#i usually suck and hate my coloring but l liked this one

[possessedbydevils]

"And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me. And I knew that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me. And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth." (She read loudly, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she were seeing it before her eyes.) "Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go. Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things which Jesus did believed on Him." She could read no more, closed the book and got up from her chair quickly.

[m4rs-ex3]

i "did a thing" if you will

kefta's oh me oh my!!

*canonically ignorant keftas

(individuals n in-depth analysis aka rambling under cut)

darkling

i mean. what do you want. B L A C K.

the pattern (which you must zoom in to see) is a swirly deal, different from the sun summoner swirls; more like wood grain

sun summoner

sun rays! swirly swirls! yellow! idk just look at!!

squallers

more swirls! these were kinda hell but idk i like em

inferni

first big divergence: orange as opposed to red. i made sure not to have any repeat embroidery colors.....even though i changed alkemi so there is no red anymore.............anyway. i'm iffy on this one bc i suck at drawing fire but i think it turned out (it's mostly just the upper side panels cuz they look a lil too fur-ish)

tidemakers

they were teal in the show right?? idk but. this one might me my favorite, but i do fear it's a lil complicated, but then again: i can do whatever the fuck i want. and no i cannot draw water without copying the great wave. whatever it's sick

heartrenders

coporalnik were harrdddddd. heartrenders are--naturally-usually symbolized by the heart but i hate drawing real hearts so cartoon hearts it is!! kinda feel like that kinda heart wouldn't exist in this universe..... but hey look it pointy

healers

heart but upside down!! (seriously what r u supposed to do.) plus bandage imagery, as a treat. these two were really just Vibes.

durasts

also pretty hard, also mostly just Vibes. btw it is a distinctly different shade of gray (1 of 50, i've heard) from the squaller silver. u will not catch me lacking nice try bud

alkemi

the most notable sticker-outer--yea she's green. i mean cmon we have enough red and no green and everybody knows science is green. anyway this is another one of my favs. vapor clouds and bubbles what's not to love

i do love the embroidery in the show, especially how, yk, much there is of it, and how identifiable it makes it, but on the other hand the books only ever mention the cuffs and hems so i like to think i struck a nice balance

[alusniper]

I just wanted to how u were doing?

And how the next chapter of Wardtale was going (very excited for this chapter btw. Esp. given the sneak peeks we have gotten of it so far)?

(Honestly. Wardtale is just so great and interesting in general. Like; I love Sans being a former military general. Now newspaper delivery person, is that right? Idk, I just love that kind of past live(s) and/or multiple side stuff when it comes to Sans. Plus; I am suck for science stuff, military, spy, tactician, or assassin, etc. stuff for Sans. Think ur series, or the amazing Timetale. With one of the best Sans and Alphys and Sans and Alphys relationships I have ever seen. Or think The Golden Quiche series. Or TLD series, by the same person who did TGQ, and is a really great and unique DustTale take. So I love that for ur Sans. Alphys' and more cold (if I am remembering correctly) role in WT is very interesting too! And it is interesting that Sans hates her. I wonder what Alphys thinks and/or feels about Sans. Ur Frisk take and design is great too! Tbh; u are just so good at designs in general.

Also, I love the sprite game art style kind of thing that Wardtale has! It is so different and unique. And it gives me the vibes of sprite comics, which, I wish say more of, esp. ongoing and/or completed ones in the fandom(s). Though, the ones we have are great. But still different, and very developed. Anyways, I am very excited (though also sad, but also happy the series is going to be getting closure) for the next chapter and the last 2 (I think) chapters in the Wardtale. And I am very interested to hopefully still see ur take on Wardhorror. I love horror and/or horrortale takes. And I already love ur takes on Sans and Aliza for example.)

Or about the next part and/or chapter of The Ebott Books is going if u are working on that instead?

(Loving this so far too. I love ur sprite video series for Wardtale, but ur comics are so well done too! And it helps even more to give each series a really unique feel to it. Loving the kind of fairy tale elements, designs, and curses in this! It is all very interesting. Sans, Paps, Frisk's, and I think Asgore was in this and had a cool design, all look awesome and cool and cute and stuff.

Though, I won't lie, seeing Paps more mainly in blue, and Sans mainly more in a brown-ish color; even though they both look great, kind of threw me off. '^^ Because, I more connect blue to Sans. At least usually. Or like, they both have blue clothes and stuff; like in some Outertale versions. Like, The Ebott Books Paps is not the only blue Paps I have seen. There is also CP from Under/Source. But like, blue just works for me w/ CP (not that it doesn't ur Paps) and doesn't throw me off as much for some reason. Maybe because also, a couple of the main Sanses and characters are mainly purple and blue (so still one blue, and another cool color. Plus; I just like purple on Sans). So maybe that helps in me not getting as thrown off.

Last thing: About ur " • S A N S ' S • • F A M I L Y•"

Post:

That post and art was really cool and interesting. I would have loved to see it in the series proper or maybe some kind of side video or something, because idk, I just find it cool and interesting. And exploring Sans, Paps, Gaster, and skelemom a bit more as a family sounds cool. And I like seeing people different takes on the skelebrothers family. But I get why u decided u can't. If u ever do post more and/or etc.; I will defin. be interested though.

Also, I know it is because you don't want to show the Mom (which, honestly, I wouldn't minded seeing ur take on Skelemom. I like seeing more takes on Sans' and/or Paps' parent(s), and we know more of that in the fandom(s) imo. Like, there is Timetale, Reminiscence, The Golden Quiche (and kinda The Lone Defender), etc. have good takes on the skeleparent(s). As a few examples), but the way u have ur part of the picture missing and/or ripped is quite ominous and mysterious.

If don't know or don't want to answer about how stuff is going with Wardtale or The Ebott Books and/or etc; I would totally understand and get it!

Wowwww this the great ask I received :>

• (this makes me happy) Thank you for liking sans' relationships and him being a former general who gave up his life to be a newspaper delivery boy, I always liked watching documentaries and I did well at school when they were about revolutions and wars. Alphys doesn't hate but doesn't like Sans either, she supports him more because of Papyrus and Gaster (even though Gaster sees Sans as a soldier rather than a son and Papyrus for having fought with Sans but still cares a lot about him) The only common thing they have in common is that they think that humans should be left alone and that they don't transmit the virus to monsters, but they have totally opposite ways of solving this problem.

Sans is also jealous that Papyrus admires Alphys and listens to her more than Sans, after Sans arranged for Papyrus to join Asgore's army and try to place him in an important position.

• Yes, after Wardtale ends I want to do two ideas that popped into my head (which won't be canonical in the story) but after it's over I'm going to do some drawings of Au, either events that happened in the series or from each Monsters past.

• ebott books I left on hiatus because I want to focus on finishing wardtale and war fragment (an old sonic comic of mine with the main couple from infinite x gadget) on Wattpad since both are not long before they are finished.

• The idea was for Papyrus to be white or black, but it didn't work very well (because they are both inspired by wild wolves) so I thought about putting a gray color but it looked quite dead, then finally I decided to put a more bluish gray color since the Au's colors are shades of blue and white to represent ice (yes, I confess that it's not every day that there's a papyrus with blue that reminds me of a sans lol)

• I can even show more of the past two two (there's a part ready about this that I haven't posted yet) and also if I have space I'll put more of Alphys' past or at least mention about their and Alphys' childhood and more about the asriel and sans relationship

• At first I thought about Sans and Papyrus's mother being a parody or something funny like featuring Temmy or another character (maybe an NPC that no one knows the existence or importance of) but since Wardtale took a more serious path I thought about what she could be like or who she could be, so I thought the fans could interpret what her face would look like... BUT I WANTED TO MAKE A POINT OF DESIGNING THE DRESS BECAUSE I LOVE DESIGNING DRESSES.

No problem, I'm happy that you love the series a lot, I'm still doing Wardtale, but due to the accident that caused my cell phone to die and me losing a lot of things, it made me feel discouraged, but thanks to my girlfriend, my sister and some fans encouraging me to continue little by little I came back and I'm redoing some sprites that I had lost

[phanfictioncatalogue]

15k Words (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Behind a Mask (ao3) - EmrysBeard

Summary: Dan, frankly, hates Phil. Phil’s friends have been bullying him since primary school, and though the dark haired boy doesn’t directly participate, Dan knows that Phil’s leering glare means bad news. And then, when Halloween comes around, Dan puts on a mask and attends a Halloween party. While there, he meets another masked boy and for the first time in Dan’s life, he has a shot at romance.

Conversely, Phil feels bad that his friends bully Dan, and so when he gets invited to a Halloween party, Phil can’t wait to put on a mask and be someone else for a night. He’d never want to come out as gay, but while behind a mask, he feels brave, so he agrees to dance with a boy. He doesn’t know who this dream boy is, but Phil is falling head over heals.

Dan may not know who his new masked lover is, but he’s determined to find out.

Blue Neighbourhood l 15k l - gorgeousdan

Summary: “What if we run away?”

“I would,” he said, and Phil could tell that his tone was teasing. “But I’ve got so much summer work to do that I have to turn in.” Phil tried to keep the disappointed look off of his face. “I really shouldn’t have taken that extra english class this year,” he added.

or the blue neighbourhood au that no one asked for

Dan And Phil And Ollie (ao3) - chatoyment

Summary: Phil has a crush on his son's pre-school teacher, Dan. Phil woos him.

Dan and Phil: The Game - intelligent-trash

Summary: When lightning hits the local arcade, all hell breaks loose. An unsuspecting Chris and PJ have no idea what events will come to pass when they meet ‘Daninator’ and ‘Phillion’ on their front lawn at midnight in central London. The once fictional characters from the video games have come to life!

Destination - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Phil somehow finds himself on a road trip adventure with some stranger named Dan.

florist (ao3) l 15k l - dnovep

Summary: Phil’s a florist - he hates it.

Halo (ao3) - dannihowell

Summary: Growing up in small beach-side town has Dan seeing the world through a foggy lens. Coming of age story.

In Paradise (ao3) - yoongioss

Summary: “Uhm.. Hi. Who are you?” Phil finally spoke, reaching up to rub his eyes with his fists.

“Oh, Gosh, I’m Dan. I’m the pool boy, maid, groundskeeper, basically whatever you don’t want to do, I’m here for it.” He smiled and his cheek sunk in slightly with the biggest dimple Phil’s ever seen.

Like Space (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: A cute boy shows up at Phil’s shop.

Living is Easy with My Eyes Closed (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: September 19, 1976

Dan Howell liked pretty things and a pretty guy, but not the one who was interested in him. No, Dan was infatuated with someone he couldn't have.

based off of the Colors music video by Halsey.

modern fairytale (ao3) - howelllesters

Summary: Dan hadn’t even wanted to go watch his flatmate’s friend’s band perform, but now he was backstage and trying really hard not to make eye contact with the guitar player because he was really, really, unfairly cute. Or, the ridiculously long and fluffy sassy pastel!Dan and nerdy punk!Phil AU that no one wanted.

Our Simphany (ao3) - Dilia_Howlter

Summary: Dan and Phil were just filming a gaming video as usual but then their computer spazzes out and they’re suddenly sucked into the Sim world! When Dil recognizes the two of them as his Dad, they decide to play along and give Dil a fatherly role in his life. What they don’t realize though, is that things are going to get steamy for the both of them, and it wasn’t because of a shower…

pastry chef attempts to steal phil’s heart (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: If anyone asks, Prince Philip’s sneaky morning journeys down to the royal pastry kitchen are for nothing more than the perfect cup of coffee.

Scared to Be Lonely l 15k l paradisobound

Summary: Phil begins school at a new high school to avoid his past, however, he doesn’t intend for how much his life is going to change. He meets Dan, the one he’s first warned about, and develops a quick attraction for him. But when things begin to look up for Phil, someone else comes in and breaks the norm.

Stick Around (ao3) - limelester

Summary: Phil’s spent every summer of his high school career picking up guys to have his way with, just to drop them before the real school year starts. He’s earned himself a reputation as a brooding heart breaker, and the summer before his senior year was to be no different. A tall, pastel boy named Dan who doesn’t like when people stare at him becomes Phil’s next target. It’s always been a game of one and done for Phil, but this summer he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

The Boy In The Garden (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: (Highschool AU) Dan Howell and Phil Lester had nothing in common. But when the two of them end up working together in the abandoned school garden, will friendship- or something more- develop between them?

The Sun Will Rise, And We Will Try Again - phanlight

Summary: (tw) Phil, the clumsy Barista working an unstable job in a café along the Thames, always carries around too much spare change and really should stop smoking on his lunch breaks. Dan is a struggling street musician making his fortune in pennies on the south bank of London, another stranger in the city, who deserves so much more than the copper thrown at him by passers-by every day. But London is big, loud and really fucking overwhelming at the best of times, and sometimes, city life doesn’t always go to plan. And that’s okay.

Treat You Just The Same - huphilpuffs

Summary: Daniel Howell was definitely not a Hufflepuff. Except that he was, and Phil was determined to befriend the boy with straightened hair who loved transfiguration and probably should have been sorted into Slytherin. A Harry Potter AU.

[mg549]

jaf characters as drawn by me vs ai generated with artflow vs ai generated by artbreeder

the obvious drawback for comparison here is that i usually draw them more stylized than realistic and while i do have realistic busts for Most of them somewhere its mostly uncolored pencil drawings from high school so i went with the more recent headshots for uniformness

so which ai did a better job for each character!

gee v: im gonna say artflow since the colors are better and she looks Softer but neither rly look much like gee since ai art is allergic to young fat ppl

amarante v: artbreeder 100%. aside from the hairstyling artbreeder’s face here is actually pretty accurate. but also the artflow one is so incredibly off its barely a competition

vin v: artbreeder as well. the face is like spot on to how i imagine them looking. its like a casting photo to me. artflow has the Color down better but im owed $300 for them yassifying my blorbo

dax g: artbreeder but both are pretty off. artflow jst could not make a latino man without making him Aged. dax is twenty. artbreeder’s at least looks like a person but they dont rly read as dax to me much

lane l: artbreeder ig but these both suck. again ai art is allergic to fat ppl. at least artbreeder’s looks Chubby but he does not look like lane

ruth l: artflow. artbreeder at least Approached the fact that ruth is fat but artflow did give her her proper butch punk slay

randy b: artbreeder’s is probably more accurate but points to artflow for the slay again. both are slightly off in opposite ways bfkgn

zoey c: artbreeder 100%. i hate how badly artflow struggles w poc. artbreeder’s looks Close but i could not get her dreads to appear. her face is p close but i imagine her nose would be wider and her lips a little fuller

all in all both ais are incredibly frustrating to use bc of their unpredictability and especially as someone who can do realism at least somewhat. artflow’s is a very vague behind-the-curtain process, and artbreeder’s sliders are so impenetrable. what the fuck is -100% hat. the clothes sliders dont even add glasses or hats or makeup and the only sliders for features are gender, age, and race which is so unuseful like. why not jst have sliders for features on their own (skin color, nose width, jaw width, wrinkles, hair length, etc) that can be much more useful than jst an ai’s approximation of fucking racial sliders. like the problems here are fairly obvious from an ethical standpoint but also from a usability standpoint. either or.

[phantomswolf]

here, i answered the art questions

1. Art programs you have but don't use

aseprite, krita (nightmare to draw in), i used to have a totally 100% absolutely-not-pirated copy of photoshop but not anymore

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

depends on the day, but usually the left. i hate doing side profiles tho

3. What ideas come from when you were little

A LOT. but my story Nightfall has been a work in progress since I was 11

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

GORO AKECHI PERSONA 5

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

i hardly post most of my art on Tumblr atm, but that’s because almost all of it regards the Kirby Gemini AU and my partner and i are making a blog for that. so, as a percentage for the last few years, i’ve probably only posted maybe. less than 1% of my work?

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

honestly a lot of old emo art fksbfjfbd jhonen vasquez was a huge inspo to me for a while

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

PLUSH MAKING AND FURSUIT MAKING god i wanna learn but i don’t think sewing is my thing

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

i’ve had a lot, but i wanna keep them to myself in case I wanna salvage bits and pieces

9. What are your file name conventions

Depends on the day and the art piece but usually shit like “sorry if this looks gay”, variations of AWOO, “normal”, “k i l l”, “straight people”, etc

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

Uhhhh armor (i say like a fucking freak)

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

this nightmare of a playlist

12. Easiest part of body to draw

Uhhhhhhh depends on the day, usually the face

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

iunno, i don’t think abt that

14. Any favorite motifs

A LOT. i cant think of any specific ones rn but i guess. religious imagery is pretty baller. that and super dark palettes with bright neon highlights and accents

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

my room for digital stuff, but i usually bring a sketchbook with me if i’m going out

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

oughhh coloring and shading

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

usually water. hydration is important 👍

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

traditional, i have no clue. too many. digital supplies uhhh i didn’t break per se, but two art tablets have given out (my first one lasted years, but the second only lasted a few months coz it sucked booty hole)

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

TREES.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

expression work!

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

my partner’s style!! i love it so fucking much

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

i do a lot of hand stretches. carpal tunnel was too much of a bitch not to

23. Do you use different layer modes

all the time! always for shading and for glowing bits. multiply and add glow layers my beloved

24. Do your references include stock images

sometimes yea lol. i don’t use refs as much as i should tho

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

Too much for me to be happy about it.

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

i drew a vent piece and people took it as me just being edgy. wild times

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

somedays i do. usually just shitposts or my sona

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

i have participated in 1 (one) collab

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

uhh ace attorney and persona

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

is it weird to say a lot of my works? like the finished ones. iunno, i feel like i get overlooked a lot and it’s a cowabummer

[murdockdevil-goooonnne]

SPELL A MUSE’S NAME IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL TELL YOU…

sent by: rhian ( @gothamrains) via discord. for our 1x1 with cloud & lil.

claudia daviau — rhian’s claudia. so some of these are strictly related to rhian’s cloud; take for example, her surname.

C: If they had to pick one sport to play/watch which would it be?

I’m going to say the gym. Because I feel like exercising lets out a lot of steam for her and keeps her in shape enough to do her assassin work when she’s not living her double life with Lil by managing their bakery.  Her happiest places are with Lil and the kiddos at the bakery or at home, of course. But her other happiest place is the gym because she just likes to move move move.

L: How often do they post on their social media accounts?

In this specific verse with Lil, I’d say she updates social media a lot. Not only because she is a Daviau and she has appearances to keep up with. But also, because I don’t think she’s ever pictured herself so happy with someone who truly accepts her, you know? Like Lil loves her for her. 

A: Who are their exes? Do they still keep in touch?

Her exes are Jackson Kent (her ex-husband, who sucks) and a lot of random other people Cloud just kind of got bored with? She’s the type who will flirt and tease, but she never really gave in much before Lil. But then she met Lil, and that changed. So, uhm, yeah – she really has a trail of exes who either love or hate her. 

U: Would they rather be single or in a relationship?

Is it safe for her to have a family dynamic that makes her feel this happy? No. She kind of is a danger magnet. But the same could be said about Lil. And Cloud also knows that with her and Lil around, no one can mess up what they have. So in this situation, she’d say, she’d rather be in a relationship.

D: What time does their day usual start?

Cloud wakes up so early. She’s so annoying. I’d say 5am, just cause.

I: In general, are they organized or messy?

Organized to an over-the-top degree. The same could be said for Felix and Amya. I think it’s something they picked up from their adoptive father. 

A: Do they have any pet peeves?

Claudia has a lot. For one though, she doesn’t like when people – especially men — speak over her or interrupt her. Drives her bananas. 

D: Are they religious?

She was raised in a multi-religious household where she got to choose her faith. She leaned towards her father’s faith, but eventually just decided she didn’t believe in anything except her wife when religion felt confusing to her. I don’t really think her and Lil raise their kids on any religion. I do see Cloud doing what her parents did and letting them choose their own paths though.

A: What color are their bedroom walls?

Probably white? Unless Lil and her paint them like a light blue or a….soft soft sigh….Violet. 

V: They’ve been arrested, who is their one phone call to?

Yes, but it was never on her record due to her father’s money or Delphine just deciding she needed to look pretty on paper. And it was usually for her defending someone. Though I do see her spending a good week in jail for some random shit in her uni days. And being mad about it.  

I: How they feel about tattoos? Do they have any?

Claudia has nothing against tattoos. She thinks they’re neat. But they could potentially identify her when she’s putting on a disguise for work, so she doesn’t really have any. She would have Lil’s name though if she could get one.

A: What is their full name and how do the feel about it?

Claudia Evangeline Adina Daviau. I mean, she thinks it’s too fucking long.

U: Do they have a criminal record of any kind?

She should, but it’s clean for work reasons and rich father reasons….Sooooo.

[buoyant-breeze]

hello!

this is my first time requesting but your hand hc's are so wholesome i'm literally crying 🙏

could you please do them with childe, itto and thoma too?

thank you!

hand hcs [ pt. 3 ]

authors note ⊱  i love this hc set so yeah here u go <3 i added scara cuz im a simp

part one (albedo, diluc, kaeya)

part two (kazuha, venti, xiao, zhongli)

characters ⊱ childe, itto, thoma, scaramouche

warnings ⊱ none

rating ⊱ sfw

childe

his hands are veiny; thick enough with muscle to show his hand strength, but slim enough to show his dexterity and precision

quick reflexes

fingers are thicker, especially at the end; he keeps his fingernails clipped as far down as they can, because they can get unruly, chipped, and broken from his busy and combative lifestyle

skin gets dry very easily, but he forgets to moisturize tbh

lots of freckles. l o t s

this image

soft amounts of ginger hair on his arms

has a few nearly-invisible scars all across his hands and wrists

however, has a nasty and very visible scar down his elbow and towards his wrist on his right arm

loves handholding

will grip your hand pretty tightly, likes to intertwine your fingers with his own (he also squeezes hard)

has a thing for sucking your fingers in his mouth (sorry)

a few stray ginger hairs can be found hiding near the freckled, pale skin of his knuckles

double-jointed (especially his thumbs)

cracks his hands a lot

inside of his palms are tough and thicker than the back of his hand; not quite calloused, but just enough where you can sense the skill and age and use to them

heavy-handed, he puts all of his weight into what he does; can lead to a few clumsy incidents

itto

thicker than a snickers (id apologize but i dont want to)

knuckles protrude to the extreme

his veins practically pop out, and you can visibly see his wrist and knuckles shift each time he moves or flexes any part of his hand

fingers are wide, thick, and struggle to hold tiny things like the back of your earrings, needles, or flower petals

always keeps his nails painted dark to hide the grit that gets underneath (and also he feels like it makes him edgy)

his tattoos, obviously

also very muscular, obviously

extremely, unfathomably warm to the touch; he feels like a furnace

gets a lot of dirt on his hands

handholding is not so much holding but more like him engulfing your entire hand in his own, to the point you fear you might not have one anymore

nips your fingertips playfully

likes leather or iron braces for his wrists; no practical usage, just looks and feels nice

there are indentations in his skin from said braces being on pretty much all the time

long fingernails

thoma

pretty average hands, with fingers just a little longer than usual

not particularly veiny, or portruding, or bony, or calloused, or even muscular; literally, just very plain, if a bit dainty

takes good care of his hands! he’s very good about hygiene, and he also puts on lotion, especially after using harsh cleaning products

generally wears gloves to help protect the skin, as well

he actually hates callouses, so on the off chance he actually developed any, he would end up removing them with deep exfoliation and scrubbing; he feels like they are a little unsightly, and it makes it uncomfortable when he rubs his hands together out of habit

dexterous with his fingers; can easily catch and maneuver things in his hands (i.e. coin from opening scene of meeting thoma)

wrists have a very visible vein line that goes down, other than that there is hardly anything

intertwines his fingers with yours and likes to swing your hands together

fingertips are a little colder, but his palms radiate heat

scaramouche

the palest hands you’ve ever seen i stg

extremely bony, his veins are very blue and very purple, and are visible mainly on the inside of his wrist (pulsepoint) and on the center of his backhand

long and dainty, rather small, but they look elegant and graceful

either paints his nails the darkest color he can find or bites all of his nails off, sometimes both

lots of scars on his fingers, very silvery and very pale, like lightning

these also exist on his wrists

prefers to hide the wrist scars, doesnt give a shit about the hand ones

his hands are not very strong at all

vein pops out a little on the inside of his arm/elbow

very expressive with his hands, he gestures a lot, especially when he talks; likes to rest them on his hips, or rub them along his temples when he has a headache

if you hold his hand, he’s holding them tight and he will not let go; you are letting go on his terms

his hands are nearly freezing everytime you touch them (his body temperature in general is pretty cold; he probably has poor circulation)

that said will leech ur body heat, and this often includes stuffing ur connected hands into his pockets when walking with you, or just holding them while cuddilng with you

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[iridecsense]

𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 - 𝘮.

⤷ summary: “You’re blue, I'm red, I wanna kiss your neck and make you purple all over.”

ꕥ word count: 33.7k ꕥ pairing: credence barebone | fem!reader  ꕥ genre: fluff, angst, smut ꕥ rating: 18+ ꕥ warnings: mentions of physical and religious abuse, mild violence and angst ꕥ kinks: femdom, masturbation ꕥ author’s note:  Credence’s first time requested by anonymous. Experimenting a new writing style with this one, I hope you still like it! This is very soft, but also sinful. I always suggest using Interactive Fics extension on Google Chrome and Firefox when reading my fics. Enjoy. ;) ꕥ key: (y/n) - first name (l/n) - last name (e/c) - eye color (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive. Humans aren’t as complex as they like to think. Humans are simple. Without realizing, it they put themselves into a routine. Eat, work, sleep, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat.

Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” And yet, most humans never fall into insanity. How is it humanity survives such a dreary existence? The answer itself is simple. It is because despite living simple, tedious, monotonous lives, they still have those few moments.

Credence wanted nothing more than to experience one of these moments. Life for Credence was human. It repeated on an infinite loop, no matter how much he prayed for it to stop. Unlike most people’s lives, Credence’s routine wasn’t something to accept comfortably. There was no eat, sleep, work, repeat for him. His day started with an unsavory meal. It was usually porridge or stale bread. Then he would go out and hand out his “mother’s” flyers while she ranted in the streets. After that, they’d return to the orphanage where he’d surely get beat for doing something wrong. After being denied dinner, he would return to his room and cry silently in his bed, trying to dream of a life better than the one he lived. Then repeat.

Today was supposed to be no different. Today, Credence would have to hand out flyers around Times Square until nightfall. He hated handing out flyers in Times Square. It was bright, loud, and crowded, and the rich people from The Eggs always came down to shop and attend the cinema.

Rich people are assholes.

For the most part, Credence was invisible amidst the hustle and bustle of the square. People were too busy chatting amongst themselves or rushing to the nearest store or restaurant to even bat an eye at him. He didn’t mind it. He welcomed invisibility with open arms. Being seen usually ended with new bruises and scars. That's what happens when you’re an outsider, and Credence was an outsider in every sense of the word. He was an outsider to the rich people that pushed past him on the sidewalk, an outsider to the orphanage, and an outsider to himself. 

So, the lowly outsider stood hunched over in the middle of the sidewalk next to a cinema. Above him was a large marquee lit up by five hundred flashing bulbous lights. Mobs of people dappered up in evening dresses and suits, tipping their fedoras and clutching their mink coats excitedly entered the theatre. Credence looked at the flyers in his hands. Mary Lou gave him three hundred flyers to give out, and he barely gave out thirty. Most of the ones he did manage to force into someone’s hand ended up on the ground not ten feet away from him. They couldn't even bother to find a trash can. He wouldn’t dare return home with such a disappointing turnout.

The sun had long since set. The roar of the night became corrupted with wealthy party-goers. The Square was alive with chatter and street music. The streets were filled with intoxicated drivers flashing their fancy topless automobiles and the pretty women that shouted inside them. It was rather scenic, and Credence often found himself staring longingly at all the people whose lives seemed much happier than his own. It was one of the few ways he could pass the time.

He would watch couples walk the street hand in hand, seemingly in love. The woman would occasionally point out something on display she fancied and sweetly coherence her partner to buy it for her—to which they always did. He would observe a gang of college gentlemen around his age hop from bar to bar, obnoxiously laughing and roughhousing in the streets, cat-calling passing dames. In his mind, he was one of them. He pretended he lived in a world where he wasn’t an orphan and grew up in a wealthy family. He would have a mother who loved him and a father who was proud of him. He would go to college and make friends with other boys. Maybe he’d fall in love with a girl along the way. Someone sweet to please the folks back home. Then it would be him parading down the streets with a pretty girl around his arms in Times Square, and some other poor guy would be miserable in his place.

As his eyes wandered the streets, watching the snippets of other people's lives and inserting himself in them, his eyes landed on her across the street. She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a boutique. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, neatly placed under a velvet green beret. She had on a slim fitting wool coat with mink trim over a lace-covered silk dress that shined in the night’s light. When she began to walk, his eyes followed her down the street like magnets. The way she seemed to carry herself was unlike the others around her. She wasn’t pink with liquor, stumbling in her heels on the pavement. Each step she took was one of elegance and confidence. He couldn't look away.

“Hey, watch it, punk!”

Credence found himself shoved to his hands and knees on the ground, the flyers in his hands dispersing in the air around him. He winced in pain and looked up to see a man angrily peering down at him.

“Watch where you’re goin’, freak!” The man cursed at him.

Credence kept his head down. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The man sucked his teeth and purposely stepped on some flyers in front of him as he walked by, pressing them into the wet sidewalk. Only when he was sure the man had gone did he find it safe to move. He ignored the soreness in the palms of his hands and tried his best to salvage as many flyers as he could. Passersby couldn't have cared less about the papers they ripped and crumpled under their perfectly pointed shoes. He picked up what little there was left unscathed—about a hundred at least. He was lucky most of them were still stacked together. He went to collect the last salvageable stack across from him when another pair of (s/c) dainty hands reached for them.

Credence’s eyes landed on a pair of green pumps pointed at him. His eyes trailed up past long legs shielded from the cold by nude stockings, green silk, and tawny fur until they met painted red lips and glossy (e/c) eyes. Up close, she was much more captivating. He could now make out her soft, round features and see how her (h/c) curls perfectly framed her face. Her cheeks were dusted a lush red. Whether it was from the early winter chill, or a detail of her makeup was unknown. Either way, she was stunning. It took him longer than it should have for him to notice the flyers she was holding out for him to take.

Credence awkwardly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on the tips of her shoes to avoid her gaze. Even in his slouched state, he towered over her, but somehow he still appeared small.

“I saw that.” Her warm voice filled his ears, catching him off guard.

He lifted his head to look at her once more. “What?”

The girl looked in the direction the man from earlier had left and frowned.  “The prick who knocked you over was half-seas over! He could barely tell his left foot from his right! If he had, he would have seen that it was his fault knocking you to the ground like that.”

Credence didn’t know what to say. That was the most anyone had ever said to him without spewing insults his way. Even more peculiar was that the strange girl talking to him was trying to defend him. His awkward speechlessness didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. Instead, her targeted vexed expression relaxed into a warm smile.

She urged the flyers towards him once more. “Sorry about your papers. I don’t think there’s much left to save.”

He carefully took the papers from her hands, noting how perfectly manicured her nails were. “It’s okay... thank you.”

“No need to thank me. No sense in being praised for common decency, right?”

Credence found himself speechless. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. It was definitely something he should be grateful for. Most people wouldn’t look twice at him struggling on the street, let alone go out of their way to help.

The girl spoke through his silence. “You don’t talk much, do you?” She chuckled.

He shamefully bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she quickly assured him. “Sometimes, I think people talk too much. I don’t think people should say things they don’t need to, otherwise, words lose all valuable meaning. You know what I mean?”

He nodded slowly. “I think so.”

She seemed pleased with his answer, her smile growing ever so slightly. It wasn’t long before it was replaced with another frown. Unlike before, this wasn’t a frown of annoyance, but concern. Her brows turned upward and her red lips parted to let out a sharp gasp. She looked at him clearly for the first time, her eyes wandered over his slender form and taking in his appearance.

“Goodness! Aren’t you cold?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

Credence shrugged half-heartedly. He was used to the cold by now. He only had a handful of clothes to begin with. He didn't have the luxury of having clothes that match the changing weather, he could only wear whatever clothes fit him from the donation pile. The warmest garment he obtained this winter was an old navy blue suit best designed for autumn’s chill, but useless against winter’s cold. She found it hard to believe he stayed in the cold for so long without freezing to death. Credence thought that was a bit of an exaggeration. It was a particularly cold November night, enough to keep the patches of ice and snow that had been shoveled to the gutters intact. With every shaky breath he took, a puff of white mist would follow. His nose and the tips of his ears were permanently colored red and, given his natural pale complexion, made him look rather sickly. But, he bore through it because he had experienced far worse.

Without warning, the girl took the liberty of placing her palms on the back of his hands. The gentle action was so alien, he flinched when he felt her warm skin.

“Your hands are like ice!” She gasped. “They’re two degrees short from falling off!”

It must have been true because the feeling of her hands was enough to send a fiery warmth throughout his body. Such affection was so foreign to him, he began to doubt it really happened. It wouldn't have been the first time his mind played tricks on him. Perhaps he was home in his bed, lucidly dreaming about a chance encounter with a pretty woman. In a moment, he would wake up, and the warm feeling of a woman’s touch would turn cold, and he’d find himself alone in his room again.

His theory was swiftly disproven when he felt her hands gently squeeze his. As if she had the brightest idea of the decade, the woman’s face lit up.

She took a step closer. “Say, why don’t I get you some tea to warm you up? There’s a coffee shop still open a few blocks away—I could drive you in my Ford!”

Credence blushed and swallowed. His eyes darted around nervously. “I’m not sure I should...” He mumbled.

“We can stand here in the streets like a couple of gulls if you’d like, but I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze, so you might as well say yes,” she smirked.

He wanted to say yes. But there was a voice inside him that warned him not to go. It was the same nagging tone Mary Lou barked in his ear. His mind spiraled, spewing scenarios of his adopted mother’s fury. He should be home by now. She never liked it when he returned home late. She would beat him again. She might even ice him—something she did when she was truly furious with him. The thought of it made his blood run cold.

“I-I can’t,” he stammered. “M-Mother is expecting me home—she’ll be wondering where I am.”

The woman’s once playful expression slowly faded. Her brows gathered at the center of her forehead and her smile faded. Credence was trembling and stuttering, helplessly trying to explain why he had to return home. His words slurred together into a tremulous speech. Passing pedestrians gave patronizing stares, actively avoiding the pair and whispering amongst themselves. The woman placed a comforting hand on Credence’s shoulder, silencing him almost immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” She said softly. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to upset you by it.”

She looked him in his eyes and offered a kind smile. There was a skip of his heart. A strange feeling weighed in his chest he had never felt before.

“Why don’t I drive you?” She suggested. “That way you can be home twice as fast!”

Credence took a moment to think about it. He found it increasingly impossible to say no. Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to extend their encounter, if even just for a minute. He had the smallest inference that if he said no, it would disappoint her. The thought of disappointing her was something he didn't want to do. He felt obligated to appease her. She had shown him a kindness that he may never get again. He thought he could at least keep her pleased.

“Okay,” he relented.

The girl grinned up at him and linked her arm around his. His cheeks grew warm, and he tucked his chin to his chest to hide his blush. Not that she would notice either way. She gingerly led him down the street, trying to engage him with small talk. He tried to listen, but he would get distracted whenever he felt her chest brush up against him. She was so close and so warm. Her touch burned through the thin material of his jacket and made his skin tingle. He could smell her perfume, like lavender and vanilla.

Such an alluring scent it was. It smelled familiar and sweet in its flowery nature. It reminded him of the transition from spring to summer, when the flowers became the most vibrant and fruit ripened to perfect sweetness. He wished he could smell it every day. It would be a refreshing change from the stench of mildew and boiled cabbage he often smelled. He wondered if she always smelled so sweet.

“So, what’s with the pamphlets? Are you a part of that Second Salemers organization?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasies. He looked down at her and saw her looking up at him expectedly. He couldn’t help but grow hot with embarrassment.

“Y-yes,” he answered.

“Really? So, you believe in witches?” She teasingly wiggled her fingers in his face.

"My mother does,” He answered.

“How interesting,” she thought aloud. “I can’t say that I believe in witches, but if they do exist I wouldn’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, they’re human like us, right? People tend to demonize things they don’t understand. Just because they’re different doesn't mean we have to fear or prosecute them. I think we should embrace each other’s differences and learn to appreciate them, rather than forcing everyone to assimilate to one idea of normalcy. If we do that, then no one would be unique. We’d all be the same.”

He listened closely as she spoke. He was absolutely fascinated by her. It was rather profound, the way she thought. Most people would disagree with her sentiments, especially his mother. The world Credence knew was built on a system of separation. A system that separated classes, races, sexes, and the able-bodied—a system he was a victim to. Never once had he met someone who desired to rid of it just as much as he did, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear such scrutiny from someone who seemed to benefit from it.

When she finished her societal criticism, she stopped in her tracks and craned her neck up to face Credence.

“Excuse my rambling,” she flushed. “I talk nonsense when I go deep in thought. Don’t mind me, I probably sound crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Credence spoke up. “I wish everyone thought the way you think.”

Their eyes locked in a moment of tenderness. His bold sentiments were enough to make her heart skip a beat; unbeknownst to him. Their intimate trance was broken when a passing car flashed its blinding lights in their eyes, causing the girl to release her grip around Credence’s arm. The loss of contact made his arm feel too light; as if someone had taken a piece of his arm away.

The girl let out a sheepish chuckle. “Well, this is it,” she said as she walked over to the luxurious motor car parked on the side of the street. Luxurious seemed like an insult of a descriptor for the magnificent opulence of the machine. The streetlight illuminated the pearl-colored metal that matched the white-rimmed tires. Gold embellishments lined the rim. Tawny leather seats contrasted the exterior and matched the fabric roof. It was something Credence had only seen in advertisements.

“She’s a bit much, right?”

Credence hadn’t realized how apparent the astonishment written on his face was. He expected the girl to laugh at him, but the girl didn’t find joy in his culture shock. She was nervous, as if she were ashamed of her possession, like he had just discovered her most shameful secret.

“She was a gift from my father,” she felt the need to explain. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything, I truly am. It’s just that I would never have bought something so ritzy for myself.”

“I like it,” said Credence.

His words seemed to relax her otherwise tense demeanor. “I’m glad you do,” she smiled as she opened the door. He watched her slide into the driver's seat. He approached the machine cautiously, eyeing the foreign object skeptically. The girl watched him closely, an amused smirk curling her lips.

“You’ve never ridden in a car before, have you?” She asked. Credence shook his head.

“I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” she chuckled. “I happen to be an excellent driver. My father wouldn’t have given me one so expensive if I wasn’t.”

This was true. Such a beautiful car wouldn’t be gifted to someone who would evidently wreck it. The girl pats the empty passenger seat invitingly, urging him to get inside.

Credence slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather seeping through the thin fabric of his suit, sending shivers down his spine.

“Here.” The girl reached in the back seat of the car and pulled out a large grey blanket. “The car will get warmer as we drive, but this should be good for now.”

Credence placed his papers on his lap and reached for the blanket.

“Wait,” she stopped him, a small frown appearing on her features. “You’re bleeding.”

Credence followed her stare to his left hand. He turned his palm upward to find the healing wounds on his palms had reopened. He didn’t notice the sting of the cuts before, but now his hand burned with the slightest movement. He couldn’t help but feel exposed. He hated his hands. They were ugly. Permanently blemished with raised scars that formed from healing and reopening and healing and reopening at contact with his mother's belt. It was unsightly. He shied away from her, mortified. She must’ve found them just as repulsive.

But the girl didn’t seem phased by his calloused and scarred hands at all. She didn’t hesitate to reach inside her breast pocket and pull out a pink handkerchief to wrap around Credence’s hand. Again he could feel her warmth. Her soft hands caressed his skin, pulling him closer. She handled him gently, delicately folding and wrapping the silk fabric around his cuts. She glanced at him as she did so, only to find him avoiding her gaze with his chin tucked into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered as she tended to him.

“You’re sorry?” She let out a breathy chuckle. “And what are you sorry for, exactly?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “For making you drive me home. For ruining your handkerchief,” he said.

The girl sighed as she tightened the cloth around his hand and tied it into a bow to keep it in place. “Bunny, you’re not making me do anything. I insisted, remember?” She reminded him. Credence felt the entirety of his face grow hot. He turned to face her again, only to be met with the same (e/c) eyes and kind smile she had before. His heart felt as though it were beating a mile a minute.

“And don’t worry about my handkerchief,” she adds. “I have dozens of them. They’re more for looks anyway, I never use them.”

Credence nodded and silently thanked her. She gave his hand another squeeze before leaning back in her seat and starting the car. The car made a sound like a lion and roared to life. The seats trembled beneath them, and the headlights lit the road ahead. When the car jerked into drive, Credence felt uneasy. She drove the car well, and he suspected that she was driving at a slower rate for his benefit, but the feeling of the car moving made his stomach churn with excitement and fear. He walked everywhere he went. He’d taken the subway once before when he was younger, but somehow this was different. He fidgeted in his seat, finding anything to distract himself from the tight feeling in his stomach. His eyes fixated on his hands, brushing his fingers against the smooth fabric of the handkerchief. It was colorfully embroidered with flowers and lacey patterns. He followed the design with his eyes until they came upon two scripted letters embroidered in gold on the corner that wasn’t tied into a knot.

“Are these your initials?” He asked to distract himself with small talk.

The girl gasped dramatically. “I never introduced myself, did I? How rude of me! I’m practically a stranger and here I am driving you around Manhattan without giving you a proper introduction.”

The girl took one hand off the wheel and held it out in front of him. “My name’s (y/n) (l/n).”

Credence took her hand and shook it lightly. “I’m Credence. Credence Barebone.”

“Credence. What an odd name. I like it,” she grinned before pulling her hand back. “So, where am I taking you, Credence?”

He told her he lived in the old chapel on Pike Street. She fell flustered while trying to explain she didn’t know exactly where that was. Credence then told her she was going the right way, and if she kept going straight, he would tell her when to turn. While they drove, she did her best to get to know Credence. He answered every question she asked with a short and vague response. She didn’t ask him many questions to begin with. She mostly talked about herself or the people she knew, like her family and friends. Almost everything reminded her of them.

He figured she did it to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing her talk. While driving, she saw a dress in a boutique and mentioned that her friend, Darla, would love to have a dress just like it. When they passed a tea shop, it reminded of her mother, who only drank earl grey tea; which, to her, is the most boring of teas. On the sidewalk, there was a stray cat running into an alleyway. She told him how much she wanted a pet cat as a child, but she couldn’t get one because her father was allergic.

He couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. The more she talked, the more relaxed he became. He stole glances at her when she wasn’t looking. Watching her lips move as she talked, outlining the bridge of her nose and the curve of her cheek. He had been staring so intently he hadn’t even realized she’d asked him a question.

“Credence?” Her voice filled his ears.

“Yes?” He answered.

“I asked if I turn here.”

Credence turned to look out the window and saw that they had stopped at the corner of Pike Street. It was a quiet neighborhood filled with old apartments that had dim windows and unfriendly doors. Sticking out like a tabby cat among tigers was the Church of the Second Salemers. A rickety thing dwarfed by the buildings that surrounded it. Credence’s heart sank. If only the ride was a little longer.

“I can get out here,” he told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Her lips twitched into a bittersweet smile. “Alright,” she simpered. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” He said truthfully.

There was a beat of silence. The two sat awkwardly, not really knowing how to say goodbye. Credence stared at his hands in his lap and began to untie the handkerchief.

“Keep it,” she stopped him before he could. “To remember me by.”

Would this really be the last time? He knew that she meant nothing by it, but hoped he didn't have to remember her. He wanted to see her again. He didn’t want it to end.

He gripped the cloth tightly in his hand. “Thank you.”

He reluctantly opened the car door and stepped onto the slushy street, closing the door behind him. She waved at him through the window, to which he returned in a less enthusiastic manner. He took a step back onto the sidewalk and watched as she drove down the street until she disappeared around the corner.

“Goodbye... (y/n),” he whispered.

It had been weeks since Credence’s chance encounter, and ever since his mind was consumed with thoughts and fantasies of (y/n) (l/n). Everything reminded him of her. The melting snow on the ground, the smell of flowers that mimicked her perfume when he passed the floristry, passing women in mink coats and tea shops; they all emulated her.

He often thought about how different things would have been if he did what he wanted that night. Would she be with him now had he gone to the café when she’d offered? Would she have liked to know him? Would she have enjoyed his company? The more he thought about it, the more he wished he’d taken the risk—his mother be damned.

Now all he had were memories and theories of what could have been. Though, fantasizing became his new favorite pass time. Reminiscing about her was one of the only things that gave light to his otherwise dark, mundane life. Like right now, he was thinking of what it would be like to make her laugh while scooping porridge into bowls for the orphans to eat.

He thought her laugh would sound feathery and jovial; the kind of laugh that makes you want to smile and laugh with her.

“You’re smiling.”

Credence was pulled from his thoughts by his sister, Chastity. He looked to the side and saw her smirking into the pot. “What?”

“It’s not just today,” she says. “You’ve been... different lately. Happier, I think. Always smiling to yourself. Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Did you meet someone or something?” She persisted.

Credence scoffed. “How could I have met someone?” He refuted.

Chastity she glimpsed at Credence skeptically. “I guess not,” she hummed, much to his relief.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re blushing, though,” she smirked.

Credence’s cheeks burst into flames as he attempted to sputter an explanation. Chastity giggled to herself, finding amusement in teasing him.

“What’s going on, children?”

The sickeningly sweet voice was enough to raise the hair on the back of their necks and shudder their hearts. They turned around, craning their necks up to the banister. Mary Lou Barebone towered over them just as menacingly as she could in her own prim and proper way.

“Nothing, mother,” Chastity answered for them. “Credence was just telling me a joke.”

“This is no time to be joking,” she scolded. “We have a very important meeting today with Father Blackwell, and I will not allow distractions. We can't lose focus. This is our chance to spread our message to the church— to the city! You should be preparing, not laughing.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Credence apologized.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she warned, before sauntering away.

Even in her absence, Credence couldn’t find the will to relax the rest of the morning. The threat of her looming presence was far too great. After the orphans had finished their meal and left, Chastity washed all the dishes while he cleaned the dining hall. Once they finished their menial tasks, Modesty came downstairs to tell them Mary Lou wanted them to hurry and dress in their best attire for Father Blackwell.

Father Blackwell was the priest of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He was the most famous priest in New York City and the priest of the mayor. Mary Lou was very anxious to present her case to him. According to her, once Father Blackwell hears her pleas and shares it with the church, the city would finally begin to take her seriously and put a stop to the heresy festering right under their noses.

So she believed.

It was Sunday. Today they would attend a mid-day service and attempt to get counsel with the priest. Though, Credence doubted Father Blackwell would even see them. As he got dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror. His ‘best’ attire was a dark plum suit so dark it looked black if you weren't paying attention. It made his already pale skin look even fairer and darkened the color of his raven hair and russet eyes. It was the only suit that fit him perfectly and had few blemishes. He’d probably look like a proper gentleman if his mahogany shoes weren't so terribly worn due to them being the only pair he owned.  

He took the matching hat off his dresser and put it on. Hidden underneath it was the pink handkerchief. He took the piece of fabric in his hands and held it up to his nose. It smelled like her. Remnants of her perfume still lingered between its stitches. He was grateful she allowed him to keep her handkerchief. He felt foolish for ever trying to part with it. It was the only proof he had that she existed; that their brief night encounter had truly happened.

“What are you doing?”

Credence instinctively hid the cloth behind his back, turning around to see Mary Lou standing in his doorway.

“I was straightening my tie,” he says, his voice wavering slightly.

Mary Lou looked him over for a moment, trying to find something out of place. “Come now,” she orders, having found no reason to torment the boy. “We’re leaving.”

She walked away. The sound of her heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs was Credence’s signal to breathe again. He pulled the handkerchief from his back and folded it neatly before hiding it underneath his pillow.

On their way to the cathedral, Mary Lou gave each of them a stack of flyers. She wanted them to hand out flyers to the congregation once the service ended while she talked with Father Blackwell. If there was one thing about Mary Lou, she was passionate and determined. When she set her sights on something, she will do everything in her power to execute it. She’d been planning this meeting for weeks. She readied herself in the only way she knew how: through constant prayer and tedious preparation. In a way, Credence was thankful for it. When Mary Lou became enlightened on an alternative approach, she was far too busy focusing on it to bother him. It was one of the few windows of relative freedom he had, and they came once in a blue moon. This meeting could mark the end, or the beginning, of this liberation.

Sitting in the pews during service, he could hardly concentrate. St. Patrick’s was a magnificent building, an authentic replica of the renaissance with its high, arched ceiling, stone engravings, and vibrant stained glass windows. It was the epitome of class and beauty. So, naturally, it would be the one church favorited by the high society. Wealthy families filled the better half of the sanctuary. While Credence and his family sat in the back with the rest of the commoners, they filled the front pews with tailored suits, mink coats, and Sunday hats. As Father Blackwell preached to the congregation, Credence searched the pews for a familiar face.

He knew his chances of seeing her were low, but he couldn't help but hope one of those Sunday hats would turn around and reveal those sparkling (e/c) eyes. His leg shook nervously, his eyes darting from one aisle of pews to another. It only stopped when a firm hand tightly gripped his thigh.

“Pay attention,” Mary Lou whispered, malice laced in her tone.

Credence swallowed, his body tensing immediately, afraid of even moving an inch in her presence. He turned his attention from the pews to the altar. Father Blackwell was standing in front of his pedestal, reading a scripture.

“We are living in a godless time,” He said. “Satan parades in the streets, preying on our sons and daughters! When the night comes, our children leave and venture into the streets. The devil and his minions tell them to wear promiscuous evening attire, commit sodomy, and fornication! Tempting them into Speakeasies to drink the Devil’s urine and feast on the bodies of Lilith’s daughters! Our city has become the devil’s playground. There is no God out there. Only sin.”

Flashes of her face imprinted in his mind. Credence frowned and tried to push it from his thoughts, but he couldn’t. His thoughts became consumed by her. As Father Blackwell spoke, he began to envision things he knew he shouldn’t.

“‘The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.’” Father Blackwell reads. “Don’t you see? It isn’t ‘fashion’ or ‘modernity’. The devil has infested the media to infect our minds. He wants to taint our bodies to further stray us from God. ‘Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body’... and therefore, is a sin against God.”

His cheeks burned, and he prayed nobody would notice. He’d never thought of her like this before. Yet, somehow, the sermon unlocked one of his most shameful desires. He imagined the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. He reminisced about the feel of her soft skin. He pictured the curves of her lips, chest, and hips. He wondered how they would feel on his lips. Would they be just as soft?

“Brothers and Sisters, we must rid ourselves of all sin. Protect your children, for the devil, has his eyes set on them. The greatest sin against God is the polluting of our holy bodies. We must practice modesty and chastity. Only then can we be saved... Let us pray."

The congregation bowed their heads and listened as Father Blackwell lead the closing prayer.

The priest’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Even as he and his sisters handed flyers to those exiting the church, his mind would drift back to the sermon. Mary Lou had left him and his sisters to talk with Father Blackwell. He watched as she walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar. Father Blackwell was already conversing with a member of the church, a stocky man wearing a cream-colored suit and matching hat.

She nearly approached him before another man stopped her. Credence recognized him as Deacon Ripley. Deacon Ripley was as galling as his face would suggest. His face was pointed and far too wrinkled for his age. Deacon Ripley had a habit of sticking his unusually large nose into other people’s business. He reminded Credence of a sewer rat, just as unsightly and full of shit.

He couldn’t make out what was being said, but from the looks of it, Deacon Ripley was reprimanding Mary Lou. Mary Lou did her best to get Father Blackwell’s attention, but he and the mustachioed gentleman ignored her calls. Mary Lou was never really one to lose her composure, but in her desperation, she attempted to divert Deacon from obstructing her access to Father Blackwell. She rushed to the altar, calling Father Blackwell. She began stating her case, catching the attention of those still left in the church.  

“There are evil forces at work, Father!” She shouted. “Heretics walk freely amongst us, doing the devil's work!”

Deacon Ripley came behind Mary Lou. “Pay no mind to her, Father Blackwell, she speaks fabrications.”

“This is not fiction, Father, I can assure you,” she says. “I have seen them with my own eyes. The devil’s concubine.”

“What is this you speak of?” Father Blackwell demands.

“Witches, Father. There are witches here in New York, working right under our noses—”

“I told you, Father, she’s insane,” Deacon Ripley cuts in.

“I am not crazy,” Mary Lou snarks. “And if we don’t stop them now, there will be hell to pay!”

“Enough, Ms. Barebone,” says Father Blackwell. “I will hear no more of these fairytales. Please, have decency.”

Father Blackwell turned to the gentleman and guided him to a back door where they disappeared from the sanctuary. Mary Lou, still determined to be heard, began shouting after them, preaching her testimony of witches infiltrating New York. This resulted in her being handled by a few clergymen and escorted off the premises. People whispered and gossiped as the Barebones walked by. It wasn’t hard to tell Mary Lou was humiliated. She put on a brave face, clenching her jaw and holding her head high. She grabbed Modesty by the hand and walked away. Credence and Chastity followed close behind with their heads down.  

It had been about a week since the church incident. Mary Lou hadn’t left her room since. The only one to see her was Modesty. Mary Lou always had a soft spot for the younger sibling. In any other circumstance, Credence would have taken such behavior as a blessing. Whatever wrath Mary Lou was feeling wasn’t being directed at him. But the looming threat of her presence left him little to no space to relax.

Credence was helping Chastity make pamphlets in the dining hall when the sound of Mary Lou’s door opening and closing halted their process. Small footsteps trotted down the stairs and into the hall.

“Credence,” Modesty called. Credence stood from his seat and walked to Modesty, who handed him a stack of flyers once he was close enough. “Mother wants you to pass out these flyers around town. She said not to come back until they’re all gone.”

Credence took the flyers in his hands and reluctantly walked to the door. It was snowing today. It wasn’t cold enough for it to stick, but it was cold nonetheless. He already wore his warmest clothes, which happened to be an old navy sweater vest, grey wool suit jacket, and matching trousers. He threw on a grey fedora and ventured into the streets.

He didn’t mind handing out flyers. Anything to get out of that awful place was enough for him. It was just about noon when he left. He thought it best to head towards the inner city. It was Saturday, so there were sure to be people bustling in and out of shops today. It usually wasn’t a long walk, Credence was used to walking long distances. However, the nipping cold slowed his pace a bit.

In the first hour, he spent walking around midtown and passing flyers around the park. Handing out flyers in winter rarely yields any results. People are far too cold and miserable to bother pulling their hands from their pockets to grab a piece of paper. After a very unsuccessful hour, he migrated further north, closer to Times Square.

“Credence?”

Credence stopped in his tracks, his heart jumping wildly in his chest. He slowly turned around to where the voice had come from. There, in all her grace, was the last person he expected to see. He could see her even more clearly than the last night he saw her. This time, she wore a large, white fur coat that stopped at her ankles and a matching fur hat. In her gloved hands, she carried a small beaded purse that glittered when light reflected off it.  In the day’s light, her skin radiantly glowed, much like her purse. Her eyes seemed bigger than what he remembered, mimicking that of a doll’s. They were enhanced by the brown eyeshadow that darkened her lids and the mascara that elongated her lashes. Today, her lips were raspberry pink instead of the deep red he remembered. Snowflakes nestled in the nooks of her curled (h/c) hair, making her appear even more angelic.

“Mi-Miss (l/n)?”

He hadn’t a moment to process her appearance before she rushed into his arms, catching him by surprise. She threw her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his broad shoulder. His hands instinctively gravitated to her waist, holding her steady as she stood on the tips of her toes. She felt lush in his arms, the heat from her body sent warmth spreading throughout his center. The expanse of his neck and cheeks blossomed into a dusty shade of rose. His mind raced as he tried to collect his thoughts. He was almost sure she could feel the rapid beating of his chest.

If she did, she didn’t seem to mind. She held onto him, squealing excitedly. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!” She said between giggles. “I was hoping you’d be here!”

Credence raised his brows, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You... You were hoping?” he repeated.

She pulled away, falling back on her heels to look him in the eye. Her hands still held onto his arms. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you,” she says. “But every time I come down, I hope I do.”

“You visit often?” He asked.

“As much as I can,” she admits. “I live in Kings Point. Do you know where that is?”

He nodded. Kings Point was a village up North by the bay in an area commonly referred to as West Egg. Many wealthy families live there in their ritzy mansions, throwing parties, boating, and golfing.

“Yes, well, I can only visit on weekends. Mainly with friends. But, lately, I’ve made a habit of coming down on my own, since I met you.”

She had said it so casually he thought she must’ve not realized how it sounded. Had she been purposely coming to the city, hoping to cross paths again? A small smile formed on his lips.

Her hands slipped from his arms and returned to her side, much to his disappointment.

Just then, a man behind her coughed, drawing their attention. (y/n) looked back and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry, Eddy. How rude of me! I completely forgot to introduce you.”

She stepped back to the man’s side. “Eddy, this is my friend Credence Barebone. I met him a few weeks ago in Town Square. Credence, this is Edmund Tully.”

Credence and the man made eye contact. The man, Edmund, was tall; even taller than him. He was built, with wide shoulders to match his thick neck and strong, clean-shaven jawline. His rectangular face was undeniably handsome, with strong, straight features Credence had only seen before on statues and hooded green eyes. His blond hair was almost completely hidden underneath his grey newsboy hat that matched the tailored grey suit he wore underneath a thick, black, fur-lined ulster.

Credence was already intimidated by the man. He was older, around his late twenties. If it wasn’t his overall overwhelming appearance that intimidated him, then it was definitely the pointed glower directed at him. (y/n) didn’t notice it. Her eyes were focused on him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Credence, bravely offering his hand.

Edmund looked down at Credence’s outstretched hand. “Yes, and you as well,” he said indifferently, reluctantly taking his hand and forcing a smile. (y/n)’s brows wrinkled slightly at the interaction as she looked between the two men.

When they stopped shaking hands, Edmund turned to (y/n). It was almost comical how drastically his expression changed when he looked at her. His face softened and his phony, tight-lipped smile became genuine.

“(y/n), darling, I’m afraid I have to go now,” He said.

“So soon?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. Your brother and I have a meeting with your father and Mr. Finnegan around lunch,” he explains.

“Oh, I see,” she hums in understanding. “Well, you better get going.”

“You’re right, I must.” He took a step closer to her. “It was lovely running into you today, (y/n).”

Credence watched as he bent down and placed a large hand on her waist. She too reached around to wrap your arm around his torso. He watched as the man kissed her right cheek before moving to kiss the other. This didn’t phase her at all. Instead, she smiled as if it happened all the time. Credence felt looked away, upset by the display. Why did he feel upset?

The two pulled apart, and Edmund began to walk away. “I’ll tell your brother you said hello, shall I?” He yelled.

“Yes! And tell him that mother wants him home by ten o’clock tonight!” (y/n) responded as she waved goodbye.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Credence spoke up.

(y/n) looked back to face Credence. “I have two older brothers, actually,” she told him. “Aaron and Channing. Eddy is Aaron’s friend. They met at Oxford University. He and my brother both work for my father now, so he’s around often. He can be a bit... overbearing sometimes, but he means well.”

“And your other brother?”

“Channing is only a year older than me, so he’s twenty. He’s my best friend,” she revealed. “He isn’t here, though—in New York, I mean. He’s currently studying abroad in Japan.”

“Japan?”

“Crazy, isn’t it? Between you and me, I think he’s only there to follow this Japanese girl he met. And I don’t blame him! I met her before and she’s very beautiful, sweet too! Though, I do miss him a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with him when I had the chance.”

Credence looked down at his feet as he listened. For some reason, the thought saddened him. Did she miss her brother so much that she would end up leaving for Japan one day? Would he never see her again? Would she miss him if she did? He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay so they could keep meeting like this. So he could see her face and have her smile at him so kindly, like she always did. Her brother might miss her, but he needed her.

Credence felt so selfish for thinking such things. How could he possibly think he deserved her time? If he told her what he truly thought, how would she react?

As if she could read his thoughts, (y/n) took a step closer to him. He picked his head up to face her and saw that she was smiling up at him.

“But, if I had done that, then I wouldn’t have met you,” she says.

Just as quickly as his deprecating thoughts had come, they left once her words reached his ears. Credence could only stare at her in disbelief.

“And he sends me letters every month, so, I guess it's all right,” she chuckled. “So, how have you been?” She asked, bringing him out of his daze.

“I...I’ve been well,” he says.

“I’m glad,” she smiles. Her eyes travel down his form. A small crease forms in the middle of her brows as she tilts her head to the side. “You still haven’t gotten yourself a coat, I see.”

Credence looked down at his clothes as though he had forgotten what he had on. “No, I haven’t.”

She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I suppose I could just buy you one.”

Credence shook his head, not wanting to inconvenience her for a second time. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I wasn’t really asking,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.”

She stared at him for a moment, squinting her eyes slightly. “Fine, then.” She began unbuttoning her coat. Credence watched her, confused by the sudden action.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked.

“If you won't let me buy you a coat, then I won't wear one either,” she says simply.

Credence furrowed his brows. “But you’ll be cold.”

She scoffed. “And you’re not?”

Credence was rendered speechless. A small smirk curled on her painted lips. “Either you let me buy you a coat, or I won’t wear one at all. I can’t walk with you knowing you’re freezing and I’m perfectly comfortable.”

She was impossible. No matter what he says, she would always find a way to make him give in.

“O-Okay,” he concedes.

(y/n) grinned brightly, fixing her coat back over her shoulders and hooking her arm around his as she had once before.

“This will be fun!” She beamed.

She led him back in the direction she had come while eagerly telling him about the boutique she knew would have the best selection for him. He increasingly became more comfortable in her presence. He even properly engaged in conversation, much to her delight. And whenever she smiled up at him, he found himself smiling too.

The boutique wasn’t far—about three blocks away to be exact. It was a small blue shop with gold painted windows. Through them, Credence could see posed mannequins dressed in all kinds of fancy coats, dresses, and suits. Written above the entrance in the scripted font was a sign that read: Vendicci’s.

Upon entering the store, their ears were filled with Italian opera. The shop appeared to be empty. There were no other shoppers, and the front counter was left unattended. Credence followed her to the counter. On its surface was a small golden bell that she tapped lightly. The bell rang, signaling their presence.

Shuffling could be heard from the back of the shop, catching their attention. From the back of the shop, they could hear harsh whispers and unintelligible curses. A short, thin man came stumbling in. He had dark olive skin and chestnut brown curls that fell around his Grecian face. He was disheveled—the first three buttons of his pink dress shirt were unbuttoned, and the fabric of his pressed white pants were creased. Without looking, the man made his way to the back of the counter, mumbling in a language he couldn’t make out.

Following behind him was a woman equally disheveled in appearance. Her short black hair stuck up in odd places, and she had missed one button of her blouse. She wandered the shop, to mind some clothes on the rack as the man drew near to the front counter.

“Stupidi Americani... Sorry, we are closed for now. You can come back later when—,” The man stopped when his eyes landed on her.

(y/n) smirked. “Hello, Raül,” she waved.

“Bella!” He gasped and hurried towards her with open arms. “How wonderful to see you!” He said in a thick Mediterranean accent. He placed hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss both of her cheeks. “You look even more lovely since the last I saw you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Raül,” she chuckled.

“Where have you been?” He pouts. “It’s been so long I’ve barely been able to survive without you.”

“I’m sorry, Raül, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of how I spend my money,” she explains.

“Mind your money here! I have so many new items you would look molto bella in. I saved them just for you,” he winked.

“That’s sweet of you, Raül. I promise I will come by and try them on at another time.”

Suddenly, the man became aware of Credence’s presence in the room. He looked at him like something had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Raül raised a skeptical brow and asked with pursed lips, “Is this man with you?”

“Yes, he is,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “We’d like to buy a coat. Something thick for the winter.”

Raül nodded and hummed, turning back to face her. “You’re just in luck,” he says. “Early this week I got a shipment straight from Italia: a fine selection of winter coats designed by Feliciano Romano himself.”

(y/n) gasped, clasping her hands together. “That’s fantastic! We’ll try those first!”

She took Credence by the arm and they followed him through the shop where they came upon a round archway covered by red velvet curtains. Raül pulled back the heavy curtains to reveal a separate room. It was small. The carpet was also red to match the curtains and the loveseats and chairs that decorated the room. In the center of the floor, was a circular platform. Above it was a circular ring of white drapes that had been pulled up. Across from the platform was a wall of mirrors, reflecting the room from different angles.

The woman from earlier had come in as well. With her, she brought along a rack filled with many expensive coats. She pulled it to the side of the room, right next to the platform. Raül thanked the woman with a playful pat on her buttcheek.

Credence blushed, having put two-and-two together about what was going on between the two co-workers before he and (y/n) had shown up. (y/n) was unfazed at all by the promiscuous interaction. Instead, she took off her coat and hat and threw them on one of the sofas facing the platform before taking a seat.

“Let’s begin!” Raül said excitedly.

“Stand up there, Credence.” (y/n) pointed to the platform. Credence did as he was told, and stepped onto the raised surface, awkwardly awaiting more instruction.

The dark-haired woman came up to Credence with a large coat in her arms. He didn’t need to put it on to know it wasn’t something that would suit him. She stood behind him and slipped the sleeves of the coat over his arms and shoulders. The coat itself was heavy enough to make him slouch slightly and tense his leg muscles to carry the added weight. The warm fabric engulfed his lanky form. It was made of strange, thick fur—not mink, but from another animal, he couldn’t guess. It was dark brown, and in some areas, it looked black. The length of the coat ended just above his ankles and the sleeves practically covered his hands, the tips of his fingers were all that were visible.

It was definitely a coat well suited for a more muscular type of man. It was the kind of coat that would be perfect for a large Russian mobster. However, on his lanky form, it just looked plain silly. (y/n) looked at him in the mirror, catching his eye.

“Do you like it?” She asks. “Be honest. I won’t buy you something you don’t like.”

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“Absolutely not!” Raül said as he took a step onto the platform and stood in front of Credence, looking him over intently. “I never thought I would say this to anyone, but, my dear, sable is not for you.”

“You don’t think so?” (y/n) chimed in.

“Miss (l/n)!” He gasped. “You are my most fashionable client! Tell me you don’t think this works for him!”

She looked him up and down, a smile stretching across her lips. “I think he looks cute,” she says. “like a cuddly bear.”

Credence blushed and shied away from her gaze. Raül tuts his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Well, he must be the skinniest bear in the forest,” he mutters as he pulls the coat off Credence’s shoulders.

“Want to try another one?” She asked. Credence nodded.

Raül went through the rack before pulling out another coat for him to try. He found one he thought might look best and took it off its hook before helping Credence try it on.

After he helped him slip his arms in, he took a step back to look him over. “How's this?”

It was a slim-fitting burnt orange fox fur coat that stopped halfway. It had a low collar and large brown buttons that trailed from his chest to the hem. He noticed how it was tighter around his waist and made his hips look bigger than he’d like. He thought it was a coat he would see on a woman. 

“It’s a bit bright for winter, don’t you think?” She pointed out.

“Nothing is ever too bright,” Raül argued.

She squinted at Credence’s reflection in the mirror, pondering the look. His face burned red and he silently pleaded she disliked the coat as well. His flustered expression made her stifle a fit of giggles. “I think we’ll try another one,” she smirked.

Raül sighs and slips the coat off Credence’s shoulders, much to his relief. The next coat was a black and white trench with large black buttons and a belt. Credence stood uncomfortably in front of the critical pair.

Raül crossed his arms, a small approving smile plastered on his lips. “Now this, I like!”

“I don’t know...” She hummed. “What do you think, Credence?”

“It’s itchy,” he says.

“It’s tweed,” Raül said, as though it made it better.

She giggled and looked at Raül. “Another?”

They went through several different coats, most of which were unflattering or uncomfortable. Credence thought the others were doing it on purpose — at least, he felt like she was. There was something about the playful smirk that curled the corners of her lips whenever he was dressed in a seemingly ridiculous or feminine coat that made him feel as though she had taken joy in dressing him up and watching his cheeks turn red from embarrassment whenever she expressed how ‘cute’ he looked. While there may have been no initial mal-intent when she initially insisted on buying him a coat, he was starting to feel like she was toying with him; teasing him for her own pleasure. 

Raül pulled another unsatisfying coat off of his shoulders only to replace it with another. The weighted coat comfortably slipped onto his shoulders. When Raül properly fit the coat onto him, he took a step back, a small smile gracing his features. Credence turned his neck to look back at (y/n) who had a similar expression of approval.

“Wow.” She whispered.

The coat was indeed impressive in a simplistic kind of way. It wasn’t too flashy or extraordinary. Just a simple black trench that fell to his knees. It was a sharp, angular cut, one that seemed to broaden his shoulders to imitate a somewhat muscular appearance. The shade of black complimented his pale skin and matched his raven locks, making him appear more porcelain than before. 

“Magnifico! So handsome, like a dark prince!” Raül cheered. His assistant then too voiced her agreement.

(y/n) moved from the sofa to the platform where Credence stood. She eyed him closely, circling him before stopping in his eye-view. She ran her hands up his arms, feeling the material under her skin. She dragged them up and across his shoulders, before stopping at his chest. Credence’s heart drummed against his chest, excited by her touch. He wondered if she could feel it through the coat.

“Do you like it?” she asked him.

“I do,” he says, truthfully this time.

She smiled and turned to face Raül. “We’ll take it!”

(y/n) left with Raül and the woman from earlier to pay for the dashing coat, leaving Credence alone in the dressing room. He looked himself over in the mirror, admiring how he looked in the black material. He couldn’t deny how good he looked in it. For the first time he looked, normal. Better than normal—he looked like a proper gentleman. Sure, a real ritz could snuff him out in a heartbeat, but to the average New Yorker, he could pass for someone on the same caliber as (y/n). It was like looking at the version of him he always wanted to be.

It wasn’t long before the fleeting fantasy soured. The rational part of his brain picked at the flaws of this entire interaction. How would he explain to his mother where he got such an expensive coat? If she saw him wearing it, she would definitely ask questions he was afraid to answer. Either way, he knew he couldn’t be seen with it on while she was around. But he couldn’t throw it away; not when she went through all the trouble of buying it for him. And it was such a nice coat... Credence shook the worries from his mind. He couldn’t think about it now. 

After (y/n) paid for the coat, the two bid Raül goodbye and ventured back out into the cold. Already, Credence noticed a stark difference of the cold with the coat protecting his skin. It dulled the nipping chill that never left during the winter months. 

“Much better, isn’t it? ‘Not cold’ my ass,” she snarked playfully. She fished around her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. “Take these.”

Credence eyed the gloves questionably. (y/n) sighed and took his hand from his side, sliding the gloves on before doing the same with the other. “There,” she grinned. “I wasn’t sure if these were gonna be the right size, but look! They’re perfect!”

“But... you didn’t have to buy these for me,” said Credence.

“I didn’t buy them,” she says. “Raül gave them to me—well, to you. He says those gloves must go with that coat. I have to say I agree; they really complete the look.” She began walking down the street again, prompting him to follow her. “And don’t worry about the coat, okay? Like I said before, it’s on me,” she reminded him.

Credence still felt couldn’t accept something so valuable without thanking her. She bought him a coat because she cared about how he was feeling, just like when she helped him off the street all those weeks ago. He felt indebted to her—grateful to her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he returned the favor tenfold. 

To her, this was obvious. She could tell buying the coat bothered him. He was so tense. He probably would never relax around her unless he somehow proved that he deserved to. Perhaps she can help him see. She glanced at the taller boy from the corner of her eye.

“But,” she sighed. “If you’re still looking for some way to repay me, I can think of something I’d like you to do.”

Credence perked up. “Really? What is it?”

She grins up at him, showing her pearly white teeth. “Go on a date with me.”

Credence’s eyes widened. “W-What?”

(y/n) chuckled. “If you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine.”

“No!” He said all too desperately. He blushed at his own excitement. “I mean... Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s why I suggested it, isn’t it?”

Credence blushed. A date? He’d imagined taking her on a date in his head about a hundred times. He thought of what he might say and do on the chance he got to be alone with her again. Maybe this time he’ll follow through.

“Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you want to go?”

“How eager are you!” She laughed. “I didn’t even say when and you’re already trying to sweep me off my feet, huh? Either that or you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

“T-That’s not how I meant it!” he stammered.

(y/n) giggled at his demise. “I’m just teasing you, Bunny. No need to turn so red,” she smirked.

She didn’t help his case when she slipped her arm between his to link their arms. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her being so close to him. No matter how many times she touched him, he always managed to get flustered. It’s probably why she did it so much, just to see him blush.

“Now is as good a time as any,” she said while smiling up at him. “Are you hungry? I’m starving!”

They walked through the city together, arm in arm. Unlike last time, Credence attempted to be more interactive with her. (y/n) was definitely the more dominant converser, but his attempts to be more engaging with her didn’t go unnoticed. He asked her the questions that have been collecting in his head since they met.

He asked her what she did in her spare time (paint) and what her favorite food was (chocolate). He learned that she was a Columbia scholar currently on break and that she recently adopted a hairless cat named Onyx (it was the only cat her father wasn’t allergic to). Talking with her became easy. He even made her laugh a few times.

While they walked, Credence felt like they passed about twenty different restaurants and cafés he thought she would like. But whenever he thought they were about to stop, she kept going. He was wondering where exactly she was taking him. 

“Are we eating somewhere in particular?” He asked discreetly.

(y/n) nodded and hummed. “I’m taking you to one of the best places on earth. Salone’s! It’s not that far from here. It’s been a while since I’ve been, but I’m really craving it. Have you ever been there before?” She asked.

Credence shook his head. “Never,” he said, causing her to gasp dramatically.

“Oh, now we definitely have to go! What kind of person would I be if I let you go on living without experiencing God’s gift to man? And by ‘God’ I mean Dixie Salone, the owner.”

When they turned the corner, there was a small restaurant named Salone’s across the street. Taking precautious measures, (y/n) gingerly led Credence across the street and to the restaurant. When they opened the door, the smell of grease and peanuts filled the air. The place was reasonably packed, with average looking people all looking at them as they entered the room. (y/n) looked out of place in her rather extravagant attire, though now—with her on his arm and his new coat—he probably looked just as pretentious as she.

If (y/n) noticed the leering eyes of the other customers, she didn’t show it. Instead, she scoured the area for a place to sit, before landing on a booth tucked away in the back. They claimed the booth for themselves. Credence took the booth facing the door, shedding his outer attire and tucking it away in the seat corner. (y/n) slid into the seat across from him, shrugging off her coat and hat, revealing her clothes underneath.

Underneath the mound of fur, was a matching white dress. Unaccommodating to the weather, the dress underneath hung off her shoulders. It had long sleeves, but the upper half of her chest and her shoulders were exposed. Though, Credence figured when you have fur to wear over your clothes, it doesn’t matter much what you wear under it. The fabric was velvet, which must have also helped. From what he could see, it hugged her body well. Credence looked down at his hands on his lap, realizing he had been staring a bit too long. Lucky for him, she hadn’t noticed.

On the table were two menus placed before them. He looked down at the large printed sheet. Credence had never been to a restaurant before. He had eaten nowhere else but the church. He ate once a day (if he ate at all) and it was the same thing almost every time: porridge and stale bread. But on the menu before him, there was no porridge or stale bread at all. There was soup, steak, chicken, and almost every kind of pie. He felt his mouth watering just thinking about it. 

“Don’t bother looking at the menu,” (y/n) told him, gaining his attention. “I’m going to order for you. This place is really only good for two things, everything else is subpar, trust me.”

He looked at the menu again, mildly disappointed. He was looking forward to trying fried chicken. He took a moment to look around the diner. Most of the people there looked like working classmen: factory workers or nannies. Some still wore their uniforms under layers of sweaters and scarves. Others wore regular everyday clothes. Many of those who eyed them upon their entry returned their attention to their food and prior conversations. Though, there were a few that still snuck looks at their table in the back. Some were harmless, like the little girl who was staring at (y/n) in awe. Some were more menacing, like the rugged-looking man sitting on a stool by the counter who seemed annoyed by their presence.

(y/n) noticed that Credence’s eyes were shifting around the room pointedly. “Is something the matter?” She asked.

“It’s just...” He began. “I never thought you would be the type to eat at a place like this.”

“I guess it does seem a bit funny, huh? I look like someone who’d frequent an uptown steakhouse, right?” She chuckled. “Truth is, I’ve never had a big part in that lifestyle. Banquets and fine dining, I mean. It’s all fake and pretentious. But this—” she gestured to the room around them. “This is real. The food is real. The people are real. Do you know what I mean?”

Credence nodded. “I think so.”

“Some of my favorite memories take place here. My father would take me here when I was little on his days off. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I guess I wanted to relive that with you today.”

Credence took notice in the look in her eyes. He could tell that recalling such memories saddened her. He didn’t like seeing her upset, but, at the same time, he was glad she wanted to share something so important to her with him. One day, he hoped to do the same.

Not long after that, a young woman dressed in a red dress and a white apron with a stitched red S on the bottom corner walked up to their table with a notepad in hand.

“Hello and welcome to Salone’s, what can I get the lovely couple today?” The waitress asked. Credence couldn’t help but blush after being referred to as a couple.

“Yes,” (y/n) said happily. “Today we’ll—” she stopped mid-sentence before glancing at Credence across the table. She smirked and waved the waitress down to her.

The waitress smiled and got down on her knees next to her. (y/n) grabbed a menu and held it in front of their faces so Credence couldn’t tell what she was whispering. He watched in confusion as (y/n) whispered their order to the waitress.

The waitress nodded, and every once in a while he heard her giggle. “Yes, alright... okay... got it!”

The woman stood back up on her feet and smiled down at the two diners. “If you two just wait here, I will be right back with your orders,” she said cheerfully before trotting off.

“What did you get?” Credence asked once she had left.

(y/n) shook her head and held her fingers to her lips to imitate the motion of closing a zipper. “It’s a surprise,” she winked.

Credence nodded, having decided to trust her decision. In the meantime, while they waited for their food, (y/n) engaged in another conversation with him. It was a continuation of their earlier conversation about pets. (y/n) wanted to know if Credence had any pets. When he told her he never had a pet, she asked him what kinds of animals he likes. He told her that he never met many other animals before. He’d seen many rats in his life, but that just came with the joys of living in New York City. But he thought it appropriate to mention he once made a bond with a stray cat when he was younger.

It was a black skinny thing, with a chewed off ear, and part of its tail was missing. One day, when he’d been left out on the streets as a punishment (he told her he was walking home), the cat came up to him and was begging for food. Lucky for the cat, he had a piece of bread in his pocket. He gave it to the sad creature, and it ate it from his hand. He’d never pet a cat before then, but he liked how it’s fur felt when he brushed it, and the sounds of the cat’s meows. After he told her that story, he stated that he probably liked cats the best.

“We’re just alike! Maybe one day I can take you to meet Onyx,” she suggested.

The corners of Credence’s lips curled up softly. “I’d like that,” he said.

Just then, the woman from earlier came up to them with their order on a large silver platter. The waitress placed the hot food onto the table, along with their drinks before leaving them to enjoy their meal. Credence looked down at the plate of food in front of him.

“Burgers?”

“Burgers,” she repeated excitedly. “If there’s one thing this place can make, it’s a damn good burger. Well, that and a mean vanilla milkshake! The fries aren’t half bad either,” she says as she pops one in her mouth.

Meat and fried potatoes filled his nostrils. The burger was as big as the plate it came on. The sesame bun was soft and round, and the edges appeared to be lightly toasted. Crunchy lettuce, cheese, and two slices of bacon coated in mayonnaise and ketchup poked out from the sides on top of a thick beef patty. (y/n) smiled in amusement as she watched Credence carefully take the burger in his hands. His eyes were practically sparkling with excitement.

“Go on,” she encouraged. “Take your first bite! I want to see the look on your face when the juicy meat hits your tongue.”

Credence glanced at her across the table, before opening his mouth and taking a generous bite out of the hefty burger. Various flavors overstimulated his senses. The beef and pork collided with the onions, lettuce, cheese, and condiments to create an unfamiliar taste he’d never experienced before. The meat was succulent and juicy, just as she said it would be. The cut of the beef was thick and chewy, and the bacon was crispy and flavorful. The bun was soft and crunchy and tasted as though it was toasted with butter. It wasn’t stale at all! It was like it came fresh out of the bakery just before it wound up on his plate. 

It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Well?”

Credence hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, (y/n) was looking at him expectantly. He swallowed the delicious food and licked his lips greedily, chuckling softly.

“It’s good,” he smiled.

A wide grin stretched across her painted lips. It was the first time he’d laughed around her.

“You have a pretty smile, you know that?” She told him.

Credence’s cheeks reddened for the thirtieth time that day, and he lowered his head to hide it from her.

(y/n) chuckled softly before taking his basket of fries. “Here.” She took the red ketchup bottle from the side of the table and drizzled the condiment over the fries in a zig-zag pattern before sliding the basket back towards him.

“Thank you,” he muttered bashfully through a mouth full of food.

“You’ve got ketchup on the side of your mouth,” she told him.

Without thinking, he stuck his tongue out to lick the spot clean. (y/n) smirked in amusement, watching him do so, finding it cute.

“Did I get it?” He asked.

She snickered and reached her hand across the table to the side of his face. Her thumb gently swiped the corner of his mouth. The action took him by surprise. He sat tensely as she did it. It was a quick moment— a gentle touch, and yet his entire body burned with heat at the contact. When she pulled away and leaned back in her seat, the warmth still lingered. She looked him in the eyes, not breaking contact as she brought her thumb to her lips. The pink flesh of her tongue darted out and lewdly flattened against the pad of her thumb, cleaning it of the ketchup.

Credence felt his body ache at the simple action, the tips of his ears burning incredibly hot. (y/n), who was by no means ignorant to the effect she had on him, could only smirk and marvel at the rosy tint of his cheeks. Credence was grateful she didn’t draw attention to it. It was easier to hide how flustered she made him when they were outside, and he could blame his feverishness on the cold. Now that they were inside and it was warm, it made it harder to deny. He couldn’t bear being teased by her further, he felt like he might explode. She must have sensed it too, because she made no other moves to make him blush after that. She acted as though it didn’t happen and continued to eat her food. Credence then too returned to eating, praying that the ache he felt went away. 

It did, with the help of other distractions. (y/n) continued innocent conversation as they ate to keep the peace. As they talked she could tell that her earlier display still hindered his interaction. While they talked, she’d notice his eyes would linger on her lips rather than her eyes; and whenever they did lock eyes, he would trip over his words and look away.

It was cute, she thought.

Before she could decide to tease him further, the waitress had returned to their table, having noticed that their plates had practically been licked clean. She asked if they were finished with their plates, and they both nodded.

As she collected their dishes she asked, “Can I interest you two in some dessert?”

(y/n) pursed her lips and turned to Credence. “What do you think? Still have room for more, pretty boy?”

Credence flushed.  “I-I’ve never had a milkshake before,” he stammered, referring to the claim she made earlier.

She smiled, before gingerly holding up a finger to the waitress. “We’ll have one large vanilla milkshake with extra cherries, please!”

The waitress returned her smile and winked. “Coming right up!”

It wasn’t long before she came back with the milkshake. It came in a large glass cup filled with vanilla milkshake and topped off with a generous swirl of whipped cream. It was decorated with a cherry, but the extra cherries (y/n) asked for layered the bottom of the glass. The waitress placed the glass on the center of the table between the two. She handed them two big, red and white striped straws before leaving them once more. They both took one and put it into the glass.

(y/n) smiled eagerly at Credence across the table. “You get the first sip,” she said.

He thanked her as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around his straw. He sucked on it how he normally would without realizing how thick the milkshake was. (y/n) watched him struggle for a moment as he nearly ran out of breath trying to suck the ice cream up the straw. He got it eventually, the cool, sweet, vanilla filling his mouth. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but he just knew that the taste surprised him. He never had sweets before. Sugar is a gluttonous indulgence that Mary Lou found sinful. But as the sticky sweet cream slid down his throat, he wondered if all sin was just pleasures he was being denied.

He didn’t have to tell her he liked it. It was written all over his face. It was probably the most relaxed she’s ever seen him. She enjoyed seeing him that way, with a small smile on his face and flushed cheeks. Credence was so invested in the milkshake, (y/n) was sure he would drink it all if she didn’t get her sips in. Credence nearly choked when he looked up and saw her face mere inches from his own, sipping on the other straw in the glass.

She didn’t seem to mind at all, being so close to him. Her eyes were closed as she sipped. Her curled lashes brushed against her full cheeks and her glossy lips circled the straw delicately. This close, he could see the texture of her (s/c) skin, seeing the few freckles and moles that decorated her features he hadn’t noticed before.

When she did open her eyes, he didn't look away. This time he looked in her eyes and saw for the first time that her eyes weren’t just one shade of (e/c), but a combination of different shades and colors to make the color that was distinctly her’s. Similarly, she saw that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black if it weren't for the few streaks of chocolate brown and burgundy that reflected in the light.

(y/n)’s lips curled into a smile. She bashfully looked away from his eyes and into the glass. The two drank in comfortable silence, savoring both the milkshake and the tender moment. They drank the contents of the glass, leaving nothing but the leftover cream and cherries at the bottom. They wouldn’t go to waste. Cherries must have been (y/n)’s favorite because ate most of them. She did however offer one to Credence for him to try. She held the cherry by the stem and encouraged him to take a bite. He thought it was a bit embarrassing that she insisted on feeding it to him, but he took the cream covered fruit into his mouth and found it just as sweet—if not sweeter—than the milkshake itself.

She let him eat the remaining cherries himself. While he was eating, he watched (y/n) gather her things, putting on her coat before sliding out of the booth.

“I’m going to go pay while you finish,” she told him as she got up.

She walked over to the front counter where the waitress was counting money from the cash register. Credence watched as the two women talked. (y/n) smiled at the waitress and said something that made her laugh. She reached into her purse and pulled out several bills. She handed it to the waitress, who looked at the cash in her hands with wide eyes.

“For me?” He overheard the waitress ask. When (y/n) nodded, the young girl squealed in excitement and rushed from the counter to hug her. The two stumbled due to the unexpected force, but (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. She laughed and hugged the waitress back, patting her back in a friendly manner. Credence, having finished his cherries, got up to stand by (y/n)’s side.

“Thank you so much, miss!” Credence heard the waitress gush as he came up.

“It’s nothing, you deserve it,” (y/n) insisted. (y/n) turned her attention from the young girl to Credence beside her when she felt his presence. She looked up at him with a smile. “Are you ready to go?” She asked him. He nodded.

The waitress looked between the two and grinned softly. “You two make a sweet couple,” she said.

(y/n) returned the grin, hooking her arm around Credence and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, playing into the waitress’s assumptions.

“You two have a blessed day!” The waitress left to tend to a waiting customer leaving him victim to (y/n)’s smug grin. At this point, even his neck was red. (y/n) couldn’t help but find  it amusing. No matter how flustered he got, he wouldn’t protest.

She lightly squeezed his arm, making him look down at her. “Are you ready to go, pretty boy?” She asked him.

It was the second time she called him that, and it was just as startling as the first time. The pet name made his heart swell in his chest and his brain stutter. But again, he didn’t protest. He just nodded his head and turned his face away to hide his reddened cheeks. (y/n) giggled, satisfied with the reaction she got, and they both walked out of the restaurant and back into the cold.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling, but the sidewalks were still slick with slush and ice. (y/n) took a deep breath, breathing in the crisp air as she looked up at the sky.

“Is it that late all ready?” She muttered to herself, her happy features falling slightly. Despite the heavy, grey clouds blanketing the sky, they could still see the sun shining brightly behind them. Credence too looked up at the sky. From what he could tell, it was around three in the afternoon..

He turned to (y/n). “Do you have to go now?” He asked her regrettably.

Her eyes fell down from the sky to his own. Her lips pressed into a small smile and shook her head. “Not just yet,” she said.

“Why don’t you walk with me to the park.” She demanded more than asked and pulled him off down the sidewalk.

He walked with (y/n) a little while longer, back towards the park. Along the way, (y/n) would stop outside shops and look at the items displayed in the windows. Some things of the things she expressed an interest in were for her, sometimes she would see an item and would say something along the lines of “Mom would love this” or “Aaron has something like this”. But sometimes she would stop and turn to Credence and ask, “Do you like this?”

He had to talk her out of buying him things multiple times. She seemed so eager to spoil him. She wanted to buy him a new pair of shoes and a watch she’d seen on display. There was an expensive-looking suit outside of a tailor’s shop, and her eyes practically sparkled upon seeing it. She tried to convince him to go in and try it on, but he knew if he did, she would end up buying it for him. How he deterred her from the idea was a miracle in itself. But eventually, she dropped the idea, and the two continued on their walk. 

The two reached the park without buying a single thing. When they reached the entrance of the park, (y/n) stopped, and pulled away from his side. Credence halted in his tracks, turning around to face her. He looked down at her as she smiled up at him.

“Do you have anywhere to go after this?” She asked him.

Credence shook his head. His mother wouldn’t be expecting him until dark.

She pursed her lips and tilted her as if in thought as she sighed.

“Should I just kidnap you?”

The question took him by surprise. (y/n) laughed at the perturbed look on his face. “I’m joking, Credence,” she said between snorts. “I won’t kidnap you. Not unless you want me to.”

Credence smiled softly, letting out a soft chuckle of his own. This made (y/n) smile even bigger than before. She took a coy step closer to him, taking one of his gloved hands in her own and swinging it playfully.

“I had fun today, Credence,” she told him. “As first dates go, this is probably the best one I’ve ever been on.”

“Just probably?” Credence mumbled jokingly.

(y/n) smirked, amused by the sudden remark. “Yeah, just probably.”

Credence looked down at their hands, admiring how small her hands were compared to his. Somehow he hadn’t realized just how much shorter than him she was. He always felt smaller than her. He didn’t mind it: feeling small. It was different from how other people made him feel small; like his mother or strangers on the street. They made him feel tiny, like a bug— like something disgusting and inconvenient. To them, he was something they could easily step on. But with her, it was different.

With her, he felt small, like a flower. And to him, she was the sun. She was so big and so bright. Whenever she was around, he felt alive. And whenever she wasn’t, he felt like he might die. He didn’t mind feeling small around her, because, at least when he’s with her, he is consumed by light. 

“I had fun too,” Credence spoke up. “I really enjoy spending time with you, Miss (l/n).”

“Are you always this formal?” She teases despite her obvious blushing. “I enjoy spending time with you too, Mister Barebone.”

She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go. She brushed past him, striding down the street. Credence watched her as she walked, his heart sinking just a little.

As though she could sense it, (y/n) looked at him over her shoulder as she walked and grinned. “Don’t look so sad,” she yelled to him. “I’ll find you again.”

With a chaste wink, she disappeared around the corner and away from his line of vision, leaving him with a full stomach and an even fuller heart.

That night, Credence returned home alone. He reluctantly walked back to the crooked chapel. His mind was fogged with thoughts of her. When he came to the front of what he, unfortunately, called ‘home’, he hesitated to go in. He looked through each window. It was dark inside. Could everyone have fallen asleep already?

He looked down at the coat on his body. He quickly shrugged the heavy material off of his shoulders and folded it in his arms before quietly entering the house. The house seemed empty, and it was almost too quiet. He pushed his way through the dark and carefully made his way up the stairs as to not make a sound. He’d gotten good at being quiet in the house. He memorized each squeaky board and mastered the art of moving in silence despite his height. 

He crept up the stairs as he’d done many times and tip-toed to his bedroom, where he then quietly shut his door. Once he heard the door click softly, he released his breath and sighed in relief.

His room wasn’t much. It was small and comprised a bed with an old iron frame, an armoire, a sink, and a metal tub that he uses to bathe. He looked down at the coat in his hands. He moved to the armoire by his bed and opened its doors. There wasn’t much inside; he had little to put in it, anyway. But today, he would be thankful for that. 

The armoire was a rather fancy piece of furniture. It stood out in his otherwise destitute room. The armoire was just as old and worn out as the rest of the room, but it wasn’t hard to tell it was an ornamental relic of the 19th century. It had enough space to fill two weeks’ worth of clothes. It was almost offensive how little there was inside it. One detail about it was its hollow bottom. Credence could slide the bottom plank of wood to reveal a cubbyhole. Its original purpose must have been for shoes or winter blankets, but now it would serve a new purpose. 

Credence kneeled on the ground and packed the coat neatly into the cubby before throwing his new gloves on top. They fit perfectly inside and he was allowed to slide the wooden plank back on with ease. With that accomplished, he rose to his feet and closed the armoire doors. He began undressing, stripping his clothes until he was left in nothing but his boxers.

It was as cold in the house as it was outside, but credence had no pajamas that would keep him warm. He had but one pair of old satin pajamas that were too small for him. He decided not to wear them tonight. The naturally cool material wouldn’t provide him warmth or comfort.

After putting away his dirtied clothes, Credence fell back on his bed and stared up at the rotting ceiling above him. As he lay there, his mind would drift to the memories of his ‘date’. Just thinking about her made his heart beat faster. He pictured her in his mind, reliving the time he spent with her.

It was the most surreal thing. Being with her made him feel things he never felt before. She made his heart flutter and his cheeks warm in a pleasantly addicting way. When he was with her, he forgot everything bad. There was no anxiety, no judgment, no harsh words, or abuse. He was just a normal man with a normal woman. He wished he could feel that way all the time.

His hand reached behind his head and slipped under his pillow to retrieve the soft pink piece of fabric he kept there. He held it up in front of him, rubbing it between his fingers. The moonlight from his window reflected on its threads, and he could read the stitched initials in the corner.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name so tenderly. Just saying her name aloud made his lips tingle. He loved saying her name for the simple reason that it was her name. He would say it a thousand times aloud if he could.

He brought the cloth down to his nose and inhaled its scent. Her fragrance still lingered on the soft fabric, clouding his senses. Credence felt a familiar stirring rise in his stomach. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he pressed his legs together. His mind flashed to the other day in the church, remembering the lewd images of her he had fantasized about. A part of him was ashamed. Sexual desire was a sin he shouldn’t act upon. It was a vile, disgusting act. That’s what the church told him, at least. And his mother would have no part of it either.

Mary Lou made sure to reprimand him whenever she suspected him of sexual temptation, so much so he shied away from girls all together. Yet recently, he’s felt a bumbling desire well up inside of him. He knew what it was; he felt it before. Only once before had he fallen victim to his lusty desire. It had been in his adolescence. He was sleeping when he had a dream about a red-haired woman he’d seen on the street. She was most likely in her twenties at the time, but she was so captivating he remembered her face for a week. He dreamed of that red-haired woman touching and caressing him. She’d even kissed him like he’d seen couples on the street kiss. This mild fantasy woke him from his sleep with a shameful mess on his bed.

He was so humiliated and ashamed he rushed to confess to Mary Lou, who punished him greatly for his lasciviousness. He didn’t dream of the red-haired woman or any woman at all after that. That is, until he met her.

At first, his thoughts of her were innocent. He would fantasize about holding her hand and laying on her chest as he slept. She would caress his face and run her fingers through his hair.  He would give her chaste kisses on her cheek, and she would giggle and laugh, returning the favor. But that changed that day he went to church and listened to Father Blackwell’s sermon. That was the first time he thought of her in such an erotic way.

It was because of this he felt particularly suffocated by her presence today. He became even more aware of her touches. His eyes would stare at her lips more often and glance at the curves of her chest. He thought about how she held on to his arm; How warm and soft she was; Her small hands. He thought about how her finger felt brushing against his lip. About how her tongue darted between her plump lips to lap at her thumb.

Credence bit his lip to keep his whimpers from escaping. His thoughts were filled with images of her, his body reacted on its own. He curled on his side and pressed his legs together to relieve himself of his growing hardness. Instead of discouraging his growing lust, it seemed to only spur it on. The feeling of his thighs pressing against his length brushed an itch he desperately desired to scratch.

He wanted her by his side so terribly. If only he were as confident and manly as the men he saw on the street, she would be. If he were as confident as the man she was with today, then he could call her by her name. He too could take her by her delicate waist and kiss her cheeks. And, oh, did he wish to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her many times today. He wanted to kiss her the moment he saw her. He wanted to kiss her again in the boutique when she pressed her hands on his chest, and again when she asked him to go on a date with her. He wanted to kiss her multiple times in the restaurant for teasing him so viciously, and he wanted to kiss her deeply before they said goodbye.

He imagined what it would be like to be that kind of man; what it would be like to have her with him now, and what he would do if she was. If she was there on his bed laying next to him, he would want to kiss her now as well. He would have her under him, staring up at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes. He would brush the hair away from her face and stroke her cheek. Her hands would hold his sides and pull him closer so their bodies lay flat against each other. He would feel her and she would feel him. Her warmth would consume him, and their bodies would mold together.

Credence closed his eyes and smelled her pink handkerchief. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was there.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name once more. His hips rocked hesitantly, the undeniable bulge in his boxers was now too evident to ignore. Rocking his hips caused a pleasurable sensation in his stomach. It felt so good, he did it again... and again... and again; rocking his hips as he held her handkerchief to his nose and imagined her.

He thought of kissing her soft lips as he pressed into her, feeling her hands run up and down his sides as they had done before. He wanted to rock his hips against her like he was doing now. Would it feel as good for her as it felt for him? Would she breathe as heavy as he was now? Would she pant and whisper his name?

“A-ah...”

He panted lewdly, pleasuring himself with these thoughts. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

He laid on his back on the bed. His body seemed to know what to do without thinking about it. He kept his eyes closed as his free hand snaked down his body to palm himself over his boxers. He rubbed himself through the fabric, his shallow breaths filling his ears. But to him it wasn't his hands, but hers; her soft, small hands touching him gently.

It was her delicate hands that slipped past the waistband of his boxers and gripped his length. It was her hands that stroked him slowly. She was there, whispering his name while he whispered hers. The more she stroked him, the shorter his breaths became. Each breath he took was filled with her scent. She consumed him, wrapping her essence around him, and filling his body with heat.

She stroked him faster as they kissed. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue past her lips as he’d seen couples do before. He could taste the cherries and vanilla on her tongue, as sweet as they were in the milkshake they’d shared. She moaned his name in her mouth, driving him crazy.

“Ha..-ahh. ahaa...”

More, he thought. All he could think about was how he wanted more. More of her scent, more of her touch, more of her.

Her hands became wet with his slick, gliding up and down his length with vigor. His body was overtaken with a foreign sensation, buzzing through his body, collecting where he wanted to be touched the most. The faster she stroked him, the better he felt. She felt good, so so good.

“H-Ha...-haaaa...(y/n)...”

He wanted to say her name over and over. He wanted to shout it, loud enough for the heavens to hear. He didn’t care if God heard him. He wanted God and the angels to hear so they would know how she made him feel. He was overwhelmed by love and lust for her. He wanted them to know that his body was hers and he willingly gave it to her. He wanted to touch her, please her, feel her.

His eyes clenched shut. Her hands pumped his twitching length excitedly, the buzzing heat collecting at his center. His legs began to shake, his back arching from the bed. Lavender and vanilla, that’s what he smelled as his vision blurred and the buzzing heat tingling in his core burst and was replaced with a cool wave of overwhelming pleasure.

His body trembled, somehow coated in a thin layer of sweat despite the room being cold. He stayed still, laying in silence as he let his body calm. When he finally opened his eyes, he half expected to see her hovering over him with that playful smile on her face, only to be met with the rotting rafters of his ceiling.

He sighed through his nose. Once the euphoric cloud in his mind cleared, shame and regret replacing his lusty desire, he moved from his bed to the sink across the room. He turned the knob and a low stream of water fell from the faucet. Taking the dingy rag that rested on the sink’s bowl, he wet it, using it to clean up his mess. As he wiped himself, he wondered if that was what sex was like. He never touched himself like that before, though he wanted to many times. Now that he had, the answer to his question was clear. Sins were just pleasures he was being denied. 

He returned to his bed, burying himself beneath the covers. He took the handkerchief back into his hand and held it by his face as he slept on his side. His eyes grew heavy, the scent of lavender slowly drifting him to sleep. A passing thought in his mind wondered if this is what it would feel like to sleep by her side. He would do anything to just hold her once, to lie on her chest and listen to the sounds of her breathing.

That was his last thought before falling asleep.

Several days would pass since the last time he saw her. They would be long, dreary days spent in the chapel. It snowed relentlessly for three days, making it impossible to venture out. During that time, he would clean and help Chastity serve meals to the orphans that sought refuge from the streets. The day when the snow finally ceased to fall, Mary Lou tasked him with shoveling the street in front of the chapel while she took Modesty and Chastity into town.

It was once he finished shoveling that he realized he had the rest of the day for himself. He pondered staying in the house for a moment, but quickly threw the idea. He couldn’t bear another minute in that house. Instead, he went on a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this when he had the time. He would walk aimlessly just to get away. He only could afford to when his mother left him alone.

Today, Credence found himself at Central Park. It was no surprise that the park was packed. The low temperatures of the past week allowed the lake to freeze over, thick enough for people to skate on. Men, women, and children scattered across the area. Carolers were singing Christmas songs and street vendors peddled treats. It was a pleasant and lively scene.

He had almost forgotten that Christmas was so soon. He’d been so caught up with his duties it had slipped his mind. He liked Christmas, even though he didn’t celebrate it the way most people do. His mother forced him and his siblings to attend church on Christmas Day. But he could appreciate what others did on Christmas. He liked seeing the kids play in the snow, showing off their new toys. He liked the idea of parents spending time with their children by the fire. He even liked listening to Christmas songs that would play on repeat outside the record store.

Credence watched the people as he walked through the park. He liked to imagine himself in their place. Sometimes he was a kid playing fetch with his dog. Sometimes he was a woman making snow angels, or a man building a snowman. Right now, he was the man of a couple skating on the ice, holding hands with his partner. The pair laughed as they spun in circles, occasionally grasping at each other’s arms when they slipped.

He was too busy projecting he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. Like any other creature, he was susceptible to attack. He flinched as he felt icy-cold pellets burst against the back of his head. He heard a sharp gasp not far behind him, followed by a heap of childish giggles. Credence turned around, expecting to see a group of devious looking children. Imagine his surprise when he saw her standing ten feet away from him with a group of children looking incredibly guilty.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry, Bunny! I was aiming for your shoulder, I swear!”

“(y/n)?” He muttered in disbelief.

How did she always appear in the least expected places? He stared her down as she rushed towards him. Today she was wearing a heavy, brown fur-lined coat and a green cloche hat that matched her boots. When she reached him, her hands immediately reached behind his head to dust the remaining remnants of her snowball from his hair.

She looked at him apologetically. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I feel like a total gink,” she pouted.

His cheeks burst into flames. The position she put him in had her chest brushing pressing against his as her hands brushed through his hair. At this angle he could see how neatly curled her hair was under her cap, falling in styled swirls around her face. Her swollen nose was red from the cold. Her breath that smelled distinctly of coffee beans warmed his cheeks.

Credence’s expression softened, a faint smile ghosting his lips. She was still apologizing to him, frantically brushing snow from his hair and shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said in hopes to calm her. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. Her head lulled forward, hiding her face in his chest. “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” He heard her muffled voice say.

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously licked his lips. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. He reached a dithering hand to grasp hers and rubbed the back of her gloved hand with his thumb.

“I’m not angry,” he assured her.

(y/n) lifted her head from his shoulders to meet his eyes, searching for any sign of irritation. “Are you sure? You can get me back, if you want.”

Credence nodded his head. “I’m sure.”

She believed him this time, her relief washing over her face. “I really am sorry,” she said one final time. “I just saw you walking past by chance and I wanted to surprise you.”

“I was surprised!” He said a bit too excitedly.

This made her laugh and playfully push his shoulder. Her laugh alone was enough to put a smile on his face, one that made dimples appear on his cheeks. He felt her hand firmly grasp his, holding it properly.

“Why aren’t you wearing your new coat and gloves?” She asked. “Don’t you like them?”

Credence had forgotten he wasn’t wearing the coat you got him. He couldn’t, not without his mother seeing it. If she knew about the coat—if she knew about him seeing you—she would be furious. He kept the coat (y/n) had given him hidden with the rest of the precious things she gave him. He wore the old navy blue coat out that Mary Lou had recently acquired and given to him. It wasn’t nearly as warm or stylish as the coat (y/n)  had gotten for him, but it was enough for the winter, and it was the only thing he could wear in front of his mother.

“I do like them,” he answered. “I was afraid of ruining it. I don’t want to wear it out too much.”

It was the best excuse he could think of at the time, and after mulling over it for a brief moment, she seemed to accept it. She then told him that, if he did end up damaging his new coat, she would simply buy him another, and spoke no more of it.

She nodded towards the lake behind him. “Did you come here to skate?”

Credence looked back to the lake. “Oh, no,” he said. “I never learned.”

Another gasp left her lips. “You’ve never been ice-skating before?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’ve got to fix that, now don’t we?” She reckoned.

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d already left his side. He looked in all directions until he saw her talking to an older couple sitting on a mess of picnic blankets under a tree. It appeared she’d asked him a question because their answer was a shake of their head. She waved goodbye to them before walking off to pursue another person, who gave the same answer. He watched her do this a few times around a small area of the park with no luck. At one point, she stood in the middle of the snow pondering while she scanned the area. Curious, Credence walked up to her.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Looking,” she replied simply.

Her squinted eyes panned across the park, her lips pursed as though she were thinking very hard about something.

“Ah!” She shouted, a triumphant smile stretching across her lips. She turned to Credence and winked. “Follow my lead.”

She walked down a small hill towards a small group of children who were playing in the snow at the bottom. Credence followed a few steps behind.

“Hey, kiddos,” She waved.

The kids stopped what they were doing to look up at her. She waved her hands towards her, beckoning them over. The children shared confused looks, before cautiously making their way towards her. She squatted down Asian style to meet their eyes. Credence stayed a couple of feet away, but he could still make out what was being said.

“Can you keep a secret?” He heard (y/n) ask the children.

The kids nodded and hummed in confirmation. (y/n) grinned.

“You see my friend over there?” She pointed behind her, directing the children’s attention to Credence. “He’s never been ice-skating before!”

The children snickered whispered teasingly among themselves. Credence looked away, embarrassed to be taunted by children. (y/n) giggled with them and easily brought back their attention.

“I really want to teach him,” She revealed once their jeering ceased. “But he’s so silly, he forgot to bring a pair of skates.”

“That is silly!” One of the little girls yelled.

(y/n) looked between Credence and the children. “Now, I see you have a pair of skates.” Sure enough, there were a pair of skates laying in the snow where the kids were once playing, far too big to fit on their small feet.

“Do they belong to any of you?” (y/n) asked.

“No,” The little girl shook her head. “They were already there.”

“We think someone left them by mistake,” An older boy chimed in.

“I see,” (y/n) hummed. “Do you think I can take them for my friend, then?”

“But we was gonna use ‘em! We saw them first!” A small blond boy frowned. (y/n) looked at the boy and flashed her kindest smile.

“Oh, were you now? How about I just borrow them? I’ll bring them right back to you, I pinky promise!” She held out her pinky for him to take. The boy looked at her hand in front of him. He lifted his hand and stretched out his pinky.

“I guess that’s okay...” He mumbled through puffed red cheeks.

(y/n) hooked hers around the boy. “Aren’t you sweet?” She affectionately pat the top of his head. “I hope my kid will be as kind as you are.”

The boy blushed and swat her hand away from his head, adjusting his hat. “Whatever, Lady!” The blond boy ran away, the rest of the children chased after him with childish taunts.

(y/n) chuckled and rose back to her feet. She walked up to where the skates were laying and picked them off the ground before making her way back to Credence’s side.

“Are you ready?” She asked excitedly.

Credence shrugged his shoulders, still processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. (y/n) scoffed and rolled her eyes, forcibly taking Credence’s hand.

“Just come on,” she groaned as she dragged him towards the lake.

When they reached the edge of the ice, she handed him the skates and ordered him to strap them onto his boots. Credence did as he was told and sat down on the nearest bench, securely strapping the skates onto his shoes. After (y/n) had double-checked to make sure they were on right, she held out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it, using her to find his balance. When he stood to his feet his ankles wobbled, disrupting his balance.

(y/n) gripped his arm tightly to keep him from falling. “Careful,” she warned.

He held on to her as she guided him to the lake. She stepped on the ice with ease. She grabbed his other hand and helped him step on the ice. Immediately after his skates touched the ice, his heart raced.

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” his voice fluttered anxiously.

“You’re okay, I got you,” she promised.

She pulled him further out onto the ice, still clasping his hands. Credence gripped her hands for dear life while silently trying to figure out how it was he ended up in this position.

Other skaters flew past them as he stumbled on the ice like a baby deer. (y/n) didn’t give up on teaching him. No matter how many times he slipped or tripped, she was always there to catch and pick him back up when he fell. Eventually, he got the hang of it. He started balancing himself on his own, gliding somewhat smoothly without having to hold on to her. It didn’t take long for him to relax and reciprocate her playful activities.

(y/n) eventually stepped off the ice, giving him the space to skate on his own. She watched him fondly, taking in the smile glowing on his face. He went around in circles, almost bumping into others a few times, but he directed himself easily. She would say he was a natural.

He went on like that for a while as she watched. When he’d had enough, he made his way back to the edge of the lake where she stood.

“Was that fun?” She asked when he skated towards her. Credence nodded his head and smiled bashfully. She helped him stop by taking his outstretched hands. 

“You’re a fast learner. I’m kind of jealous. I didn’t get the hang of skating until I was twelve,” she brooded jokingly. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” he said as he stepped back on the snow. 

They walked towards the bench, and Credence sat down to take off his skates. (y/n) stayed standing. “There’s a vendor selling treats across the street,” she told him. “Why don’t you give those skates back to the kids while I get us something to drink?”

“But––” Credence tried to protest, not having the courage or social skills to approach a group of children. It was quickly ignored, however, for (y/n) had already made up her mind, and began walking to the street. 

“I’ll be right back!” She said as she left him alone on the bench. 

Credence looked around, silently doubting his ability to find the kids. His eyes scanned the park until they landed on a group of children having a snowball fight. He recognized one of the children as the bratty boy (y/n) convinced to let them borrow the skates. 

He reluctantly got up from the bench and walked over to the children, skates in hand. The closer he got, the louder their shouting laughter became. Most of the children were boys between the ages of seven and thirteen, but three girls around their age had gained their friendship. One girl stayed off to the sidelines watching the others play. He recognized her as well.

“Excuse me... little girl?” He called. The little girl turned around and held out the skates. “Here.”

The girl took them and smiled. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked behind him, frowning when she saw nothing there. “Where’s that nice lady?”

Credence pointed across the street towards the street vendor where (y/n) was patiently waiting in line. “She should be back,” he told her.

“I like her!” said the girl. “She’s very pretty, like a princess!”

This made him smile. It made him happy to know others, even children, saw her the way he did. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She is.”

The little girl looked at Credence, noting the soft smile on his face as he watched you. “Do you like her or something?” She probed unexpectedly. 

“Uh... I...?” Credence struggled to find the words to say. It's not that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he hadn’t expected to be asked that question. Especially not from an eight-year-old girl. Were his feelings that transparent? Did you know how he felt too?

The little girl didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I think she likes you,” she told him, surprising him for the second time.

Credence flushed pink. “Really?”

The small girl reached her hand to pat Credence's arm and imitated the look of someone wise beyond her years. “Trust me. Women know these things.”

Oddly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit hopeful despite the words coming from a child. He never felt about anyone the way he felt about her. The way he is when he’s with her—the way he talks to her and touches her—he can only be that way with her because he likes her. He could never be that way with anyone else. But he always felt that, for her, it was different. Seeing her interact with others like the children, the waitress, Raül—even Edmund—made him realize that she was kind to everyone. She didn’t treat him that way because she liked him. She treated him that way because that’s just the kind of person she was.

“Hey, kiddos!” (y/n)’s voice caught his attention. Both Credence and the girl looked up to see her holding a cardboard box of steaming paper cups. “I got something for you!”

The children playing heard her too and ceased their fight to run towards her. They circled her like a litter of puppies, excitedly asking what she was holding.

She lowered the box for them to see, showing off cups filled with light brown liquid. “For letting us borrow the skates. Be careful though, it's hot!”

The kids yelled enthusiastically as she began handing them each a cup. Credence walked to her side to help her.

“What is it?” He asked.

(y/n) frowned. “Hot chocolate. Have you never had hot chocolate before?”

He shook his head, causing her to gasp.

“I wish I had known sooner!” She pouted. “I got this is from a vendor across the street. I could have gotten better hot chocolate with marshmallows at a cafe a block from here.”

“I think it’s delicious!” The little girl interjected. 

(y/n) smiled down at her. “Well, if you think so, then it must be.”

Credence ended up being the one to give the bratty boy his cup of hot chocolate. (y/n) watched him as he drank it greedily. 

“What about you?” She asked him. “Do you like it too?”

“It’s pretty good, I guess,” he said, trying his hardest to sound indifferent, but it was hard to take him seriously with the chocolate mustache on his lips.

(y/n) laughed and took his cheek between her fingers, pinching them gently. “Gosh, you’re so darn cute! Do you have a big sister already? I can be yours, if you want. I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

The boy blushed and pulled his face away from her hand. “Lady, you’re crazy!”

He threw his empty cup on the ground stormed off angrily. The other children finished their cups and handed them back to her nicely before running off too, leaving her and Credence alone. 

“What did I say?” She mumbled to herself.

Credence couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was nice seeing her tease someone else for a change. 

“Maybe he already has a sister,” he answered sarcastically.  

(y/n) scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, just drink your cocoa,” she chuckled after handing him a cup. 

The two threw away the empty cups and cardboard box in a nearby trashcan. (y/n) suggested they take a walk around the park and talk. She asked him if he liked the hot chocolate, to which he answered yes. She then asked which he liked better: vanilla milkshakes or hot chocolate. He told her milkshakes. They talked like this for a while. Occasionally she would ask about his family and what he liked to do at home. He didn’t give her many satisfying answers, but that didn’t stop her from prodding.

“So, did you give up on hunting witches?” She asked.

Credence swallowed another sip of his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t carry around flyers anymore. Did you give up?”

“Oh. No, it’s not that,” he said. “I don’t think my mother will ever give up on exposing witches. It’s just that right now she’s kind of stuck.”

“Stuck? Stuck how?”

“She wanted to speak at the church to let everyone know about what she’d seen, but the priest, Father Blackwell, wouldn’t allow it.”

“I know Father Blackwell,” she told him.

Credence perked up. “You do?”

“Yes! My father is a big supporter of the church. Personally, I identify as agnostic, so I don’t go to church with him unless it’s for a holiday like Easter or Christmas. I wonder if you’ve seen him. Not that you could miss him. He’s a rather large man,” she joked.

“Does he wear a white suit?” Credence asked, remembering the stocky man talking with Father Blackwell the last time he visited the church.

(y/n) grinned and nodded excitedly. “That’s his Sunday suit! He has four of them. For some reason, he only likes wearing cream-colored suits on Sundays.”

“I have seen him,” he admits.

“Small world!” She exclaimed. “Well, anyways, I can definitely tell my father to put in a good word for your mother to Father Blackwell.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course! Better yet, why don’t we go right now?”

“N-Now?” Credence gaped.

“It’s Wednesday, they have a service tonight. Father Blackwell will be there, and I can try to convince him to let your mother have a set this Sunday!

“But what about your father?”

“We might not need him. I know Father Blackwell well enough. He might be swayed on my word alone. It won’t hurt to try,” she explained.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Come with me, my car is just a short walk from here!” She grabbed his free hand and directed him towards the street where she’d parked her car. 

After they reached the car, she drove him to the church. It was a short fifteen-minute drive from Central Park. It was still too early for the service to start, but when they entered the church, a few people were sitting in the pews praying. An older woman was playing the organ at the altar while Deacon Ripley read scriptures from the Bible. He stopped only stopped when he noticed the two walking down the aisle. 

“Oh, God,” Credence heard (y/n) mutter under her breath. “Not this clown again.”

He wasn’t used to you outwardly showing your distaste for someone; you were always so nice. But considering it was Deacon Ripley, it wasn’t too surprising. 

He was a cunt.

As they came closer, Ripley marked the passage he’d finished reading and closed the Bible. 

“Miss (l/n),” he called her name with a sneer. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to speak with Father Blackwell,” she replied coldly. It was the first time Credence had ever heard her use such a tone. 

Ripley frowned, taking a step down from the podium. “What business could you have with him?”

(y/n)’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “My business with him would be his business and mine, so why would I tell you our business if it isn’t your business to begin with?”

Her witty remark clearly got under Ripley’s skin. His frown deepened and splotches of red began appearing under his grey skin. He didn’t get the chance to respond before Father Blackwell stopped him. 

“Give it a rest, Ripley.” Father Blackwell had come out from the door to his office. He moved between Ripley and (y/n), and held out his hand for her. “(y/n), it’s lovely to see you. It’s been a while. A year, I think?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Don’t be silly, Father. You saw me earlier this year, remember? For my parent’s Easter party.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he nodded, chuckling softly. “Must’ve slipped my mind. What brings your here, child?”

 “Ah, yes, about that...” (y/n) eyed Ripley. “Can we speak somewhere private, just the two of us?” 

“I don’t see why not. Step into my office.”

(y/n) turned to Credence and gave him a reassuring smile before following Father Blackwell to his office and disappearing behind the heavy door. Credence could feel Ripley’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. He obviously wanted to say something to him. 

“Seeing that godless woman walk through God’s doors was not something I expected to see today,” he began, excited to get his two cents in.  “But I must admit, seeing you by her side surprises me more. I didn’t realize you two were so close”

What was his problem? Why did he hate her so much? Then Credence remembered what she said to him in the park. Could that be why Ripley hated her? Because she didn’t believe in the church? No, it had to be something else. His pointed anger felt too personal.  

“We’re not really,” Credence answered. “I only just met her.”

“So you say.” Ripley circled him. “I wonder... Does your mother know about you and Miss (l/n)?”

If there’s one thing Credence hated about Ripley, it was his talent for stirring up trouble. His hobby of collecting and relaying gossip often caused spouts within the church. Credence fell victim to this twice before, each time resulting in a beating from his mother. He had to be careful with what he says to Ripley because he will most definitely relay it to his mother if he thinks it will cause conflict. 

“She does,” he lied as best he could. 

Ripley raised his brows. “Really? I never took her for the kind of woman who would allow her son to stroll the streets alone with such... unholy company. If there’s one kind of person Mary Lou hates, it’s women like her.”

Credence frowned. “What do you mean by ‘women like her’?”

“Don’t you know? Not only does she not accept the Christian God, but she fully denounced him. Instead of saving her divine feminine for holy matrimony, she committed salacious acts with various men that would make the Virgin Mary cry.”

Credence fell silent. So this was the reason. The malicious smirk on Ripley’s cracked lips proved that he couldn’t wait to tell him what he knew. 

“Oh my,” Ripley sighed. “I suppose you didn’t know.”

Credence clenched his fist. He could feel his body vibrating with heat. He was so angry. How dare he speak about her that way? How dare he disrespect her? Spread rumors about her? Was gossip not a sin?  Who was he to degrade and scrutinize her?

So what if she did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what he thought about her. It didn’t change how he felt about her. But hearing such demeaning words come from Ripley's mouth made his blood boil. 

There were times where Credence would get like this. It wasn’t often, but when he did, his mind would think dark, violent thoughts. They build up in his head until anger and rage blinded him. He wanted to say something—do something. He probably would have too, if her voice hadn’t rung in his ears, immediately calming his nerves and the growing anger inside him. 

“Credence, I did it!” 

He saw you rushing excitedly towards him with a big smile on your face. You came up to him, grabbed both of his hands, shaking them wildly. 

“Tell your mother that she can speak this Sunday at the end of the service!”

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat. His tightened chest released the tension it was holding and his hands unclenched to hold hers. Looking into her shining (e/c) eyes made all his violent thoughts disappear as if they were never there. 

He blinked a few times, already forgetting how upset he’d just been. “H-How?”

“Magic,” she winked. 

She hooked her arm around his and began walking him back down the aisle to the exit. “Do you want me to drive you home?” She asked, looking up at him.

Credence smiled, Ripley’s taunting comments fleeing his memory. “Yes.”

The drive took longer than expected. There had been an accident on Manhattan Avenue that detoured them to Harlem. Credence didn’t mind it. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. Driving through Harlem was an experience in itself. He’d never been past the Upper East Side. Harlem was a lively neighborhood. People played music and danced in the streets despite the cold. Murals lined the walls, and there was a hopping joint around every corner. Credence looked out the window in silent awe, taking in everything he saw. 

“Have you never been here before?” (y/n) asked, noticing his astonishment. 

“No,” he told her truthfully. “It’s really nice.”

“You know, I used to live here,” she revealed.

That, he found hard to believe. His doubt must have been visible on his face because she laughed and shook her head. 

“What? You don’t believe me? It’s true, I swear! I wasn’t always like... Well, we didn’t always live in Kings Point.”

Having something to prove, Credence watched as she made a sudden turn, off course from where they were heading. The townhouses they passed were tall, skinny, and faintly worn down. The further they drove from the commercial streets, the quieter it became. They rounded about four blocks before turning into a barren street. Some houses were completely dark, while others had lights in their windows. The car slowed to a stop in front of one of the dark houses. It wasn’t terribly worn, but chipping blue paint covered the exterior and there were cracks in the brick fence that protected it. 

(y/n) parked the car and moved to get out. Credence did the same, opening the door and stepping onto the pavement. (y/n) came to his side and eyed the house. 

“This was my house,” she spoke after a while. “I lived here until I was nine.”

She walked up to the gate and pointed at the mailbox inside it. Faded letters that spelled her last name were imprinted on the stone from where a sign used to be. He tried to imagine her living it; it was almost comical. He only knew her to wear mink coats and designer clothes. He’d only pictured her living in a palace—somehow it felt fitting. Imagining her in such a small house and living an average life didn’t seem right. But perhaps that’s why she kept surprising him.

“No one lives here now. Sometimes I come back just to look around and remember as much about the place as I can.”

Credence walked to her side. “What do you remember?”

A smile fluttered on her lips. “I remember chasing my brothers around the house. We sat by the fire during the winter while my father read us stories and my mother knitted blankets and scarves. I learned how to ride a bike right on this street!” She looked down at the cracked pavement. “We were happier, I think.”

“Are you not happy now?”

(y/n) looked up at Credence and flushed. “I am! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just...” She sighed. “Now that my father has his own architect firm, he’s been so busy I rarely see him anymore. My mother and I were never really close, and it’s pretty easy for us to avoid each other in such a big house. I don’t know... Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it.”

“What about your brothers?” asked Credence. “You seem close.”

“We are,” she smiled. “We always had each other, and most of the time it was enough. Even when Aaron left to study at Oxford, Channing paid extra attention to me. Still, I want us all to be as close as we were.”

He could sympathize with that. Blood-related or not, Modesty and Chastity were his sisters. They’d been through a lot together, and that was enough for him. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a close relationship with a parent, having never had one in the first place—but he figured that’s what made it worse. 

“Anyway,” she elbowed him playfully. “D’you believe me now?”

Credence nodded. She chuckled softly, taking his hand and guiding him back to the car. They continued the rest of their drive uninterrupted. It was relatively quiet aside from the few comments she made along the way. By the time they reached Pike Street, it had started to snow again. It wasn’t heavy like the days before. The snowflakes fell slowly and softly, fluttering down gracefully on the window-shield. 

The care halted to a stop on the street corner. (y/n) turned to Credence, who was already looking at her. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.”

She smiled and looked down at her hands. “You don’t need to thank me,” she blushed. “I was happy to.”

“Still, I want to. Thank you, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

They regrettably said their goodbyes, something Credence hated doing because he was never sure when he’d see her again. He stepped out of the car and onto the icy street, turning to wave goodbye at her one last time before watching her drive off down and disappear behind the buildings once she rounded the corner. Credence turned on his heels and walked back to the snow-covered chapel. His feet dragged behind him to stall his arrival. He walked up the creaking steps to the door and opened it lackadaisically. 

He began stripping himself of his outerwear when he noticed another presence in the room. He looked to the stairs and found his mother, Mary Lou, sitting there. Her icy blue eyes bore into his skull. Credence got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, a vestigial remnant of primal instinct that signified impending danger. 

“Hello, Mother...” He said upon seeing her. She didn't respond. She only looked at him in a way that made him increasingly nervous. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I have some good news.” His mouth began moving before he could think. “Father Blackwell said he would let you speak this Sunday. It’s towards the end of service, and he is only giving us three minutes to speak, but that’s better than nothing, right?”

“Did your jezebel tell you that?” She spoke dangerously.

Credence’s body tensed. “What are you talking about, mother?” He asked, fearful he already knew the answer.

Mary Lou opened her hand to reveal the pink handkerchief. His stomach dropped as she threw the cloth down at his feet. Mary Lou rose from the stairs, her heels thumping loudly as she climbed down.

“I saw you at the cathedral, Credence. You and your little harlot,” she said as she walked towards him. “I was on my way to speak with Father Blackwell when I saw the two of you skip outside with her clinging to your arm.”

Credence kept his head down, staring at the handkerchief by his feet. Mary Lou circled him like a vulture ready to pick at a rotting carcass.

“I always knew your flesh was weak... but I didn’t know all it took was a pair of big (e/c) eyes to make you fall from grace.”

“Mother, I—” The sound of her heavy hand slapping across his face cut his sentence short, sending him to the ground. 

“Silence!” She ordered. Credence felt tears prickling behind his eyes. He stared at the handkerchief lying pathetically on the floor. Mary Lou’s pointed black shoe came into his view and stepped on the delicate silk. Mary Lou was never one to yell, that’s what made her anger so much more terrifying. She spoke barely above a whisper, in a sickeningly sweet and proper tone, the cruel words that left her thin lips.

“The worst part of it is: you tried to hide it from me. You knew what you were doing was a sin. You knew that God was watching, and you did it anyway.”

“Mother, it’s not what you think,” Credence said through his strained tears. “I didn’t touch her!”

“Don’t lie to me, Credence, I saw the way you looked at her!” Mary Lou seethed. “You think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking in late? That I wouldn’t smell the perfume on your clothes?”

Credence fell silent, realizing that denial was futile. It didn’t matter what he said. Mary Lou had already set her mind about his relationship with (y/n). He knew it was too good to be true. He had been happy for far too long. He should have expected it wouldn’t last. He always screwed everything up somehow. This was his own fault. He deserved this.

“You know what I have to do now, don’t you?” She whispered.

Credence did know. His heart thrashed in his chest, fear coursing through his veins. “Mother, please, don’t!” he begged feebly. “I won’t see her again, I promise!”

Mary Lou kneeled in front of Credence. Her hand reached up to lift his head. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, his vision blurred from his tears. They were unfeeling and as cold as the words that left her lips. 

“I know you won’t. We’ll make sure of that.”

More people die in winter than in any other season. That is a known fact. The blistering cold is more dangerous than the smoldering heat. During the winter, everything dies. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little.

“Credence?”

There was nothing worse than winter, he thought. There was nothing worse than being left in the cold, wet, nodding in and out of consciousness—somewhere between life and death. Maybe he was being dramatic. He’d survived this at least twice before. He will be allowed back home, eventually. He would be given a hot bath and warm clothes. He would be wrapped in a blanket and laid on his bed. He would be forgiven.

But, in this moment, he had no warmth. The clothes on his back were damp, sticking to his skin like icy sheets. His already pale skin looked almost as white as the blanket of snow that covered the city, save for the faint blue tint of his lips.

“Credence.”

At first he’d thought walking would make him warmer. Maybe if he moved his muscles, his body would produce what little heat it could. Thinking back on it now, it was a pretty stupid idea. If anything, it made it worse. The wind had picked up, and the snow fell faster than it was earlier. How long had he been out here? It could have been twenty minutes or an hour, he couldn’t tell. Time moves slower when you’re miserable. What he did know was that he had walked about four blocks from the chapel. He thought he might find a place, a warm place where he could sit and rid himself of the cold.

He’d try a tea shop, a restaurant, and a bookstore before giving up. No one would let him in. They were all closed early for the holiday season. He then became increasingly aware how late in the afternoon it was, and how much colder it would be once the sun finally set. And he would still be here, cowering in a filthy alleyway that smelled heavily of rotting food and urine.

“Credence!”

How did she always mange to find him? Her large eyes bore into his own, wide and unyielding. She was close enough that her short breaths gave him the first gust of heat he’d felt since he was thrown out of the chapel. Unlike before, it didn’t smell of coffee beans, but of the hot chocolate they had shared just hours before. If the sweet scent hadn’t filled his nose, he would have sworn she was a hallucination. This was the last place he’d expect to see her. Yet, she always had a knack for turning up in places he’d least suspect. Regardless of what she always said, it felt a little more than coincidence—something just shy of fate.

“What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” Her hands flew to his shoulders, her own body reacting to the lack of warmth jolted and shivered.

It was her kind eyes he liked the most. Her eyes had the greatest warmth, the kind that filled your chest whenever you looked at them. He could stare into them forever and never get cold. Her eyes are what he’d miss the most.

“You’re soaking wet! You’ll freeze half to death out here! Come to my car, It’ll warm you up.” She reached for his hand, but he would not give it to her.

“Go away.”

This he could not say while looking in her eyes. It would only make it harder. There was an unpleasant pause, one that continued for a second too long. Her voice, he would miss the sound of her voice as well. He wanted to remember it as best he could, even if the last words she would say to him were full of resentment.

“What?”

He turned his back to her, hiding his tears. He had to do this. It was bound to happen anyway. What was the point in watering a dead plant? The fantasy should have long since ended. It shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

“I’m fine. Just go away,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

But he wasn’t fine, and he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to follow her to the car, where she’d wrap him in the wool blanket she kept in the back seat, and she’d hold his hands to keep them warm.

She scoffed, her heels scuffing on the asphalt as she stepped back, exasperated. “Yeah, right, you’re one minute away from mummifying out here! Just get up and come with me!” She reached for him again, taking his hand. Her touch. He’ll miss her touch.

“No!” He jerked away from her gentle hands.

He didn’t need to see her face to know it hurt her. It hurt him just to say it. But he had to. He made a promise he had to keep. No matter how much it hurt. The next words to fall from his lips would be nothing but lies to mask the truth.

“I don’t need you.”

I do.

“I don’t need your help.”

Help me.

“I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Please don’t go.

Another pregnant silence. The lump in Credence’s throat was large enough to suffocate him. Every time he tried to swallow it down, it would grow bigger, prompting more tears to stain his cheeks.

“You don’t want to see me anymore?” She repeated. Her voice was as cold and steady as the snow that fell around them.

Everything dies in winter. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little. The sound of her heels knocking on the asphalt faded along with her warmth. He’d call out to her if he wasn’t a coward. He would tell her the truth and beg for her forgiveness if he had the strength. But when he couldn’t smell lavenders or vanilla, or feel her unwavering warmth, he knew that it was too late. She was gone.

He fell to the ground, burying his head in his knees to muffle his pained cries. The icy ground didn’t phase him. He felt nothing but the ache in his chest and the swell of his throat. He wondered if that pain would ever go away. Could he continue on like this? With the feeling that a part of him had been taken?

He unclenched his fist, revealing frayed pink fabric; the stitched golden letters staring back at him mockingly. It was the only surviving piece of the handkerchief his mother burned. He’d picked it from the ashes before she threw him out on the streets. The smell of ash and smoke dulled the scent of lavender and vanilla it once carried. But, if he focused hard enough, he could still smell the traces of her perfume. For now, it will be enough.

He sat in the alleyway until the early night sky replaced the setting sun. He would sit and listen to the passing cars and pedestrians in silence, until he could no longer feel the fabric in his hands, or the sting of his aching muscles. His swollen eyes grew heavy, barely staying open longer than a second. He closed them, letting his body relax and fade slowly into nothingness.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, he stayed curled in the alleyway, unaware of his surroundings. Unaware that a car had parked outside the alley entrance. Ignorant to the footsteps that neared his meek form and the shadow that loomed over him. He was oblivious to it all until he felt a weight on his head and shoulders. He pried his eyes open to find himself wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

A dainty (s/c) hand opened for him, tempting him to take it; his saving grace.

“I’m not going to leave you like this. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

Her eyes weren’t angry. They weren’t cold or full of resentment. They were as kind and warm as they always had been, perhaps even more. Her rosy lips held a gentle smile just for him.

“You don’t have to see me again after tonight,” she concurred. “But I need you to get in the car. Please, Credence. Just one more night, then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Had it been anyone else, he would have refused. The hold his mother had on him was stronger than the yearnings of his heart. His fear of her would keep him from acting on his desires—what he truly wanted. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. But now, with her hand outstretched for him to take, there was no nagging fear pulling him away. No voice in the back of his head vilifying him from acting on his whims. Because, for the first time, someone had heard what he didn’t dare to say aloud. For the first time, someone cared. 

Had it been anyone one else, he wouldn’t have taken their hand. He wouldn’t have stood from the frozen ground or walked towards their car. Anyone else, and he wouldn’t have gotten inside and felt the heat melt his frozen muscles. If it was anyone but her, he would still be wasting away in the freezing, damp alleyway. 

“Just try to relax and get warm,” she told him as they drove off. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He was far too tired. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was falling asleep. His head rested on the window, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. She took his hand that rested in his lap. It was cold to the touch, like ice, as if no blood coarsed through his veins. 

She refused to let go, instead she held it tighter. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

If he wasn’t already drifting to sleep, he would have asked where she was taking him, but his eyes refused to open, and his lips would not open to pose the question. Instead he let the motion and hum of the car lull him to sleep. 

New York City was known for many things: its gigantic skyscrapers, the lively scene, the people. But it was easy for tourists to see what the locals could not. New York City was by no means as glorious as its reputation would like you to believe. Everything great about it was reserved for people who could afford it. Shopping, clubbing, broadway, the cinema; it was all novelty. The grit of New York City was something the average New Yorker would like to escape. If the city was as great as it was made out to be, then why did the wealthy live upstate in their palatial mansions? It’s because beyond the smog and stench of the city was fresh air, and acres of woodlands and grasslands to admire. 

That’s all Credence could see when he opened his eyes from what felt like a year’s rest. From the passenger window he could make out the shadows of tall, snow covered maples and oak trees rushing past. The road was long and winding, twisting through the scenic route with ease. 

Beyond the trees, he could make out the orange lights of houses drawing near. It wasn’t long before the trees were replaced by vast mansions with plunging yards, overly decorated for the holiday season. The drowsy fog had barely lifted from his mind to take in such a foreign sight. As his mind awoke, so did the rest of his senses. He became aware of his body, and how it was no longer cold and wet. He could feel his blood circulating in his hands and feet, allowing them to move and wiggle as he pleased. His nose was no longer stuffed, and the numbness in his face had left. 

Taking a peak through the corner of his eye, he saw her; her eyes focused on the road. The light from the passing mansions cast shadows over her features. She was otherwise relaxed, if it weren't for the faint wrinkle of her forehead, the kind that appeared when she was deep in thought. He was too afraid to say anything. Even if he wasn't, he wouldn’t know what to say. Things had happened so suddenly, he couldn’t keep up.

Instead, he kept silent and watched the houses roll by as she drove. Trapped in his thoughts, he began to realize just where she was taking him. He didn’t know why she thought to bring him here, or what she planned to do, but he concluded she was taking him to her home. He’d never been to Kings Point before and he never imagined going within his lifetime, but he could say with confidence that it did not disappoint.

Kings Point was exactly how he imagined it, save for a few minor details. Under different circumstances he would be awestricken, but tonight he didn’t have the energy for it. All he had the energy to do was count the mansions they passed in his head. It was better than thinking of the events that lead him there.

He counted seventeen pompous manors before the car’s speed gradually reduced to a cruise. He watched as a large manor with swooping gable roofs and multiple chimneys came into view. An untouched layer of snow blanketed its long front yard. Windows were plentiful, all of which were lit with those distinct orange lights.

The car pulled into the long driveway, normally protected by a gate, but tonight that gate was left open, allowing them to drive through with ease. As they drove closer to the main manor, he could see the two other sprawling houses that surrounded a large courtyard highlighting a marble fountain.

When the car came upon the front of the manor, there was a man in a black tailcoat tuxedo waiting for them. The car came to a stop, and the man came around the hood to the driver’s door.

“Miss (y/n), welcome home,” he said as he opened the door. (y/n) thanked him, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the scalloped cobblestone.  

When the door closed behind her, leaving Credence inside. The two were clearly conversing, presumably about him. She would steal a glance at him through the window a few times while she spoke. The man, who he could now see was no longer in his youth, only nodded compliantly. When the two seemed to come to an understanding, (y/n) walked around to his side of the car, opening it for him to step out.

“Follow me,” She said, taking his hand.

She wasted no time pulling him from his seat and leading him off to some side entrance of the manor. The door they entered was smaller than the wide, double-doors he saw at the front entrance. Inside was just as grand as the outside. The door they took lead to a kitchen as big as the chapel he lived in. Currently, it was packed with chefs prepping large platters of food and servers organizing the trays.

(y/n) clasped his hand tightly as they bulldozed their way through the kitchen. She apologized to the passing help, weaving her way through to the door that stood on the opposite end of the room. Credence kept his head low, allowing her to guide him. Once they reached the adjacent door, she pushed her way through, pulling him down a hallway that he could see led to a set of stairs.

They were rushing down the hall when they passed a side room they didn’t realize was occupied. Their footsteps prompted the voice of a woman to call out into the hall.

“(y/n), honey, you’re back already?”

(y/n) stopped in her tracks, cursing under her breath. She held her finger up to her lips, telling Credence to stay quiet.

“Yes.” She answered.

The woman called out again. “I thought the shops would be busy today.”

“They were.��

“Well, did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment’s pause before the woman spoke again.

“Alright,” she said. “Don’t go picking at the food in the kitchen! You’ll just have to wait until tonight like everyone else!”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Alright, Mom.”

She signaled for Credence to continue walking towards the staircase as her mother continued to talk from the room.

“And once you put your gifts away, come back and help me finish arranging the poinsettias in the foyer!”

“I will!” She yelled back while pulling Credence up the stairs.

She practically dragged him down the upstairs hall and pushed him into a room, closing the door behind them. That flowery scent that was distinctly hers immediately overtook his senses. The wide, circular room was lit up by various lamps and a sparkling chandelier made of iridescent crystals that hung at its centre. The dark wood panelling of the walls contrasted the rosy accents: blush pink art deco wallpaper, tall white drapes that covered balcony doors, the various mix-match carpets that covered the wood floor like patchwork. The broad circular bed enclosed in a silky white canopy sat against the wall next to a small fireplace. On the other side was a door he assumed led to a bathroom.

(y/n) stood awkwardly by a three-mirror vanity, bashfully fiddling with a silver hairbrush. She’d shed her coat.  

“Sorry about her,” she muttered. “She gets like this around the holidays.”

It was overwhelming, being in her room. He’d barely had a moment to register all that was happening. Now that he had the chance to breathe, his anxiety got the better of him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be in the city, on his knees begging his mother to forgive him, not miles away in King’s Point; and definitely not in her bedroom.  

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here—”

“You promised me, Credence,” she interjected, silencing him. “Please... Just let me have tonight.”

He clenched his jaw, turning his head to stare at the wall. It was better than looking in her eyes. He heard her move from the vanity. The sound of a cabinet being opened caught his attention. She had an armoire of her own, though hers was grander than his. It towered over her, composed of white and gold painted wood. From inside, she retrieved a blueberry colored suit. Credence recognized it as the suit she eyed in the window the week before. 

“I got you something,” she said, placing the suit on the bed, along with a fresh pair of brown oxfords. “I know you told me not to... but I just couldn’t help myself.”

Credence walked to the edge of the bed, brushing the material with his fingers. She got this for him.  

She moved to a dresser, where she pulled a neatly folded white towel and cloth from the drawer. She walked back to his side, holding the towels out for him to take.

“There's a bathroom behind that door. You can take a bath and get yourself ready. I’ll come back once I’ve finished helping my mother.”

He took the towels from her hands, leaning towards the idea of a bath. His body still hadn’t completely warmed from the ride, and his clothes still stuck uncomfortably to his skin. She left him alone in her bedroom, closing the door behind her as she left.

Credence stayed by her bed even after she had left. He took the suit into his hands. The material was thick and soft. He could tell by the fine stitches it was of high quality, unlike the suit he currently wore. He collected the pants and shoes in his arms and walked to the bathroom door. Much like the bedroom, her bathroom was big. A porcelain bathtub resting on top of golden legs facing a large window that looked over one of the gardens. Credence walked across the mosaic floor and turned the knob of the tub. Hot water rushed from the faucet and filled the tub. Steam rose into the air, forging the mirror above the sink. He placed his clothes on a stool away from the tub so it wouldn’t get wet.

Stripping himself of his clothes, he dipped his foot into the warm water. Pleased by the feeling of the hot water heating his skin, he pulled the rest of his body into the tub and submerged himself until only his head remained above water. He sat in the water unmoving for a while with his eyes closed. The water relaxed his tense muscles, ridding his body of the prickling cold. As he sat there, resting his head against the edge of the tub, he thought about how long this would last. Why did she bring him here? 

Credence opened his eyes and found a rectangular bar of soap sitting on the tub’s edge. He lifted his hand from the water and took it, bringing it to his nose. Lavenders. 

He really shouldn’t be here. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that was sure something would go wrong. His mind went back to what she’d said. He promised her he would stay with her tonight. He supposed he did, even if he hadn't explicitly say the words ‘I promise’. Taking her hand was more than an answer. 

But he had made another promise—a promise to someone he never dared to disobey so brazenly. He promised he would never see her again, to wipe her from his life and pretend like she never existed. And yet, here he was, laying in her bathtub, washing himself with her soap, wearing the clothes she bought him, and standing in her room. 

Credence stared at himself in the mirror by the armoire, now dressed in the blueberry suit she’d given him. It fit perfectly, as though it were made for him. It probably was. The shoes on his feet were comfortable. At first, he didn’t think they would fit; they were much larger than the pair of shoes he always wore. But after he pulled his socks up and slid his foot inside, he realized it wasn't that the shoes were too big, but his were a size too small. He could walk in them without his toes uncomfortably pressing against the tip. His toes could breathe and soles of his feet didn’t ache with every step. 

He almost didn't recognize his reflection. It was like another person was staring at him in the mirror. He looked like one of the men he admired in Times Square. The handsome scholars who came down from The Eggs to frequent the speakeasies to unwind after a long day of doing whatever rich boys do. He looked like the kind of man she belonged with.

A knock came from beyond the door.  “Are you decent?” Her muffled voice called from behind it. 

The door opened, and she peaked her head inside, meeting his eyes immediately.

“I knew it’d look good on you,” She smiled brightly, making her way towards him. “Does it fit nicely? I tried my best to guess your measurements. I was afraid it would be a bit off.”

He let her place her hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric of any wrinkles. His heart beat in his chest loudly, like it always did when she got this close. He watched her closely as she looked him over, avoiding his eyes. Her hands flew up to the black tie around his neck. 

“Your tie is a bit crooked.” She chuckled softly, taking the tie into her hands. “Let me.”

“Why are you nice to me?” He spoke lowly as she untied the knot. 

She furrowed her brows, her hands halting. “I’m sorry?”

“Most people would have ignored me had they saw me lying on the streets like I was today, and the day we met. Many people did. But you...��� Credence struggled to find the words. “You helped me after I had fallen and dropped my papers, then you drove me home. The other week you insisted on buying me a coat, even though I told you I was fine without one, and then you took me to that restaurant. And then today, you convinced Father Blackwell to let my mother speak. You’ve been kind to me without even knowing me. Why?”

(y/n) lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Do I need a reason?” She countered. “Can’t I just want to?”

When he didn’t answer, she understood that wouldn’t be enough. She sighed, focusing her attention back on the tie. 

“Why did I do those things?” She bit her cheek in thought. “The night we met, I saw what that jerk did and wanted to help you. You looked so... sad. People walked over you—ignored you. It was like you didn’t exist, like I was the only one who saw you. I didn’t like it—seeing you like that. I just thought it would be nice to see a smile on your face. Maybe if I saw you smile, it would make me feel better.”

“Now that I’ve seen your smile, I’ve become a bit fond of it. Addicted is probably the better word. After seeing you smile for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to see it all the time. If stuffing you full of burgers and teaching you how to skate put a smile on your face, I would do it. I would do anything to keep you smiling.”

She looped the tail of the tie and pulled the knot, tightening it around his neck. She adjusted his collar and let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. 

“So, I guess the answer to your question is: I did those things because I like you.”

Credence swallowed the lump rising in his throat, sending it back down to his chest. His eyes glistened in the light, glazed with rising tears. His heart ached in his chest, still hanging on to her words. ‘Like’? She liked him?

“And now?” His voice cracked. “Do you still fell that way? Even after the things I said?”

“Why did you say those things?” It was clear she had been wanting to ask this for a while. “Did I do something—say something to upset you?”

Credence vigorously shook his head. “No!” 

He clasped her hands tightly, taking her by surprise. “It’s not you,” he tried to explain. “It was never you.”

She held his hands just as tight, like she was afraid he would fade away if she let go. “Then?”

He swallowed again, looking down at his feet. “It’s my mother... she...” 

(y/n) frowned. She lifted Credence’s hand, turning his palm upward to expose the raised scars on his palms. 

“Was she the one who did this to you?” She whispered, though it sounded as if she already knew the answer. 

Credence stayed silent. He didn’t have the strength to say it out lout. 

“Did she leave you out on the street?” She asked, anger rising in her voice. 

“She doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” He muttered, shamefully. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Credence stilled. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted. They locked eyes, (y/n)’s stared deeply into his, yearning for an answer. He barely opened his mouth to answer when a knock came from beyond the door, the person behind it bursting into the room. 

(y/n) dropped his hands, turning to face the culprit.

“Aaron, how many times have I told you to wait for me to answer before coming in my room?”

Aaron was a stocky man, just a few inches shorter than Credence. His angular face was covered with a tapered beard. He had the same (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair as (y/n), but his eyes were a light brown. He wore a black formal tuxedo with a matching bowtie. The smile on his face fell slightly as he looked between her and Credence. 

“Sorry sis, I didn’t realize you had company.”

(y/n) sighed, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Tearing his eyes from Credence, Aaron turned his attention to his sister, his smile widening. “I just thought you might like to say hello to someone.”

(y/n) raised a curious brow. “Who?”

The answer to her question walked in not a second later, dressing in a black fitted full dress tuxedo. He too shared a similar complexion to (y/n) and Aaron, but unlike Aaron, his eyes were the same has hers. He smiled, displaying a row of perfectly straight white teeth. “Hey. Did you miss me, street rat?”

(y/n)’s eyes widened, “Channing?”

Channing chuckled as she sped towards him. “The one and only—Ow!”

(y/n) had punched him hard in the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?!”

Aaron snickered to the side. “Told you she would do that.”

“Well, that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, now wouldn't it?” He said, clutching his sore shoulder. “Can’t you act like a normal sister and be happy I’m back?”

“I am happy, you jerk,” she smiled, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back gladly. It was clear the two missed each other greatly. 

“(y/n), who’s this?” Channing asked, looking over her shoulder at Credence.  

(y/n) too looked over her shoulder, her lips still holding her elated smile. “Aaron, Channing, this is Credence. He’s my plus one for tonight.”

“Right.” Aaron skeptically squinted at Credence. “And do Mom and Dad know that you have a boy in your room?”

(y/n) placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. Do Mom and Dad know about you and Mr. Finnegan’s daughter?” She deflected with a glare. 

Aaron cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around his younger brother and pushing him towards the door. “We’ll see you downstairs.”

“Wait,” (y/n) went to grab Credence by the hand and pulled him towards her brothers.  “Why don’t you show Credence around? You can bond and do whatever boys do while I get ready.”

They all looked at Credence, who was too petrified to protest the proposition. Aaron gave Credence a look that made him think he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but kept his otherwise cheerful smile. 

“I don’t see why not,” said Channing kindly, flashing an inviting grin much like the one (y/n) had given him many times before. He was starting to see the similarities between the two. 

“Yeah, come on, Credence,” Aaron agreed, throwing his free arm around Credence’s shoulder. “Hang with us guys for a while, we’re much more fun than she is.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, escorting the men out of her bedroom. Credence’s pleading eyes silently asked for her not to leave him on his own, but she said nothing to stop them. She only gave him a comforting smile from the doorframe as they pulled him from the door. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” She promised. 

Aaron and Channing dragged Credence down the hall, guiding him to another set of stairs. Unlike the ones (y/n) had sneaked him up an hour before, these stairs weren’t hidden in a corner at the end of the hall. It was a grand bifurcated staircase, with wide, velvet-clad sweeping steps that plunged into a wide landing that split in two directions: upwards to another wing of the manor, and downwards to the foyer. He could hear the music and babbling chatter clearly from the top of the staircase. The two brothers led him down the many steps, and again down the steps to the foyer where a great crowd of well-dressed men and women conversed under dropping garlands and mistletoe.

Without warning, they pulled him into the crowd, weaving their way through fur shawls and padded tuxedos. Tucked away in a corner of the room, Credence saw something he’d least expected: a familiar face. 

There, resting against a paneled wall, was Edmund Tully, drinking from a half finished glass of brandy. His eyes were distant and seemed to dart around the room, looking for something or someone. He wasn’t entirely sure if Edmund found what he was looking for, because when Aaron had called out to him, he gave up on his previous endeavor. 

It appeared that Edmund was not only friendly with Aaron, but Channing as well. They greeted each other as old friends do, with open arms, harmless roughhousing. Credence stood idly by, feeling out of place. It was only when Edmund set his green on him that Credence was pulled into their circle. Aaron noticed his friend’s stare and pointed his attention towards him. 

Aaron gestured to Credence, snapping his fingers. “Eds, this is uh—this is—give me a second—”

“Credence,” Edmund made up for Aaron’s forgetfulness. “Am I right? We met before.”

Aaron and Channing looked between the two unlikely acquaintances. “You have?” The eldest brother asked. 

Credence nodded, confirming Edmund’s claim. 

“Through (y/n), of course,” Edmund clarified. 

“I see,” Aaron hummed. 

A server in a tight vest came up the group of men with a tray full of glasses filled with a pinkish liquid. Credence watched as they each took a glass from the tray. 

“Do you drink, Credence?” Asked Channing, noticing Credence’s empty hand. 

“Sure he does!” Aaron exclaimed, taking an extra glass and shoving a it into Credence’s unsuspecting hand. “It’s Christmas!”

Giving into the pressure of the situation, Credence accepted the drink. It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s done today. The gentleman made a simple Christmas toast, before taking their own respectable gulps. 

Credence brought the glass to his lips, letting the strange liquid slow past his lips and hit his tongue. Somehow the cold liquid felt like heat on his tongue, vibrating down his throat and spreading that warmth into his chest. It was a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. While it was strong with alcohol, the sugary sweet after-taste made it palatable. He took another sip. 

Credence found Aaron and Channing to be decent men. Channing was more friendly to Credence that Aaron, but it had more to due with the age difference and the extenuating circumstances in which they’d met. He supposed it must have been hard warming up to the strange man who was found alone in your younger sister’s room. 

Edmund on the other hand didn’t address him much at all, only speaking to him when obligated. He had the sneaking suspicion that Edmund didn’t like him at all. Credence could care less. To be fair, Credence wasn’t sure he liked him either. 

Like (y/n) had asked, the two brothers, along with Edmund, showed Credence around the mansion. They took him upstairs and downstairs, through long halls and into opulent rooms that were also filled with partygoers. All the while, they continued to keep a full glass in their hands. Credence had drank four full glasses of pink drink by the time they circled back to the foyer—and they hadn’t even venture half of the vast manor. He wasn’t fully convinced that just one family lived in such a palace. 

They loitered the foyer, the music in the next room traveled well, distracting him from the conversation he wasn’t completely involved in. His eyes darted around the room, glossing over the painted and shaven faces of the other guests. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it—or rather— her. 

Descending from the heavens that was the staircase landing was her elegant figure, clothed in a velvety red dress that hung off her shoulders. Her hair fell in waves around her face, adorned with pins that resembled holly. The long pointed sleeves clung to her skin along with the rest of the dress, hugging her figure dangerously. He was the first to see her, and in parallel, she saw him first; her painted red lips curling into a wide grin once their eyes met. 

His chest was filled with a fluttering excitement as his eyes followed her movements drawing nearer. She walked straight towards him, bowing her head shyly as she got closer. The others noticed her too, hooting and hollering as she came, embarrassing her more. 

“The Princess has finally decided grace the party with her presence,” Aaron playfully jeered. 

“It’s not easy being the most attractive in the family, it takes a lot of work to look this good,” She bantered. 

“Tons of it, if you ask me,” Channing muttered snidely as he took a sip of his drink, causing a fit of harmless laughter between all of them but Credence. 

“You look amazing,” Edmund complimented over the giggles. 

(y/n) thanked him, her eyes drifting back to Credence expectingly. Flustered, Credence sputtered the first words that came to mind. “You look beautiful, you always do.”

(y/n) blushed, her girlish smile reaching her ears. Her brothers found the interaction equally amusing, stifling their laughter. Though Edmund didn’t find it so amusing, his once joyous expression faltering. 

“I have to steal my brothers for a moment,” (y/n) revealed. 

“What for?” Channing asked, unaware that he was needed. 

“Mom wants to see us all for a portrait. You were supposed to have been there by now. Daddy’s getting restless,” she told them.

Aaron cursed under his breath, having forgotten about the detail. He turned to his friend and handed him his drink. “It will only be a minute.”

Aaron and Channing hurried off towards the stairs whence (y/n) had come. Before she left, she met Credence’s eye. “Just wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

She then disappeared up the stairs with her brothers, leaving him alone with Edmund. And then there were two. 

“Why don’t I show you to the gardens,” Edmund suggested after an awkward beat of silence. 

Credence didn’t get the chance to deny the offer before Edmund turned on his heels and headed towards the door, beckoning him to follow. Out of pure obligation, Credence followed, venturing from the manor and out into the cold (though the consistent warm buzzing in his head and chest kept him warm enough). 

Edmund guided Credence around to the main garden that sat in the center of the sprawling houses. Snow covered the hedges and statues that scattered the grounds. 

“Where are you from, Credence?” Edmund asked suddenly as they walked the garden path. 

Credence shrugged his shoulders. “Here.” 

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You might be from New York, but you’re not from here.”

Credence’s brow furrowed. What was he playing at?

“How did you meet (y/n)?” He pestered. 

“In Times Square,” Credence answered. “She helped me when I fell on the street. We kept running into each other ever since.”

Credence wasn’t sure why he was telling him all this, but he felt if he wanted to know, why not tell him? 

“You know, it's charming,” said Edmund. “How you’re sweet on (y/n). It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like a little puppy dog. It’s almost endearing. But it’s pointless.”

“Pointless?” Credence repeated. 

Edmund stared blankly at the younger boy. A sly smirk teetered on his lips.  “Oh, come on. Do you... Do you actually think you have a chance with her?”

Credence’s silence only amused him more, spurring him to laugh tauntingly. “Oh my God, you do! I almost feel bad for you!” It was only now that Credence noticed the subtle slur of his words. “Listen, mate, I’m only saying this because I feel like we could be friends. It's not going to happen. (y/n) is a sweet girl, almost too sweet. She’s oblivious to these kinds of things, you see?” He leaned against a stone post.

“How should I explain this? I’ve watched her grow up, and I have seen many young chaps like you fall all over her. She doesn’t realize her kindness attracts people. There have been many broken hearts left at her feet. You don’t want yours added to the pile, trust me.”

Yes, Credence decided in that moment he didn’t like Edmund at all. He took too much of a likeness to Ripley; they had the same condescending leer. The buzzing of his head wouldn’t allow him to hide his obvious disdain, and for the first time Credence would speak his mind, unafraid of the consequences. 

“Is yours one of them?” He asked boldly. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your heart,” he reiterated. “Is it one of the ones she broke?”

“I—”

“Do you feel threatened by me? Are you afraid that she might not like you as much as you think?” 

“What did you just say to me?” Edmund sputtered. 

Credence continued, feeling no shame for what he was about to slur and stutter. “She’s only nice to you because you’re friends with her brother and she’s known you for so long. But that isn’t enough to win her affection. Deep down, you know that.”

Edmund took Credence by the collar, “I suggest you stop talking,” he whispered dangerously. 

“You say that I don’t have a chance, then what do you have?” Credence chuckled provokingly. “She said she likes me. Has she ever said she likes you?”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” Yelled Edmund, red in the face. “To her, you’re just a pet. A sad little puppy she has to take care of. She’ll give you treats and dress you up like a doll, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll never see you as a man.”

“Is this what you do?” Asked Credence. “You drive away any person who you think might come between you and (y/n)? There’s nothing to come between. She’s not yours. She never was. And she’s not mine either. I don’t care if she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That doesn’t matter. But she said she liked me... and I like her.” Credence smiled. “And that is more than anything you’ll ever have with her.”

A powerful fist collided with his left cheek, sending him to the ground. The pleasing buzz in his head was replaced with rushing blood pounding against his temple. 

“I told you to stop talking,” the assailant heaved. 

Credence struggled to his hands and knees. The punch left a metallic taste in his mouth, and a bubbling rage in his stomach. Without thinking, he lunged forward, tackling Edmund to the ground. The two fell in a heap on the cobblestone, wrestling and thrashing violently. Credence got the upper-hand, landing a satisfying punch in the face, leaving Edmund with a bloodied nose. It didn’t last, because as soon as Credence wrestled his way on top, he was back under him, taking blows to the face and ribs. 

He couldn’t react fast enough to defend himself, and honestly, it was a miracle he landed a punch in the first place. He curled into himself to protect his face and ribs. The same vibrating rage he felt earlier that same day with Ripley danced under his skin. His thoughts faded in and out between consciousness, each unfamiliar thought being one of violence and rage. Pure, dark rage. 

Edmund may have got a peak at this entity—a glimpse into it’s glassy white eyes. If he had, he didn't say so. He only hesitated, a look of both confusion and fear flashing over his once blinding anger when their eyes locked. If he had seen those shining white eyes, they disappeared as soon as they came, her voice retreating the beast inside. 

“EDDY! CREDENCE! STOP IT!”

It was a trick of the lights, Edmund would later conclude. A figment of his drunken imagination. But it wasn’t true. The truth was Credence had a part of himself he couldn’t control—a part of himself that could destroy buildings and uproot roads—a part of him he couldn’t control, that is, until he met her. Until the sound of her sweet voice reached his ears and calmed the blackness to its dormant state.  

Edmund was pulled off of him, pushed several feet back while she dove for him on the ground, dirtying her red dress. The light from the lamppost and house gave the illusion that she glowed in the night.

Her eyes were big with worry. “Credence, are you okay? Does it hurt?” She helped him sit up, taking his face gently in her hands. It didn’t hurt. He couldn't feel anything but her warm hands caressing his cheeks. 

“I’m hurt too, (y/n),” Edmund croaked from his place. Aaron and Channing were there, barricading him away. “I got hit too. Why don’t you ask me if I’m okay? Huh?!”

(y/n) glared back at him. “You’re drunk!”

Edmund’s red face became wet with hot, angry tears. “WHY DON’T YOU ASK ME, (Y/N)?! DON’T YOU LIKE ME TOO?”

She held on to Credence's arm, holding him close. “I think you should go,” she muttered. 

Edmund sniffed, a look of pure heartbreak slapping over his chiseled features. “(y/n)...” He called for her one last desperate time, but she turned away, shutting him out completely. 

“Come on, man,” Aaron said sternly, pushing him back. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”

“GET OFF ME!” Edmund pushed Aaron away from him, staggering backward. He took one last long look at (y/n), hoping that she would look at him again. But she didn't. Her eyes stayed trained on Credence. He stepped back, defeated. 

“I can walk by my bloody self,” he slurred bitterly, retreating further into the garden, Aaron chasing after him. 

“Can you stand up?” (y/n) asked softly, taking Credence by the hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Channing helped as well, guiding them both back into the house. They stayed away from the festivities, taking the hidden stairs back up to her room. Channing had retrieved a medical kit after they reached her room, leaving once (y/n) insisted she could care for Credence on her own. 

Now, he sat next to her on her bed, while she shifted through the medical kit. His eyes trained on a young, black, hairless cat played curled up in a stuffed bed by the fire. This must’ve been the cat she had told him about. 

“Do you mind telling me what that was about or are you just going to stay silent?” Asked after the long silence. 

“It was nothing,” he told her, as she took his face in her hands to examine the wounds on his cheek and lip. 

“Yeah, right.” She muttered, taking a wet cotton swab and dabbing it on his scraped cheek. It burned, causing him to wince. She stopped immediately, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

She went for the medical kit again, rummaging through it messily before stopping abruptly.

“You know what, I’m not sorry! Serves you right worrying me like that! I leave you for one minute and you’re picking fights in the street! Just look what he’s done to your face!” She cupped the side of his face where Edmund had punched him. She sighed, taking another cotton swab from the kit. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell. I don’t like seeing you hurt is all.”

He looked at her deeply through lidded eyes as she dabbed the cut on his lip. 

“We were fighting about you,” he confessed.

She stopped, her eyes flickered to his for a moment, before focusing back on his lip. “Me? Why on Earth would you be fighting about me?”

He didn’t say. She waited for an answer, but soon concluded she wouldn’t get one. He hissed when she began applying cream on his cuts. “Fine, then,” she mumbled irritably. “Don’t answer me. Just hold still—”

His lips were on hers before she could finish her harping. The swab fell from her hand in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. He was kissing her. His eyes were closed, his lips plush against hers. He ignored the sting of his cut as he pressed his lips onto hers like he’d seen couples do many times before. His heart pounded in his ears. He would have kept kissing her if he hadn’t held his breath for too long. When they parted, and he opened his eyes to see her staring, awestruck. 

His ears turned red, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over him, realizing what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have—”

Her soft lips crashed into his with passionate force, her hands flying to caress the nape of his neck. Now, it was his turn to be taken aback. Credence had kissed her how shy young couples do: pressing his lips onto hers. But she kissed him like lovers do, moving her lips feverishly against his, licking his lips coyly with her tongue. Imitating her actions, Credence let his eyes fall shut, opening his mouth for her. Her tongue slipped passed his lips and swirled around his, welcoming the foreign sensation.

“(y/n)...” He whimpered out of pure instinct. 

She pulled away, leaving him a blushing, panting mess. 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my name,” she whispered. A smile stretched across her lips.  “Say it again.”

Credence’s cheeks burned, but he gladly did what she asked. 

“... (y/n),” he called her name again.

“Again.”

“(y/n),” he repeated.

“Credence,” she whispered his name, sending shivers down his spine.

“(y/n),” he whispered breathlessly. 

“Credence.”

“(y/n).”

She captured his lips in another sensual kiss, pushing him back onto the bed. The medical kit fell to the ground, forgotten. She laid on top of him, her legs wrapped around his thin waist, pressing her body against his like he’d imagined many times before. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind consumed by her. Lavender and vanilla, it was all around him; pressing against him, kissing him, caressing him.

“Credence,” she said between fiery kisses. “I want you.”

“Y-You want me?” He flushed, making her giggle. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, taking his hand. “Do... Do you want me too?” Her voice was small and unsure. 

Credence nodded, lacing his fingers between hers. “I’ll always want you.”

His words seemed to spur her on, reviving her confidence. “Is this okay?”

The touch of her hand on his thigh traveled down to his waist, sending shivers up his spine. The beat of his heart pulsed powerfully in his chest, ringing in his ears. He watched expectantly as she drew nearer, hovering over him. One of her hands rose to tenderly cup his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm against him. The way she touched him was unlike any other. She was always so gentle with him, so kind. 

Their lips were mere inches apart. So close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. She looked at him through hooded lids, her eyes darkened to a deep shade of (e/c).

Credence swallowed. “I...I’ve never...”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” 

She grinned, kissing his lips tenderly to calm his nerves. He felt her fingers move to unbutton his suit jacket. She pulled it off his shoulders, discarding it to the floor.

“Just relax,” she cooed. “I’ll take care of you.”

His black tie slipped off with ease, the buttons of his white dress shirt opened one by one the sound of fabric rubbing against each other and sultry sighs filling their ears. His shirt joined the jacket onto the ground, leaving him half-naked under her. He felt exposed, his eyes nervously fidgeting around the room. 

Her warm hands grazed the sides of his waist, delicately dancing up to his chest. She noticed the change in his breathing, his chest rising up and down in anticipation. He’d never been touched like this by anyone, not once. But now, as her hands glossed over his torso causing goosebumps to rise even though his skin was burning hot, he realized he wanted to be touched by her all the time, in every way. He wanted to kiss her over and over again; to feel her lips against his. He wanted to be close to her in the closest way possible.

As if answering his silent prayers, she pressed her chest against his, her breath tickling his cheeks. She kisses the mark on his cheekbone tenderly, then the corner of his lips, then his jaw. His eyes lull back. He let his head fall to the side, presenting his neck to her. Her hot breath on his neck excited him. Her lip pressed soft kisses down his jaw and neck, marking him with her red lipstick. Her wet tongue licked a stripe up his jugular, and he made a sound he’d only made once before in the confines of his room. 

She did it again, licking, sucking, and biting at the sensitive flesh of his neck. Credence bit his lip, muffling his desperate mewls. 

Her lips kissed up to the spot just under his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “No one else can hear us. It’s just me.” 

Hoping to drive out more sweet moans, she sucked on the flesh of his neck she learned to be the most sensitive. His hips bucked upwards, grinding between her legs. He squirmed pathetically under her, his desperate pants and moans filling the room. 

His body was sensitive to her every touch, each kiss sending jolts of electricity through his body. She left love bites on the expanse of his neck and collarbone, coloring his pale skin purple and mauve. 

She caught his lips in another open-mouthed kiss, assaulting his mouth with his tongue at her pleasure. 

“Is... C-Can I touch you?” He asked through her kisses. 

She pulled away, her nose brushing against his. “Always,” she breathed. 

His hands daringly glided over her arms, reaching around her back. His fingers found the zipper to her dress and pinched, pulling it down her back until it stopped at her waist. She slid out of the dress with ease, slipping it off her body and letting it pool around her waist. His eyes glued to her bare chest, turning red from the neck up. She took his hands and guided them up her sides, outlining her feminine curves. 

She brought his hands to cup her breasts. His touch was hot on her skin, her own blush burning undeneath. He could feel her heart pounding wildly in his chest, and he knew she was just as excited as him. He let his body act on its own, his hands massaging her breasts. She let out a shaky breath, her mouth falling open. 

He continued, brushing his thumbs against her hardened nipples. Her hips rocked sensually against his twitching member. Her name slipped past his lips, his eyes trained on her figure above him. Her hands pressed on his chest, her hips moving in circles over him. Credence sat himself up, snaking his arms around her hips, gripping them firmly. They stared at each other breathlessly through half-lidded eyes. Credence’s already dark eyes turned to black pools reflecting in the moonlight. 

He mimicked her affections, placing chaste kisses under her jaw. He kissed the expanse of her neck, tasting her soft skin. He pulled her hips into him, guiding her movements in his lap. His length strained against his trousers, aching to be touched. 

“You said you want to touch me, right?” She panted. “Touch me here.”

She moved his right hand from her hip, slipping it under the velvety veil that covered where she wanted him most. He could feel her through thin lacy fabric, her heat already slick with arousal. He experimentally rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, studying the twitches and jolts of her body. She seemed to really enjoy when his fingers brushed against a certain spot, so he kept his attention there, rubbing steady circles around the sensitive area. 

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her head falling to rest in the crook of his neck. He enjoyed hearing her high-pitched moans, even as they were muffled against his neck. He pressed harder, picking up his pace to hear more. Her hips jut against his hand, jerking every so often. Her breaths quickened, and she whimpered his name in his ear. 

“Faster,” she’d pant desperately, her grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He did, circling his fingers as best he knew how. Her thighs tightened around his legs, her body stilled but he didn't stop. Only when he felt her body shake and relax against him did he stop, her sweet satisfied moan reaching his ears. 

He held her in his arms, peppering kisses on her shoulder and neck as she steadied her breathing. When she did lift her head from his neck, she pecked his lips and cheek. She held his face in her hands and moved to lie on her back, pulling him down in the process. 

He planted his hands on either side of her head. He admired her from above. Her red lipstick was faded, smudged messily on her chin, having been transfered on his own lips and neck. She didn’t break eye contact as her hands unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down his waist and kicking them off with her feet along with his boxers. They lingered like that, just staring and admiring one another. He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt strangely calm. The rest of the world seemed to float away. Nothing else mattered. Not the party down stairs, or the people laughing and drinking. Not Edmund and his jealousy, and not his mother and her vilification. Nothing mattered but her and him together in this room, together in her bed. 

He bent down to kiss her with all the passion and love he could muster. She was everything he could ever want and more. She was his saving grace, his goddess. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. ‘Closer,’ he thought. He needed to be closer to her.

Their lips and hips magnetized, their bodies melded together. He whispered her name like a mantra because he knew she liked hearing it as much as he liked saying it. He felt her hands slip between their bodies, grasping his length. She guided him to where she needed him, his tip pressing teasingly at her entrance. With her help, he eased inside, feeling her wrap tightly around him. They sighed in each others mouth, devouring their intoxicated moans. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him further. 

She opened for him like a flower in bloom. His hips moved without having to think. Being with her felt so natural. Every move he made came to him like second nature. His thrusts were slow and gentle, drawing wanton moans from her lips. Her hips rocked into him with equal fervor. She collected his moans with her kiss, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair. 

He lost himself in the feeling of her, his pace quickening. He watched her pretty face morph into varying expressions of pleasure, each thrust of his hips creating a new one. He’d never felt so good in his life. His body tingled and his skin burned pleasantly. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such pure, utter euphoria. 

He fisted the rosy silk sheets, his breath stopping in his throat. She tightened around him, and like a wave crashing down on a cliff side, he came. His body vibrated and twitched above her. He called her name into the air, his spastic thrusts edging her to her end, which—by the sounds of her shameless cries—was as powerful and illustrious as his. 

There was a moment of stillness; a moment in which they heard nothing but their shallow breaths and the crackle of the fire. They could do nothing but stay in their connected position with eyes locked. Credence fell to his side next to her on the bed. His muscles ached and his skin was slick with sweat, but he was filled with unwavering adulation. Eyes still locked, they said so much without needing to say anything at all. His hand found hers, lacing his fingers between her small ones.

They laid there, staring lovingly in each other’s eyes for what felt like hours. He silently adored her, memorizing the details of her features until his eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, slowly falling shut as graceful as the falling snow outside.  

Credence pried open his tired eyes. The fire still burned beside him. It crackled and danced, keeping the exhausted pair warm under the thin sheets. The moonlight broke through the balcony glass door and cast shadows of the curtains across the room. There was no music heard from downstairs and the manor outside sounded empty of all festivities. 

He took the time to embrace her presence. She laid on her side, facing him. Her eyes were still shut, soft snores falling from her lips. She held his hand between their bodies. Her thick (h/c) hair sprawled wildly around her, messed by their passionate love affair. And still, even with her hair a mess, and the corner of her lips wet with drool, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He reached his free hand to brush the fray hairs from her eyes, watching her lips twitch and curl into a sleepy smile when his thumb brushed against her cheek. That smile alone rid his mind of any and all doubts that still lingered. 

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive, and when they weren't, they were bleak and agonizing. He’d been through it many times before, taking in so much pain he thought death was a kinder fate. But, as he lay next to her, listening to her slow steady breaths, watching the rise and fall of her chest while she slept; he knew he would face it all again, if it meant he could have more of these moments with her.  

[avnkin]

Shake On It [ 2 ]

Author’s note: I was really in my harry feels whilst writing this so sorry about that lmao also I proofread this so many times and it still SUCKS ASS. I posted this entire thing earlier from my phone but tumblr deleted everything except the title so yeah I’m sorry if there aren’t italics and bolds on some of the words where they should be but i’m just to lazy to go through the entire thing and find them all again, maybe i’ll do it later but who knows. I do not own harry potter or the storyline/characters they are the intellectual property of J.K Rowling. (not my gif)

Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: There’s little to nothing Draco values more than his reputation so when he sees it slipping, he’ll do anything in his power to catch it.

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader / Platonic!Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, foul language, asshole!draco and daddy issues lol

This is an AU so all the information doesn’t exactly line up with the HP storyline for example Voldemort hasn’t returned but still exists so little from Harry’s history changes but Dumbledore’s still alive.

After yours and Draco’s interaction the other night you’d strongly begun reconsidering his offer to accompany him to the ball, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought, I mean what’s the worst that could happen? So many things your anxiety was quick to answer, the most important one being that Harry and Ron would probably never speak to you again.

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” Hermione’s voice snapped you out of your trance, her blurry hand waving in front of your face, you quickly began blinking in an attempt to bring your surroundings back into focus, “sorry” you then muttered sending her an apologetic smile before gesturing for her to continue with whatever she’d been talking about.

“As I was saying, I need a cute date for the ball, who do you think will annoy Ron the most?” you were about to answer when a voice from behind you beat you to it.

“Annoy who the most?”

You rolled your eyes having a pretty clear idea of who it was, you reluctantly turned around your eyes immediately locking onto Draco’s who stood there in all his glory a smug smile plastered onto his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me who invited you to this conversation?” you retorted before turning back to Hermione who had an amused grin on her face causing you to lightly kick her from underneath the table, you didn’t want Draco putting two and two together and realizing you’d talked about him with Hermione.

“I was just wondering if you’d changed your mind about going with me to the ball” Draco cajoled causing your eyes to widen realizing you still hadn’t told Hermione about the fact he’d asked you in the first place.

You sent Hermione an an ‘i’ll tell you later’ look before twisting your body to face Draco’s who now had his hands placed in his robe pockets, his self assurance radiating off of him despite the fact you’d rejected him only days before, the boy had clearly never been told ‘no’ his entire life.

“No and I won’t be, so run along” you stated before making a shooing gesture with your hand which only seemed to have the opposite effect you’d intended it too, since he began to take a few steps forward, licking his lips as he looked you up and down.

“Yes you will” he stated matter of factly and it took all self control you had not to smack him right across the face, who did he think he was?

“Is it really that hard to get it into that tiny little brain of yours that there are girls alive who don’t like you” you practically growled missing how Hermione’s attention had drifted away from the scene unfolding before her and to the two figures who had begun making their way towards you.

“Yes because there aren’t an-”

“Malfoy find someone else to bother can’t you see she’s not interested” Harry cut him off as him and Ron now fully came into view, the two of them standing tall behind Draco whose attention had now shifted from you to them.

“Oh look who it is, dumb and dumber” chortles could be heard from the Slytherin table at Draco’s words causing you to roll your eyes, it was pathetic how they would lick up every single thing he did.

“Offers still there Y/L/N” Draco turned to you before he slowly started to ascend back towards the Slytherin table where he was greeted with numerous pats on the back as he squeezed himself in between Crabbe and Goyle.

“What a slimy git” Ron huffed as he took the seat next to yours, immediately beginning to scoop all the food in view onto his plate.

“What did he want anyways?” Harry asked resting his elbows on the wooden house table as he sat down opposite you.

“He asked if I wanted to go to the ball with him” you feigned disgust as you shook your head, hoping he would drop the subject, you’d never been a good liar and if anyone could see through you it would surely be your best friend.

“Just tell him you’re going with me if he asks again, then he’ll leave you alone” Harry suggested, Ron nodding along with him as he stuffed a chicken wing into his mouth.

“Yeah- yeah ‘course thank you Harry” you scratched the back of your head cringing at the obvious hint of disappointment lingering in your words which thankfully no one but Hermione seemed to notice since she reached her hand out across the table and laid it gently atop of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You gave her a small smile before your eyes began dancing around the Great Hall somehow coming to a halt on Draco’s figure, he had his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he engaged in conversation with Blaise.

No one could say that Draco Malfoy wasn’t handsome, rude and a prat? Sure, but unattractive no. He was the only boy you’d ever seen who was able to pull of such a hair color and as your eyes travelled along his sharp jawline up to his chiseled cheekbones you felt the uncontrollable feeling of heat rush up to your face as his eyes met yours.

He sent you a wink before turning back around, you mirroring his actions the feeling of butterflies swarming your stomach slowly melting away as you pushed any remaining thoughts of him aside.

-

The ball was only a few days from now and you and Hermione had decided to take a trip down to Hogsmeade in an attempt to shop for dresses, not wanting to repeat what had happened last year when you both had made the mistake of trusting your parents with your attires, the dresses they’d choosen had arrived the same night as the ball and you had been forced to show up in matching bright pink gowns since it had been too late to go and buy new ones. You’d been the laughing stocks off the school for a couple months after that, never again.

You cringed at the memory that would surely be edged into your mind forever but as you pushed open the wooden door that led into Gladrags Wizardwear you found yourself entranced with all the beautiful dresses littered around the shop.

“Have you decided who you’re gonna go to the ball with?” Hermione hummed as her fingers trailed over a blue gown that hung along with hundreds of others at the front of the store.

“Yeah I think I’m just gonna go with Harry, I don’t want to risk my friendship with either him or Ron by going with Draco” you sighed not feeling the need to hide your disappointment in front of her.

“I get that but if you really do like Malfoy you should just ease Harry and Ron into the idea of you two being together” Hermione shrugged in response before removing the dress she’d been looking at from its hanger and placing it into her arms as you continued browsing.

“How am I supposed to do that you know how much they hate him” you sighed as you lightly dragged your hand over the multiple fabrics that hung on the clothing rag next to you.

“You could dance with him at the ball” Hermione suggested, you nodded silently in agreement before coming to an abrupt halt as a certain dress caught your eye. It was champagne colored and made out of silk with a thigh high split running down the side of it, not the type of dress you’d usually go for but nevertheless you carefully placed it into your arms deciding their was no harm in seeing how it looked on you.

“Who are you going with?” you changed the subject not feeling like talking about Draco anymore, it was really killing your mood.

“Hero Finnigan asked me” your eyes widened at Hermione’s words. Hero Finnigan was in the year above you and was quite the heartthrob around school, he’d been known for having a new girl underneath his arm every week and it seemed that this time around it was going to be Hermione, much to your surprise.

“Please tell me you said yes, if anyone’s going to make Ron jealous it’s definitely him” you assured her, looping your arm with hers as you continued skimming through the store.

“Of course I said yes, I’m not that daft” she shook her head before continuing, “I don’t know though I-I guess I was just hoping that in the end Ron would ask me, but apparently he’s going with Lavender” her nose scrunched up at the mere mention of her name as she let out a heavy sigh.

Your heart ached for your best friend as you put an arm around her shoulder giving her a tight side hug, a subtle way of letting her know you were there for her no matter what.

“Enough about that let’s go try on our dresses and we can tell each other what we think” Hermione was obviously trying to distract herself but you didn’t feel like pressing the subject any further so you only nodded in agreement as you started searching for the changing rooms, it was a surprisingly big shop compared to how small it had appeared from the outside.

Once you’d finally found them at the far end of the shop you both entered separate rooms, simultaneously pulling the curtains shut shielding you from the watchful eyes of the other customers, although there weren’t that many.

You took one last look at the dress letting your fingers wander down the silky fabric before carefully removing it from its hanger and slipping your legs in between the opening.

Once you got it on, you weren’t able to reach the zipper on the back, no matter how hard you tried so you stealthily peeked your head out behind the curtain and seeing no one you began to make your way towards Hermione’s changing room hoping she could be of some assistance.

“Need some help with that?” a voice stopped you dead in your tracks, swiftly turning to see Draco standing there, a mischievous smirk resting on his lips as he took a step closer to you.

“Are you stalking me or something?” you shook your head, furrowing your brows once you noticed how his eyes weren’t meeting yours, instead they were trailing up and down your body, devouring every inch of you.

“Eyes up here Malfoy” you teased which made him finally look up at you, but instead of replying with a snide comment of his own he threw the suit he’d been holding onto a clothing rag nearby and slowly began to stride towards you.

You weren’t able to get a word out as he tenderly placed his ring clad fingers on top of your bare shoulders scanning your face for approval witch you granted by carefully nodding your head taking in a deep breath as you felt him begin to slowly turn you around.

You shivered once the cold metal wrapped around his fingers began to run down your arms, his fingertips then gently dancing down the small of your back in a painfully teasing manner.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy sigh as he took a step closer to you his lips ghosting over your ear as he began to pull the zipper upwards causing you to almost involuntarily lean into him. As soon as you did his scent consumed you, he smelled of expensive cologne and spearmint, even better than you could have ever imagined.

He stopped as the zip reached the bottom strands of your hair, he thought for a moment before he carefully wrapped his hand around your h/c locks, twisting them gently around his fingers before letting them fall over the side of your shoulder, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly running across the side of your neck as he moved them back down to where he’d stopped.

You gently tilted your head, closing your eyes in content once you felt his hot breath fan over your neck, you leaned your head back at the sensation resting it atop of Draco’s shoulder, shivering once you felt his lips ghost over the sweet spot just behind your ear, one of his arms finding your waist as the other continued to work its way up your back.

Once you heard the faint sound of the zipper click as it reached its closing you slowly opened your eyes feeling him take an impossible step closer to you, your behind now pressed into his front as he trailed his hands down to your hips.

“You clean up quite nice Y/L/N” he breathed out as he began running his hands up to your stomach before finally reaching your waist where they abruptly stopped so that he could turn you back around, you let out a gasp at the sudden forced movement your hands clinging onto his shoulders to prevent you from falling.

You opened your mouth but no words came out as you were consumed by the feeling of his fingers digging into your sides, his lips mere centimeters from yours you almost unknowingly began to lean in.

He mirrored your movements but just before your lips could meet someone cleared their throat from behind you causing you to jump away from him, frowning at the sudden loss of contact.

Once your eyes met Hermione’s you quickly cleared your throat acting as if nothing had (almost) happened, she raised an eyebrow obviously confused at the scene unfolding before her.

You turned back towards Draco who was looking at you almost expectantly, “I’m going with Harry to the ball” you suddenly felt the need to tell him, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea from the little moment you had just shared.

“Potter seriously?” Draco scoffed in return before making his way around you and Hermione, your eyes following his figure and as soon as he was completely out of sight you finally felt like you could breath again, staggering backwards into Hermione who quickly put her arms up to catch you.

“Oh I’m in trouble”

-

You’d decided to buy the dress you’d tried on in the store, even though every time you put it on you couldn’t shake away the feeling of Draco being pressed against you as his lips hovered dangerously close to your neck.... You shook your head in hopes that it would toss the memory out of your mind, you couldn’t be thinking about Draco right now, not when Harry was standing just outside the Gryffindor common room patiently waiting for you to get ready.

“Can you zip me up?” you turned your back to Hermione who quickly rushed to your side swiftly beginning to pull the zipper on the back of your dress upwards. As you closed your eyes you got momentary flashes off Draco’s ring clad fingers wrapped around your body and you tried with all your might to shake the tingling feeling you got away, but nothing seemed to be working.

“Okay do a little spin for me” you let out a laugh at Hermione’s words but nevertheless you began spinning around your dorm playfully, letting your hair fall across your shoulders as Hermione threw her head back in laughter.

“You look incredible” she complemented as you engulfed each other in tight hugs mentally preparing yourselves for the night ahead.

“Oh please, I’m nothing compared to you” you stated linking your arms together before the two of you began to make your way to your awaiting dates.

Once the door to the Gryffindor common room opened the first thing you saw was Harry engaged in conversation with Hero, you could tell by his uncomfortable shuffling that the exchange had been awkward causing you to let out a small giggle which captured the attention of the two boys.

Harry’s mouth hung open as he let his eyes wander all over you, from the thigh-high front split on the front of your dress to your flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair, he was speechless, if you two weren’t best friends he’d probably be tripping over his own two feet by now.

“Well this is certainly an upgrade from last year” Harry let out a teasing laugh as he bowed down to take your hand in his.

“Oh shut up” you feigned annoyance as you stood beside him, feeling goosebumps run up your arms as his hand came to rest on your lower back, leading the two of you towards the Great Hall.

“In all seriousness Y/N, you look amazing” Harry gushed as he pulled you into his side. An uncontrollable blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words as you let your head fall on his shoulder.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Potter” you teased, the two of you letting out simultaneous fits of laughter as you followed closely behind Hero and Hermione.

After a moment of silence Harry suddenly spoke out, “Ron was going to ask her you know” the two of you shared knowing glances at his words, it was so painfully obvious that your other two best friends were head over heels in love with each other but neither of them dared to make the first move, either to scared of being rejected or ruining their many years worth of friendship.

“Figures” you shrugged a comfortable silence overtaking you as you walked over to one of the many rows of couples stood in front of the entrance leading into the Great Hall.

As the doors begun to open you excitedly smiled up at Harry but before you were able to move forward another couple had harshly pushed their way in front of you and you were immediately able to identify the mob of platinum blond hair.

“Excuse me” you rolled your eyes causing the two of them to turn their heads towards you, you couldn’t hold in your scoff once you saw who he’d decided to bring, Pansy Parkinson of all the people in this bloody school.

“Don’t start anything Malfoy” Harry warned before either of them were able to get a word out, it looked like Pansy was going to throw a snide comment your way but stopped as soon as her eyes met Draco’s, she let out a huff before reluctantly turning back around.

“You look dashing” Draco complimented, you could feel Harry tense up beside you and you snaked an arm around his waist in an attempt to calm him down, the last thing you wanted was to cause a scene.

“Shouldn’t you be telling that to your date?” you retorted gesturing towards Pansy who seemed to be strangely quiet, usually she couldn’t keep her mouth shut no matter the circumstance, but you weren’t complaining.

Draco didn’t respond instead he just shrugged his shoulders before turning back around his arm slipping down towards Pansy’s lower back, you felt the inkling feeling of jealousy begin to form inside you but you forced yourself to push it away giving Harry’s bicep a reassuring squeeze knowing it had taken all his might not to hex Draco then and there.

As soon as Draco and Pansy had left you two be you quickly pulled Harry along with you into the hall so you wouldn’t get trampled by the entourage of students crowded behind you who were also squeezing their way through the double doors.

You intertwined your fingers with Harry’s as you took in your surroundings. It looked even better than last year, snow was falling from the starry black ceiling stopping just a few feet above you, mistletoe’s and every traditional Christmas decoration you could think of were littered all across the hall and instead of the usual house tables there were hundreds of smaller silver ones, each having it’s own floating candle above them.

Once you spotted a decent place to sit you tugged onto Harry’s arm gesturing for him to follow you towards the table your eyes were set on, somehow along the way you managed to spot Hermione and you threw your arm up gesturing for her hand Hero to come sit with you and Harry.

It wasn’t long until the chair beside you was being pulled from underneath the table and Hermione placed her self atop of it along with Hero, you happily greeted both of them but all joy inside you seemed to fade away once you noticed Ron and Lavender heading your way.

Oh please no

Ron placed a chaste kiss on Lavender’s cheek as he pointed towards your table.

Don’t sit here

Lavender eagerly began to nod following behind Ron as they inched closer and closer.

Anywhere but here

Despite your silent praying Ron was now pulling a chair out for Lavender before taking a seat himself and as soon as he did an awkward tension filled the air. You grabbed Hermione’s hand from underneath the table giving it a reassuring squeeze noticing how she’d tensed up once Lavender had bitterly greeted her.

“Whose this then?” Ron could be heard from the other end of the table, you rolled your eyes at his tone, how did Hermione not realize he was jealous hell even Hero seemed to notice it as his eyes uncomfortably shifted between Hermione’s angered expression and Ron’s annoyed one.

“Hero Finnigan, and you?” he reached his hand out over the table and for a split moment your eyes had widened thinking Ron was actually going to sit there and ignore him but thankfully the ginger haired boy reluctantly reached over the table and connected his hand with Hero’s.

“Ron, Ron Weasely”

“Weasely, eh? could have guessed, I’m good friends with your brothers” Hero attempted to make conversation but Ron didn’t seem all to keen on it only muttering a “whatever” underneath his breath causing you to kick him from underneath the table, you gave him a warning glance to which he replied by throwing a small ‘piss off’ in your direction.

Before you could begin to scold him for his rude behaviour Dumbledore’s voice tore throughout the Great Hall preventing you from doing so although you had a feeling that if it hadn’t had been him it probably would have been Harry.

“Welcome students to our annual Jingle Ball, may I say you all look wonderful tonight” Dumbledore gingerly smiled, his wand lightly pressed against the side of his neck as he gestured towards the numerous students all dressed in their finest attires.

“We’ll start the evening with a three course meal prepared by our lovely house elves” claps begun to sound around the Great Hall which you quickly joined in on, smiling brightly once you noticed the numerous elves clumsily standing up from their seats and waving at the students.

“Once you’ve finished eating a band will be preforming for us and I hope that you and your dates will be joining me and McGonagall on the dance floor” laughter sounded around the hall at the last part of his sentence but instead of joining in like you usually would you found yourself draining out all noise as your eyes met Draco’s.

He’d already been looking your way and you couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips as his icy grey eyes burned through yours, you felt like there was some type of force drawing you to him and you couldn’t do anything about it, even though your head was screaming at you that shouldn’t be developing feelings for someone as arrogant and cruel as Draco Malfoy your heart seemed to be having trouble following.

-

Once everyone had finished eating you were eager to get away from your table, somehow Hero and Ron had begun a full blown argument which you and Hermione had to quickly shut down by asking Lavender to take Ron somewhere else until he’d calm down, that boy could not control his temper if his life depended on it.

You’d managed to cheer Hermione up after the entire ordeal telling her that she should focus on herself for once and have fun, thankfully she’d listened and you couldn’t help the giddy expression overtaking your facial features as you watched her and Hero sway together on the dance floor.

“Care to dance M’ lady” Harry merrily bowed down in front of you reaching his hand out towards yours, you placed a hand on your chest in feigned surprise before gently laying your hand in Harry’s palm.

“Why, I would be delighted to” you attempted a posh accent unable to contain the giggle that fell past your lips as you let Harry lead you to the dance floor.

As soon as his arm had wrapped around your waist and the other intertwined with your hand another slow song began playing, most of the students were still digesting their food so their weren’t many on the dance floor, it was only you and Harry, Hero and Hermione and about six other couples.

You leaned your head on Harry’s chest letting him slowly sway you to the soothing melody of the song. “You know I love you right?” Harry mumbled as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I love you too, silly” you brightly smiled up at him, you both knew there weren’t harbored feelings for the other hidden behind those three words so you had no trouble voicing it to each other.

You tightly wrapped your arms around his waist continuing to slowly move around the dance floor. You knew how hard his life had been leading up to this point, losing his family, Sirius, and then Cedric he always had the inkling fear that one day he’d lose you or Ron or Hermione so you wanted to make sure he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words and you knew you were saying everything you needed just by being there with him, it felt like hours that you’d stayed that way wrapped in each others arms but soon students begun to make their way to the dance floor so you and Harry decided to take a short break, heading hand in hand back towards your table.

-

Unbeknownst to you whilst you and Harry had been in your own world gently dancing with each other for all eyes to see, Draco had been enduring pure torture over at his table.

“I can’t believe she choose Potter over you”

“That’s gotta sting”

“How’s it feel being the second choice”

“Hope you’re ready to do my homework for the rest of the year”

Was all he had heard for the last hour as he’d watched you and Harry dance with one another. No matter the threats he threw their way and menacing looks they just wouldn’t stop, he felt as if his power of being crowned the Slytherin prince was slipping away from him, since in his world losing to someone like Harry Potter was as low as you could get.

Then and there Draco decided he wasn’t going to endure it anymore he was making his move tonight no matter the circumstance.

-

“You know Ginny’s been eyeing you all night” you wiggled your eyebrows nudging Harry’s shoulder who awkwardly began shifting in his seat as he mumbled a ‘really’ in response to which you nodded.

“Go ask her too dance!” you stood up so you could force him out of his seat along with you, you subtly pointed towards Ginny’s direction who had swiftly looked away as soon as her eyes had met Harry’s.

“But what about you?” Harry frowned realizing you didn’t have anyone to spend time with if he’d leave since both Hermione and Ron seemed to be preoccupied with their dates.

“Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine! now go” you ushered him forward giving him a reassuring thumbs up as he began to walk towards her.

“You’re quite the matchmaker aren’t you?” Hermione had suddenly walked up behind you and you both watched in amusement as Harry almost fell over twice before he was able to reach Ginny who had happily agreed to dance with him.

“Where’s Hero?” you asked as you turned to face Hermione eyes wandering around the hall in an attempt to spot her date, “oh he’s just gone to get us some drinks, you’re welcome to join us if you’d like” Hermione offered but you shook your head.

“No its okay honestly I’m fine” you assured her, you did not want to spend the evening third wheeling your best friend and her date.

Hermione began opening her mouth surely to convince you to join them but stopped once her eyes landed on something behind you or rather someone behind you.

“Care to dance?”

You swiftly turned around to see Draco with his hand reaching out towards you, you tried your best to contain the smile that was so desperately gnawing at the sides of your mouth as you turned back to Hermione who was giving you knowing smile.

“Find me if you need anything alright?” you eagerly nodded at her words only turning back to Draco once Hermione had fully vanished into the crowd.

“One dance, that’s it” you attempted to sound serious but it came off in a more teasing manner as you let your hand fall into Draco’s.

“Agreed”

As soon as you’d reached the middle of the dance floor, Draco’s arm had snaked around your waist pulling you into him whilst the other intertwined your fingers. You let out a giggle as he began twirling you around, gracefully catching you back in his arms as both his hands moved to rest on your lower back.

“You’re quite the dancer” you complimented, without a doubt boosting Draco’s already large ego, “I know” he had replied with a knowing smirk, twirling you around one last time before pulling you flush up against him your noses bumping together since you’d already been looking up at him. You’d held the eye contact for a minute as you brightly smiled at each other before you gently let your chin rest on his shoulder as he slowly began swaying you from side to side.

As your eyes began dancing over the students you didn’t think anything could burst your happy bubble until your eyes found Harry’s who had a look of disappointment edged onto his features as he pulled away from Ginny who had frowned at his sudden dismissal as she watched him begin to make his way out of the Great Hall.

You cleared your throat as you uncomfortably began shuffling away from Draco who gave you a look of confusion as he watched you pull your hand out of his and back away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do this” you muttered before hurriedly turning around and squeezing your way through the crowd of students all huddled together on the dance floor, most of them giving you annoyed glances as you pushed them out of the way but you didn’t care all you wanted to do was find Harry. You couldn’t imagine how he’d felt once he saw you his best friend, dancing with someone who’d made his life a living hell ever since the first year.

Once you’d exited the Great Hall you frantically began looking around the empty corridors in an attempt to find Harry who’d stormed out here only moments ago.

“Y/N!” you heard Draco call from behind you but you ignored him, picking up your pace once you heard his nearing footsteps echoing around the empty hallways.

“Y/N please wait” you felt him grab ahold of your wrist swiftly turning you back to face him, his grip only tightening as you began attempting to pull your hand away.

“No! You can’t treat my friends like shit and then expect me to give in on whatever the hell you’re trying to do” you finally managed to rip your hand out of his grasp as you turned back around but he quickly ran in front of you placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“Listen I’m sorry alright, bloody hell I just- I can’t stop thinking about you I don’t know how to explain it but I think I might-” he cut himself off hesitating to speak his next words unsure of how you’d react since he didn’t want to return to his friends with yet another failed attempt.

“You think you might what?” you crossed your arms over your chest glaring up at him as you watched his mouth open and close again.

“Fancy you” he finally let out, your eyes widening as you let your hands fall down to your hips. You took a few steps back until you couldn’t move any further the tall walls of the castle preventing you from doing so.

“You what?” you barely whispered and Draco took that as his chance to walk towards you placing both his hands on the wall next to you.

As you looked back up at him he slowly started to remove one hand from the wall so he could place it onto your cheek and just like he’d done in the store, he began leaning in until his lips were barely hovering above yours, you so desperately wanted to close the gap between you but a part of you was screaming to push him away and never look back, but as your eyes met his once more you couldn’t bring yourself to do it your heart taking control as he pressed his lips against your own.

Your lips continued dancing with each other at a normal pace until he’d moved to deepen the kiss swiftly wrapping his arms around your waist so you were able to loop yours around his neck, he pushed you even tighter up against the wall causing you to let out a gasp allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You ran your fingers through his hair gently pulling on the strands on the back of his head before letting your head fall to the side as he began leaving kisses down your neck his hands trailing down your sides until they wrapped around your hips pulling you even further into him.

You gently blinked your eyes open as you pulled away from him, your lips undoubtedly swollen and your lipstick smeared but you didn’t care.

“No one can know about this, not until I talk to Harry” you breathed out leaning your forehead against his as you attempted to slow your heart rate by taking deep breaths in and out.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone” he lied, he’d gotten quite good at that after having to continuously lie to his father ever since he was a child, one particular incident that he would never forget was when he’d accidentally let one of the house elves go because he didn’t know that to free them they had to be granted an item of clothing and on a particularly cold night he saw no harm in granting the elf his jacket since it had been shivering beside him and when his father had barged into his room later in the night furious at his son’s stupidity Draco had lied and told him that the elf had tricked him into doing so and upon hearing this his father had tracked the elf down and casted the unforgivable curse onto him, after that Draco lied to his father about almost everything he did to ensure something like that would never happen again.

Amongst his peers he was powerful and feared but when it came to his father he was nothing, never good enough and always in the way. School was the only place he felt he was more than his father’s words so he knew that as soon as he would make his way into the Slytherin common room the first thing he was going to do was tell his friends that he’d done it, that you were slowly but surely beginning to fall for him, which put him right back on top. 

TAGLIST:

@itzsoff @multiversegalaxygirl @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @awkwardnesshabitat @tiredplier @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @macheregrace @dobreesersei @voidmalfoy @lana-isabelle @fangirlyah @dracomalfoyswifey @lonely-kermit @mrsmyamalfoy @fuzzy-panda @sluthug @urbankaite2 @chickeebabe @classygirlything @dark-night-sky-99 @ranialih @pillowjj @im-a-stranger-thing @christinechickiee @imstillhere-butallislost @spencerreidisbootiful @hip-hopphile @justmesadgirl @gia-kerks @lilxnvm @kelly182001 @moonbug26 @gabiconstellation @sleepinmoonbean @mautand @oldschoolkiddo @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @dreams-in-blxck @stalker83005 @criesinlies @sxlted-carxrmel @moonjooniee @maskd-hearts @little-honey-bear @dobreesersei 

Let me know in my inbox or asks if you’d liked to be added, much love <333

[moregaythanyourealized]

First Impressions

Otto Octavius x reader

Working with others wasn’t your strong suit. People think you’re vulgar and rude. You like to call yourself brutally honest. This job wasn’t an exception. A science company that needed engineers, mechanics, and strong minds like your own. You had only been working here for a few months when gossip about a new super project was being passed around. No one bothered to tell you, of course. You just overheard it on your coffee break. Apparently some great scientist was coming in and taking over the entire lab.

Usually you’d be excited for an advancement in the world of fusion. But this new rich snobby scientist meant that for however long this project took you’d have; No office, Less working hours (meaning less pay), and worst of all....small talk

It was the day the new scientist was supposed to come in, you now knew his name was Otto Octavius. Your desk and your co workers desks were moved out of the lab and into a much smaller space. Cramping you all together like rats. You wore your usual attire and annoyed look as you entered the building. Although today you dawned some stylish eyeliner. Not for him of course, everybody was working extra hard to look presentable and professional. You passed by a co-worker who you didn’t really hate as much,

“Yo, Kathleen, is that guy here yet? Or do you think he’s too busy getting the windows on his lamborghini re-tinted?” You snorted at your own joke waiting for her response,

“Uh, he’s upstairs I think...in the lab.” You thanked her and walked up the steps. You pushed through nerds and geeks trying to reach your desk. A folder of your ideas carefully sealed with colorful clips sat in your drawer.

“L/n!” Turning around your boss was at the end of the hall stomping his feet,

“You were supposed to be in the lab by 7:30!” You glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:46,

“My apologies sir. I didn’t realize everyone would have a stick up their ass this morning. Besides traffic on the way here is always shitty.” You absentmindedly looked through your folder and took one page out pinning it to your cork board, until your boss grabbed your wrist and turned you towards him. His breath was heinous,

“Listen L/n, on a normal day I’d let you get away with being like this. But this is too important for you to fuck up.” glaring at you he released your arm,

“Get your shit together.” He spat. Waiting until he rounded the corner you groaned and tugged at your hair. Today just wasn’t your day. Taking a deep breath you smoothed out your shirt and walked to the lab pushing the door open and continuing inside. The colder air made you relax a bit. Hoping you’d be able to get some work done you sat down on a metal table in the corner. Crossing your legs and looking over blueprints for the next big thing in New York. The above ground bullet train. Sleek design and smooth riding on the rails...you hoped.

Kathleen walked in and shyly rapped your shoulder,

“Did you meet Mr Octavius?”

“He hasn’t come in yet.” You replied glancing her way, admiring how nice she looked even when she wasn’t trying,

“He’s right over there.” She points to a hunched over man in a red sweater. You got off the table and stared,

“That’s him? I thought he was like a janitor or some shit.” The man looked up raising a brow.

Fuck...probably said that too loud.

Waving awkwardly you grabbed Kathleen’s arm and dragged her over to the main table with you,

“Hello, I’m Dr Octavius. I believe we’ll be working together for the next few weeks.” He smiled sweetly and stuck out his hand which Kathleen accepted greatly,

“Actually Dr,” You chimed,

“You’ll be working with people from the east wing. They’re just letting you invade our entire office.” Kathleen stamped down on your foot lightly before turning back to the doctor,

“Y/n was just going to get me some coffee, do you want any Dr?” He nodded and you walked out making sure to slam the door. Stupid jerk, wearing a cute fucking sweater, trying to act all innocent. Trying to play god and mess with whatever sanity I have left. Pouring two cups of coffee you sighed, watching the steam spiral from the cup in a calming manner. Putting milk and sugar into one and nothing into the other.

Re-entering the lab Kathleen was no longer there. A disturbing silence made you want to turn on your radio. Octavius was still leaning over the desk writing things down. You held the drink infront of him,

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” Your eye twitched. That was the final straw. You yanked the coffee back spilling it a bit,

“My name is Y/n L/n, I may not have your money or title but I expect the same respect you’d give any man on this team. Do you understand me?” He stood up quickly. You didn’t realize he was so tall,

“Now wait a moment Y/n, just a few minutes ago you were cursing and accusing me. Respect is about the last thing on my mind when I think of you.” Ah shit, he was kinda right. You weren’t mad at him. You were just mad at the world. Still you had bad energy in your system,

“But I apologize for calling you sweetheart. It was a crude mistake.” You set both coffees down gently and folded your arms looking at your boots. Saying sorry was the right thing to do, even if it sucked,

“I’m sorry for the way I acted Dr, I guess I’m just a little upset with the pay cuts.” He paused,

“They’re cutting your pay?” You nodded and sat down in one of the metal chairs,

“Everyone here who doesn’t work 24/7 alongside you for the next month gets their pay cut in half until you’re out of here.”

“But you didn’t choose to work less, that doesn’t seem right.” You sighed and rested your head on the table,

“Tell me about it.” While enjoying the feeling of cool table on your cheek you noticed one of his papers. You grabbed it and a pencil before erasing some of his math. You could feel him focused on you,

“Staring is rude.” You said not taking your eyes off the equations,

“You seem to be as well.” Chuckling a bit he sat down and tapped your hand drawing your attention to his soft features,

“I think I know what’s bothering you.”

“I already told you what’s bothering me.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue,

“No, not that. When you left for coffee, Kathleen and I had a small talk about your behavior” Jesus, he sounds like a high school principal,

“She told me that you act like this a lot around other people. And it’s my personal hypothesis that you are intimidated by others who you believe to be smarter or better. You’re afraid of losing your job and not being able to prove yourself. I’m assuming that started in your childhood, either with an absent father figure or bullies at school.” You sat in disbelief. No one had ever really laid out your problems and made them seem so simple. Your face heated up and you clenched your hands. Why did this make you feel so stupid? Why did he think he knew more about your feelings than you did?

Standing up you turned away. Once a demanding and harsh voice was now quiet and small failing to hide your distraught,

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

————————————————

The rest of the day was slow. Your desk felt like a prison where time never moved forward. Rethinking what he said. The repeated movie in your brain of him lecturing you, All of it slowly morphed into him not making noise at all. His mouth moved but no sound, it was wonderful. You just imagined him, dark eyes, large stature looming over you, soft hands....

“Y/n?”

“Fuck!” You hit your head against the wall and turned to see Kathleen. She leaned in to make sure you’re okay, her perfume hit your nose and you tried not to seem like you were enjoying the moment too much,

“What do you need Kathy?”

“Dr Octavius asked me to give this to you.” She handed you an envelope and hastily exited the room. The crisp paper unfolded in your hands. Reading the letter was like fiery kisses to your skin. Words pouring out like water from a faucet.

Y/n,

We obviously got off on the wrong foot. I do not think of you as a subordinate and I certainly hope you do not think of me as a threat. We both overstepped personal and professional boundaries today. I apologize sincerely for making you uncomfortable. What is science if not testing the waters though? To show my attitude towards a better future working together I invite you to lunch tomorrow downtown. I will pick you up outside at 12:30

All the best,

Dr Otto Octavius

Pinning the letter up next to your project on the cork board you admired it smiling. Perhaps second impressions will set you both straight.

[shorkbrian]

I guess the sane sibling (as in the one who isn't interested in their stepsibling not-platonically) is a rule to have a incest or pseudo-incest kink but it's just saddens my perverted sick fuck self 😭 I just wanted to yandere!step-bro Tamaki to be his creepy shy so I could (probably kill him in the process) worship his cock knowing the boy would jest get SO overwhelmed 🥴 I'm sorry but I want him to stuff his lil sis with his cum while he sobs 😭 when he sees it oozing out he would RIP

When I write a character to be yandere, it’s usually my intent to not glorify their behavior. If I were in the situation as reader, it would feel like a horror movie, bc yandere actions are so not cash money.

But I’m able to write like, non-yandere smut y’all. I’m still a dark content blog, and I’ll write kinks that are a bit.... well, dark, obvs lol you just gotta ask!

and since you did - 

(What to expect - incest, NSFW, unsafe sex, blowjobs, consensual sex, toys)

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

“Tamaki?”

Your brother came around the corner, backpack still slung on his shoulder. Socked feet padded towards you on the couch, the ravenette shrugging his backpack off and gently setting it on the floor by the couch, before joining you as you sat on the plush cushions.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, setting your textbooks on the coffee table in front of you before leaning against your older brother, rubbing his arm a little bit.

Both of you were in college, taking classes, working on the weekends to pay for the tiny little apartment you shared. 

Tamaki looked tired, eyes downcast, soft frown on his lips, shoulders slumped. he was a shy man, but he didn’t usually look so..... defeated when he normally returned home after class.

“Mm.” The man hummed, sinking against you, melting into your touch.

“You look tired ‘Maki.”

He hummed again, closing his eyes as he brought his feet up, curling them underneath him as he pressed against you. The soft sweater he was wearing brushed against your bare arms, a little bit of your exposed thigh.

You weren’t shy about what you wore around the house, but for your brother’s sanity, you tried to keep somewhat covered, foregoing sports bras and wearing tank tops instead, ditching booty shorts for slightly longer (but not by much) shorts that covered you more fully.

Wearing less clothing meant Tamaki was clumsier, fumbling with the remote, bumping against things while he walked, bright red flush coloring his cheeks and melting to his collarbones, all because his eyes were glued to you.

Plus, it meant the man struggled with constant erections. He tried to hide it, embarrassed at his body no matter how many times you’d told him you adored it.

Your brother was shy, too shy to come to you and initiate, to find relief where you so gladly offered it.

That just means you had to get real good at noticing when he needed to relax a little.

You pushed Tamaki upright, ignoring his cute whine as you slid off the couch to kneel in front of him, dancing your fingers along his jean-clad thighs.

“Tell me how your day went.”

Your hands gently pushed his thighs open, watching your brother’s lips part with a gasp as you handled him. His head fell back against the couch, dark hair falling away from his eyes.

He was so pretty.

“Uhm, it was nice.”

“Mmhm.” You unzipped his jeans, slowly peeling the fabric down, your brother lifting his hips to help you out, his hands clutching at his soft sweater.

Boxers came next, Tamaki gazing down at you with red cheeks as you slipped them off his legs.

“Well, I-I woke up on time this morning, and I made it to class before the professor.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Praise easily tumbled from your lips as you wrapped a loose hand around Tamaki’s pretty pink cock, squeezing the shaft gently.

“Bio and psych went well, I got my test scores for my language class, and-and I got a B+.” His breath hitched as you took your hands off his cock, bringing a palm up to your mouth so you could wet it with your tongue, get it nice and slick for when you touched him again.

“I-I ate lunch with Mirio... and then I had math...” HIs voice was getting quieter, mumbling.

Math was never his strong suit, and you know it was one of his most-hated classes. Luckily, it was just once a week, on Tuesdays.

“How’d that go?” Your hands were on his cock again, wet with your spit, twisting around his length slowly as you moved them up and down.

“Uh, it-it went alright. I-I just ha-hate math.” Tamaki whimpered, his hips bucking up a little as you squeezed his tip, watching precum bead before bubbling over.

“Mm, well, maybe you can tell me some of the concepts? I might be able to help you out with homework.”

Tamaki couldn’t even nod, nor thank you for your offer before you were slurping his cock into your mouth. The man cried out, soft voice rising in pitch as you swallowed around him.

You fluttered your eyelashes up at him, but that didn’t get his attention, so you resorted to a gentle tap to his thigh to remind him to keep talking.

“Oh, oh, uhm... There’s..... ah...s-statistics. We-we’re learning how to.... how to display, and de-scrIBE-oh!” He lurched upwards, fingers flying to your hair as you used your tongue to play with the opening at the top. You could feel his little sweater paws as Tamaki gently fisted your hair.

Another gentle tap to his thigh.

“There’s also-also.... ohhh, uhm-ah! There’s.... prob-probablity, and I don’t.... unhh, unh-don’t get it at-at all...” His sentence ended on a breathy whine as you began bobbing your head. His voice was so cute, so pretty just like the rest of him, smooth and sweet.

“Oh, (Y/N), yes, yes! Can I-can I cum? Please?”

It had only been a few minutes, but Tamaki was close to the edge, slim thighs tensing behind your head as you considered his request.

You popped off his length, licking your lips and ignoring his pleading whine.

“Of course baby boy, always-” A soft kiss was laid against his thigh, and Tamaki threw his head back, thin chest heaving underneath his cute sweater, his face bright red.

He got overwhelmed at the littlest things.

Once his cock was back in your mouth, it took a tiny bit of work to bring him to the edge, bobbing your head, swirling your tongue, hollowing your cheeks and really sucking.

Those pretty moans echoed throughout the tiny apartment, filling up the space, filling your ears, making you want to smile. He was a sweet man, and you were glad to be so close to him.

A moment more and he was cumming, hot seed dripping down your throat, his fingers twisted in your hair, balls drawn up and pulsing against your chin.

-----

“Tamaki, you already got to cum and I didn’t.” You pouted, sitting on your bed.

You had helped your younger brother wash-up, licking his spent cock clean before tucking him back into your pants. Climbing up into his lap to boop his nose and whisper an “I love you” into his ear, grinding against his thigh in the process.

He had gotten his release, and now you were hungry for your own.

“Don’t be greedy-” Your fingers plunge into your cunt over and over, palm grinding against your clit as you stretch yourself out, watching Tamaki through hooded eyes as he sits obediently at the foot of your bed.

“Please, I-I just wanna t-touch myself a l-little?” His hands are pinching at his bare thighs, desperate to fist themselves around his dripping cock. You’d told him to be good and stay still and watch as you got yourself ready, and he had been.

Tamaki was just needy.

“Okay, but just a little, okay? No cumming.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you-” The man breathes, hands flying to wrap around his cock, his eyes fluttering shut as his hips bucked up a little towards the pressure.

You giggle a little at how cute he is, those big indigo eyes focusing back onto you again, dropping to your wet fingers as you eagerly fuck yourself on them.

But it’s not enough, and you want more.

A quick search through your bedside drawer and you find your vibrator, quickly flicking it on, watching Tamaki gulp as you bring it against your cunt. You sigh as it makes contact, the buzzy, rumbly sensation traveling through your thighs as you easily grind your hips forward against the wand.

“Mmh, I’ve been thinking... ooo, that feels so nice.” You moan, placing a hand behind you so you can steady yourself as you begin to hump against your vibrator. “I’ve been thinking though, that I should get you some-oh-get you some toys.”

Tamaki whimpers, high and pitched, and you smile when his cock visibly throbs. The man has to clench a fist around the base, squeezing hard to stop himself from humming.

“You like that idea? Yeah?”

He nodded, hair bobbing as his head moved enthusiastically.

“You’d look so pretty with a cock ring, mm, you would. And-oh, I could get one that vibrates, and it’ll feel like heaven when you fuck me.”

Your pussy was gushing, throbbing against the wand. You didn’t want to cum too soon, so you flicked it off, before crawling towards your brother.

“We could get you a nice little plug, maybe one that vibrates? And you could keep it in allllll day. You could go to class with it, and jerk yourself off in the bathrooms. I’d love if you sent me a video of you moaning my name as you cum into the toilet.”

The man whined again, his hips bucking up.

You giggled, rising to your knees so you could straddle the man, a hand finding his hard cock beneath you, lining it up to your dripping cunt.

“Would you like that ‘Maki?”

“Yes, yes-oh s-so much, please, that sounds-gUH!” His words choked off into a pathetic moan as you sank down on his length, and you sigh at the feeling of fullness.

Tamaki presses a hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the needy moans that he���s unable to suppress, hips bucking up against your warmth, trying to seat himself deeper.

“Don’t cover your mouth, I wanna hear you. You feel so good inside me.” You coo, using your thighs to bounce a little on his cock.

His hand falls to the side, and you lean forward to kiss him, letting your tongue play with his, slick, wet sounds filling the room.

And then you tell him to fuck you.

The man doesn’t hold back, greedy, slender hands fixing themselves around your waist as his hips work, pushing himself inside your cunt again and again and again.

Both of you are breathing heavily, and it feels so good, the way he fucks you.

“Oh fuck, keep going, ‘m almost there!” You pant, reaching a hand down to play with your clit, four fingers rubbing across the little nub as you climb higher and higher.

And when you cum, it’s with a full-body shudder, a cry tumbling from your lips as you slam your hips against your brothers.

Tamaki tumbles over the edge soon after, barely managing to pull free from your slick cunt before his cock is bursting with cum, painting the soft skin of your tummy with his release.

You rest against him, laying your head on his shoulder as you pant onto his skin, satisfied and warm.

When you gather your bearings, you shuffle off his lap, searching through the covers to wind the wand you’d previously dropped.

“You’re such a good boy ‘Maki, but I wanted you to cum inside-” You were pouting again as you held up the vibrator, waving it in the air.

Tamaki looked like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide. “W-what?”

“I’m gonna play with you a bit until you get hard again, and then I’m going to put your tip inside me-just the tip- and you’re going to cum while I use the vibrator on you, got it?”

The man shivers in anticipation, and you smile.

You love each other so much.

[lizzy-williams]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

🍎Warnings: dark!peter parker, manipulation, innocent!reader, smut, triggering themes, oral (male receiving), HOLY FUCK THIS IS WRONG. But holy hell... is it erotic 😏

🍎Read at your own risk!!! You’ve been warned, don’t wanna see it then don’t read it.

🍎Masterlist

🍎A/N: I am kinda in love with the dark!peter genre of fanfic, so behold the first of many 🙃 THE READER IS IN COLLEGE

“Professor?”

The voice was soft, but with an empty classroom, it was heard by the only one left in the room after his last period, his eyes averting his paper that he was grading.

As her eyes met his from the doorway as she made a soft smile, her bag slung over her shoulder as she held a few books in her hand, her demeanor calm and gentle.

“Miss [l/n], what might I be able to help you with,” the young professor spoke, a genuine smile crossing his face, setting his red grading pen down on his oak desk.

The girl peeked her head past the doorframe, hoping that the classroom was truly cleared out. She was shy, and if there was even one person, she would mutter out a ‘never mind’ and go back to her dorm and settle for the evening. But luckily the room was desolate besides the one person she truly wanted to see.

But Peter was more excited to see her than he should have been. [y/n] was his favorite student, and after things fell out with MJ, he was actually quite lonely. But [y/n]... she was perfect for him. She was brilliant, stunning, but most of all she was innocent.

In the smarts department she was a genius. But when it came to everything and anything to with adult life and culture, she was naive. And a teacher was always up for teaching the inexperienced by any means.

“P-Professor, I was just wondering if you could help me with this paper. I just wanted you to proof read and tell me what I can do to improve it,” she went on, slowly walking towards Mr. Parker’s desk.

“Yes, I guess, I need a break from grading anyways,” he acted thoughtful, even though grading papers was the last thing that he wanted to do.

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile, taking a seat in front of his desk.

But what made his breath hitch made him want to shove everything off the desk and take her right there.

As she bent down to unzip her backpack and get her folder holding said assignment, Peter could see right down her shirt, her breasts on full display, the white bra she was wearing being exposed.

I wonder what color her panties are, so fucking pure, I wonder what noises she’ll make when I-

“Mr. Parker?” [y/n] spoke, visibly concerned, snapping him out of his lust-induced funk he was in, making him blink.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “please, why don’t you read it to me?” He suggested, resting his chin on his knuckles, his full attention on her.

“Oh, um, okay, yeah of course,” she laughed nervously, glancing down at her almost masterpiece.

But as she began to read the words in front of her, Peter was focused on something else more... distracting.

Even though only she torso could be seen over the top of his desk, his gaze trailed up and down her body, practically undressing her with his eyes, taking in every part of her, from the way her breasts looked against her sweater, or the way her hair perfectly fit her face, but most of all her lips.

He couldn’t help but think the most sinful things about them. What it would be like to kiss them, what they would look like wrapped around his cock or sucking on his fingers, or what they would look like if he came all over them.

He watched them as they moved, pronouncing each word with ease, the words she was speaking being practically unheard as she went on. And he didn’t miss the skirt that she was wearing when she walked in, perfect and white, something that just screamed “virgin”.

Time seemed to fly by as his thoughts drifted to sinful things, thinking about taking her on every surface in his classroom. On his desk, against the wall, even on top of the desk she sat at everyday in the front of the room.

“So,” she began to speak, Peter snapping into the real world again, “how was that? I think paragraph two was a little strange sounding, but does everything else sound okay?”

She was like an anxious puppy, emotionally vulnerable to criticism. But she was willing to take help if it would make her paper better. But that was in the back of the professor’s mind.

“It sounds amazing, you’re a really good writer, [y/n].”

This was the first time that the professor had used her first name, usually addressing her formally. It was strange to her, making her shift in her seat.

“I’ll tell you what. I have a special course,” he began, and of course, [y/n] always eager to learn, she perked up, “it a special one-on-one course. I save it for the smartest in each class.”

[y/n] was now completely focused on what he was going to say next, not knowing that this was the thing that would take a toll on her life as she knew it.

“That means you get a good grade on your paper there and even extra credit. It’s a little interactive, if you’re okay with that.”

[y/n] nodded hesitantly, Peter giving a smile that was hard to read, but the red flag went over her head, thinking that it was just another one of his friendly grins.

“Well, Miss [y/n], if you’ll take a seat at your normal desk, we can get started.”

She stood, making her way to her usual desk, taking a seat, Peter giving a shake of his head.

“No, no, take a seat on top of the desk, if you will,”

Without a word, she shifted, propping herself up on the flat surface, her hands folded in her lap, her legs swinging as her ankles crossed.

The position made Peter eager to get this going.

“Alright. Now, I’m going to do something, and I need you to understand that this is for a completely educational purpose, okay?”

[y/n] nodded, letting out a gentle “uh-huh,” before Peter got closer, a comforting expression visible on his face.

He nudged her thighs apart with his hands, treating her as if she might shatter. When he was finally positioned right where he wanted to be, he placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing her against him, her breath hitching, trying to keep the whimper she wanted to let out in her throat.

“I’m going to do something else now, then we can start the lesson,”

And without a response, he leaned in, his face going into the crook of her neck, laying a soft kiss. But one kiss turned into three, and soon the kissing turned into licking and nipping, the whimper now finding its way out of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Peter was in heaven. Her skin was as soft as it looked, her scent smelling like peaches and cider, and he loved the way her neck felt under the mercy of his mouth.

“Your doing wonderful, [y/n],” he muttering into her skin, the vibration making her arms wrap around him, similar to a hug.

He continued, and just before he stopped, me stuck out his tongue and licked a strip up her throat and up to her earlobe, before mumbling, “I think you’re ready to start the lesson now...”

Before she could respond, he pulled back, beginning to speak again, her arms loosening from his torso.

“Now this is a lesson that most people learn in college, but they never learn it the right way,” he began, her anxious gaze meeting his calm and collected one, “what I’m going to give you is a gift. An opportunity not many girls your age get.”

“W-What class is this for...?” [y/n] muttered nervously, “I don’t know if I want this-,”

Peter’s eyes darkened, not liking the sudden disobedience. And she was doing so good...

“You want the extra credit right? Would hate to see what it would do to your perfect grade if you missed out on an opportunity like this,” his voice was dark as he looked into her wide and frightened eyes, “don’t you want a good grade?”

[y/n] nodded, hating to think that there was ever a chance she would get a less then satisfactory grade in her favorite class.

“Good girl,” his voice softened, his hand running up and down soothingly as she began to lose tension, “I just want what’s best for you. You are my favorite student after all.”

[y/n] whispered a small ‘thank you’ but her breath hitched as she felt his hand drift farther up her thigh, up and under her skirt. With a small whimper, he touched her covered clit, making her jump.

She had never even touched herself there, the only thing close being when she would drive over a steep hill and she felt a strange feeling in her gut.

“What are you doing?” She anxiously whispered, Peter shushing her.

“Shh, this is the first lesson. Repeat after me. Pleasure is key.”

She silently repeated. She had never really had a class about something close to this accept for the sex talk they gave whatever many years ago in high school.

She felt so dirty. But what he was doing felt so good.

His actions progressed, pulling her panties to the side, his index and pointer fingers drifting across her folds. She whimpered, her nails latching onto his shoulders, her forehead now resting on his shoulder as she tried to wrap her head around what she was feeling.

“Look at you, your so wet... virgins get wet so easily...,” he growled, finding her clit quickly, making her grasp tighter onto him.

She felt as if she was in a movie. A dirty movie that her friends would sometimes put on. And every time, [y/n] would close her eyes during the sex scenes. But now it was like she was in one.

“I need you to slip off your skirt and your panties, alright? It’s time for another part of the lesson.”

Her nod was full of reluctance, but she did as she was told, her body betraying her mind. Peter watched as her clit was exposed, and absolutely hairless.

He felt like a kid on Christmas. All that time waiting, and finally seeing his gift. And it was just what he had asked for.

“I’m going to slip off your shirt and your bra now. This part requires you to be completely nude,” he said sternly.

Before she would absorb his words, her arms were pulled up, her sweater slipping off, her bra not too soon after. And unlike any other boy would, Peter removed it with ease with no trouble at all.

He stepped away, looking at his favorite student. Her hair was ruffled, her clit swollen as she stayed with her thighs spread, her breasts looking more perfect in person then he ever thought they would.

So many nights had he stroked his cock to the thought of her. The thought of what her body would look like. What sounds she would make. And most of all what she would look like on her knees.

“Absolutely stunning. Get on your knees, princess,” he pointed in front of him.

“Why?”

As soon as it left her mouth she wanted to stuff the word back in, the look in her professor’s eyes making her stomach tense.

“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He gritted, “I won’t ask again.”

She then scrambled to the ground, on her knees and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her bottom lip, her doe eyes attached to his wandering ones.

“Pleasure is key, remember? And because you don’t have a partner, you’ll be mine. Now the first part is with your mouth. I’ll show you how to do it to me. And then I will do it to you, understand?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, his hands reaching for his belt, unbuckling it slowly, her eyes glued to his hands.

As soon as he pulled both his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them, [y/n] was transfixed at the sight of such a falic part of the male body.

She had never seen one up close and in person before. It was flushed pink and twitching as if it had its own heartbeat.

“Take it in one of your hands,” and she did as he said, “now cup my balls princess,”

The instructions were easy enough. But it was hard to do. For her at least.

The contact to his cock and the sight of his favorite girl on her knees for him was enough to get him to cum on the spot. But he would rather cum down her throat.

“Open your mouth, [y/n].” He instructed, and she did as he demanded, tears almost forming, “now stick your tongue out,”

She looked so perfect like this. He was ready to make this angel a little less holy. To teach her that this was only something he could give her.

“So good for me,” he weaved his hand through the back of her head and in her hair, pulling her in closer, “put it in your mouth, princess, I’ll do the rest, yeah?”

She couldn’t help but lick it first before putting the tip in her mouth, her tongue swirling around it, hoping that she was doing a good job.

But she was suddenly jerked foreword, his cock going into her mouth, his tip poking at the mouth while she gagged. Tears welled up in her eyes, making Peter reach for her hand, holding it as he pulled back out, before sliding right back in roughly. Soon he set a steady pace, the girl below him desperately trying to steady her breaths.

Tears streamed down her face, her mascara ruined, her lips swollen, her hands holding onto his thighs to anchor him. She whimpered and whined against him, wanting to stop but the vibrations from her protest only spurred him on, fucking her face, his perfect little toy.

This was everything he had imagined and more.

“Such a good girl, just like that, you’re doing amazing - fuck -,”

A few more thrusts and he was right on the edge, his hand gripping on her hair tighter and his pace faster.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum down your throat, princess, just keep going-,”

When the warm liquid finally oozed out, she began to cough in her desperation for air. He pulled out, grabbing her jaw as he came on her face as she coughed up his cum, sobbing as she gasped for air.

And even though she was almost choked to death by her teacher’s cock, she still managed to let out a rough whimper: “Did I do good?”

“Yes, [y/n], you did absolutely amazing.” He panted, his face flushed, “I think you’ve learned enough for today, we’ll pick this back up tomorrow.” He sighed, grabbing his pants and slipping them back on and the girl scrambled to find her clothes.

Soon enough she was fully dressed, grabbing her bag. But she was soon pulled back by her arm, now facing Mr. Parker.

“Remember, [y/n], this club is only for my best students. Nobody else can know, or else they’ll all want to join. We can’t have that...,” he said quietly, giving a sweet kiss to her forehead as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Parker...,” she muttered, hugging him gently, “thank you for the opportunity.”

“Of course. You are my favorite student after all.”

[vnderoos]

looks like slytherin betrayal to me ✷ fred weasley

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, underaged drinking, steamy scene word count / 5.4k

masterlist in bio ↴

MUGGLE STUDIES HAD BEEN nothing but boring that day, so it only made sense that Y/N had been so quick to leave. Well, that, and the fact that it was her last class of the day. She sucked in a deep breath as she made her way towards the Great Hall for lunch, happy to get a lungful of something other than the smell of dusty books and parchment paper, but her newfound relief didn't last long. She'd made it not even halfway down the corridor when she felt a presence pop up on either side of her.

"You're coming tonight, right, Y/N?" A voice chimed and she didn't have to look to know it was Fred Weasley, in all of his tall, red-headed glory. She glanced at him, anyways, and she pretended to roll her eyes at the sight of him. Even though he and George had been two of her least favorite people in their first years at Hogwarts, after they'd almost accidentally killed her during one of their firework shows, their persistence had won her affections over somewhere along the way. She'd never verbally admit that to them, but sometimes, she did hope that the two could see through the cracks they'd made in her reptilian demeanor.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows up at Fred, unsure as to what he was talking about, before she fixed her gaze back on where she was walking. "What's tonight?" she questioned, peeking up at George out of the corner of her eye, and he laughed.

The twins knocked their elbows against hers at the same time, on their shared wavelength, as usual, and they grinned. "It's our party, of course," they said simultaneously and Fred placed his hand on the top of her head, ruffling her hair beneath his fingertips. She shot him an annoyed look, despite the way that her cheeks tinged pink, and grabbed his forearm, flinging it away from her.

He looked amused as she reached up to fix her hair, tucking one of the strands behind her ear after she did. "Exciting," she deadpanned and Fred feigned being offended. He reached out to mess up her hair again, but she pressed her palm into his, locking their fingers in order to hold his hand at bay.

His eyebrows lifted and his lips curled into a small smile. "Not that I'm complaining, Y/L/N, but if you wanted to hold my hand, you could've just asked," he teased, nodding towards their interlocked fingers, and her cheeks turned red.

She wasted no time in ripping her hand out of his and shuffling closer to George. "I wasn't— I didn't—" she stammered, feeling the boiling beneath her cheeks, and she resorted to smacking her palms over them. "Oh, shut up," she snapped and both of the twins started to laugh. She glared at George and he only laughed harder. Willing to do anything to change the subject, she sighed. "How would I even get in, anyways?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest sheepishly as the flush started to wear off.

"Fortuna major," Fred hummed, throwing his arm around her shoulders and her cheeks heated right up again. She didn't fight it this time, though, as he jerked her into his side and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger. In fact, it was quite nice, but she'd rather take the Killing Curse than admit it.

Though she wanted to look anywhere but Fred, she couldn't help but let her eyes flicker over to him. He was wearing that familiarly cocky grin of his and it made her heart stutter, but she ignored it. She silently cursed him and his stupid, charming smile. "What's that?" she asked, like she wasn't thinking about reaching up to the hand he'd draped around her and intertwining their fingers again.

"It's the password, darling."

Y/N's heart nearly melted at the pet name, and if she let him think he could get away with it, she knew it'd only be a matter of time before he made her putty in his fingertips. She held up a stern finger and pointed it in his direction. "Do not call me 'darling', Fred," she told him in a firm tone, like she was talking to a naughty cat, and George chuckled from beside her.

"Yeah, Freddie, no 'darling'," George reiterated, shrugging his shoulders. "She's more of a sweetie pie, I reckon," he teased and Y/N's head whipped over to him. She narrowed her eyes at him and he pretended to fight his smile, holding his hands up in surrender.

She turned her head back to Fred. "Call me sweetie pie and I will hex you, boys," she promised and they let out huffs of amusement. She figured her efforts would be in vain and 'sweetie pie' would be a nickname that would resurface eventually, but it didn't hurt to try. "Anyways, isn't it just Gryffindors? You lot hate anyone from Slytherin," she explained.

Fred only shrugged his shoulders and gave hers a squeeze. "Who could hate you, though?" he quipped with his trademark grin and she shook her head in mock annoyance, the smile tugging at her lips giving her away. "I wouldn't worry, anyways. Everyone'll have a bit of Ogden's in their system by the time you get there, anyways, so I think you'll be quite the hit," he added, his fingers rubbing her arm softly as he spoke.

She flashed a look of skepticism up at him, before she looked over at George to see if the two of them were on the same page. He was quick to dispel her worries with a small nod. "If not, everyone trusts us, anyways. We're like gods to them," he said jokingly and Y/N sputtered out a laugh. He wasn't entirely wrong. "We'll vouch for you if we need to, isn't that right, Fred?"

"That's right, George," Fred sang.

Looking between the boys one last time, taking in their sparkling doe eyes and expectant grins, she sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll come," she caved. At that, the boys laughed in unison and high-fived each other above her head.

—

Y/N looked down at her sweater as she walked up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. She plucked at the dark red knitting, having decided to wear it for the party in order to seem less... Slytherin, she supposed. Despite being an unusual color for her to wear, the sweater was actually quite cute. She'd tucked it into a pair of high-waisted jeans, thrown on a pair of white sneakers, slipped on a few gold rings, and it looked way dressier than she'd intended.

The Fat Lady in the portrait between her and the Gryffindors crossed her arms over her chest as she watched the girl approach. She raised an eyebrow and Y/N's eyes met her own. She felt her stomach flip as their gazes connected and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she didn't get in. She could feel her cheeks burning slightly, but she ignored it, shoving her hands into her back pockets instead. Thumbing at one of the seams, she managed a small smile. "Um, fortuna major," she said. Instead of swinging open like she normally would for the students, the Fat Lady stood still, staring down at her skeptically. She felt her nerves replace themselves with frustration and she lifted her eyebrows. "Well, what're you waiting for?" she asked. "That's the bloody password, isn't it?" she snarked, which probably wasn't the best way to go about the situations, but her quick temper tended to get the better of her.

The lady in the portrait rolled her eyes, before the portrait swung open, revealing a hole in the wall. This wasn't the first time she'd been in the Gryffindor common room, as Fred and George had snuck her in a handful of times before, but as she climbed through the wall, she realized it was much different than when she'd seen it last. Instead of being peppered with a couple of students, the room was full. Everyone was squashed together, cheeks tinted pink from the firewhisky as music thumped throughout the room. There were small, multicolored fireworks sizzling through the air in loops over everybody's heads and it wasn't hard to guess where they'd gotten them.

A lot of the students wore beads and crazy charmed accessories that she'd never seen before, but it brought a small smile to her face as she advanced through the crowd. "Hey, check it out," she heard someone yell off to her right, before he pulled out a party horn and blew it up towards the ceiling. Her eyes widened when it rained sparks from above and everyone erupted into cheering. She'd never seen anything like any of this when the Slytherins threw parties and she had an inkling that it was all the twins' doing.

Speaking of the twins, she realized she hadn't seen them anywhere. As she squeezed between two drunken students, she spotted Ginny, her fiery hair sticking out amongst everyone else. She was giggling and propped up against the sofa, with a glass of Ogden's in her hand, and Y/N felt a surge of relief. At least she knew someone. "Ginny!" she called, loud enough for her to hear over the commotion and the red headed girl turned towards her. Y/N watched as Ginny's face lit up with excitement and she pushed herself off of the couch, practically leaping towards her.

"Oh, Y/N!" Ginny's words came out in a slurred squeal. "I am so happy that you're here. George told me you were coming and that Fred was so excited to see you, and now, you're here!" she yelled enthusiastically, throwing her arms around Y/N as she stumbled into her.

Y/N laughed and hugged Ginny tightly in greeting, steadying the girl as she did it, and when she pulled away, she grabbed onto one of Ginny's elbows to make sure she didn't fall flat on her arse. "How many of those have you had, Gin?" she asked quietly, barely even registering the part she'd spilled about Fred. She'd been too worried trying to keep the girl upright.

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed at the question and she began to count on her fingers. Before she could give a proper answer, Fred and George popped up out of nowhere, giving Y/N a start. She clutched her chest as her heart hummed at the sound of her name. "Y/N!" they'd exclaimed at the same time and she let go of Ginny to give them a hug, but she gasped when the girl swayed. She jumped back to catch her, but George beat her to it.

"On second thought, I'm going to get this one off to bed. She's had more than enough, but I'll catch up in a bit," George hummed, prying the glass of firewhisky out of Ginny's fingers and handing it off to Y/N, who took it softly. "You two chat while I'm gone," he said, winking at the two of them, and he was off.

Y/N's eyebrows knit together at that and she turned back to look at Fred. She would've questioned the wink if he wasn't smiling so widely down at her. The same smile spread across her own lips when she took in the knitted hat that he was wearing, with two dangly bits framing his face. It was kind of cute—very cute, actually. "Glad you could make it," he told her and she laughed.

She held up her hand and gestured to the room around them. "Me, too, I've never seen anything like this. Slytherin parties are much less... explosive, I guess is the word," she said and Fred let out a soft chuckle.

He offered her a small shrug and a tilt of his head. "Might've been my idea to pass out all the fireworks."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised in the least," Y/N told him, and instead of saying anything else, Fred chugged what was left of the glass in his hand. It was only then that she noticed that his cheeks were tinged red from the alcohol, and he looked quite handsome, honestly. The flush complimented his complexion and brought out a sparkle in his pretty, brown eyes.

Y/N caught her heart fluttering in her chest at the mere sight of him and she wasted no time in downing the rest of Ginny's drink to ease her nerves. It was alcohol, so it basically killed off all of Ginny's germs, anyways. "Do you think I could get another? And maybe a new glass?" she asked, holding up her empty cup, and Fred nodded quickly.

He took the glass from her hand and set it down on one of the random tables around them, before he reached for her hand. "Sure, come with me," he hummed, just loud enough for her to hear, and her eyes darted to his fingers, which had wrapped themselves around her own. She blushed at the warmth of his hand around hers, thankful that he hadn't looked at her long enough to notice before he began to tug her through the crowd of Gryffindors. He pulled her towards a long table at the end of the room, which was cluttered with half-empty glasses and bottles of Ogden's Old. He let go of her hand gently and set his own glass on the surface. He popped the top off of one of the bottles of whiskey and refilled his cup, before he held the bottle over an empty one. He peeked up at Y/N out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Say when," he said.

Then, he gave the bottle a sharp tilt and the liquid came gushing out. Y/N's face flooded with heat as she watched him. "Oh, my god, stop. Stop," she rushed out and Fred began to laugh. It filled her ears just as the alcohol filled her cup, all the way to the brim, and she looked at him with wide eyes. "What the hell, Weasley?" she asked.

Fred couldn't contain his giggles as he slid it over to her. "What? You're late, Y/L/N. You've got to catch up," he stated matter-of-factly. He picked her glass up carefully and it almost sloshed over the edge, so he brought it to his lips. Fred took a small sip out of her glass and swallowed it down with ease before he registered what he was doing. He then went to hand her glass to her and her eyebrows lifted. She looked at the glass in his hand and back up at him. "Well?" he asked, confused as to what the hold up was, but then, it clicked. "Oh, sorry, I can make you a new one if that was weird. I just figured..." he trailed off, shaking his head. He went to set it back down on the table, but she placed a hand on his forearm before he could.

Fred froze in his tracks and he looked over at her. Y/N could see the color spreading over his cheeks like wildfire and something about it made her stomach flip. She'd never seen him blush before, let alone at her hand. She swallowed her heart, which was thumping its way up her throat. "No, it's fine. I'll take that one, Freddie," she said and she reached to take it out of his grasp, her own cheeks reddening as her fingers brushed softly against his.

He straightened himself up a bit when she took the cup from him and he smiled as he watched her touch it to her mouth. "I'll give you three galleons if you drink it all in one go," he challenged, and Y/N raised her eyebrows over her cup in acceptance.

She tilted her head back and began to guzzle the amber liquid down, squeezing her eyes shut as it tasted more bitter with every gulp. She only got it around halfway down before she had to quit, pulling it away from her mouth and shaking her head as she swallowed the rest of what was in her mouth. She grimaced and a bit dribbled down her chin as she stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I can't," she said. "It's too gross," she confessed in defeat.

Fred shrugged. "To be fair, I did give you a big cup," he countered and she scoffed, sloshing the liquid around in her glass.

"Clearly," she told him.  She looked down at her cup, and then back up at him, only to realize that his gaze was locked on her lips.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion and she watched as Fred's eyes blew wide. "Oh, no, I wasn't—" he started, before he cut himself off with a nervous laugh. He wiped his hand over his forehead sheepishly. "I mean, yeah, it would be nice to kiss you and all, but I'd like to think that'd I'd be a bit cooler about it, yeah? I wasn't going to try anything, I swear, you've just got some..." he trailed off when he realized he was spilling too much and her eyes were as wide as saucers. "You know what? I'll just get it," he blurted, and before she could do anything, he swiped his thumb sloppily over her chin, smearing away the trickle of firewhisky, and she blushed.

She blushed at the fact that he said it would be nice to kiss her, at the fact that he wanted to be cool about it, and at the fact that he touched her fucking face. Her cheeks were on fire, with her stomach warm to match, and she wasn't sure if it was Fred or the firewhisky she'd just downed. Either way, she couldn't help but gawk at him.

Fred's thumb lingered on her chin for a moment, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual mesmerization, and her lips parted softly. He was pretty. He was so goddamn pretty and she really wasn't sure where he got off. Part of her wished he would just grab her by the face with the hand that he was holding her chin with and plant one on her, but she would never, never tell him that. Before the moment could take her mind anywhere else, she blinked up at him. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling shy all of the sudden, and he pulled his hand off of her chin faster than she could even register it.

"Yeah." He flashed her an awkward smile and he nodded. "Um, I like your jumper," he hummed after a minute, clearing his throat, and her eyes widened. She glanced down at the red, knitted fabric and she tugged at it softly with a smile.

She hadn't thought it was anything too special, but it made her feel nice that he pointed it out. "Really?" she questioned, a bit of excitement playing in her voice, and she looked back up at him.

Fred nodding down at her with a grin. "Well, yeah," he stated. "Nothing says 'Slytherin betrayal' like a bright red sweater," he teased.

His words elicited a small laugh from her lips and she shook her head. He took on his signature cocky grin as he touched his glass to his lips once more. "Shut it, Weasley, I just wanted to impress you is all," she hummed.

At that, Fred almost choked on his drink. He sputtered out a small cough and his eyes widened as he looked at her. "Impress me?" he repeated.

Her cheeks flushed pink when she realized how it'd sounded. Granted, she really had put it on just to impress him, to try and fit in for him, but he didn't need to know that. The whole red sweater ordeal was embarrassing enough in itself. "No, no, I mean, not like that. I just meant 'impress you' like 'impress you all'—Gryffindor," she defended and she swore she'd need a whole muggle fire department to put out the flames under her cheeks.

Luckily, she'd worked her way out of that awkward exchange, but she and Fred endured a couple more as they continued to stand next to the drink table talking. Fred chugged the rest of his drink after a bit, and since she'd only taken a couple sips after he'd tried to get her to drink it all at once, she downed the rest of hers as well. Her cheeks had begun to feel a little warm and fuzzy with the bit of firewhisky on her system and her hands had started to feel somewhat tingly by then, but she was still very alert.

Her inhibitions were just significantly lowered.

"We should dance, Y/N/N," Fred suggested after a bit.

Y/N laughed softly at that. "Should we? I'm not really good at it," she admitted, her eyes trailing to the center of the room where the party was still very much alive.

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "You don't have to be good. We're all plastered anyways," he said and he reached for her hand. Y/N nodded, realizing that he was right. She really didn't have anything to lose by dancing in a common room that wasn't her own with people who were too drunk to even remember her in the morning. She met Fred's hand halfway and he smiled down at her gently as she slotted her fingers between his. She wasn't sure where the whole hand-holding thing had come from that night, as neither of the two were usually that touchy with each other, but she wasn't complaining. His hand was soft and warm, and she might've held it forever if she'd been given the chance.

With her hand in his, she let him lead her to the middle of the crowd of students, where a record player sat on top of a table, and he cranked up the dial. The music started to blare louder and the entire common room erupted into absolute chaos. Y/N's eyes went wide as Fred tugged her away, letting the two of them melt into the cluster of Gryffindors, and he looked at her dreamily. He lifted their hands, which were still intertwined, into the air, while he let his other settle on her waist. He straightened himself up with a smile, the balls on the end of his knitted hat bobbing around, and she shot him a look of amusement.

"A waltz?" she shouted over the noise music, which was entirely too punk rock to slow dance to, but to her surprise, Fred nodded his head. "To this?" she asked again, and instead of offering her a proper response right off the bat, he took the lead in their dance.

Y/N tilted her head forward in a laugh, but she stepped with him all the same, finding it rather amusing how their calculated movements contrasted with the jumping and aggressive dancing that everyone else was doing. "But of course," he said as he'd leaned in, muttering it into her ear, and when Fred lifted his arm up, she found herself spinning underneath it, and they were both laughing, then.

Everyone was throwing their arms around and shaking their heads around them to the fast-paced song while Fred danced with her on his own time. It might've been weird to watch, but with his hand on her waist and his eyes locked on her own, she didn't care. Every time he led her in their next step, the party around them faded further and further away, until it felt like they were the only two people left in the common room—which wasn't true by any means. She smiled brightly up at him, regardless, and a soft grin settled onto his lips to match. "You know, you look so beautiful tonight," he told her and even though it was quiet compared to the noise, she'd never heard him so clearly.

Y/N stopped dancing and the two of them stilled. "Fred," she said, her heart swelling in her chest when she noticed the way that his eyes had softened and the way they fluttered over her features. She saw a pink dust fall over his cheeks and her stomach tingled. "Really?" she asked hopefully.

He didn't hesitate in nodding. "Yeah, red is a great color on you," he complimented and her smile only widened. "It's a shame you've got to wear green all the time, but it makes sense, I guess."

She tilted her head at him and pulled her hand, which was still extended in the air, out of his. She set her arms on his shoulders and laced her fingers behind him instead. "And why's that?" she questioned.

His smile turned crooked and there was a glint in his eyes that made her nervous. He leaned in and touched his lips to the shell of her ear. "Well, I doubt any man would pass a test again if you were to wear a Gryffindor robe everyday," he said quietly and she could feel her heart pattering in her chest.

Heat rose beneath her cheeks and she turned her head away from him in an attempt to hide it. "How drunk are you, Weasley?" she laughed and she could feel him shrug beneath her arms.

He leaned his head against one of her forearms, which still rested on his shoulder. "Quite, but I mean it, really," he hummed and with all the butterflies he set loose in her stomach, she was surprised she wasn't floating off of the ground. He pressed his lips softly against the skin of her arm after a moment and she froze. "Can we step out for a second, actually? I need to talk to you about something," he explained.

Whatever it was sounded serious, like something that didn't need to be said when they were both under the influence—Fred significantly so—but the Ogden's kept her from saying no. Instead, she nodded and he slipped his head out from under her arms, slipping his hand around one of her own again. He pulled her back the way they'd came through the pool of Gryffindors and he led her into the boys dorm. He let go of her hand when they were safely inside and he gently shut the door behind them.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her shoulder against the wall. "What is it, Freddie?" she asked, almost afraid of what was to come.

Fred took a deep breath. "Look, I know you're not a fan of the red and gold. To be quite truthful, I'm not wild about Slytherin, either," he started and Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. What was this? She wondered if she'd done something to upset him in the time that she'd been at the party, but when he opened his mouth again, her worries dissolved. "But ever since I met you, I've thought about nothing else," he confessed.

Any negative thought was swatted from her mind and her stomach flipped. "Wait, what?" she asked, hoping she'd heard him properly.

"Yeah. You got so mad that first day, when George and I nearly blew your head off with that firework—which we're still sorry about, by the way—but you were so stunning," Fred gushed, taking a couple of steps towards her so he could take one of her hands in his. "Why do you think I never left you alone after that?" he hummed.

There was a warmth in her body, radiating up from the hand that he held, and she looked up at him with the softest of eyes. She'd never known that Fred had felt this way about her, too. She'd spent months swallowing down the urges and shutting out the thoughts, clueless to the fact that they were plaguing him, too. "Is that why?" she almost whispered, her eyes searching his. "I'm going to be honest, I didn't like either of you at first because I thought you'd made it your sole purpose to annoy me, but you idiots grew on me. And you, Fred," she paused, pulling the hand that he had wrapped around hers towards her lips so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm really glad you didn't leave me alone," she admitted.

His eyebrows quirked upwards. "I hope you're being serious, because if you're not, you're going to regret it when I pin you against that wall," he huffed, his voice throatier than it had been a moment before, and it made her heart skip a beat.

"I'm serious, Freddie. I like you."

"You'd better."

"I do," she assured him, and that was all she had to say for him to place one of his hands on her waist, slip the other behind her head, and slam her against the wall.

Fred's lips met hers in sloppy, heated kisses and she'd barely known what had hit her until she melted into him. Her eyelids fell closed and she let her hands slip beneath his hat, sliding it up off of his head and tossing it somewhere to the side. She tangled her fingers in his shaggy, red hair, and her fingers slid through it like butter. She let out a complacent hum when his hips pressed against her own and she rolled her body against his. He took that as an opportunity to hook his hands behind her knees and lift her up off of the ground. She wrapped her legs around him as his hands slid to hold onto her ass and her lips never left his.

His fingers dug into it and she whimpered softly against his lips, tilting her head in order to kiss him better, and one of his hands started to untuck her sweater. She grabbed his hand and placed it back on her ass when she started to slip down the wall, and she made the decision to pull her sweater over her head for him. "Bloody hell," Fred muttered in awe when the sweater dropped into a pool at his feet, leaving her in a lacy, dark green bra. "Couldn't go all Gryffindor for me, I see," he teased breathlessly, his eyes staring at her chest, and she laughed.

"I'm only a house traitor on the outside," she hummed with a wink that made his stomach churn. She grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt and she bunched it up in her hands, pulling it over his head as quickly as she could without having him drop her, and she tossed it down with her sweater. "Quidditch practice does you well, Weaselbee," she complimented when he was bare-chested. His torso was taut, soft lines defining his muscles, and his skin was warm against her hands.

"I'd say the same for you, but considering you don't play quidditch, I'd guess you're just naturally this hot," he rasped and she could feel her skin prickle. One of Fred's hands lifted off of her ass once more, trailing up her spine softly until it settled on the clasp of her bra. "Can I?" he whispered, his eyes meeting hers as he asked for her permission and she nodded. He unhooked her bra in one quick motion and she shimmied out of it for him, letting it fall to the floor. She could feel him still as her torso was left completely uncovered, but just as he opened his mouth to praise her, the door clicked open.

Y/N let out a gasp of surprise but Fred was quick to drop her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in order to cover her. Her bare breasts were pressed against his naked chest and she started at the door where George Weasley gawked at them. He stared at the two of them wide-eyed, holding up a finger in silence for a second, before he erupted into laughter. "Months. Months you two go tiptoeing around each other but get the both of you sloshed and the air is cleared in an instant," he teased, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't seem to register why the two of them were half naked, just that they were and just that they were pressed against each other. Fred stared at his brother with wide eyes. "Merlin, get out, George," he blurted.

"Alright, alright." George giggled in the doorway. "As you were, lovers," he said with a wink, before he slipped away once more.

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Here's the Pregame Shuichi Saihara x Reader smut

Shuichi has always watched the Danganronpa Killing Games and fantasized about being in them, about being an Ultimate, specifically the Ultimate Detective. He's talked to others about this, which earned him harsh names like, Freak, Creep , Weirdo and Killer. The last one was mainly from the fact he said he wanted to make the most gruesome and painful murder. Shuichi never really liked anyone romantically until his senior year. A girl by the name Y/N L/N joined Springfield Academy as her beautiful H/C H/L and her E/C and her walk, it all begged him to ravage her. She's a very kind girl with the spirit of goddess, she surely will be perfect for Shuichi. Todays the day he will make his move, he got his usual uniform on along with his backpack and headed out towards school. He seen her talking to that boy Kokichi Oma. God he hated that boy, he's such a spineless boy. After his goddess left for class, he grabbed Kokichi by the collar of his shirt and gave him an angered look "what are you doing with my sweet goddess??" He almost yelled at him. 

"Y-you mean Y/N?" he said meekly "S-she's just m-my partner in a p-project! I-I'm sorry!" he whimpered and held his hands up. How can someone like her want to be his project buddy?? This is unacceptable! His eyes swirled in slight madness but before he could make his move, he heard someone coming towards them. "say nothing about this and ill let you go" He said as Kokichi nodded quickly and was released from Shuichi's death grip. It was Y/N that was coming back, she seen Shuichi and smiled with a slight blush "Hey Shuichi!" she exclaimed as Shuichi blushed almost like a school girl with a crush on a jock. "H-hey Y/N!" he smiled, "Hey Kokichi are you ok?" She asked him as she noticed her friend all shaking up. Kokichi looked at Shuichi quickly before nodded "y-yeah! But Y-Y/N I don't wanna d-do that project a-anymore with you.." he said trying to avoid all contact with both Shuichi and Y/N. Y/N was confused "why? you seemed really into I-" "I-I JUST D-DON'T WANT T-TO DO IT!' he yelled and ran off in the opposite direction of the school. Y/N seemed heartbroken from her friend's shout. 'Did I do something wrong..?' she thought to herself as tears rolled down her face as her first and only friend at this new school just ran away from her like she's some monster. Shuichi hugged her "its ok, he was always so mean to others" he said, "really..?" "yeah, he's always been that way, let me help you finish that project" he said in a caring and passionate voice. "really? Thank you Shuichi! You're a life saver!" She kissed his cheek and ran off to school. He stood there, hand on his face as his blush spread from ear to ear. He soon followed to the school.

Throughout the day they spoke often and planned that evening that he would help her finish the project. Each hour was more and more excruciating for him, he could barely keep his own excitement in his pants. 

As the school day ended, he couldn't be anymore excited or calm, as they walked home, he started to talk about the Danganronpa Killing games, and for once, someone wasn't scared or disgusted by this, she was actually a bigger fan then he was, was that even possible? Well to him its like heaven. Once they got to his home, he helped her with the project as he promised, though his pants couldn't get any tighter around him. They two finished the project fairly quick. "That's the last of it! Thank you so much Shuichi! Though I must get going, my family tends to get overworked up if I'm not home by 5pm" she then got up. 'That's it..? Just a simple thank you..? NO! That cant be it! He got up quickly as he pinned you to the wall, you yelped as his eyes stared into yours, your heartbeat got faster as your face flushed a deep pink. "S-Shuichi? What are you doing?" you asked as your voice is soft and low from fear. "A thank you wont satisfy me! I've been wanting to ram you since the day you entered the school, you now belong to me and only me, NO ONE ELSE!" he shouted as you flinched, yes you are scared but at the same time you're turned on by this erratic behavior. You did have a small crush on him since you met, but everyone kept saying he was a killer and creep so you never spoke to him all that much before today. His hand groped your right breast as the other felt your behind, he slipped your underwear off and tossed it. He then licked up from your open blouse to your neck, he sucked on it for while to make it deep blueish color. His eyes half closed yet filled with such lust. Within seconds he undid his pants to release his pulsing member. "W-Wait, I-I don't h-have a change of c-clothe-" Before you could finish your sentence, he slammed into your womanhood, piercing the small wall that once stood, making you tense up with small cries. He's so deep into lust and despair to realize your pain and continued to roughly thrust, his moans are from quiet as his easily over powered yours, filling the room with the smell of sex and the sounds of it. You soon felt more pleasure then pain as he gripped your bottom and shoved you closer to him his head on the wall, leaning against it to feel you and him from falling. Even with limited movement, he still thrusted into like there's no tomorrow, with each thrust, his member pulsed. He groaned as he got closer, you started to worry on the chance of pregnancy, "S-Shuichi, P-pull MhM out!" you pleaded trying to be audible only for the plead to fall deaf to his ears as he groaned and released his seed into your womb, filing it completely. His thrusts became softer and slower until he stopped. He pulled out as his seed spilled out, though it wasn't all of it. His rough actions left you dazed beyond conscious. He layed you onto the bed as he then thought about the game, if he was to join it, he may not make it out alive. What would his precious Y/N think if she was to see him die. He then laughed, "that wont happen..because ill be the Ultimate Detective!" 

that was 1137 words! This took about 3 hours to write because I kept getting distracted! Hope you liked it!