?”

“So? You don’t bring girls to Quidditch practice. You don’t bring girls anywhere, in fact. Park, when was the last time you seriously cared for relationships?”

“This is different,” Jimin insists. “We’re just working on a project together.”

“Sure,” his teammate says, not sounding very sure at all.

By the time they’re all on brooms, chucking around Quaffles and Bludgers, Jimin’s been given more than enough grief from his teammates about your presence there. He’s decently high up, so he can only hope you don’t hear his annoying teammates very obviously talking about you like you aren’t even there.

“Her again?” Joshua asks as he flies up to her, Bludger bat resting snugly in his hands. Joshua’s always been kind of aggressive, very forward. Beater was naturally the best Quidditch position for him. “You’re in deep, Park. Never thought you’d go this far just for a grade.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something, tell Joshua he’s an asshole and that there’s more to this than just a grade, more to you than just your intelligence, but the Beater is already flying off, ready to practice his aim with the other Beater on the team.

Other than your appearance, practice is relatively boring. Every now and then, Jimin will look back down at you, check to see if you’ve abandoned him or not, and find you in the exact same position as before, resting on the wooden bench under the large oak tree with your notebook and pen in hand. He wonders what you’re doing. He always wonders what you’re doing.

Practice ends with the traditional Slytherin chant, a good luck charm for Friday. That is, if Jimin can get his Dreadful in Muggle Studies back up to something passing. If he can’t, Slytherin’s done for. Everyone bids everyone else a good night as they’re flying back down to the ground, heading towards the locker room to get changed and go do the rest of their nightly responsibilities.

“Hey,” Jimin says as he strolls up to you, broom in hand and sweat dripping down his forehead. He seems to catch you off guard, if the way you quickly tear a page out of your notebook like you’ve been caught doing something red-handed is anything to go by. “All done. Did you see me up there?”

You nod. “I have to say, you weren’t really as cool as you said you’d be.”

Jimin gasps, mock offended. “Lies! Blasphemy! I am very cool,” he says with a pout. “You try looking cool on a broom. It’s harder than it looks.”

“I have to admit I’ve never flown a broom before,” you concede.

“Wait, seriously?” Jimin says, pausing. “Never?”

You shake your head with a smile, like it’s something to be proud of. Jimin can hear his teammates filing out for the night, sending obnoxious wolf whistles his way as the two of you chat. Sometimes, Jimin really hates his friends. “I always skipped flying class. I hated it.”

“Well, that’s going to change,” Jimin decides then and there. “Come on, up.”

“Up? For what?” You ask, staying seated.

“I’m gonna teach you how to fly a broom.”

“Oh gods, no. I’d be awful at it,” you say, furiously shaking your head.

“No one’s awful at broom-flying,” Jimin promises. “Come on, please? I’ll teach you. I’m a great teacher, I promise.” He holds out his hand, motioning for you to take it.

You look from Jimin’s eyes, to the Firebolt in his hand, to the other one outstretched in front of you, like you’re not sure which one to trust most. A small smile graces Jimin’s lips, a promise etched on them. You take his hand.

“Okay,” Jimin says, standing in the middle of the field. It’s beginning to get dark now, the only lamps on the field the lights from the torches placed along the outside walls of the castle. It makes everything look a little warmer, makes you look like you’re glowing. “So you’re going to mount the broom, one leg on one side and one on the other—”

“This is extremely uncomfortable,” you deadpan.

“You get used to it, I promise,” Jimin says. “And then your hands just go on the front of the broom to balance yourself.”

Slowly, you lean forward on the broom, hands gripped tightly on the wood. It’s obvious you feel as though you’re about to topple over, but Jimin wouldn’t let that happen to you. Not in a million years.

“Here, like this,” Jimin says with a chuckle, reaching over to hold onto your hands, showing you the proper way to grip a broom. Your palms are sweaty from nervousness, and Jimin tries not to pay too much attention to the way he feels his heart jump a few beats at the touch. You let Jimin adjust you as he pleases until he’s satisfied with your form. “Okay. Kick off.”

“Oh, Jimin, I don’t know,” you say, the nerves coming up all at once.

“You can do it, Y/N,” Jimin says softly. “I believe in you. I’ll catch you if you fall. I promise. I’m right here.”

With a little more encouragement, you slowly push off the ground. The Firebolt Jimin has is certainly a more professional broom, but that doesn’t make it any more difficult to use, even for a beginner such as yourself. Its turns are smoother and tighter, aerodynamic enough to gain speed steadily but still quickly.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” you say, shouting, “Jimin, I’m doing it! This is—holy shit!”

“I knew you could!” Jimin calls back. You are by no means up very high, staying low to the ground in case you do end up falling off, but you complete a couple of loops around the practice field before touching back down on the ground, momentum sending you flying forward regardless. You topple off Jimin’s broom, doing a couple of rolls on the grass, coming to a halt a few meters away from where you abandoned his Firebolt.

Jimin rushes over to make sure you’re okay, only to find you laughing to yourself.

“See, I knew you could fly,” Jimin says with a grin, pulling you back up to your feet.

“That was actually kind of fun,” you admit, conceding defeat. Somehow, Jimin had a feeling you wouldn’t really be awful at flying the broom. You’re not awful at anything. You could never be.

“But the real question is, can you look as cool as me while flying?” Jimin jokes.

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “I think I might have to learn a few more things from you.”

“Damn right,” Jimin says confidently, appreciating the subtle praise coming from your lips. “I’m the coolest Quidditch player around. Other Quidditch players cower in my presence.”

With a laugh, you say, “I’m sure they do. I really liked doing that, Jimin. It was very… exhilarating.”

Suddenly, Jimin gets an idea. “Would you like to try something?”

“What?”

“You’ll see,” he says suavely, smirk plastered on his face. He quickly runs over to grab his broom, settling himself on top of it, closer to the front of it than he normally sits. “Come on, hop on!”

“Are brooms meant for two people?” You ask, concerned. You’re starting to see where he’s going with this.

“It’ll be fine, I promise. Come on, Y/N. Please?” With hesitant steps, you make your way over to him, setting on the broom behind his body. “Wrap your arms around me. It’s alright, I promise I won’t let you fall. You’ll be alright.”

The moment Jimin feels your fingers resting securely on his stomach, arms wrapped around his torso, he takes off. You gasp, surprised by the sensation, but Jimin’s always been a decent flyer and the added weight is hardly a barrier for him. Six years of Quidditch playing under his belt alongside broomstick training since he was little makes for a pretty smooth ride.

“Oh my gods, Jimin, we’re so high,” you say, making the mistake of looking down. You must be at least ten meters above the castle walls now.

“Look up, Y/N,” Jimin instructs, flying around in circles once he’s reached a pleasant altitude. You follow his order, gasping softly when you do. It’s nighttime now, only the field’s edges illuminated by the warm yellow light of the torches, but darkness means a night sky above you, and more importantly, the celestial bodies within it.

“Oh Gods, it’s beautiful,” you say, and Jimin only wishes he could turn his head to see the look on your face, but your safety is decidedly more important. “I never—I never realized you could see them so close.”

“I thought you might like it.” Jimin grins to himself.

“Like it? I love it,” you exclaim. He feels one of your hands leave his waist, imagines that you’re reaching out above you, almost as if you can touch the stars with your fingertips. And as the two of you fly around on Jimin’s broom without another care in the world, your body pressed closely against his, warmth radiating through his robes, he knows for certain, then, that if you wanted to touch the stars, all you had to do was ask.

“Still, after all of that, he surely loved her. He must have,” Jimin presses, perhaps more for himself than for the purposes of the project.

“I don’t know, Jimin,” you hum to yourself. “I don’t really think he knew the full weight of his actions. It could have been misplaced.”

“But isn’t that the whole point of the story?” Jimin asks, looking at you. You’re hesitant to meet his gaze, but hold eye contact regardless, eyes flickering every now and then. “That even if Gatsby didn’t know what would happen to him, didn’t realize how ridiculous and ignorant he was being, he still found affection for her. Fitzgerald created a love story so sad that it uncovered the darkest secrets of the era.”

You look skeptical. “But could that have been true love? Was it real?”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course it was real. It was impossible for him not to fall in love with her.”

“Park, you coming tonight?” Seungcheol pops his head into Jimin’s dorm as Jimin’s putting away the last of his schoolwork, deciding that fuck it, he’s not gonna learn anything else about The Great Gatsby before his presentation with you tomorrow and that he might as well just enjoy himself tonight. Admittedly, a rager on a Tuesday isn’t the most appropriate timing for a party, but it’s Hogwarts, and there are no rules. Especially not in the Slytherin dungeons. Besides, even if they do get caught by administration, only the kids who organized the party will get in trouble for it. Jimin doesn’t arrange festivities—he just gets invited to them.

“Of course, who do you think I am?” Jimin says with a scoff. He shrugs off his large, drapey robes, laying it down on his bedsheets so only his dress shirt, tie, and slacks remain.

“Good,” Seungcheol says. “It’s not a party without you, Park!”

Jimin laughs. “I just gotta run and do something really quick, but I’ll be back in a flash. Save me some Felix Felicis!”

“Will do, Chief!” Seungcheol calls as he leaves Jimin to his own devices.

Jimin had mentioned the party his housemates were throwing tonight to you in passing, but neither of you had placed much emphasis on it over the past few days. But with the presentation less than twenty-four hours away, Jimin’s getting a bit antsy, desperate to let loose for a little, and he’d love to bring you with him. Perhaps work up enough courage to tell you how he feels about you.

He finds you sitting in the owlery, which may possibly be the furthest place from the Slytherin dungeons you could find. You’re playing with a couple of owls, some treats in your hand as you teach them tricks.

“Hey,” you say, not even looking up as you hear the door creak open. “What’s up?”

“There’s a party tonight in the Slytherin common room,” Jimin says in lieu of a hello. He’s really just trying to get straight to the point.

“Is that why you look all university casual?” You ask, looking up at him. Without his robe on, Jimin certainly looks much less dressy than he normally does.

“Maybe,” he says.

“So? Why are you telling me that Slytherin house is having a rager?”

“Because I want you to come,” Jimin says with a smile, a charming, mildly-sleazy one he hopes will get you off of the floor. “Please?”

“A party? That sounds like the very opposite of my ideal environment,” you say with your eyes wide. “What makes you think I’d want to go?”

“Well…” Jimin says, faltering. You’re right. From the short time in which Jimin’s gotten to know you, parties aren’t necessarily your cup of tea. In fact, they aren’t tea at all. They’re coffee. You’re a tea-drinker and parties are essentially coffee to you. Is he really that confident that he can convince you to come? “I’ll be there.”

“You’re that confident in yourself, huh?” You muse, smiling as you shake your head. “Think I’m gonna abandon my current evening plans just to hang out with you in a dingy dungeon filled with other Slytherins?”

“Yes?” Jimin feels less and less sure of himself as this conversation continues. He definitely went about this the wrong way.

“I’d be the only Puff there,” you mumble.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Jimin quickly responds. “All the houses are allowed to attend. Granted, it’ll be majority Slytherin, but there will be some other Puffs there. I promise.”

“You really want me at one of your parties, huh?” You ask, standing up. In the glow of the evening light, as the sun sets outside, far below the view from the owlery, you shimmer.

“Of course I do,” Jimin says like it’s hardly a question, because it’s not. The fact of the matter is: Jimin wants you beside him. “Just for a little, I swear. If you don’t like it we can leave and come back up here. I’ll sneak us some Felix Felicis. It’ll be a fun night no matter what.”

“If you say so,” you say with a sigh, pulling off your robes so all that’s left is your own dress shirt, tie, and skirt. Jimin doesn’t think you needed to take your robes off just for the occasion, but you look beautiful nonetheless. “Well? What are you waiting for? The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”

The party is already in full swing by the time you and Jimin arrive at the door to the Slytherin common room. Someone’s cast a spell to muffle the noise from outsiders, so as to prevent this thing getting shut down instantly, though the parties almost always end before midnight anyway. The record player in the back has been enchanted to play music louder, though it can hardly be heard over the chatter and laughter in the room.

“Hey, Park!” People call as Jimin walks through the crowd, you close to his side. You’re holding onto his arm like it’s a lifeline, like losing him means imminent doom. Jimin waves to everyone he knows and even a few people he doesn’t, all of whom give you courteous nods of acknowledgement that you’re hesitant to return.

“See, it’s not so bad,” Jimin whispers in your ear as Seungcheol comes up to him with two glasses of Felix Felicis.

“Hey, Park! Is this where you ran off to?” He asks, motioning to you.

“Yeah,” Jimin says. “Y/N, this is Seungcheol. Seungcheol, Y/N.”

You send the smallest smile possible, one Seungcheol returns tenfold. “Nice to meet you. Here, I grabbed the both of you some Felix Felicis. Someone magicked them, so it tastes like fruit punch. Highly recommend!” Seungcheol bounces off, leaving you and Jimin each with cups of sparkling gold liquid in your hands.

“Bottoms up, right?” Jimin asks with a smile and a shrug.

You go along with him, clinking your glasses before downing the liquid. Jimin feels it rush through himself, lighting up his bloodstream. Real Felix Felicis is awfully difficult to brew, and much too valuable to be wasted on a shitty Hogwarts party, so this is a much more muted, cocktail-ed version of the potion, but Jimin swears the effects are all the same.

“Feeling any different?” Jimin asks after a little while. You’ve resigned yourselves to a couch in the corner of the room, away from the crowded center of the party, where the rest of Jimin’s friends are, in an effort by Jimin to make you as comfortable as possible. Not that he minds not being the center of attention—in fact, he quite enjoys just living in his own little bubble alongside you.

“A little,” you respond, leaning against him. Jimin pretends that his heart beats all the same, even if you’re pressed up against him. “You?”

“I’m feeling… lucky,” Jimin muses to himself, turning to you. You blink up, gaze meeting his own. Jimin feels like he could get lost in the sea of your irises, but maybe that’s just the drink.

“Is that so?” You ask, hazy grin plastered on your face.

“I think so,” Jimin says, leaning in. “I think the effects of the Felix Felicis are still there, even if it’s not the real potion.”

“Are you sure about that?” You ask, your lips slowly closing in on his own. He can feel each breath that leaves your mouth as you speak to him, feels the warm air hit his skin.

“Mind if I test my theory?” He says with a muted smile, closing his eyes.

You nod. “Go right ahead.”

Jimin leans in just a little further, eager to press his lips to your own, when, out of nowhere—

“Park!”

The two of you pull apart immediately, jerking away from each other like you’ve suddenly developed phobias of each other. Jimin turns his head to see Joshua strolling up to him. He’s already dreading this conversation.

“You never introduced me,” Joshua says, a little loopy. He’s definitely had too much to drink tonight.

Jimin sighs. “Josh, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Josh,” he deadpans.

“Nice to meet you,” Joshua says with a bow, nearly toppling over as he does. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

Jimin’s eyes widen.

“He does?” You ask, confused. You turn to Jimin, who’s already fearful of the direction this conversation is heading.

“Yeah,” Joshua says. “Says he’s real thankful that you’re helping him out with that Muggle Studies project of yours. He wouldn’t get to play in the Quidditch game on Friday if it weren’t for all the work you’ve put into the project to boost his grade.” Jimin can see the liquid luck in his body evaporating. “He really appreciates it all. Gotten all close to you just so he can see if he can muster up a good grade. ‘M thankful to you, too. We need our Chaser.” Jimin turns to you to find a horrified look on your face, brows slowly furrowing in anger. “Well, have a nice night.”

Joshua saunters off, leaving Jimin burning in the ashes as you turn to him.

“Is that it?” You ask, angry, voice certain. He thinks he can see your eyes watering. “Is that all you wanted from me? A good grade? So you could play in your fucking Quidditch game?”

“Y/N, no, that’s not it—”

“Really? Because that’s what it looks like to me. I trusted you, you know? I thought you trusted me, as well.”

“I do, Y/N, wait—”

You get up, clearly fuming, sniffing to hold back your tears. “You know I’ve had a crush on you since third year? Third year! And I was going to tell you after the project was over but I guess I don’t have to anymore.” You fumble in your pockets, searching for something, when you pull out a folded up piece of parchment. Jimin recognizes it as the one from your notebook, serrated at one of the edges. You toss it at him, letting it land at the floor at his feet. “Here. A parting gift.”

“Y/N, wait!” Jimin calls, stumbling after you, but you’re already out of the door in a flash, yellow tie disappearing down the hall before Jimin can run after you. When you’re gone, Jimin’s left standing speechless, like the whole world around him is turning and yet he’s frozen in place. The noise filters in one ear and right out of the other, the party going over his head as he stands there, foolishly hoping that you’ll return.

He walks over to the folded up piece of parchment, leaning down to pick it off the ground. Opening it up, he finds, drawn on it, a portrait of himself, done partly in quill ink and partly in pen ink. It’s of him smiling, his mouth open wide and his eyes crinkled up into crescents, wrinkled at the edges. At the bottom, a note:

Jimin,

You will always be my muse.

Y/N.

Jimin doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sees an angry splotch in the corner, seeping into the parchment and causing a bit of ink to bleed.

Overcome with emotion, Jimin storms over to where Joshua is, lounging on a windowsill with another cup of Felix Felicis in his hands. “Fuck you,” he bites, making Joshua jump back in shock.

“What’s gotten into you, Park?” He asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” Jimin spits. “You’re just a fucking asshole, you know that? You’re a dick.”

“What did I do?” Joshua asks, and Jimin can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Maybe he’s not. Maybe Joshua really did think Jimin was just trying to use you to get a good grade, but that doesn’t make him any less of a giant fucking tool. Regardless, Jimin doesn’t stay around long enough to give a response, storming up to his room and collapsing on his bed, the portrait fluttering to the ground beside him.

If Park Jimin was dreading have to give a Muggle Studies presentation the day he was assigned it, it pales in comparison to how much he truly does not want to give it the day of. You haven’t spoken a word to him since the party last night, barely even acknowledging him as he takes his seat next to you, in preparation for your project. Jimin feels like he’s lost all control of himself, his hair a disaster, face puffy and swollen, friend group a disaster and his crush refusing to speak to him. Not to mention, if he fucks up on this presentation he doesn’t even get to play in the Quidditch game on Friday.

“First up will be... Park and Y/L/N,” the professor says. Jimin definitely did not see this coming.

Slowly, the two of you trudge up to the front of the room, little pieces of parchment in your hands as cue cards, to a couple of wolf whistles from the friends Jimin is trying desperately to distance himself from.

“You may begin,” the professor croaks, pen in hand as he’s ready to take off marks for every little thing Jimin gets wrong.

Jimin clears his throat. He turns to look at you, but to no avail. Slowly, he begins. “The Great Gatsby is a story about a man in an unrequited love with a woman, willing to do anything to gain her favor. But more than that, it’s a story about love and loss, and about a time period in which everything seemed so great, that it became infected with poison.”

Slowly, the ten minutes allotted for each presentation tick by, you and Jimin speaking exactly on cue, like robots. The professor nods every now and then, writing something down here and there on the piece of parchment in front of him as the two of you continue.

“The Great Gatsby is more than just a love story,” you say, quickly glancing down at your parchment for a reminder. “It is a cautionary tale of love, warning readers of what happens when you devote yourself too much to a single person, and what happens when it inevitably fails.”

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat. Is this it? Is that how you feel? Is that what happened?

That’s supposed to be the last line of your presentation, and people begin applauding when Jimin clears his throat, desperate to say something else. “No, wait. It’s more than that, more than a cautionary tale of love.” For the first time in what feels like eons, you meet his eyes. Jimin can only hope you’ll trust him on this, let him have just this. “It reminds us that love can be blinding but sometimes, the passion makes it worth it. It reminds us that love is not a weakness, but a strength. And that sometimes, even if the results are deadly, it’s worth it.”

The room erupts into a soft applause, the enthusiasm of a class of tired, homesick teenagers absolutely electrifying. But, if it’s any consolation, Jimin meets his professor’s eyes, and he earns a nod in response.

After class, the professor calls Jimin up front for a moment. The time leaves Jimin antsy, as he’s desperate to speak to you, talk to you, say something. Explain himself.

“Mr. Park, you did well today,” the professor says.

“Really?” Jimin asks.

“Yes, you gave a very enlightening presentation. Did you learn a thing or two from Y/N?”

Jimin looks up to where you’re standing, gathering your items silently, keeping your eyes trained down. “I learned a lot from her,” he says.

“I can tell. You both received an Exceeds, so good luck on your Quidditch game on Friday,” the professor says. Jimin can’t help but wonder if it’s a grade he received slightly out of pity, but he’ll take it.

“Thank you, Professor,” Jimin says with a bow, eager to leave the room as he sees you doing the same.

“Oh, and Park, one more thing,” the professor says. Jimin turns to him, and the professor simply smiles, sage and wise. “Good luck with her, too.”

Jimin rushes after you.

Unsurprisingly, Jimin finds you in the owlery. Almost like you were waiting for him.

“Y/N,” he says.

“You went off script,” you say in response, refusing to meet his eyes. You’re standing by the window, watching as the winds move the clouds across the sky.

“I had to,” Jimin says, walking over to you.

“No, you didn’t,” you spit. “You wanted to. Because everything is what you want, isn’t it? I know that we got Exceeds. Congrats on your Quidditch game.”

“Y/N, please. It’s more than that,” he begs, reaching down to take your hand in his own.

You pull it away, turning to gaze into his chocolate eyes. “Is it, Jimin?”

“Yes, Y/N. It is,” he pleads. “Admittedly, I was happy to hear that you might be able to help me get my grade up but that wasn’t why I hung out with you, or asked you to show me the owlery, or taught you how to fly a broom. People always talked around about how strange and peculiar you were, but I knew that you weren’t weird. You were just different, and my friends are fucking assholes. I’m sorry for that.”

You turn away.

“Y/N, please, look at me. I did all of those things because I wanted to spend time with you. I shouldn’t have taken you to the party, though, I should have just spent the evening with you. I wanted to tell you how I felt about you, but I never got the chance. Y/N, you’re my muse.”

You turn to look at him, finally letting him capture your gaze. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course,” Jimin says. “I’m sorry for all of this. I just—I just want you.”

“You have me,” you whisper, sniffling slightly. Jimin swears he can feel tears welling up in his eyes as well, but he blinks them away.

And finally, after ages of waiting, of Jimin trying to muster up the courage but then chickening out, after days of dealing with his shitty friends and spending his hours up here in the owlery, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

It’s a soft kiss, nothing deep, nothing angry, but passionate nonetheless. It feels like warmth blooming inside of him, from the inside out. Blossoming like the flowers in spring. You hum contentedly to the feeling of his lips on yours, and suddenly, everything feels alright.

When you part, Jimin can’t help but press another kiss to your nose, and then your forehead, your cheeks, and the corner of your lips, each light, feathery touch making you giggle. You settle in for the night on the cushions, letting a few owls roam about the room, speaking in hushed whispers of a future for the both of you.

“I know you said you’re not really a sports person,” Jimin begins. “But my Quidditch match is on Friday and I’d love it if you’d come. Not like, as my girlfriend or anything. Unless you want that.”

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Park?” You tease.

“I’m also asking if you’d come to my game.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s nose. This feels right. “Yes and yes. I’d love to.”

Friday afternoon, the bleachers are shaking from students, Hufflepuff and Slytherin filling up the stands as they watch their house teams play in the first game of the season. And even from all the way up there, as Jimin weaves in and out of the other players, tossing the Quaffle through one of the rings to score another ten points for Slytherin, he spots you standing in the bleachers, a girl in yellow amongst a sea of green, and he grins.

#jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jimin scenario #bts imagine #jimin imagine #bts au #jimin au #bts hogwarts au #bts hogwarts #jimin hogwarts au #w: boats against the current #i: crave death

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harryandmolly · 5 years ago

Text

Change of Pace - 13 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 12k

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The Avila Beach mall is modest, mostly outdoors, like everything else in the town. It feels less commercial than most malls because many of the shops are local rather than international conglomerates.

There’s a very fine men’s clothing store that she’s pretty sure Shawn’s never stepped foot into because his uniform these days consists of skinny jeans and t-shirts or swim trunks. She doesn’t mind, it fits him, but she wants him to have something new.

When she steps inside holding his hand, her mind swims — blue? Black? Charcoal? The possibilities are endless. She turns to Shawn and looks him over with a flush in her cheeks. She’s never actually seen him in a real suit. She thinks suits are designed for demigods like him to wear.

They’re descended upon by a very kind old couple whose family has owned the shop for a few generations since Avila was nothing but a few shacks on the shore. They ask them what they’re looking for.

Maya turns into Shawn and places a hand on his firm chest. “We’re looking for a suit for a special night.”

The woman’s face glows. She starts to lead them over to the tailoring section.

Shawn has never met the couple who owns this little shop because he’s never been to this shop before. He’s never had a reason, really. He and Leah went to L.A. for wedding clothes, so this is a completely unexplored part of his little beach town.

So he lets Maya take the lead, trailing behind her as they’re brought to the back by the pink-cheeked woman while the man returns to the register.

“So I have like, no clue what size I am,” Shawn starts, a little frown tugging at his lips as Maya guides him up onto a platform in front of the 3-way mirror at the back of the store. He looks down at himself, at his lacquer-stained skinny jeans and his faded black t-shirt. He’s almost embarrassed to be in here, but Maya seems more than excited to play dress up.

He likes when she’s excited, so he decides he’s excited, too.

Shawn looks at her through the mirror, frown flipping into a smile as he winks at her.

Maya watches him step up onto the platform and get adorably bashful. She wrinkles her nose and squeezes his fingers reassuringly. She doesn’t want him feeling embarrassed. She’s so proud to be able to walk around with him anywhere, no matter how much workshop shit he gets on his clothes.

“You don’t need to,” she assures him, nodding to the woman, Maisie, who’s bustling around looking for her measuring tape, “Maisie will help us with that.”

Maisie snatches at the tape triumphantly from the top shelf of a cabinet. She hums around Shawn like a well-practiced bee, measuring his shoulders and his waist and his inseam while Maya watches patiently, adoringly. She’s also flipping through her mental store of cocktail dresses she’s collected for work events over the years, trying to decide what to wear.

“What colors are you thinking, love?” Maisie asks gently, looking to her for direction. Maya’s nose twitches overtop a smile. She likes that Maisie thinks she’s in charge.

Maya chews on her lip thoughtfully. “I’d like to see something in a navy… and maybe a deep burgundy? Baby, anything you wanna try?”

Maya looks at him like she thinks he knows something about fashion. He likes clothes and stuff, but he’s not sure he has good taste. He doesn’t really need fashion with what he does for a living.

Maya’s always had great taste though.

He shrugs a little, glancing from Maya to Maisie and her tape measure. Finally, he looks at himself in the mirror.

“I guess I like red better than blue. Or— well, I don’t know. I like both. Really, Lu, it’s up to you.”

He smiles when he looks at her through the mirror, slipping his hands into his back-pockets and rocking onto his heels.

Shawn hands Maya the reins. She watches him tip back and forth submissively. She smiles and turns to Maisie, sitting on the leather couch and placing her very expensive Vuitton bag next to her.

“I’d like to see the red first then, with a white shirt. Nothing double breasted. Nice and slim in the leg, no pleated pants. And we’d like to see shoes, too, please.”

She caps off her declaration with a warm smile and settles back into the couch, feeling the same rush of power like she got from shopping in Manhattan, on the rare occasion she had time to do it. Maisie busies herself in the back, searching for something she can tailor to Maya’s description. When she reenters the dressing area, she has a wry smile on her round face.

“I have just the thing.” She waves Shawn over toward the back dressing room to try it on.

Shawn has never seen Maya like this before. He’s never seen Maya with money before, though. Money changes things. He’s not necessarily complaining.

He always liked playing dress up with Aaliyah when they were kids. This is like, the adult version of that.

“Um, yeah, okay,” he says with a crooked smile and quick glance back at Maya, then follows Maisie into the dressing room. She plucks a deep red (Burgundy? Crimson? He doesn’t know) suit from an empty rack, along with a crisp white dress shirt.

She holds them out for Shawn to take.

“You try these, honey, and I’ll go sniff around for shoes. 10 and a half’s? 11?”

Shawn hooks his fingers around the hangers, glancing down at the suit with his lips pressed together.

“Oh, 11 should be good. Thank you,” he replies with a gingerly smile. Maisie bustles away, closing the door behind her and leaving Shawn to slip into a suit he thinks costs more than his car.

Maya sits outside in the main dressing area standing at the empty platform with her brow furrowed.

Is she doing too much?

I mean, Maya’s used to having money now. Big, scary money. Wall Street money. The kind of money that talks. She’s used to the look she gets from proprietors when she pulls out her black card. But Shawn isn’t.

She doesn’t want to be a dick about it. She really, really doesn’t. She just wants to treat him. And yeah, maybe she does want to show off a little. Not only has she worked her ass off for her money, she’s also a little eager to prove she got something useful out of her time in Manhattan. Which is… stupid.

Maya sighs and chews on the inside of her lip, feeling nervous. She really doesn’t want him to think she’s an asshole. Maybe they should just leave. Maybe she can just take him to In-n-Out and they can watch a movie and get high on her couch.

She just doesn’t want to see him walk out of the room looking totally uncomfortable and, even worse, disappointed in her, in who she’s become. She silently panics.

Shawn is not blind. He knows he’s good looking. He knows he’s got a nice body. He forces himself to get to the gym enough to maintain it. So he’s not surprised when he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks… Shit.

He looks good in this stupidly, lavishly expensive suit. He feels like a rock star going to the Grammy’s, looks kind of like the guy he used to wish he could be.

Maisie slides a pair of shoes beneath the door, and Shawn pulls them on. He tugs at his sleeves, brushes his shoulders like he knows what he’s doing, then peeks his head out of the dressing room to look for Maya.

She’s sat on the couch across from the three-way mirror, picking at her nails and not looking at him. He grins, steps out of the room in the clean suite and clears his throat.

“So, do I look fancy enough or what?”

Maya’s tense shoulders drop. She grips her knees, ceasing her torture of her nail beds, and blinks quickly.

“Oh, wow,” she croaks.

He’s… magnificent. She already knew that, of course she did. She’s been very blessed to spend a lot of time around him naked. But second only to him in his birthday suit is him in… well, this suit.

Maya stands. She looks from the broad length of his shoulders to his tapered waist to the definition of his legs in the trimly cut trousers and his shiny, pointy shoes. She looks back up at him, at the way he’s got one unruly curl dropping over his forehead, at the pale skin of his neck and chest peeking out of the crisp shirt. She exhales a shuddering breath and steps forward.

“You’re… wow.”

All her well-educated eloquence is gone. She goes a little stupid-brained around him when he’s extra pretty like this. She coughs gently and watches Maisie step out to gauge reaction.

Shawn blushes like he’s twenty-one all over again. She looks at him like she’s not sure he’s real. The hair at the nape of his neck prickles, standing on end under the wonder of her gaze.

The closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. She’s got the whole “moth to a flame” thing with him, always has. It helps that he’s a walking furnace of testosterone and she literally gets warmer standing next to him. She wanders up until she’s standing next to the platform beside him, staring up at him in awe.

“I think we’ll take this one,” Maya coughs.

“Oh, you—“ Shawn looks down at himself, smacking his lips, “I can try on the blue, Lemon.”

He looks back at her, giving her a slight smile as Maisie hustles over, multicolor pins sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She plucks one between her fingers and lifts it towards Shawn, looking around him to Maya.

“No alterations, Miss?”

He hadn’t thought about that. The suit is comfortable and he thinks it looks good, but… you know, what does he know? He just thinks as long as he’s not tripping over the pants he’ll be alright.

He’s mentioned something about blue. Her brain barely registers it. Maisie prods her with another ‘Miss?’ and Maya shakes her head with a dopey smile.

“No, he’s perfect-- the suit. The suit’s… perfect.”

She blinks quickly and blushes hard. She focuses on wriggling her Amex out of her wallet, handing it to Maisie with a grateful smile and a quiet thank you. Maisie gives them a knowing look and shuffles away with the card.

“Should’ve known this would be easy. Everything looks good on you,” she hums, looking up at him again.

He’s got his hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips as Maya fumbles to pay. The smirk grows when she looks at him.

“I’m perfect, huh?”

He likes to tease her when she gets like this. It’s a rare thing, was rare way back when, so Shawn likes to soak it up, particularly since he’s usually the one in awe of her.

Maya rolls her eyes at him but can still feel the flare in her cheeks. She shakes her head and shrugs.

“I clearly said the suit’s perfect, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Should I be a model or something?” he says with a Cheshire grin as he looks at himself in the mirror, reaching up to pull at one of the smooth crimson lapels.

She smirks right back at him and watches him peacock in the mirror with a smile. She’s proud that she can give him something that makes him feel this good. She wants to make him feel good always. Any little bit extra helps.

Maya smoothes her hand over the flare of his bicep and sighs longingly. “You’re an old man now, Mendes. Modeling’s a young man’s game.”

Her smirk goes a bit devilish. She winks at him as Maisie returns with her card and a garment bag for Shawn’s suit.

Shawn waits for Maisie to be out of ear shot once more before he hops down from the platform and turns on his heel. He quirks a brow at Maya.

“Tell that to George Clooney,” he challenges, then disappears into the dressing room to change back into his street clothes before she can say anything.

Maya licks her lips, watching him walk away. She loves it when he gets a little playfully cocky.

He stares at himself in the mirror once he’s back in clothes that, by comparison, make him look homeless. He sucks at his lower lip.

Is it tacky for him to let Maya buy this suit? He doesn’t really know. Maya can do whatever she wants with her money, but he’s not— well, her money isn’t why he’s interested in her. He’s pretty sure she knows that.

“So like, we can return this tomorrow, you know,” he says in a hushed tone once he reappears.

“Also,” he continues, “I don’t know how to get this in there.” He lifts the suit, then the garment bag, and knocks them awkwardly together.

“That’s ridiculous.” Maya wrinkles her nose distastefully and takes the garment bag and suit from him, tucking the clothes away expertly and zipping it up. She hands it back to him, continuing.

“You look unbelievable in that suit. Plus, I want you to have it. It’s a present. I saw how you looked at yourself in it, you love it.”

Maya lifts the corner of her lips and takes his free hand, leading him out of the shop after a hearty thank you to Maisie and her husband.

Yeah, he didn’t exactly conceal his delight at looking like James fucking Bond. He needs to remember how to act around her. Shawn looks from Maya to the suit, the suit then Maya.

He sighs.

“Then you have to let me get you a present back,” he insists, hooking the suit over his shoulder. He retucks the shoebox beneath his arm, realizing that he’ll have to get her two gifts if he’s keeping the shoes, as well.

Maya smiles placatingly. “You can get me as many presents as you want, I love presents.”

Shawn was always good at picking out gifts for her. She was never much for jewelry, which usually makes it harder for guys, but Shawn got her the most thoughtful gifts -- a painting of Avila framed for her birthday, a fancy roof rack for her surfboard, which sits on her Wrangler even today.

“I arranged our ride while you were changing,” she tells him, lifting her chin proudly. She’s teasing him with it even though she doesn’t intend to tell him if he asks.

“Arranged what ride? This is the ride,” he says as she leads him back to her Wrangler. He puts the suit and shoes in the back then settles into shotgun.

Maya starts the engine and nods smugly. “This is the ride that will take us to the ride.”

She doesn’t plan on elaborating further. She’s definitely getting off a little on this surprise. She can’t wait to see his face, both when he sees the ride and when he sees the dress she’s mentally picked out.

They’re back at her cottage before too long. They opt to share a shower, keeping their hands mostly to themselves. They play music and sway around barefoot and quiet while they get dressed, humming or singing along under their breath. It’s startlingly domestic.

Maya peeks around the doorjamb of the master bath to watch Shawn fastening the buttons of his shirtsleeves. He’s struggling with the right cuff. She takes a deep breath and walks in, looking like a million bucks in a white off-the-shoulder cocktail dress that hugs her every curve and settles a few inches above her knee. The color sets off her deeply bronzed skin, lots of it available to the eye as she has clipped her hair up at the back of her head to show off her neck and cleavage.

Maya takes Shawn’s wrist and buttons the sleeve for him, slipping her fingers between his with a shy smile. “Almost ready?”

His heart lurches into his throat when she appears from the bathroom. Any capacity for speech is gone— the stupid, uncooperative cuff at his wrist forgotten as she approaches.

His skin is on fire when she touches him, fixing his problem with a flick of her fingers. She takes his hand and he’s shocked back to life.

“Are you kidding me?” Is all his fried brain can think to say.

He thinks Maya is beautiful all the time, no matter what he’s insanely attracted to her. He just— he didn’t know she could clean up like that.

He’ll have to adjust his pants when she’s not looking.

Maya chuckles at his reaction and maybe preens a little, smoothing her skirt around her thighs and checking herself out a little in the mirror.

“I’ve had this one for a while. It felt appropriate,” she comments casually. She riddled with the white gold and sapphire drop earrings that skim her neck when she tilts her head to look up at him, even in heels.

She takes his hand back, snags her clutch off the bed and leads him back downstairs to the Wrangler. She buckles in and maneuvers them to the address the driver gave her.

It’s an old airfield on the edge of Avila, down an old dirt road. The chopper is sleek, looking like billionaires fly around in it regularly. She glances over at Shawn for a reaction.

“Um,” Shawn mutters, blinking out at the helicopter waiting in the airfield where he and Geoff used to go to fuck around with Geoff’s drone before it broke. The sleek, black helicopter is definitely not a drone.

He can’t believe she did this. Is that really how rich she is? She doesn’t have kids, so it’s not like she’s spending her earnings on schools and a big house and whatever else kids need. He figured that was giving her room to play.

Buying your lover a fancy suit is one kind of rich. That helicopter? Shawn thinks they’re getting into Bill Gates territory with that. Maybe. He doesn’t know how much money you need to call for a helicopter, but it feels like a lot.

Shawn’s eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline as he turns to look at Maya. “Are we going on a secret mission? Do I need a gun?”

He doesn’t mean to be an asshole about it, but he’s not exactly sure how to react. He’s not used to be lavished with gifts. He and Leah were both, like, poor. They funneled their money into their work or their savings. Gifts were handmade or gestures or novelty items from local shops (and only rarely the fancy ones).

He realizes, though, that perhaps he sounds ungrateful. He presses his lips together and smiles, the dimple in his right cheek popping. “I just mean-- you didn’t have to do this, Lu. You’ve already wooed me. I’m thoroughly wooed.”

He doesn’t know why he’s resisting. It’s a fucking helicopter, and he can’t pretend the spirit of his twelve-year-old self isn’t freaking out. Flying anywhere in a helicopter sounds badass and he definitely, definitely wants to do it. He just needs to relax, to let go of the itch in his gut that makes him feel like he’s not good enough to be here with her, doing something so extravagant.

He reminds himself: If she wants him here, then he’s good enough.

Shawn’s reaction isn’t far off from what she expects of him. He gawks a little, makes a stupid joke, then gets earnest and bashful. Maya watches it all with a gentle smile.

She takes his hand, lifting it to her lips. She studies the grooves of his knuckles as she speaks. “No, I… I know. I didn’t do it because I felt like I had to. I wanted to. I know how hard you work. I know you spend 80 hours a week locked in your shop working and it’s great because I know you love it, but you deserve something special. I wanted to give you something special. And… y’know, maybe I wanted to show off, but just a little.”

Her grin is a little shy. She releases his hand and they climb out of the Wrangler and start heading for the helicopter.

Shawn doesn’t let her get too far ahead of them once they’re out of the Wrangler. He takes her wrist, pulling her to a gentle stop. He turns her, looking down with a tip of his head and a small smile.

“Hey,” he starts, squeezing her wrist, “You don’t have to show off for me, but--” his gaze flicks to the helicopter behind them, “I’m definitely not complaining. This is really cool, Lu. And maybe a little intimidating. In the good way, though.”

He slips his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. He smiles at her, gliding his thumb along her knuckles. He supposes this is how it’ll be with her. It feels worlds away from where they used to be, who they used to be together, but he wants to embrace it. He’ll try, anyway. He’ll try whatever, for her.

Shawn assuages any of her remaining concerns that she’s completely gone off the deep end with this date. She watches his hands as he speaks, notes the way he brushes over her fingers just like she did for him only a few moments ago.

He’s fully restored her confidence now with the way he’s eyeing the chopper and his eyes are getting a little wider like a little kid about to get on a big roller coaster. She’s been on several helicopters before. They were a good alternative to Manhattan traffic when her company needed her at a meeting across town, or when she was heading to the Hamptons for a weekend. It’s not old hat for her, helicopter travel could never be, but she knows the drill.

She greets the pilot, who helps them buckle into the blonde leather interior and opens a bottle of champagne for them to enjoy while they soar over the Pacific Coast Highway traffic toward Malibu.

Oh, right. Shawn doesn’t even know where they’re going. Maya giggles to herself, taking a sip from her glass as they start to lift off the ground. She’s delighted by her little secret.

The helicopter has leather interior and more room inside than his Jeep. He didn’t know they even made helicopters this roomy and spacious.

And then there’s champagne. Shawn gawks, but only for a moment, because his suit looks fancy enough for him to feel like he belongs on a private chopper like this, and he doesn’t want the naive look in his eyes to betray him. He accepts the sparkling wine graciously, but with a tip of his glass that suggests he’s used to having fancy alcohol in a luxury aircraft.

He thinks it’s enough to fool the pilot, but Maya could always see right through him. She can probably feel the nervous, excited energy rolling off of him in waves. He sips his wine and turns his gaze toward her, tilting his head.

“So is this how you always get around in working for Proctor and Gamble?”

Maya watches him subtly react to the zillionaire treatment with a smile. It’s cute, the way he seems to want to just blend in. She doesn’t bother to tell him the pilot really doesn’t care one way or another if Shawn’s not rich, as long as someone’s paying his bill.

She chuckles at his comment and taps his leg with her stiletto heel teasingly. “Proctor, Garrett and Stern,” she corrects in a hoity-toity voice.

She shakes her head and glances out the window. “Most days I took a cab. I only got the chopper on special occasions. And then when they sent me elsewhere for business, I got the Learjet. And… I sound like an asshole.”

Maya rolls her eyes at herself and her well-intentioned explanation that turned into gross rich people bragging. Doesn’t matter anyway. None of it actually fulfilled her, not like being in Avila has in the last few weeks.

He grins. She doesn’t sound like an asshole, she sounds like someone with a successful job, but. She does kind of sound like the people they used to make fun of in college. He doesn’t want to make fun of her though. Shawn’s impressed. It’s not easy to claw your way up from nothing to everything.

“Maybe you sound like an asshole,” he replies, taking a sip of champagne, “But a really sophisticated asshole who has great taste.”

He grins at her, leaning across the arm rest between their seat to press his lips to her cheek, his nose brushing her temple.

“Like I said,” he murmurs softly, reaching his free hand for her knee, “This is really, really cool, Lu. I don’t care if that makes me an asshole, too.”

Maya laughs and lets him show he’s just kidding by reaching over to kiss her. She leans into it with a sigh.

“This is a nice break though,” she begins, “Being in Avila. It’s been so long since I took a vacation. I forgot what it’s like.”

Don’t go back, is what he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He can’t. It’s not his place to tell her what to do or where to live or who to love. If she wants to pick him, pick Avila and this nice life he thinks they could settle into, then she will on her own.

But he still sometimes wonders if she’s waiting for him to tell her not to go back. Maybe she’s not sure if he wants her around. Though, he thinks he’s pretty obvious about that, knows he hasn’t been able to hide his hopelessly romantic nature from her since he decided to kiss her in his shop all those weeks ago.

She glances over at Shawn and rests her hand over his as it rubs gentle circles into her knee. “You’ve been a big part of that for me so far. And I don’t just mean the unbelievable stress-relieving sex.”

She takes her turn to lean in and kiss him, pulling away to swipe at his lips with her thumb to rid him of her lipstick.

Shawn smirks. He doesn’t mind being her preferred method of relaxation, secondary only to the sea. He thinks he’s been more relaxed from the steady, mind-blowing orgasms, too. But he’s also more on edge, if only from having her in his life again and all of the pushed away feelings that have resurfaced because of it.

He nips at her thumb gently before she can pull away. The smile on his lips is soft. “So what else is it? The constant smell of dried finishing gloss?”

Maya wrinkles her nose at him affectionately and runs her bitten thumb against his jaw, stroking him adoringly, “Yeah. That’s it. I think I’ve just been high off the fumes for weeks.”

She winks at him and glances out the window. In a way, she’s felt high for a few weeks. Seeing him at the farmers market that first time felt like the result of a weird trip and if she’s honest, it hasn’t really stopped. Because she’d never, ever guess that she’d get to this place with him again, not after so long.

It has her thinking about them then and them now. Nostalgia sets in. She cocks her head and looks back at Shawn.

“What’s your favorite date we’ve ever been on?”

She watches the sky and he watches her. The sun glints through the window, warming her skin. He doesn’t pretend he wasn’t looking at her when she turns back to him.

He smiles at her question, looks down at the swallow tattoo on his hand as he considers.

“Dunno,” he murmurs, swirling the champagne in his glass. He looks back at her, smirking, “We got up to a lot of crazy shit.”

If he’s being honest, his favorite nights were the ones when they didn’t do anything. They would sit and talk and figure each other out. Sometimes they would have sex, sometimes they would fall asleep. It was simple, but he liked it. He always liked being alone with her.

“Maybe this one. Maybe I like being courted like this.”

Maya smiles and wets her lower lip. Her brain skims through some of her favorite times they’ve spent together both in Avila and Toronto, alone and with friends, drunk and sober, clothed and naked. They’re so stupid lucky.

She lifts her chin proudly. “This one’s climbing my list as well.”

She finishes the champagne in her glass and places it aside, leaning in to his ear, breathing softly, watching the goosebumps appear in the wake of her breath.

“Would you like to know where we’re going?”

She sucks his earlobe into her mouth and flicks it gently, teasingly with her tongue.

Shawn almost chokes on his last sip of champagne. He swallows thickly when her tongue wets his ear, his fingers curling tightly around the stem of his glass.

He breathes out a laugh, one that rasps in his tight throat.

“We’re not getting off this helicopter if you keep doing that,” he nearly purrs, turning his head towards her, his nose brushing her cheek. “So you might want to behave if you don’t want to waste your money.”

Shawn takes it and he dishes it right back in a way that has her crossing her legs a little tighter.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me to behave while you’re sitting there in that suit looking like…”

She trails off and bites her lip through a sigh. She flips his hand over on her knee and traces the lines of his palm, watching it twitch for her.

“Fine,” she murmurs, “I can be a good girl for you. If that’s what you want.”

Goddammit. He should’ve known he was playing with fire. Teasing Maya is always a dangerous game. It’s a familiar game, though, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t love it.

He hums against her cheek, fingers curling up at she traces the lines of his palm.

“I think I would like that, sugar,” he murmurs, warm breath brushing across her ear, “You do it so well, after all.”

His fingers close around hers and he gently places her hand on her own thigh, before returning his broad palm to her bare knee.

It’s dreamlike, the way Shawn can have her pulse racing with the sweep of his fingers on her wrist when they’re pressed together like this. Each time is as special as the first time.

He whispers in her ear and manipulates her hands so his warm bear paw is resting on her skin again. Her breath comes up short in her chest. She turns her face and closes her eyes, breathing him in as she brushes her nose against his.

“If I’m a good girl now, what will you give me later?”

If he weren’t so intrigued by the prospect of the evening Maya has planned, he’d get up now and tell the pilot to turn the chopper around. Or click the little button over his seat. Whatever.

The lazy, teasing cadence of her voice has Shawn’s skin crawling with goosebumps, his hands twitching with the itch to tug her dress down her body and see what’s underneath.

His fingers curl into her skin as he takes a breath, tipping his forehead against hers.

“Maya,” he murmurs, voice thick, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

Maya smiles and cups a hand around his cheek, thumb pressing into his smooth skin. She’s pretty sure the answer he’s referring to is probably along the lines of “anything you want, sugar.” He’s right. He doesn’t have to say it out loud.

Maya sits back and gazes out the window. The sun is hanging low but shouldn’t set until they’re seated at dinner if she planned it right which she definitely did. They’re starting to descend over the small airstrip on the Malibu coast just a few miles from the restaurant on the bluff that is so exclusive, it’s basically a secret.

“Then I’ll behave,” she assures him with a smirk, “But only just long enough to get my prize later.”

Shawn has to lean away from her to keep control. Her lips twitch. He looks away, out of the window as he leans on his elbow, tucking his hands together over his crossed knee.

He hums.

“You’re pretty spoiled, aren’t you?”

His gaze is steady as they descend.

He knows she’s not spoiled. He knows how hard she works, and how hard on herself she is. But he likes to tease, and he likes how worked up she gets when they’re like this. Heated foreplay, but with hardly any touching.

It’s addictive.

And besides. He wants to keep this date elegant and proper, like he’s sure the setting will be. He doesn’t want to ruin it because she makes him feel like a horny twenty-one-year-old again. So behave, she must, or they’ll end up screwing in the bathroom.

Shawn’s baiting her. It’s adorable.

She tilts her head to eye him, lifting a hand to brush some hair behind her ear. It draws his attention to a mark he left that’s fading just behind her earlobe.

“If I’m spoiled, it’s your fault,” she taunts wickedly, “You just take such good care of me, baby.”

Even though it’s just sexy flirting, it feels just a little bit dangerous to Maya, like they’re flirting not just with each other but also with this seemingly temporary relationship they have, and its boundaries.

The chopper lands. Shawn climbs out first and takes Maya’s hand to help her out. She holds it and guides him to the town car that’s waiting to bring them to the restaurant. In the car, she holds his big hand in both of hers, massaging his fingers and feeling their dirty flirting fade back into something a little sweeter, a little softer (at least for now).

When they’re winding up the path to the bluff, it really looks like they’re headed for absolutely nowhere, and it’s by design. The restaurant comes up out of the dunes. It doesn’t look like much but Maya knows enough to know better.

He thinks he’s getting murdered. She’s being sweet as they drive through the middle of nowhere, but he’s worried maybe a little too sweet. He figured she knew some fancy place in the city, but now he’s sure she’s bringing him to the dunes for an easy place to ditch his body.

There’s a building that looks like a mirage, mild and unassuming and nothing more than a trick of the light. But it’s real, and the car is stopping, and they’re getting out and heading inside and Shawn is very, very confused.

Then he realizes, Maya is a witch. The unassuming mirage building is one of the most lavish, romantic restaurants he’s ever seen. It’s like being inside one of those enchanted tents from the Quidditch World Cup in Harry Potter.

Once inside, the hostess is one who knows Maya’s face because she’s expected to know every one of the patrons before they step foot in the door. She guides them to their table and Maya tries not to pinpoint the faces of celebrities as they pass and get tucked into their nook that faces the ocean and sunset.

Once alone together, Maya is smug once again. “How fuckin’ cool is this?”

He holds his breath. Maya doesn’t even have to give her name. They’re seated facing a window with a view of the sunset fading over the horizon.

Holy shit.

He’s busy trying to remain stoic, flicking his napkin onto his lap like the gentleman his mum raised him to be, when Maya breaks. Her smile is, in a word, shit-eating.

Shawn shrugs. “Alright. If you like cool and sexy and exclusive and pretension and beautiful and whatever.”

Maya releases a bubble of delighted laughter at Shawn’s reaction. She loves that even when he’s trying to put up a front of some kind, she can see through it. They can always see through each other.

Maya leans back in the curved seat with him and stares out at the sea. She giggles at how alone they feel, how quiet and intimate the restaurant is.

“I heard about this place from some coworkers. I’ve always wanted to fly out here and try it but I never had anyone I wanted to go with. But then this ex-boyfriend of mine showed back up in my life and he seemed like the perfect fit.”

In more ways than one, Maya thinks to herself.

Shawn has always hated quiet restaurants. He’s always liked a party when he’s out, perhaps because he spends so much quiet time with his guitars. But here, with Maya, the quiet, intimate atmosphere is perfect.

He’s sure anywhere with Maya is pretty perfect.

“Oh, so I’m not the only guy you’ve swept away to this place, then,” he quips with a sideways glance at her, brow hiked. He clicks his tongue. “And here I thought I was special, Lu.”

He shakes his head as if genuinely disappointed, then looks away from her and towards the ocean. He reaches a hand beneath the table, across the curved seat to cup her knee, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Shawn runs with her joke in a way that is completely adorable and encourages her to shower him with even more attention. With his hand on her knee under the table as a silent promise that he knows how she feels, she decides to really show him anyway.

Maya lifts a hand to the back of his head, focusing his eyes on her for a moment. She leans in and kisses him, and it’s the gentlest, warmest, sweetest kiss. Her fingers curl slightly into his hair and her thumb massages his pulsepoint.

He doesn’t think she’s ever kissed him this way before. It tugs at his heart in a peculiar way that makes him nervous with hope. It feels deeper, settled in a way you can’t kiss someone when you’re young and frantic, like they both once were.

When she pulls away, she sighs. If she keeps on like this, she’s putting all her cards on the table. He will know, absolutely, unequivocally, that she loves him. He will see through her lie. He will see through her, completely, and everything she’s been trying to do to stay cool.

She can’t be cool. Not like this.

She runs her hand from his neck down his arm to rest over his on her knee.

Lost in the ghost of their kiss, Shawn doesn’t open his eyes until her voice calls.

“Did that make you feel special?”

He smiles when he looks at her, flipping his hand over on her knee to interlock their fingers. He murmurs, “Pretty damn.”

Maya likes that he doesn’t open his eyes until he hears her voice. Part of her wonders if he would’ve stayed all gooey and euphoric all night if she hadn’t said another word.

She smiles at the feel of his fingers between hers. Their server offers them wine, so Maya orders them more champagne. As they peruse the menu, a memory sparks in the back of Maya’s head. She giggles and turns to Shawn, leaning in like she’s telling him a secret.

“Do you remember that first time I tried to cook you dinner when we were at school? It was, like, 3 weeks after we started dating.”

A grin splits his lips before he looks up at her from his menu. He absolutely remembers that night. He doesn’t remember the weeks or anything, but he remembers it was early on and they were both so pathetic in the kitchen that neither could manage to salvage the meal.

Maya’s better now, but he’s still as awful as ever, save for scrambled eggs and chocolate chip cookies.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at her, “that was pathetic. We were pathetic.”

He smirks as he laments, leaning back in the curved booth and looking at her instead of his menu. His voice is softer when he speaks again.

“You figured it out though. You always do.”

Shawn and Maya laugh over the memory that ended in takeout and sex on the couch. That was a great date. They’ve all been pretty great.

The server comes by and takes their orders. Shawn settles back into the booth and looks over at Maya like she’s the only woman in the room.

“I have gotten marginally better,” she chuckles, unwilling to take on too much credit because she can only master a handful of dishes to keep herself alive.

“But I’d like to cook now that I’m out here.”

Maya’s dreamily plucking at a thread on her napkin and imagining planting a garden somewhere on her property. She forgets the implication of her words, that maybe she’s not going back to New York.

Maya speaks like she plans to stay in California forever. If only. Rationally, he knows she means for the summer. The idealistic part of him, however, is always edging to convince her to stay out here forever. But he can’t be that guy. He can’t ask her to ditch her job and her city and her life for him, or for whatever fantasies of their entwined lives he likes to imagine late at night.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he says, sipping his champagne, “I’ll go to the grocery and get whatever you want and you can spend the day refining your craft.”

He offers a smile and a quirk of his brow, as if to say good idea, right? He’s never minded being people’s guinea pig in the kitchen. He has an endless stomach. He’ll eat whatever, even if it sucks.

“You can cook and I’ll practice playing the harp.”

Shawn’s suggestion is incredibly domestic. She can see it in her head — dancing around the kitchen with him while he sings to her, making carnitas tacos for lunch and lasagna for dinner. Maybe they can have that past August. If she doesn’t fuck all this up.

Maya watches the servers place their first course in front of them. She stares at it dreamily and shakes her head giggling, knowing nothing she makes will look or taste like this.

“Deal. I’ll cook until I’ve used every pot and pan in my kitchen and then I’ll make you clean,” she teases.

Something on Shawn’s plate looks good. She pokes at it with her fork and swipes a bite for herself with a smile and a little wink.

“You just like putting me to work,” he quips, wetting his bottom lip as he eyes his lobster and bechamel vol-au-vent hungrily. Just then, Maya’s fork appears before him and he watches her spear a piece of lobster.

“Correction,” she begins, popping her buttery, perfect bite of lobster between her lips, “I love putting you to work.”

Shawn gasps, sticking his fork out to block the rest of his vol-au-vent. He gives her a look. “Hey now,” he starts, “It’s not my fault I’m better at ordering than you.”

He glances at her plate and realizes her gnocchi appetizer looks just as incredible as his lobster. Honestly, he’s sure anything you can order at this restaurant is probably perfect. He smirks at her.

“But fair’s fair, Lu,” he quips, giving her a little wink as he stabs one of her soft potato pastas and eats it before she can stop him.

“God,” Maya sighs, “This place is perfect. The food is perfect. The view is perfect. Let’s just, like, camp out here and refuse to leave.”

She glances around and wiggles her eyebrows. “Hey, maybe I can buy the place,” she jokes.

He rolls his eyes, grins. She’s such a dork.

“Okay, Bruce Wayne. I’ll wave down the waiter so you can make an offer,” he teases, smirking a little before shoveling a sauce-covered bite of lobster and pastry into his mouth. He groans around the bite, eyes fluttering shut as he chews and savors.

“Can you buy the chef, too? I don’t want to move here unless the food comes with it.”

Maya watches him enjoy his food. She’s pleased he likes it, seems to like everything about their date so far. She was nervous about going too far. She didn’t want to, like, embarrass him. But she likes spoiling him. She feels spoiled by him all the time, so just this once, she went over the top.

“Anything you want, baby,” she coos with an overexaggerated wink. She likes making him laugh.

The first course was stellar, she can’t begin to imagine what the entree will offer. While the plates clear, Maya sits back and takes his hand again, playing with his fingers while she looks outside at the beach.

“Thought we’d go for a walk after dinner,” she offers.

Shawn watches Maya play with his fingers with a careful smile tugging his lips. She’s looking out to the ocean when she speaks, and he’s tempted to look with her, but instead he studies her face.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, like she’s not sure he’ll like the idea.

He smiles.

“That sounds nice, sugar,” he says with a soft squeeze of her hand, reaching his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He cups the back of her neck, brushing his thumb along the column of her throat.

“Is this the kind of fancy, rich-people beach where the shells are made out of diamonds?”

Maya leans into his warm, rough hand and doesn’t let herself dwell on how good they’ll feel when they’re all over her body later. But it’s hard when she knows it so well.

“Pearls, actually,” she corrects in her snobbiest voice. She laughs and feels it vibrate through his fingers.

“If we could go anywhere in the world together, beach or no beach, where would you want to go?”

They used to talk about this stuff in very safe, nebulous terms because they knew they could never afford it then. Now she could afford to take them just about anywhere. She’s not planning a trip, necessarily, she just wants to hear about what he dreams with her.

“Hmm,” he hums, his thumb still stroking her neck. He looks out to the beach, then back to her, considering.

She offers the option, but he knows Maya would be happiest with a beach. And he wants to go wherever she’s happiest.

He tries to think of some place fabulous to go, some place charming and beautiful. Some place with great food and ambiance.

“Have you ever been to Greece?” he asks, because he just watched Mamma Mia the other day. Obviously, he’s never been to Greece, but he loves Greek food and thinks Maya would love the beaches, if she hasn’t already been.

She’s probably been, like, everywhere. He’s only jealous for a moment.

Not like they’re actually going on a trip, or anything. But still, if she’s asking him where he wishes they could be when they wake up in the morning, he’s picking Greece.

Maya lights up. “Oh my god, Greece would be amazing. No, I mean, I’ve always wanted to go for the history and the food and the beaches and everything. I don’t think you can actually surf there, but the Mediterranean is so pretty and…”

Maya continues rambling for a minute or two while they’re served their entrees. When she runs out of breath she looks down at her magnificent poached fish and sighs.

He is so in love with her. He could probably listen to her babble about Greece for hours. She knows a lot of stuff he doesn’t. Art history, and just like, history history. He’s enthralled, so much so that he hardly notices the waiter place his filet mignon in front of him.

He’s about to tease her, but a gentle purr stops him.

“I’d love to go to Greece with you,” she murmurs, sinking her fork into her fish.

His stomach flips, and he opens his mouth to be sweet, to say Then you can kidnap me anyday, when--

Maya looks up at him with a sly grin. “Not you. The fish. I’m gonna marry this fish.”

She beats him to the punch with a joke that would make him laugh if he hadn’t gotten so dizzy from the whiplash. He nods after a moment then looks down at his steak, sizzling on the plate.

“I, uh-- I think that’s bestiality, Lu,” he says, trying for a teasing lilt, but it falls a bit flat. He hates himself for it, mostly because he knows Maya will hear it and he hates letting her know when he’s disappointed. Nothing about this evening is a disappointment. But he knows he’s going to be occupied by dreams of Greece for weeks. He’s susceptible to suggestion like that.

Shawn doesn’t exactly react the way she expects. He doesn’t laugh with her and joke back about bedding his filet. Instead, he looks a little disheartened.

And suddenly she has the strongest urge to pull out her phone and book flights to Santorini. She resists and quirks a shaky smile instead. “Who needs Greece when we have Avila Beach, right?”

Avila is their little heaven on earth, after all. It’s where he built a life, it’s where she escaped hers. It’s where she first decided, a long time ago, that she wanted to be with him forever. Now that she’s back with him there, part of her thinks maybe forever could happen for him sort of like the way they used to think it could.

So yeah. Greece, as lovely and historical and rich with culture as it is, it’s not home.

He’s the spoiled brat. Never content with what he has and always desperate for more. This night they’re having would have been one of his ultimate fantasies in the beginning of the summer, one labeled, DO NOT GO DOWN THIS ROAD OF HOPELESS ROMANCE.

But now that he’s here, living out something he never allowed himself to dream about before, he’s too busy planning the next move, the next desperate attempt to live a full life with her in only a few weeks, to enjoy that she’s right here.

He’s an asshole, and he can tell from the way she tries to placate him with her delicate words.

“You know what,” He drops his fork on his plate, wipes his mouth with his napkin, “You’re right.”

He looks up at her with a wolfish smile and leans across the rounded edge of the table. He cups her face in his hands, pulls her towards him so he can kiss her before she’s able to take another bite of fish.

Shawn takes her comment and runs with it. He kisses her deeply, like they’re alone in her house kind of deeply, like they aren’t surrounded by the who’s who of Hollywood and the best food on the west coast.

Because what matters to Shawn right now is her, not the rest of it.

It’s so comforting to know she can bring him back to her when he gets too far away. It’s nice to know he doesn’t need anything but her.

Maya murmurs into his mouth and pulls away with a sigh before they’re really a spectacle. She swallows and brushes his jaw with her lips.

“Thank you for that.”

Shawn releases a puffed breath when she moves back. She doesn’t need to thank him, but he thinks it’s cute that she does. He smiles against her cheek, nipping at her gently.

“Thanks for spoiling me with this date,” he hums, kisses along her cheek bone until he can nudge her temple with his nose. He leans back after that, crossing his legs beneath the table as he reaches for his champagne.

“So what about you, Lemon?” he asks after a moment. He doesn’t know exactly what he means, other than he feels like he’s been on the spot all evening. “Tell me a secret.”

Maya does behave herself as promised and lets him fade his kisses out to her ear before he pulls away. She busies her twitchy fingers with serving herself another bite of fish.

She swallows, but hasn’t actually taken a bite of food yet.

Her mind floods, and it scares her. She used to keep no secrets from him. He knew her better than she did. The fact that he wants to even ask reminds her of this chasm between them.

I kept an old sketchbook of drawings of your face in a drawer in my nightstand for 12 years and looked at it when I got too drunk. I never once went looking for your social media because I was afraid to find you looking happier without me. I donated all your old clothes to a shelter in Queens… except for the paint shirt.

She tries something a little safer. “I… came to Avila once more, about four years ago. I had one of the worst weeks of my professional life and I snapped and left my office, went straight to the airport and got on a plane. I sat in the Sandollar Inn for three days and cried. And then I left and went back to work.”

She’s never told anyone that before.

Shawn was… not expecting that. His stomach flips. Maya was in Avila when he was married to Leah. She had the worst week of her life while his marriage was falling apart. There’s something cosmically creepy about the coincidence.

Maya wonders for a moment, thinking back on that weekend, where Shawn was and what he was doing while she was curled up in her Elie Saab suit sobbing into a pillow. She wonders if he was in love then. She wonders if he was happy. She wonders if he was wondering about her.

He clears his throat, places his fork on his plate once more and looks up at Maya. Shawn takes a shaky breath, reaches for her hand.

“That sounds--” he doesn’t know how it sounds, except-- “Lonely. I’m sorry, Lu.”

His hand slows her racing thoughts. Hearing the word “lonely” on his lips makes her tremble. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip to steady herself.

He frowns, looking down at their laced fingers as he gives her a squeeze.

“Next time you need a break though, you’ll be able to go to the beach house, not the Sandollar. And you won’t have to cry alone. I can cry with you.”

He doesn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t mean to indicate that they’ll have anything to do with each other after she goes home, but. He wants her to know he’s not going anywhere, even when she leaves.

Maya doesn’t lift her eyes to his. She can’t. She sits in her lie, lets it stew around her. And he doesn’t even know it’s there. She’s been doing too good a job of keeping it from him.

With a deep breath, she does look up. The implication that he’ll wait for her, it’s all over his face. The piece of her that scares herself still wants to tell him to run. The piece she’s working on, the piece that wins, reaches up to play with the curls around his ear with a smile.

“We don’t have to worry about that now. It’s not even August,” she murmurs, the implication being that she’ll be in first class on a United flight back to JFK come Labor Day weekend.

She’s right. He doesn’t want to worry about the future away from her when he can focus on the present with her. He matches her delicate smile with one of his own.

They soon finish their entrees, and Shawn takes the opportunity to scoot closer to Maya on their curved booth after the waiter clears their empty plates. He drapes his arm along the back of the seat, just above Maya’s bare shoulders.

“I know you’ve got room for dessert, don’t you?” he asks with a smirk, turning towards her as he rests his forearm on the table in front of her. They’re close like this, tucked up in the same corner of the cozy booth. Maybe it’s a little too close, but it barely feels like they’re in a public place.

Besides, he’s spent the last hour and a half behaving. He misses being this tantalizingly close.

Shawn all but scoops her into his lap, curling up against her with his arm around the back of her seat in their little partially enclosed booth. He reels her in with a teasing smile and an offer of something sweet. She nods, a little dazed.

Maya follows his lead, turning her folded knees toward him so her foot brushes his leg. She plays with the sleeve of his jacket and breathes a little harder at the feel of his soft exhales on her neck.

“Always,” she replies with a smirk of her own. When the server returns, seemingly unsurprised to see them all snuggly together, Maya orders them the passionfruit sponge cake with the papaya drizzle. When he leaves, she looks back to Shawn and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Shawn keeps his face tucked into her neck, nose gliding along her skin as Maya orders dessert, something light and fruity and perfect. He lifts his head to watch the waiter leave, then feels Maya’s lips a moment later.

“So, good date so far?”

Shawn smiles. He drops his arm from the table so he can cup her thigh beneath the tablecloth.

“The best, I think,” he hums, leaning back to get a good look at her face. The restaurant is dim, maybe a little too dim, but he can see her features in the warm light of the flickering candle on their table.

Shawn settles into her even a little further, draping his hand over her lap. He’s extra pretty in the candlelight, which is saying something. She watches his eyes flicker and they’re quiet until the server comes back with their cake. Maya pulls back just enough to be able to breathe again. She sips at her champagne and eyes their two spoons.

The waiter saves Shawn from saying I love you again, and he’s thankful. He smiles at Maya, then glances to the dessert.

“Can I have a taste?”

She smirks. Maybe it’s the candles, maybe it’s the expensive alcohol, maybe it’s been so pressed up against him that she can smell his shampoo. She blinks innocently.

“Of me or the cake?”

She scoops a bite of the soft confection to her lips and watches him as she swallows it.

Maya is... Something else. That’s the only way he can think to describe her. There are no fucking words for it. She knows just how to push his buttons.

Shawn wets his lips and watches her mouth close around the spoon. Some whipped cream catching on the corner of her lips. He grins, curls his fingers into the clingy fabric of her dress.

“I’m gonna go for both at once,” he murmurs before leaning in to lick the cream from her lips. He doesn’t let her get away, kisses her properly and tastes the tang of the fruit on her tongue.

It’s all he can do not to surrender to the hedonistic urge to drag her onto his lap and make out with her for like, thirty minutes. Or until they’re kicked out. But this is a classy night at a classy place and he doesn’t want anyone looking at their table and gossiping about the heathens by the window.

So he doesn’t linger on her lips, kisses her briefly and barely, just enough to tease her before pulling back. He hums, nodding a little and looking down at the cake.

“Tastes lovely. Though I wouldn’t mind having another bite, just to be sure.”

Maya whimpers into his mouth, both from surprise and delight. She loves that he’s not afraid to kiss her in public. He never was. Some guys are weird about that, but not Shawn. He always makes her feel so wanted.

Maya feels her fingers tighten around his arm in her lap just for as long as he sips at her lips. When he retreats, she relaxes slightly, leaving her eyes shut for just a beat too long, tipping her hand and showing him how fucked for him she is.

He teases her again and she eyes the cake curiously. With a slightly shaky hand, she lifts a bite onto her spoon and draws it up to offer it to him.

“Have another bite then,” she says, lifting an eyebrow.

He grins. She used to like to feed him before. It started as a joke, but then one night there were chocolate covered strawberries, and feeding each other became a preamble of sorts for something else.

“Well, if you insist,” Shawn murmurs with a smirk, before taking the bite she offers, eyes slipping shut as the buttery-soft sponge cake practically melts on his tongue.

“S’really good, Lu,” he murmurs when he finally opens his eyes, a ghost of a smile passing his lips. “This is all so good.”

He thinks she might need the reassurance. It’s a grand gesture, something like this. The kind of thing they used to laugh at because it was just so far out of reach. He’s not still laughing at it though. Not when he feel so fucking lucky to have it.

Shawn looks, like, really satisfied by the bite of cake. It makes her want to eat more of it herself. It also makes her want to suck on his tongue.

She watches him chew and swallow and blush at her. She ducks her head and brings another bite to her lips. The validation feels good. She knew he was enjoying himself, obviously, but she wasn’t entirely convinced this whole thing didn’t make her look like a loser who was trying to buy his affection.

She knows she doesn’t need to do that, she knows he… loves her.

Maya spoons up another bite for him, pink-cheeked, hoping no one’s watching them.

“I’m glad you like it. You deserve to be spoiled sometimes.”

He accepts the bite readily, humming softly as the sponge melts in his mouth. He rolls his eyes a little, shrugging.

“I don’t need to be spoiled. Spending time with you spoils me enough.”

He feels the tips of his ears turn pink, because that was a pretty fucking cheesy thing to say. He can’t help it though, she brings it out in him, the hopeless romantic he always thought he was too cool to be. Maya drives him a little crazy with it, though.

Maya knows by the way the blush creeps up on him that he knows what he said was corny. She decides not to call him out on it. Instead, she keeps alternating feeding him and feeding herself and if she saw this kind of behavior at a restaurant in Manhattan, she would’ve made faces and sighed too loudly.

Oh well.

“C’mon,” he murmurs after she signs the check without even giving them her card, probably because this is the kind of place that has you like, make a down payment to even get a reservation. “Let’s go for a walk before we’re airlifted out of here.”

Shawn guides her out of the booth, tangling their hands together as the waiter brings them towards the back doors that leads to a beach-side patio with an outdoor bar.

His hand in hers is heavy and warm. Maya clings to him in the cool ocean breeze, holding his arm as they look around.

“It’s pretty out here.”

She doesn’t mean this beach or even Malibu in general. Maya’s talking about California. She’s talking about her new home, the place she plans to grow old.

Maya looks happy on the beach. She looks happy in general, has since she’s been in California, he thinks. He wonders if she’s happy in Manhattan. He knows she’s a force at work, that she’s successful and accomplished, but he can’t imagine her truly happy in a concrete jungle like NYC.

Shawn hums, nodding in agreement as they along the boardwalk hand in hand. The breeze picks up. Maya’s shoulders are bare, and she might not complain, but he knows she must be chilly.

“Hey,” he says so she’ll stop, dropping her hand and pulling his jacket off. “Put this on. It’s windy.”

He gives her a gentle smile and lifts to the crimson jacket to her shoulders.

Maya wasn’t going to ask for his jacket, but she kinda figured he’d give it to her. She likes when he proves her right.

She smiles back and lets his big jacket swallow her up. She cuddles into it, enjoying the softness of the expensive fabric. She turns her nose to the collar and inhales slowly.

“Smells like you. I love that. I kinda love that all my stuff smells like you again,” she confesses.

“I like that the bed I get to sleep in every night smells like you,” he admits, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they meander along the shore. He’s got Maya’s heels hooked in his fingers, swings them slowly back and forth as they go.

The waves crash. The water rushes towards them, then falls back just before it can kiss their feet. Shawn kicks at a bit of sand.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I don’t have to spend the night, like, every night. You can-- I mean--” he laughs, then takes a steadying breath, “--I just mean, you can kick me out.”

Shawn makes a good point. She hasn’t really thought about it before now, but he has spent nearly every night at her place. And it makes sense because she has a nice cottage all to herself while he has a roommate. But given how casual this unspoken thing between them is implied to be, their behavior doesn’t quite fit. Maya leans into his body anyway, soaking him up while she can. She hooks an arm around his waist and lets him guide her along the water. She gazes out at it with a soft smile.

Shawn continues to babble as Maya watches the water. “If you ever want to or need to for whatever reason, just make me leave. I can go home to Geoff. He isn’t as pretty as you, but he’s an okay lay.”

Maya laughs. “Oh I’m sure he is, he’s got that whole tall, dark and handsome thing happening.”

Shawn laughs, drops down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s totally a catch,” he murmurs.

Maya turns her nose into his chest while they meander along the water’s edge, “I don’t wanna kick you out. I sleep so good with you there. I dunno what it is, if it’s the warmth or the weight or the way you smell.”

Or it might just be because he’s Shawn and she’s Maya and it’s just right.

He sleeps better with her, too. He used to drive Leah crazy, tossing and turning. He used to try to tangle up with her the way he does with Maya, but they would both get hot and bothered and roll away from each other after a while. They could never fall asleep curled up like that-- not for long, anyway.

Maya can curl around him like cat’s claw on a tree and it doesn’t matter, he’s out for the night, as if someone hit him over the head with a brick.

“I do smell really, really awesome. I’ve got great pheromones that women just love.”

Maya chuckles, swinging around to walk backwards ahead of him. She holds him around the waist, looking up at him adoringly while she trips along between his big feet.

“Oh, I know all about your pheromones, honey,” she hums, lifting an eyebrow to imply she’s been feeling the pull for him all night. Which she definitely totally has.

Maya skims a wandering hand up his back and springs up on her tiptoes while she walks to be a little closer to him. She positions her warm lips below his ear and talks softly.

“You could bottle that shit and make a fortune.”

Shawn purrs low in his throat as Maya’s fingers skim the length of his spine. Her breath hot on his neck has goosebumps prickling his skin.

He drops her heels in the sand where they’ve stopped. His hands fall to her waist. He laughs, rolling his eyes. Shakes his head. “I could sell it all to you and make just as much.”

Maya tries not to let it show on her face that she like, definitely would buy all his stupid bottled pheromones just to feel like this forever. She giggles shyly and lets him tuck himself into her neck.

Shawn turns and presses his lips to her jaw, his hands sliding to the small of her back, fingertips brushing the swell of her ass.

The soft curve of his mouth falls to her neck. He mouths lazily at the sweet skin beneath the angle of her jaw.

“Maya,” he breathes, pulling away from her neck as he cups her face. He tilts her head back, just like always, searches her gaze, just like always. The I love you sticks in his throat, but he thinks she knows.

He kisses her.

She doesn’t really expect him to get quite so involved so quickly, but he seems to let go of something as soon as he lets his lips track down her neck. His hand wanders and strikes up a wave of goosebumps under her dress. Maya sinks her hands into his shoulders to cling to him when her knees go predictably weak at his sweet touch.

She’s ready to melt away with him here, fall into the sea and just be gone. But he scoops her face into his hands to study her, to speak without words. She feels like she’s screaming. She wonders if he can hear.

She kisses him back. She lifts her fingers to tease the skin above the collar of his shirt just at the nape of his neck. The screaming stops.

He could stand here on the beach and kiss her all night. He doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be able to get enough. He’s a glutton-- he can’t get enough of kissing her, and still he wants even more.

He misses her. He misses being alone and naked with her and curled around each other in her bed like lazy cats, even though that’s precisely where they were just last night. He wants to have it every night until the novelty wears off. He wants it to be his new normal.

He loves the butterflies he gets with Maya, but he craves the familiarity they used to share. He wants to dive head first into it while he still has the chance. Before she goes.

He doesn’t know if it’s healthy. He doesn’t care. He just wants to soak up his time with her.

Maya is in so far over her head.

She drops her fingertips into his hair and sighs into his mouth. She’s having a lot of trouble imagining living without this with him now.

It might be ok, a little voice tells her, Maybe he’ll forgive you. Maybe he loves you enough.

If anyone could, it would be Shawn.

He groans softly as he pulls back from her lips. He takes a breath.

“When’s the helicopter gonna get out here and drop the ladder for us?” he mumbles, smirking a little as he presses his forehead to hers, eyes still closed.

The spell breaks slightly when he pulls away to breathe. She nudges her nose against his chin and blinks, dazed.

“I… uhm, well, this isn’t a James Bond movie,” she chuckles, still half-drenched in her own feelings. The joke feels off. She just wants to take him home.

“The car is waiting to take us back to the airfield.” She tugs on his hand and starts guiding him back up to the restaurant where the car is.

She knows where he’s going with his little jab about the helicopter. Her half-hearted joke tells him she’s having similar thoughts. They’re both ready to go home.

Home. It’s not his home, but he thinks about it that way. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he builds things up in his head, particularly when it comes to Maya. But it feels like home and it smells like home and he even has a few jackets hanging in her closet, so.

As Maya guides him up the beach, Shawn decides her house isn’t his home. His boxers in her hamper don’t matter, nor does his toothbrush, sitting in the little marble cup by her sink. His guitar lying on her couch, the one named after the best nickname he’s ever created, doesn’t even matter.

She matters, though.

He squeezes her hand as they walk, then offers her her heels before they get in the car. He doesn’t let her give him back his jacket, though. Not yet.

----------

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