#some of these are incredibly silly and i do apologize but that's how I roll sjadhkjs

[rox-of-iu]

i have found myself with a moment of peace, so I binged the last 4 chapters of cultivate that I missed, blacked out, and woke up with this done so here hhh !spoilers

as usual the fic cultivate is by the ever so talented @neonghostcat

[thatlittlered]

would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

 How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comforter and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

next part

[ahockeywrites]

quick - nico hischier

pairing: fem!reader x nico hischier word count: 1.4k warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), no foreplay apologies, this is a quickie. thanks to the anon who requested this

You rounded the corner, the skirt of your sundress riding dangerously high on your thigh. Your arms were covered with a black blazer and around your neck hung your credentials. Social Media Manager for the New Jersey Devils. 

You had started the job following your graduation from Rutgers and loved every minute of it. From taking photos of the players during warm ups, to subjecting them to silly TikTok videos. It was something you could never take for granted.

It was game day and you were running around making sure that all the right information was with the right people. You had become friends with some of the broadcasters and knew who to give little bits of random information to, so they could drop things in during the show. 

You continued walking down the corridor to your office, heels clicking against the floor making your presence known. Everyone who worked for the Devils was incredibly nice and you were so thankful because when you did a Summer Placement, it was anything but.

The door to your office opened with a groan, reminding you that you needed to grease up the hinges soon because it would drive you insane if you didn’t. You sat down in your chair, logging into your computer so you could quickly tweet out some pre game graphics and interact with the fans.

A knock on the door of your office took your attention away from the tweet you were composing, one about the NJ Devil running around Prudential Center with a drum, terrorising different members of the team.

“Come in,” you called out and Nico Hischier entered your office. You didn’t usually do the walk in videos so seeing him in a suit was a completely different side of him that you hadn’t seen before. His hair was well styled and his suit fit around his muscles perfectly, accentuating them in the best way.

“How can I help,” you asked, undoing the button of your jacket and taking it off. Nico’s gaze remained on your face, no matter how much he wanted to look down. The captain had a crush on you from the first time you walked in the door. At first he thought it was just a harmless crush, one that would go away after a few nights between the sheets with someone. 

It didn’t. It made him want to spend more time with you. So every time you needed someone to take part in a TikTok challenge, or an interview for the YouTube channel, he’d volunteer. It didn’t stop the other players on the team teasing him. They all knew that he had a crush on you and it was something they wanted to try and facilitate. 

Then there was the night out. The one time you had gone out with the team after a game, rather than with your friends as usual. He watched as you took shots with Jack and downed a beer faster than he had ever seen. The way you looked into his eyes as you drank your pornstar Martini, licking your lips after each sip. Nico’s cock hardened just thinking about it.

“Just wondering if you’d be sitting on the bench during warm ups,” he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes. You refrained from rolling your eyes because he already knew the answer.

“Yes cap,” you saluted him in response. “I will be there, as I always am.” You pushed your chair behind yourself,  stood up and walked around to the front of your desk to stand face to face with the Swiss man. Even in your heels, Nico was still taller than you. 

“Anything else?” You asked as you cocked your head to the side. There must be another reason for him stopping by. He wouldn’t just stop by your office for no reason. Would he?

“You look really good today,” he complimented as he looked you up and down, taking in the flowery dress you had chosen to wear for the matinee game. “You always look good.”

“Thank you,” you replied not really knowing what else to say. 

“Ever since you walked into the press room the first time, I’ve thought you were beautiful. This dress really brings out your eyes,” Nico continued. “And your lips.”

He inched closer to you, not wanting to encroach on your space too quickly, giving you the opportunity to turn him down. 

“And then that night at the bar, your cheetah print skirt,” he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck as he spoke. “You looked so happy.”

You craned your neck up to look Nico in the eyes. “I was happy,” you told him. “Because you were there.”

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You don’t know how you make me feel princess.”

“I think I can see,” your gaze dropped to his pants and the bulge that you could see.

“We have 20 minutes until I need to be downstairs getting ready,” he told you as the hand that was around your neck made its way down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

“I need to be down in 10,” you replied, leaning in so your lips were millimetres apart. All it would take is one move, from either of you, and you would be kissing.

Nico took the initiative and pressed his lips to yours, starting with a few gentle kisses that turned passionate quickly. His hands didn’t know where to go, all he wanted to do was touch you, feel you.

“Wait,” you pulled away. Nico pouted, lips red from your lipstick. “Let me lock the door.” 

Ah, Nico thought, that made sense. Neither of you would want someone walking in on what was about to happen. 

As soon as you locked the door and turned back around, his lips were back on yours, tongue poking past your lips and into your mouth. Your hands found his hair, tugging, wanting more.

Nico pushed you against the wall, starting a trail of kisses down your neck to the tops of your breasts. “Been thinking about these for months,” he admitted.

“Fuck, we have to make this quick,” Nico groaned as he yanked down his slacks and boxers in one go, the red tip of his cock leaking pre-cum. Your lips attacked his neck with kisses, you couldn’t leave a mark on him, someone would notice.

“I got tested last week, all negative, have the coil,” you got out between kisses.

“Mine was two days ago, all negative too,” he replied. “You want this?” You nodded faster than you ever had in your life.

“Jump princess,” he whispered into your ear and you obeyed. Your legs wrapped around him and with a little shuffling, he sunk himself inside you fully. Your lips found his once more. 

His hands settled on your hips and he slowly started to thrust up into you, keeping you pinned in place. You kicked off your shoes which allowed you to dig your heels into Nico’s firm ass. 

One of his large hands found their way under the skirt of your dress, in search of your clit. He found it faster than anyone else other than yourself had and Nico almost came when he heard your sweet moans of please as he rubbed the bud. 

“C’mon baby,” he continued the strategic rubbing of your clit with the pounding of your pussy and your mind started to become fuzzy as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” you gasped as Nico started sinking his teeth into your neck, not even thinking about the marks he was making. 

“Come for me princess,” he groaned, holding back his release that was imminent.

You listened and your head threw itself back whilst your eyes rolled back. Stars filled your vision as you reached your climax, hands pulling at Nico’s hair which was certain to be a mess.

You could feel your heart beating hard but it was nothing compared to the force of Nico’s final few thrusts and the feeling of his release coating your walls. Sweat graced both of your foreheads but that didn’t stop you leaning in and pressing some more kisses to his lips.

“Fuck princess,” he moaned, voice low and deep. “Let me clean you up.” He pulled himself out of you, still holding you up against the wall with his arms, and you whined at the loss of him.

He carried you over and placed you on your desk before grabbing some tissues that were in a box on the wooden surface. Nico quickly wiped between your legs before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Sweets, you need to head downstairs,” he informed you. All you could do is shake your head.

“I can barely walk, I’ll be Bambi in my shoes,” you groaned.

“Should have thought about that before you let me fuck you silly.”

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

Okay okay, hear me out.

A bantery sort of annoying best friend trope with Miguel O'Hara. Like, hes stubborn, but reader is just as stubborn and hard headed. So like, on a mission Miguel is like "Why werent you paying attention?" and SpiderPerson!Reader is like "You're a very distracting man." And then like, the classic upside down Spiderman kiss. Apologies if this is a mess, the brainrot is real.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: None, just some good ol' fluff paired alongside some classic best friends to lovers. You know the dealio :3

It wasn’t easy being best friends with Miguel O’Hara.

He was stubborn, stoic, annoying, always thought he was right, and incredibly grumpy (almost all the time! It must be exhausting) amongst many other things. But all those things made him who he was, alongside the kindness and care he has for everyone, hidden behind that Spider-Society leader guise.

It wasn’t easy, but he was your best friend just as you were his. Your favourite person amongst the millions of people on this planet, and the billions upon trillions of people in the multiverse.

But it was even more difficult when you had the biggest raging crush on him. You felt like a little teenager, lost in the vastness of your own heart that quickly grew more and more fond of the person you loved with each day that passed.

Your feelings made you act silly and lovesick (and you knew damn well he noticed, he just never said anything about it), but they weren’t going anywhere for the time being so here they stayed.

They weren’t too great during missions though.

~

“Hey, Miguel~,” you say, sidling up to him with a stupid grin on your face. He stops you with a palm on your face, not allowing you to get too close.

“Ugh, what-?” he says, pulling his hand back in disgust. “Did you just lick me?!”

“Don’t put your hand in front of my face then, you should know by now the consequences of that,” you say with a tsk, before bursting into laughter at his expression.

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, rubbing it onto your suit. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” you say, pretending to be confused.

“What do you mean what- The mission? Are you ready for the mission we’re supposed to be going on in the next minute,” he huffs incredulously.

“Obviously, Miguel,” you snort. “How long have we been doing this job? Have you so little faith in me?” you ask.

“Yes,” he deadpans, and you gasp.

“How dare you?” you say, pressing a hand to your chest in offence.

“You are the most dramatic person I know,” he says, glancing over toward you as he programs the watch to the universe you were both headed to.

“You love me,” you say in turn.

“Unfortunately,” he says, and you grin widely.

“Awwww, Miguel~,” you say, pulling him into a hug that he hesitantly returns (though you knew he loved hugs, he would just rather die than admit it).

“Alright, alright,” he says pulling away. “Focus up, we need to be on our A-game for this guy.”

“Aye, aye, captain! Lead the way,” you say, and he rolls his eyes but can’t quite conceal the smile on his face at your antics before his mask reforms on his face.

Together you both make your way through the portal, getting transported past thousands of worlds in mere seconds before arriving at the one with the anomaly.

“Oh, cool~,” you say with a childlike wonder. Around you is a world that looked like it came straight out of a painting, everything looking almost acrylic in nature and beauty.

“You saw this in the briefing,” he says to you but looks around himself with a sort of wonder.

“A picture on a screen is entirely different from seeing something like this in real life, Miguel,” you retort, still looking around in awe. Looking down at your own form, your costume was blended in splotches of your iconic colours, like you had walked right out of a portrait.

He doesn’t say anything to that, instead patting your head once before walking away toward the mission site.

“C’mon. The faster we finish up, the sooner we can head back. We can have a movie night back at my place, yeah?” he says, and you perk up immediately before running after him.

“That sounds perfect, ‘cause I baked too many cookies that I don’t know what to do with,” you say embarrassed, knowing full well that you had baked them for him. He always did love your baking.

You notice the side of his mask shifts upward slightly, a telltale sign that he was happy even with the mask concealing most of his expressions but you don’t say anything, only smiling softly to yourself.

“Lyla, do a full sweep of the building before we head in. I don’t want any surprises,” he calls out, and the AI pops up immediately.

“Ugh, so bossy,” she says, and you snort.

“You could say that again,” you say in turn, while Miguel only sighs.

“Are you two done insulting me yet?” he says, and you turn to face him, walking backwards as you do.

“Never!” you say, before you’re snatched off of the ground with a yelp. He calls out your name, immediately swinging in after you.

“NOT COOL DUDE,” you shout to the villain who had his tentacles wrapped around your waist, dangling you upside down as she stuck to the ceiling. “Shouldn’t you be in the sea, doing…whatever octopuses do?”

“This seems a lot more fun,” the villain says, her voice a gurgling sort of low tone that sounds much more ominous than it should.

You shoot your webs out onto the ceiling, trying to pull yourself up and out of her grasp to no avail, her hold too strong.

Bit by bit her hold continued to tighten, inhibiting your ability to breathe.

“H-hey, we can talk about this right?” you gasp out, but before you know it Miguel was flying up toward you.

He looked so serious and intent on getting you out, his muscles flexing as he held on to his webbing.

Quite frankly, it was hot.

So hot that you failed to notice that Miguel had smacked you out of the villain’s grasp, expecting you to swing yourself out. Instead, you fall to the floor with a thud and a loud groan. It wasn’t a far fall, and all your limbs were still intact but the wind that was already limited in your lungs was smacked out of you, and the ground was definitely going to leave a bruise.

“FOCUS!” he shouts to you, sending another punch to the villain’s face to knock her off balance. That luckily snaps you out of your reverie as you stand back onto your feet, swinging up to help him out.

You use your webbing to pull the tentacles off of the wall, meanwhile, Miguel acts as a distraction so she can’t focus on the fact that she’s being brought down to the ground where a trap lay for her to land in.

Bit by bit more tentacles become loose, and with one last hit from Miguel she falls to the floor with a scream, the force field raising around her immediately.

“You won’t get away with this!” she says angrily, but you only smirk, swinging down to her level.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much you can do in this position, can you? Don’t worry, we won’t keep you for long. You’ll be back in your universe in no time~” you say, opening up a portal straight into the holding room for the other anomalies and pushing her in.

“Bye!” you say simply before the portal closes, taking her with it.

Then, the building is quiet, and you wince as you feel Miguel’s imposing aura behind you. Grasping your shoulder, he whirls you around as he looks at you exasperatedly.

"Why the hell weren’t you paying attention?" he asks you, arms moving animatedly as they usually do.

“In my defence…you didn’t notice her coming either,” you say.

“That’s not an excuse! You have your Spidey-sense, you have an instinct that tells you when you’re in danger,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And that fall, what was that? You saw me coming, why are you so distracted today?” he says with a sigh.

“Well, you’re a very distracting man,” you mumble, and his eyes widen slightly under his mask before it dissipates, leaving only his handsome face behind. You pull off your mask in turn, only staring into his eyes.

He stares back before sighing.

“Are you hurt?” he says, his eyes running over your body scanning for any injuries.

“I’ve taken worse hits than that, you know,” you say in turn, your face heating up slightly.

“An injury is an injury regardless of how bad it is,” he says, walking around you to make sure nothing is out of place.

“Jeez, you should take your own advice Mr. ‘I don’t need to go to the infirmary ever’” you huff.

“That’s different,” he retorts.

“It’s really not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you right now,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, you know that’s your favourite pastime,” you smirk.

“It’s not.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, it is.”

“I only tell the truth, it’s not.”

“You say that, but here you are arguing with me again,” you grin, and he groans.

“Regardless, you did good today,” he says after a moment.

“I always do good, what do you mean,” and he looks at you incredulously.

“Can you just allow me to compliment you?”

You just shrug.

“Ehhhh, I struggle to accept compliments because deep down I’m incredibly insecure and can’t make myself believe that I can do well, let alone have other people think that so…yeah!”

“…we’ll talk about this later,” he says, patting your shoulder (the tiniest bit awkwardly, which made you almost laugh considering how long you two have known each other).

“So, since you think I ‘did good’ today, what’s my reward?” you ask expectantly, the corner of your mouth quirked up. He hums for a moment before slinging his webs onto the ceiling, swinging himself up so that he hung upside-down.

“C’mere,” he says, and you look at him confused.

“What on Earth are you doing?” you say.

“Can you just listen to me for once and come here?” he says exasperatedly, so you relent and walk so you’re about a foot away from him.

“Closer,” he says, and you step closer hesitantly, the proximity making you nervous. He only huffs, reaching out to grasp onto your arm so you’re standing face to face.

The hand on your arm reaches up, softly placing itself on your cheek as you let out a little gasp. His eyes bore into yours, and you get lost in the swirling crimson and gold.

“Is this alright?” he says softly, his breath fanning across your face. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the warmth of his hand pressed into your cheek gently. You can’t do anything but nod.

His lips press into yours, slightly chapped but soft as he kissed you softly.

You had never felt anything so right.

“What was that for?” you whisper as he pulls away after a few seconds that felt like an eternity condensed into a single moment.

He snorts softly before swinging back onto his feet, pulling you into his chest with a hug.

“I know you have feelings for me,” he says, and your body tenses for a moment at the blatant comment.

“I-” you start, but he interjects calmly.

“Hasn’t it been obvious that I have feelings for you too?” he asks as he pulls away, cupping your cheeks in both his hands.

“I, I thought it was just because I was your best friend,” you say as all those little moments you’ve had over the years play through your head. It makes him laugh softly, oh how you loved that laugh.

“You’re painfully oblivious sometimes, you know,” he says, but the fondness is evident in his voice.

“Can you kiss me again?” you ask, a tad bit flustered but you already missed the feeling of his lips on yours.

He smiles down at you before kissing you tenderly, fingers tangling through your hair as your hand rests on his chest, feeling his racing heart.

Finally, you felt complete.

~

~

“I didn’t know you were so soft,” you giggle as you return back to HQ.

“I am not soft,” he says almost offendedly, but the corner of his lip is quirked up the tiniest bit. “Though if I was, it would only be for you.”

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid, @remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes

A/N: Two updates in one day? That's wild, haha. Am I writing this because I saw this prompt and I myself am in love with my best friend? Absolutely, but hey! Coping mechanisms, am I right :)

[keeksandgigz]

painkiller (part three of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: After a rocky start, you and Eddie seem to be turning over a new leaf, but a small misunderstanding is sure to change that. You help set up the cafe for the Halloween party, which you end up going to after much begging by Colette, you try to make Eddie jealous and a healthy dose of liquid courage helps things get sentimental.

cw: 4k words, jealous!eddie, swearing, allusion to smut, reader being essentially a sensitive baby, some miscommunication, eddie being a softie for reader, no y/n, no physical description of reader, boys being silly, mention of throwing up/ retching, drinking (everyone is of age), it gets a little bit fluffy towards the end

read part 1 here, part 2 here

if you wanna be added to my taglist the form is here

"You guys fucked??" Colette's voice booms in the car.

"Jesus Christ, Colette, the whole freeway didn't need to know that. And no, we didn't fuck" you take the exit that brings you into Daisy Street, the one towards the cafe.

"Then what? Steve keeps talking about how you guys look at each other like you wanna run to the back and fuck like bunnies" she nudges at you and you roll your eyes.

"Remind me to ask Steve to drive you to work next time, since you guys are such good friends" you smile at her.

"Yeah, whatever, so what happened?" she nibbles at her bagel.

You take a deep breath in. There are no secrets between you and Colette. "Well, he... spanked me" you hear her gasp, without giving her time to start talking you keep going; "Then he took me to his office and fingered me, but he didn't let me um...finish because I wouldn't apologize to him. Then he drove me home" you say, all in one breath.

"You kinky bitch" she laughs, a hearty laugh. After she comes down from her fit, she continues, almost like a phantom hand slapped some sense into her. "But what an asshole! Because you wouldn't apologize to him? And he drove you home?"

"I swear he's so confusing. He wouldn't let me take the bus." You just got your car back after two days without it because of a leak. You pull up into the parking lot.

"Shit, he's outside" you whisper. He's sitting on the curb, cigarette in hand, scrolling through his phone. Something tells you he isn't there to make drinks today. His hair is down and he's wearing chunky rings in both hands. You’re lucky I didn’t have my rings on. With the way you’ve been running your mouth you would’ve more than deserved it.

As much of an asshole as he is, you've been replaying the night before on a loop for the whole morning. You swallow.

"Too late to turn back and make a run for it" Colette quips as you park the car as further as possible from him.

"So what, do I just go in like 'Hey fancy seeing you here, remember when your fingers were in me last night?' or do I just ignore him?" you groan as you open your car door, grabbing your bag and jacket.

"Maybe wait for him to speak to you? I dunno. He should apologize, that was fucked" Colette says, closing the car door.

You both walk towards the cafe's front door. Eddie catches your eye immediately. Fuck it, your shift wouldn't start until two- thirty.

"Col, I'll meet you inside. Thanksgiving menu is launching soon, Steve'll have your head if you don't walk in right this second" you joke, she just nudges your shoulder and winks at you, as she disappears inside the cafe.

"Y'know" Eddie speaks, taking a long drag out of his cigarette "you shouldn't gossip about me when I can hear you from around the corner. I take it she knows?" he exhales a cloud of smoke, making you take a ragged breath at the way the smoke falls from his lips.

"Maybe you shouldn't overhear my conversations. Ever thought about that? And so what if she knows? Steve probably knows too" you spit.

"I usually don't tell Steve about the girls I fuck. Last night wasn't even a fuck, really. I just showed you what was so incredibly obvious to the naked eye, sweetheart" he puts the cigarette to his lips again.

"Which is?" you don't have patience for the slow drawl of his voice, sounding like he's just woken up. The way his fingers wrap around the cigarette, his lips puckering up as he sucks into the filter. You shiver.

"That we wanna fuck each other. Don't tell me that you're not looking at me and not thinking about what I did to you last night" Gotcha. He smiles around the cigarette.

"You really do think too highly of yourself" you sit on the curb, keeping a distance between you two.

"I've been thinking about last night the whole morning" he blurts out, putting his cigarette out on the sole of his boots “It was good, but you were kind of a bitch about me not letting you cum. Maybe you should rethink about apologizing” he smirks towards you.

“Well, I don't think last night should have happened at all" you shrug, pretending like the way he's playing with his chain bracelet isn't affecting you. He turns towards you.

"Is that so?" he says, voice a bit lower, gravelly. You inhale, then nod. 

He takes out a stack of black papers from a folder in his messenger bag, you take the chance to change the subject.

"What's that?" you ask, trying to peek over the the wall of black posters.

"The posters for the Halloween party next week. My friend Nancy just designed and printed them out for me. I scheduled you on Friday to come in and help with decorating, I'll pay you extra, since it's not in your job description. I'll talk to Jim about it" it's a lie, he just wants to spend more time with you.

"Am I required to come to this thing?" you interject, taking one of the posters in your hands, it's very well designed.

"Well, no. But the staff is invited anyway and I'm gonna be at the bar making free drinks, once a year we turn our bad boy coffee bar into a, y'know bar bar" he says, a movement of his ringed hand follows it.

"Oh, so you're a bartender too? What concoction are you gonna brew for this party, Mr. Alchemist?" you ask, chin propped on your hands. A flirtatious lilt to the way you talk, you bat your eyelashes.

"Guess you gotta come to find out" he winks and stands up, opening the side door to his van.

"Where are you going?" you ask, squinting to look at his face, the sun in your eyes.

"These posters aren't gonna hang themselves around town, are they? I just came here to hang one on the bulletin board and one on the door. Wanna come?"

You're not sure how to feel. He's suddenly being nice to you? And you wanna say yes so badly for some reason, maybe because you're tired of fighting with him and he seems like an actually cool person to be around?

"My shift starts in five minutes" you say, standing up and dusting off your butt.

He shrugs his shoulders "Consider this your shift? You're still technically helping me with the cafe" his tone is bordering a whine, can this man be that desperate to want you to come with him?

You really are pondering your options, it doesn't feel normal that you'd want to go with him instead of a chill shift without Eddie Munson's hovering eyes.

"You coming or not? And the pun was intended" he chuckles to himself as you hit him in the arm.

"You're an asshole" Alright, fuck it.

"You win" you grumble, jumping on the passenger seat of his van. The same van you were in the night before, cursing the man because he had left you unsatisfied.

In the back of the van there are stacks of boxes full of prints. You reach for the black poster he was holding earlier.

"What's 'Corroded Coffin'?"

"The band I'm in" he says, a creeping smile on his lips. Nonchalant, like he hadn't dropped a heavy piece of Eddie lore.

"'Kay so, you're a barista, a bartender, a business owner and you're in a band?!" eyes wide in disbelief as a smug expression appears on the boy's lips.

"The four b's, baby" he laughs "Me, Jeff, Gareth and another dude have been in this band since high school, tried to strike out but uhhhh different plans I guess" his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

"Lemme guess, you're the drummer?" you ask, finding yourself oddly at ease as he drives the car around town.

He shakes his head, his ratty curls moving around his face "Lead guitar and singer" lips pulled taut in a thin smile, face scrunched up.

"Shut the fuck up, I hate you! That's why you're so fucking slappable" he laughs at your comment as he thrums his ringed fingers along with Love me like a Reptile on the steering wheel. You gulp.

"That's why you're so good with your fingers, then?" it escapes you before you can even register what your brain is computing, but he's turning on his indicators to pull over, because he's quite literally doubled over with laughter.

"Jesus I did a number on you, didn't I sweetheart?" he says in the midst of his fit, and you can feel yourself getting hot, embarrassed, like he's making fun of you.

You really thought that things between you two had smoothed over, but the way he's laughing at you has your cheeks growing in anger, the cockiness exuding from him doesn't spur you on or stoke whatever fire you're kindling, rather it makes you feel humiliated.

You grab your bag and coat, immediately opening the latch to the door of his van. Eddie stops laughing immediately.

"Wait, what are you doing?" he asks, head jerking towards you.

“If you’re gonna be an asshole about it, then you can hang your fucking posters by yourself. I’m going back to the store to do what I am actually paid for. Fuck you, Eddie” and he barely has time to reply before you slam the door of his van and you book it back towards the cafe.

The shift feels uneventful, until Colette and Steve take you to the kitchen to sample the menu for the party.

The boy fixes the glasses on his nose as he shows you strawberry brain jellies, spider falafels, mini spiderweb pizzas, and the sketch of a big Halloween cake.

“That was Steve’s idea, actually. It’s blueberry and cream cheese filling on one tier and then I think custard on the second one. You’re gonna die, Steve’s custard is actually to die for” and he blushes at that, a quick brush of his face as his eyes twinkle at the compliment.

Steve and Colette have been spending a lot of time together after all, you chuckle to yourself as you reach for the spoons with the cream filling samples. Colette was not wrong, that custard is an incredible explosion of lemon and milk and vanilla, you're astounded that Steve and Colette were able to pull this off in such a short time.

There isn't much you can tell them, as their culinary talent greatly exceeds yours, wondering why they didn't ask Eddie to do the tasting, who seemed nowhere to be found for the rest of your shift.

On Friday, he seems to be quite busy with various movers and decoration people to even pay attention to you as Jeff stands on a ladder with you yelling "higher!" every time he tries to hang a string of lights.

"Well, I'm a barista, not a fucking architect" he yells from atop of the ladder, as Gareth rolls out a bunch of boxes sitting in a cart.

"What's that?" you ask, still making Jeff mess with the purple string lights “to the right, man!”

You hear him groan.

"Our twelve- foot skeleton" he replies, taking the plastic parts out "good thing our ceilings are tall" he snickers as Jeff finishes setting up the lights and comes down.

"Why the fuck do you have a twelve- foot skeleton?" you lean against the ladder, watching him take the bone parts out of the boxes and setting up the first few bits.

"Eddie thought it would be hilarious if we got one our first year of doing these Halloween parties. We usually get the skeleton something stupid to wear, this year it's a giant clown nose" he laughs as you move the ladder towards him to help facilitate the building of this fucking monster of a decoration.

By the time night rolls, the coffee machines have been removed for the party and replaced with liquors, spirits, glasses and shakers.

Finally Eddie comes out of his office, hair mussed out of his messy bun, eyes puffy and tired as his eyes widen at the decorated party room around him. 

Red, orange and purple lights hang around the perimeter of the walls, along with orange tulle fabric and various decorations on the theme of bats, skeletons and pumpkins. The twelve- foot skeleton stood tall in that stupid clown nose, at which he laughed at. He shot you a pained look before leaning on the bar counter. 

“Wow you guys, you’ve really outdone yourselves this year” he mutters, taking a close look around at all the decorations. 

“It was the girls, really, they’ve just been bossing us around the whole day” Gareth responds “we’ve just been their lackeys” he laughs. 

“Regardless of that, I just wanted to thank you all for the splendid job, we should be expecting around 150 people in here tomorrow night, hope you guys are ready to party. Now get the fuck out of here” Eddie says as he motions for you and everyone else to leave as the guys protest “go get some rest, it’s literally midnight”

There’s a clamor of voices as you vacate the cafe, discussing costumes for the party, how fucked up everyone’s gonna get- Eddie being the last to leave and lock the door. 

Before heading to his van, though he surpasses you, walking to your car. 

“I trust you’ll be there tomorrow? You must be fun at parties, right?” he snickers, you roll your eyes. 

“Sorry, Ed, previous engagement I have to attend to. Devastated to be missing the party of the decade, I’ll send a postcard” you unabashedly lie, there’s no reason you should be going to that party.

You give him a sour smile and head towards your car, as he stands stunned in the middle of the parking lot.

Without much ceremonies, you and Colette get in the car. 

“Are you actually not going tomorrow?” your friend is outraged, a betrayed tone tinging her words. 

“I dunno, I really don’t wanna see Eddie’s stupid face, plus I don’t have a costume” you shrug, entering the freeway. 

You could do what you’ve always done since college- a sexy cat, make Eddie sizzle a bit, an unspoken revenge towards that unsatisfactory night where he refused to push you off the edge. 

You don’t know what this is, whatever game you both are playing, a never ending tug of war of power and stupid fucking remarks at the expense of one another- why can’t you just sleep with him and get it over with? 

“I’ll get you a fucking costume, babe! Just please come, Steve is being really weird to me and trying to ask me out, I’ll buy you lunch, dinner- anything” she begs, and you don’t see why Steve asking her out should be an issue, he’s handsome and the way he looks at her and the way she talks about him seems to be special, something you’ve never had in a person. 

“Colette, I honestly do not see the problem in Steve trying to ask you out. You like him!” you bang your hands on the steering wheel in frustration, why can’t anything ever be easy?

“I like him in the sense that I want to fuck him, not go out with him. Besides, Gin isn’t going and Chrissy has a midterm Monday so she’s gonna have to dip early. Do you really wanna leave me in the middle of a pool of nerdy men?” she’s whining and pleading with you, it almost makes you fold. Almost. 

“C’mon, I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you” she bats her big eyes, and she’s right, she wouldn’t do that to you because she knows that men put you off, being surrounded by them even so. 

“Alright, fine, and you don’t have to get me a costume. Sexy cat is the way to go” you grin at her as she gets out of the car blowing you a kiss. 

“I love love love you, I’ll see you tomorrow” Colette runs inside after that. 

You can’t say no to her. 

And that’s why you find yourself in the midst of countless amounts of people, a third martini and a couple shots in and Colette is nowhere to be found. 

Eddie, on the other hand, is at the bar. Tight, black, form fitting shirt, his face looking pale and pasty as a rivulet of what looked like fake blood dripped out of his mouth. You could only see it when he smiled, but he had glued fake fangs on his incisors- a vampire, how original. 

You approach him at the bar, mind already loosened and buzzed, as he’s pouring a drink out. 

“Was expecting something more original than a vampire from you” you scream over the music. A smile creeps on his lips, and you have to admit, the fangs are really doing it for you. 

“I was expecting nothing less from you, though.Thought you weren’t coming?” he leans against the bar counter, his arms flexing from the exertion of shaking drinks for the past hour and a half. You stare, and he’s sure you are.

“Didn’t wanna come, Colette begged me to save her from Steve asking her out, so now I’m here” you take one last swig out of your martini glass “that’s really good, actually, can I have another one?”

Eddie shakes his head “Steve’s asking Colette out? When was this?”

You shrug “apparently it’s been going on for a while. Honestly, I don’t know how she does it, I would not be able to resist Steve’s cute little puppy eyes” and here it is. The drunken ramble. 

“Honestly I don’t know how you all do it, I’d be ogling at Steve and not getting any work done, actually. Have you seen his arms?” you giggle, maybe at an attempt to make Eddie jealous, maybe because those were your actual thoughts. 

Either way, that made Eddie’s stomach turn in a way that he wasn’t liking. How you were staring at Steve, in his Marty McFly costume, the tight pants and the coiffed hair- biting your lip like you weren’t talking about his best friend.

He chalked it up to drunkenness, the intoxication vivid on your blushy cheeks, as jealousy bubbled in the back of his mind, a small version of himself in his head wishing you’d talk about him like that. 

“Yeah, I’m not making you any more martinis” he says, a dry chuckle escaping him. 

“Boo, first you don’t make me cum and then you take the martinis away from me? You’re an absolute bore, Eddie Munson” and you fake yawn with that, a silly laugh follows it. 

“Sweetheart, you might not want to talk about that in a room full of people” he leans against the counter, and his fangs are looking really good in the glistening purple party lights.

“Are you suggesting we go somewhere private to talk about it?” you wiggle your eyebrows, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll. 

Taking care of your drunk self for the rest of the night is the last thing he wants to do. 

“No, I’m suggesting you go home. You’re drunk” he yells, shaking another drink and pouring it into a cup.

“I’m actually fine, thank you. I’m gonna go talk to Steve” pettily you stand up, turning away from him and booking it towards Steve, who is trying to talk to Colette. 

You don’t make it far, though as you go back to the bar wobbling, stomach churning with bile threatening to leave your mouth. 

“Eddie, I don’t feel so good” and he damns himself for how fast he comes around the bar to drag you to the employee bathroom. 

You’re kneeled on the black tile, dress hiking up your thighs as Eddie holds your hair as you fight for your life bent over the toilet. 

Eddie’s hand is running up and down your spine, the thin shirt making you feel every ridge and callus, as he feels your back flex and relax with every retch.

“It’s okay, let it out” he says, every time you tense up. You’re sobbing in between. 

Cries of “I’m sorry, Eddie” and “It’s okay, I got it, you can go” echo in the tiled room, but he stays. His hand firmly planted on your back, caressing, a stoic expression on his face when you emerge, finally done and a bit more clear- headed. 

“You good to stand up?” he asks, you nod meekly as he hooks his arms around yours, holding you up to walk to the sink. He opens the cabinet and takes out a little bottle of mouthwash, still holding an arm around you to help you stand. 

“Wash your mouth, then take some of this” you watch him bewildered as he opens the faucet, and you lean over the sink, the fresh water is a relief against the acidity your taste buds have had to endure, not caring that it would wipe some of your makeup off. 

“‘M sorry, Eddie” you mumble in a whine, between gurgling the tap water and spitting it out. 

“It’s okay, I’ll drive you home after this” he says, as he turns off the faucet and feeds you the blue liquid, watching you rinse and gargle it, spitting it out. 

“I’m okay now” you sigh, defeat in your voice as you escape from his grasp to sit down on the tiled floor. 

Concern tinges his face as he runs to sit next to you “Do you have to throw up again?” you shake your head. 

He looks at you, eyes glossy and a bit teary, your nose and cheeks reddened from the alcohol, or from the exertion of throwing up, your lips swollen. God, he really wants to kiss you. 

“Thank you, Eddie” it’s a whisper, ashamed as you look at him. Fangs and all, with the bright white fluorescents hitting him, hair mussed up and sweaty and a look in his eyes that makes you soften a bit. 

“Yeah, it’s- uh- no problem” he mumbles, he sees you shiver. He wants to put an arm around you, give you his jacket that he left in his office, but he wouldn’t dare leave you for fear of you leaving him and not coming back. 

So you just hold yourself flush against him, he’s still warm from the crowded room of bodies and smells like a smoky cologne, leathery with a hint of coffee. The fluorescent lights buzz and it’s the only sound in the bathroom and he tries to fight the urge to not put an arm around you, but when he does, you look at him. Big brown eyes staring into yours, bewildered and a little relieved, you haven’t run away yet. 

The makeup around your eyes is a bit smudged from the sobbing, stray glitter under your bottom eyelashes, he silently puts his thumb on it, getting black make-up and glitter all over his finger as his hand rests on your cheek. You blink. 

The breath in his chest is trapped, waiting with bated breath for you to come to your senses, leave him angry on the bathroom floor, like you did a few days before. 

Instead you stay, as you move in and kiss him.

taglist: @reidsbtch, @vintagehellfire, @fckyeahlames, @lavendermunson, @sunnythefriendlyghost, @onegirlmanytales, @aphrogeneias, @cryingglightningg, @munsonsuccubus, @strangereads, @gothvamp1973, @boomitsallie1, @thottywizard, @ali-r3n, @reysorigins, @yunirgo, @stqrgirl3, @neville-is-my-husband, @keikoraven, @minorlystuck13, @seexyyprincess, @sunnythespookyghost, @capricornrisingsstuff, @mandyjo8719, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @hellfirenacht, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @strangerstilinski,

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 25 Epilogue

Part 26/26 | Ao3

[Thank you all so much for your words of kindness and support while I wrote and posted this fic. As someone new to writing, having you here with me was everything. Your interactions mean the world to me, and I hope you all loved Tilly and Eris as much as I do. The art is from the absolutely incredible @VFisch on IG. She is open for commissions and absolutely LOVELY. ] Epilogue

Four Years Later

“Kieran, wait please!”

The boy was off like a shot, tearing wildly out of the front doors of the Forest House and out into the lawn, the troupe of dogs bursting out behind him like a cloud of smoke and fur. Eris trotted after him, Tilly following slightly behind. The sun was bright, and the air was warm for Autumn, the scent of sun-warmed pine needles permeating the air as the leaves swirled on the wind around them.

“Dada! I can climb!” Kieran was already scaling up the stone wall near the training rings, taking careful but quick steps as he danced around the half circle, his mop of bright red curls flopping into his eyes. Eris was transported to a similar scene in his mind of another small redhead dancing around a crumbling stone wall once upon a time. He couldn’t help his smile as Tilly snaked her hand around his arm and leaned her head against him.

“You climb so well, buddy!” Eris shielded his eyes from the sun with his other hand, then said lower to Tilly, “He makes me so nervous when he does this, but I don’t want to keep him from doing fun things.” She patted his arm, laughing.

“I know, love. I know.” She took a few steps forward towards the wall and their son. “If we stop letting your brothers watch him, perhaps he’d be a bit less rowdy.” She shot him a grin over her shoulder.

“He’s got enough practice swords. I thought he’d be safe with Bray, but do you know I caught him scaling the library shelves the other day? The very top. And every time Azriel visits he just ends up taking him flying. Do you know how stressful it is to walk outside and see that great bat toting our baby through the air?” Tilly just sighed.

“Yes, yes, my dear. Very frightening.” She feigned a pout at him, but couldn’t keep the smirk from her face as he huffed indignantly. “Kieran, love, would you like to go on a special trip?” His sweet hazel eyes widened comically, his nodding so violent that Tilly couldn’t help but smile. He loved surprises and adventures and dragons, and he demanded lots of books and stories and playtime revolving around them. Tilly and Eris were both enamored with their son, finding very little fault in anything he did. He was always running circles around everyone in the Forest House, and Alanna liked to point out frequently that it was like seeing a small Lucien running around all over again. Ironically enough, Lucien and Elain’s daughter, Sirene, often reminded Alanna of a young Eris, brooding and quiet and full of fiery temper. Helion liked to joke that perhaps they’d been switched at birth, much to Eris and Lucien’s collective irritation and violent eye rolling. Kyra balanced the two out–a quiet and silly girl who loved climbing trees and painting, and who loved to herd the two younger cousins around the Forest House property.

Sirene, Kieran, and Kyra, despite their differences, were inseparable when the families got together. Lucien and Eris had been tentatively rebuilding a relationship and long-overdue conversations had been had. While there was some lingering awkwardness between all the brothers, apologies had been given and tensions had eased greatly in the past few years. They knew it did Alanna’s heart good to see them overcoming the walls Beron had tried so hard to build between them, so they tried to make an honest effort. To everyone’s surprise, the relationship with the Night Court and their children had evolved as well, the children and parents getting together multiple times a year to catch up on less-than-official business. Ever since Gwyn and Azriel began making more regular trips to Autumn, the hatchet had been buried, and everyone had done their best to move forward. Strangely enough, in the aftermath of war, they’d found themselves becoming less allies and more friends.

“Come on, Mama. Surprise!” He tugged her hand as he jumped off the high wall, and Tilly could practically hear Eris’ heart rate spike behind her. The male had seen centuries of war, torture, and horrors, but nothing gave him more fear than the safety of his rambunctious child. She didn’t think she’d ever loved him more than she did seeing him care so deeply about their son. She’d been right from the very beginning–he was the most wonderful father. She held her hand out to Eris and he took it, winnowing them all through the world to a quiet spot in the deep woods, another wall of stone standing proud against the forest background.

“Ooh, where are we?” Kieran looked around in wonder, the massive trunks of overturned trees and moss-covered rocks an entirely new world to him.

“This is where I first saw your mother.” Eris was smiling, looking at Tilly with love that only seemed to grow over the years sparkling in his eyes.

“Mama was here?”

“Yes, I used to come here to practice my portals when I was a bit older than you. One day, I had an audience.” She shot a smile at him while Kieran climbed the crumbling rock wall, resuming his antics.

“Portals, mama. Like this!” He threw an arm out, casting a circle of flame, jumping into it before they even had a chance to shout, and then dropping out of the sky into Eris’ panicked arms. “Portals!”

Eris and Tilly’s wide eyes found each other immediately while Kieran giggled wildly in Eris’ arms, flailing so he’d drop him back to the ground. Eris obliged, jaw still agape, and Kieran ran back to the wall to play again.

“Well…things certainly won’t be dull now, will they?” Tilly leaned in and kissed Eris on the cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder as he wound his arm around her and placed his hand on her growing belly.

“Things have never been and will never be dull with you, love.”

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[ghostofvalorie]

That Essay

@forsaire tagged me and now I MUST provide! You opened Pandora's box on this one.

To adhere to the rules I will first provide FOUR and ONLY FOUR of my fictional crushes! And to make it easier on us all I've narrowed it down to games only, so here we go!

I'm starting off from the very beginning of my journey into crushing on non-existent people, and people who have read my tags before might know this one already!

Malik Al Sayf from Assassins Creed 1 - 2007

A man whom you've wrong by being arrogant and then spends the next few hours of the game being yelled at by him, and rightfully so. Not only do you cost him his arm and place as an assassin in the brotherhood, but his younger brother as well.

Eventually Altaïr stops begin a prick and apologizes and Malik, bless his heart forgives him.

Still... not me rolling into Jerusalem hoping, wishing, to get yelled at because Malik's Voice Actor goes HARD <3 I love him and his 7 whole polygons! NEXT!!

Keeping it somewhat chronological:

The Arishok from Dragon Age 2 - 2011

He beeg. He got horns. He is technically an antagonist in the game but he has a moral code that makes sense to him that he is willing to kill and die for. Qunari famously live their lives incredibly black and white so to him he is in the right, even if we disagree.

But he just got a wholeass vibe, and he'll say nice things such as

"I have a growing lack of disgust for you" and I mean, with that voice... say no more sir. *takes shirt off*

NR 3: Adam Jensen from Deus Ex - 2011-2016

My cyborg husband <3

Ex-swat turned security guy, then interpool agent (depends on which game you are playing)

He's just an incredibly good guy, the sweetest person on the block. Ofc it depends on how you play and what choices you make, but MY Adam is a sweeheart that will go out of his way to help people.

And my boi got sass, he'll be snarky to literally anyone, his boss, the cops, criminals you name it.

He's also secretly a little funny. <3

Nr 4: Arthur Morgan from Red Dead Redemption 2 - 2018

I mean first off, he do a little *mlem* when he drinks coffee... Do i even need to say more?

Arthur is just such a perfect sad boy. Raised to believe his only worth lies in killing people when in reality he is incredibly competent, sharp and caring. Again depends on how you play the game, but my Arthur is the goodest boi in the west.

Now that was four, oh but look, somehow completely unrelated to all this, some other honorable mentions seems to have ended up after the cut, how silly of me!

And @xintothewoodswegox, show us what you got!

Beast from Beauty and the Beast - 2017

No further comment, your honor, if you've seen the movie you should know.

Kaidan Alenko from Mass Effect - 2012

How can we not love the powerful nerdass space magician! He's caring, he is cute, he is Canadian and schrodinger's person of color!

He also glow blue, what else can you possible want? I for sure do NOT kick my feet and twirl my hair anytime he wants to talk to me.

Eris Goddess of Chaos from Sinbad - 2003

I MEAN LOOK AT HER?!?!?!? Again an antagonist, but she is sexy about it.

Helga Sinclair from Atlantis - 2001

I'm-I i mean, I don't even have words. Every time I SEE Helga my brain flat-lines I can't help it.

THAT GIF THO???

Majima Goro from the Like a Dragon series of games

No comment, because if i start i will NEVER stop, he's story is too good.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley from Call of Duty MWII - 2022

I could literally put ALL the characters from that game in this list. ALL OF THEM, but to keep this somewhat short I've chosen ONE and i've chosen Ghost, the most tragic man alive.

Kar'niss from Baldur's Gate 3 - 2023

Another TRAGIC boi, missunderstood and abused </3 I could take care of him. LET ME TAKE CARE OF HIM LARIAN

Jonathan Reid from Vampyr - 2018

You didn't think I'd squeeze in a vampire this late, did you?

I wasn't overly impressed by Jonathan from the start, BUT, he is FASCINATING if you play him as a bloodthirsty villain willing to murder everyone for power! I'm here for bad-boy Reid!

Lastly, for now:

Corvo Attano from Dishonored - 2012

Also an incredibly tragic man, who's fate you hold in your hands with your actions!

He's just hot, he's a dilf, he can succumb to grief and violence or rise above it to save not only his daughter but an entire empire from destruction.

I'm not sure i've y'all have noticed the pattern yet but let me spell it out for you:

PEOPLE THAT CAN ABSOLUTELY DESTROY ME! Look at them all! So STRONG! So POWERFUL! Fuck, mess me up fam!

And the beauty lies in that they never would. Or I mean Eris might... but I'm in a firm belief that the others would never harm someone they care about and ain't that just the purest thing you've ever heard.

Now this was only the highlights of my fictional crushes, I've kept most of the absolute freaks out for now. Maybe I'll do an updated list later where werewolves and Cthulhu makes the cut, we'll see. Now I know HP Lovecraft wasn't a very cool dude to say the least, but you expect me to be normal about the big tentacle monster? REALLY?

Lower your expectations.

[chloessapphicapothecary]

Ok, first off, I’d like to thank EVERYONE who showed their support for my first attempt at just showing my sapphic ramblings to the world. You are all amazing, and incredible, and just… means the world to me. 2024 has been a trying year, but also given me a lot of happy-firsts. :)

So, regardless, thank you for spending a few seconds reading my mini-obsessions. It means literally the world to me. (Both Earth AND Krypton. 💜☀️)

Oh, and while I’m here…. Maybe I could dust off another snippet. Now, for context, the two aren’t necessarily connected, they were both written for two separate issues *MY* ‘Cat’ has had in years past, each sparked inspiration.

That being said, this one would prolly take place before the first one, and yes, you’ll notice some similar beats to the first one… suppose I know my own tropes well… so, apologies if they are a bit too heavy-handed… but I am who I am. Lolz

Also? This one…. Might have a rumbling of a part 2, which would lead to the event teased near the end.

Regardless, enjoy! 🧡🤍🩷

“You Don’t Get to Talk to Her That Way…”

Kara knew better than to listen in, especially to this particular conversation, but between her sense of morbid curiosity, and overall feeling that she should know about this conversation too, Kara tuned her super-hearing to pick up the conversation happening inside Cat’s office, between her and her mother.

“Kitty, darling, how are you?” Katherine asked in her usual, high-brow way, even if the intent of the words was to be more of a knife in the back.

“Mother, what do you want?” The younger Grant asked, hand already massaging her left temple as she held her phone to her ear with her right, she could already feel the headache coming on.

“Wow, that harsh even for you, Kitty.” Katherine all but tisked, that tone making Cat’s blood boil internally as she tried to keep her cool, but given what she assumed this conversation was about, she was already on edge.

“Mother, what do you want??” She repeated, her words more pointed and venomous as her heart rate began to accelerate, giving Kara even more reason for pause, even if she managed to keep the appearance she was deep into researching something for the board meeting later that day for Cat.

“Fine, we’ll dispense with the pleasantries…” Katherine replied before sighing in what Cat knew was mock annoyance. A way to glamourize her plight in the phone with her “ungrateful” spawn. “I called because I saw the article in the Planet about you and…. Her.”

The ending of the sentence was steeped in moderate disdain, as if she was calling to tell a drunken frat boy to send his evening booty call home so she could get some sleep. That fact alone sent Cat right to the edge of her limits…. It was going to be touch-and-go from here on out, enough so even Kara stopped to look and see what Cat’s face looked like.

“Of course you read it in the Daily Planet…” Cat groused, rolling her eyes in irritation. “Would it kill you to buy a newspaper that I own?”

“The Planet’s record is unmatched, Kitty, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Her mother admonished.

“I’m not…” Cat grit her teeth. “I just hoped eventually you’d take pride in something your daughter made..” she added with a very heavy passive-aggressive edge.

“Oh don’t be silly, Kitty…”

“My name is Cat.” She cut her mother off, her words tumbling out with almost the full venom that Cat usually reserved for indignant men of all privilege-types. “And her name is Kara.”

“I know who she is, Kit… Cat.” Katherine replied, begrudgingly changing course mid-way to say what her daughter wanted to hear. “But honestly? Just have a weekend fling to clear your head then get back to…”

“No.” Cat interjected again, her tone firm but reserved, which stood in stark-contrast to the red-faced woman clutching her phone tight enough to lose circulation, not to mention how her heart was jackhammering inside her chest.

That was when Kara gave up any other pretenses and excused herself to enter Cat’s office, waving plaintively, which gave Cat all the signal she needed to know Kara was not entering the room by cruel happenstance.

“You don’t get to talk about her that way, mother.” Cat jabbed back, not even hiding her contempt. “Call back when you can learn at least a modicum of human decency.”

Cat slammed the phone down on the cradle, and immediately cradled her head in her hands, leaving Kara a bit surprised. Their relationship had just finally hit the public scene a week ago, after an all-too-brief 6-months of time to just, be… together. Cat had dreaded this call every single day since the word dropped, from an article published by Cat herself, wanting to get out ahead of it before someone scooped it and made it into something much more nefarious than it ever was or could be. So in a way she was almost glad the call happened, up until she compared Kara to some… drunken frat boy she needed to fuck and get over by Monday.

“Hey… so… I assume that didn’t go well.” Kara finally piped up, her discomfort a bit noticeable, but she kept most of it under-wraps. Who knew the Girl of Steel had, or needed, such obscure powers, Cat silently mused to herself, as she could see enough to know her feelings, but not enough to know them all.

“How much of it did you happen to hear?” Cat replied without even thinking, her demeanor shifting nebulously as she tried to calm herself down from the mood that had her slamming the phone down hard enough to make her own body wince.

Kara pursed her lips, and momentarily weighed her options, but the Queen of All Media, interviewer of despots and douchebags, and the occasional not-deplorable, saw all she needed to see.

“So, all of it.” She groaned, before looking up from her forlorn position to make eye-contact. “I’m sorry, Kara.” She spoke succinctly and heartfeltly, her dalliances in ‘Keira’ all but evaporating once she had no reason to have the misspoken name as a way to keep herself in control of the woman she mocked as “Sunny” Keira Danvers, insufferably goody-goody Girl Scout. She had already eaten all the crow she deserved and more for that jab, and was even pleasantly surprised when Kara actually liked the moniker of “Sunny”. So, who was Cat to argue with the woman she was somehow always enamored with? Even when she was too afraid to own her own feelings?

“Ms. Grant, it’s ok… it’s just…” Kara began to assuage her paramour, as she always did.

“No, Kara, it’s not!” She insisted, her eyes filling with rage, rage that Kara knew better than to assume was aimed at her. “She does not get to talk about you that way… like you’re just… some silly fling I’ll get over by Monday.”

“Ok…” Kara replied, a bit taken aback. She wasn’t totally unaware of Cat being like this… but to have it be about her was certainly something she was still getting used to.

“I mean it, she doesn’t get to disparage someone as good as you, I won’t allow it. She had no right to assume you’re just some… floozy who I’m only interested in because she’s good in bed… not to say you aren’t, but you know what I mean, yes?” Cat added, her vamping was another new development, something that Kara was both surprised by, and totally enamored with. She knew Cat was head-to-toe a strong, confident woman… but to see these moment of insecurity, of vulnerability, it just managed to show Kara there was ways she could love her even more.

“It’s ok, Ms. Grant, I get it…” Kara assuaged her lover, walking behind the desk to get the distance of the desk from between them.

“So, how long til you think she calls back?” Kara asked, when of course, because pitch-perfect irony, the phone rang. Both women winced at the blaring tone, but Kara, being Kara, picked it up without skipping a beat.

“Cat Grant’s office, this is Kara, how may I help you?” She asked with perfect customer-service tone, even as her face was riddled with all the visual hallmarks of annoyance and disdain.

“Oh, it’s you…” Katherine replied, her own disgust much more telegraphed in her voice.

“It sure is, did you need something, Mrs. Grant?” Kara asked, sure to make sure her voice was so sweet and saccharine that Katherine could squirm on her end of the phone.

“Just to speak to my daughter. Post haste.” Katherine annoyedly added, as if irritated that she needed to even voice the request.

Kara looked at Cat to gage if she even wanted to be talked to. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Cat sighed and picked up her head to give her a free hand to take the phone.

“Alright, here she is… have a good day, Mrs. Grant..” Kara added, biting her tongue before she said something a bit too far for the snark and smarm of the present moment.

“Yes, Mother? Called to apologize for calling my GIRLFRIEND a weekend-only floozy?” Cat shot back, not losing a bit of her edge from the previous conversation.

“Kitty, honestly, do you expect me to go through this whole charade?” Katherine asked bluntly, her tone devoid of empathy.

“You’ll never know what I expected out of you, mother, and that’s your loss. Just like… you know what, no… Mother, new deal..” Cat replied, as the wheels were turning in her head.

“Against my better judgment, I will forget all about this… abhorrent waste of my time if you’ll agree to one thing.” Cat began to lay her case, like a prosecutor leading the witness to the exact spot she wanted them.

Katherine sighed, making little effort to hide it from her daughter’s ears. “And what exactly is this ‘one thing’ you expect of me?”

“Dinner. You, me, Kara, and Carter.” Cat explained. “I’m sure your grandson would love to see you, and… you may as well get to know the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with.” Cat said boldly, the words even making Kara react with visible shock, followed by a comforting warmth that could’ve made her float off the ground, if she wasn’t careful.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be in town…” Katherine began to tell her daughter of her future plans, but once again Cat was not wanting to be regaled by whatever vapid, vain reason her mother had to be in town, no-doubt a Nobel Laureate or Mega-Star author to which Catherine Jane Grant ‘couldn’t compare’ to.

“Oh, you don’t have to settle this with me, I’ll have Kara call you back to schedule it. Bye mother.” Cat roared, before once again slamming her phone down.

“So, I take it you’d like me to…” Kara began to ask as she noted it on her tablet, before looking up to see Cat’s head back in her hands.

“Cat, what’s wrong?” Kara asked, resting the tablet on Cat’s desk before closing the minuscule distance, resting a hand on Cat’s hunched-over shoulder.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine… I’m fine.” Cat tried to beg off, but somehow that reaction, which had become her staple reaction to any form of disappointment, just felt… wrong. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one who had the same overall thought.

“Cat, no… please don’t shut me out.” Kara meekly-pleaded in a moderate whisper, as she stopped down to look her in the eyes, only to see they were reddened and misted with tears. “El mayarah, remember?” Kara added, reaching a hand over to try to crook Cat’s face towards hers with a push on her magnificent jawline.

“Oh, Kara… you don’t need to get dragged into my mother’s delusions, especially when she thinks…”

“Cat, stronger TOGETHER. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Not anymore.” Kara all-but-pleaded, dropping her hand to squeeze Cat’s lovingly. “And, with all the honesty and respect I can manage, I don’t give a fuck what your mom thinks about me.”

Cat visibly guffawed. She was honestly not sure what to think. The confidence was startling, but the expletive was honestly shocking.

“Language!” Cat tried to fire back, her ability to keep a straight face faltering as Kara showed her own flustered reaction to Cat’s reaction.

“Hey, it got you to smile… so it was worth it.” Kara smiled, reaching over to wipe a tear from Cat’s face. “So, Cat… if I can use the question you so eloquently taught me back at you… what is the ‘anger behind the anger’ here? The tabloids have called me much worse than that..”

“Because those tabloids were written by my…. Mother.” Cat’s face went white as she realized it. It was something she knew all too well, and thought she had grown past, yet here it was, threatening to make her come unglued as she sat there.

Kara kept quiet, and just continued to crouch there, rubbing small circles on the top of Cat’s hands as her eyes stayed trained to the teary-eyed woman.

“I… no, it’s silly…” Cat tried again to retreat, but Kara gently squeezed her hand and kept her eyes trained on her. *Dick move, Supergirl..* Cat mused to herself, only because she knew that she had no defense to those kind eyes that made everything better.

“Fine.” Cat relented, letting out a deep sigh. “My issue is the same silly, stupid one I’ve had my whole life. It’s what has basically propelled me to get here,” Cat added, motioning to her desk, the room, and to a greater extent the entire building.

“I’m just a silly, stupid, weak girl who just wants her mommy to love her for who she is..” Cat just bluntly replied, before she sunk her head back onto her free hand, and use every ounce of her energy to hold back the next round of sobs.

“Cat, you are literally none of those words… not even close.” Kara began her reply, choking back feelings of her own. “And it’s perfectly normal to want that, believe me, I have experience on 2 planets, with 2 very different mothers.”

Cat just looked over at her, eyes red with hopelessness, and just stared. As if silently asking her to continue.

“You’re not weak for wanting a mother’s love. What child wouldn’t want to know that the people who made them, love them?” Kara added.

“You have a point.” Cat quietly replied.

“Oh, Cat, as the smartest woman I know always tells me, I always have a point..” she quipped back, smirk on her lips as she watched Cat realize it and get her own matching grin.

“I’m so sorry your mother can’t love you the way you deserve, Cat, but… I can try my best to fill in the gaps.” Kara offered plaintively.

Cat’s flusterment was palpable. “Kara, darling, you can’t replace my mother’s love for me… because you already show me love, and grace, to a level she could never wrap her head around.”

“Well, yeah, you’re the woman I love… what else am I supposed to do?” Kara asked, as if confused about how someone couldn’t love Cat the way she did.

“You see, darling, that’s what makes you different than her. You don’t see caring as a chore… sadly, my own mother can’t see past herself to see what you see, her loss.” Cat regained her composure, just enough to go back to matters at hand at work.

“Thank you, Kara… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Cat admitted, her dalliances in vulnerability something that just made Kara’s heart ache more for her beloved.

(To Be Continued…?)

El Mayarah,

Chlo. 💜☀️

[bthump]

I fucking hate Nina. Why does no one ever acknowledge that she tried to make Joachim eat a soup full of human body parts, and tried to have him killed when he refused???

Like Luca reprimands her after this happens, but she seems mostly upset that Nina snuck out and did something dangerous and doesn't actually acknowledge the incredibly fucked up things she just did.

And then when she finally reunites with Joachim, HE apologizes to HER?? Like he was in the wrong for retaliating against the people who tried to kill him for not being a cannibal??

I was waiting for her to die the whole time but of course of all the random people in this manga she gets to live and actually get a seemingly happy ending.

I searched Nina on the berserk reddit and found a lot of posts defending her. A ton of people saying "That's what any average person would do in her situation!" to excuse her actions. I agree with this point when it comes to things like throwing Casca under the bus to avoid getting tortured which is why I don't mention those moments. I don't think the average person would do what ive criticised her about, and I'm mainly annoyed that the story doesn't really acknowledge it as bad after it happens.

Idk if I'm the best sympathetic ear for this complaint, because I also like Nina, she's one of my favourite tertiary characters, and frankly the baby eating is a point in her favour for me lol

Like I think the reason no one really brings up the whole cannibal cult thing is because it's very silly, and the story itself doesn't take it seriously. Practically everyone in the Conviction Arc is part of a fucked up cult of some kind, and that whole drugged up cannibal orgy scene was basically camp comedy. I found it very fun to watch Nina drag some normie there and then freak out when he wasn't into it and try to have him killed. And then get spanked by Luca for it lmao. For me it's less about defending her actions as it is about shrugging and rolling with the campy tone rather than taking it seriously as a horrifying and monstrous thing to do.

(Though to be fair about the attempted murder thing, she was high and paranoid about being found out by the other murderous and more powerful cult, so I do think that was reasonable from her pov. The baby eating? Maybe less reasonable.)

I think you can definitely argue that the Conviction Arc doesn't work tonally because of how heightened and campy it is, and yeah I can see why people might find it or aspects of it offputting. It's very dumb and the fact that Nina eating babies and nearly killing her boyfriend isn't even addressed and they go off and live happily ever after with a vague thematic mention of both of them being flawed and average is inherently ridiculous so yeah it makes sense that it would bother you and make you hate her. Fair reaction to an awkward writing choice, can't fault you for it, and can't really defend Nina or the story there.

But I think it's funny so I like her for it.

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

i apologize if you've done this already but could we get general relationship headcanons for spy maybe 👀👀

ABSOLUTELY YOU MAY.

As cheesy as it is, his adoration and softness is reserved just for you. No one else gets to see the side of him that you do, the side that is loving and silly and embarrassingly sappy.

He’s a bit apprehensive about showing outright romantic affection in front of the others, but he will be noticeably kinder and more protective of you during work. Lots of compliments about your performance and subtle touches. If you bump into each other on the battlefield he’ll pull you aside for a quick kiss.

In private, though? He’s all over you. Lots and lots of kisses, anywhere you’ll let him reach. He especially likes peppering your wrist and knuckles with them. Although, he also loves hugs and cuddling. I think Spy is incredibly touch-starved and if you initiate physical contact with him he’ll be the last to let go.

He loves making meals for you. I think he’s actually a very good cook, he just doesn’t do it often. You get to see him with an apron on and his sleeves rolled up. <3

He trusts you, a lot. It’s hard for him to get used to intimacy again after so long, especially how much it hurt him the last time, but he’s trying. He’ll open up to you about some parts of his past, slowly but surely. And in turn, anything you tell him he’ll take to the grave. He’s absolutely not a gossip and values your privacy.

[apersonofnointerest]

Cinnamon Sugar

Engineer x G/N Reader

Welcome to my Soft Violencing All Of My Friends: The Series™️

1/8 @writtengalaxies you’re up first Bitch <33

——————

“Captain what’s the code for the storage room again?”

“Captain when is my break-“

“Hey Captain I need help with this really quick.”

It was always Captain Captain Captain-

You huffed a breath of frustration. Everything had become a bit overwhelming this past week. The stress of your position getting to you again. You woke up incredibly early and went to bed 18 hours later with barely any breaks. You barely even got to spend time with your boyfriend! People should give you things for the amount you’ve been doing for them. Like cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon rolls are good.

..Anyway.

Quite frankly you were tired.

Mark started to realize this.

He had called for you yesterday and you accidentally snapped at him. You apologized of course, …and vented a little bit.

Ever since then he’s been trying to take to workload off of you a little, little things like helping anyone who asked you, getting you your favorite coffee, and even a job or two of yours.

You appreciated it immensely. Especially as you actually had a good amount of time for a lunch break.

But after that lunch break everything got overwhelming again. Mark had seemingly disappeared. You only caught little glimpses of him looking at you as he sped down the hallway holding things out of your view.

Usually you’d investigate or be suspicious, but every time you’d take a step in his direction there was another call for you.

The hours went by slowly. Very Slowly.

By the time it was your usual off time, you still had Your Own jobs to finish. Helping everyone else had taken all of your time up.

So there you were, trudging to go do the last few things-

“Captain-!”

You almost Groan at the word as you turn around, too tired to recognize the voice, but instead of another task, you’re met with a smiling face. His smiling face.

“Captain- There you are! I was looking for you, could you come here?”

You tilt your head.

“For what, Mark?”

“Something! Just come here!”

He excitedly tugs on your arm. The irritated thoughts are clouded by how excited he is and how cute that look is on his face.

“I have a few more things I have to do, can it wait?”

Albeit you were curious, but work comes first.

“Nooo! I have everything else covered for you! Just come with me?”

You pause for a moment, lifting an eyebrow.

“You have everything covered?”

“Yes! Come on!!!”

He tugs on your sleeve again, giving you those silly puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist-

You let out a long sigh.

“Fine.”

His smile grows and he starts to drag you down the halls by your arm.

“Where are we going??”

“You’ll see!”

You just sigh as he continues to bring you somewhere. It takes a moment but, you realize he’s headed towards the food area. You don’t question it, probably because you’re partially groggy from how tired you are.

Turns out he is going to the food area. He pulls you into the room, and on the table are what appear to be cinnamon rolls. He pulls a chair out for you, finding your eyes.

“I know you’ve been struggling a bit recently, sooo I thought you might like something a little little special! …Well cinnamon rolls aren’t That special but I made them so I think they’re special! And I hope you like them!”

You pause for a moment, your brain registering everything.

“You made me cinnamon rolls?”

You don’t realize but your tone sounds a little bit unamused. He pauses, beginning to fiddle with his hands.

“Yes- I know it’s not much but-“

You sigh and step towards him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. You can tell he didn’t expect it because he pauses, before wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you Mark. It means a lot more than you know.”

He squeezes you a bit.

“Of course! It’s nothing really- I just remember you saying you wanted cinnamon rolls a while back and- thought I’d make you some..”

“Did I?”

You pull back from the hug, keeping your arms around his neck.

“Um, yes you did! Right before you went to bed the other day, you were mumbling that you wanted cinnamon rolls! I remember because I thought it was cute.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Of course I did!”

You sigh in an affectionate manner, smiling at him.

“Of course you did.”

You just lovingly stare at him for a moment, sure that you have stars gleaming in your tired eyes. Then you lean forward and press a small kiss to his lips, smiling as you pull away.

“Now, I’m going to eat all of these cinnamon rolls and I’m going to Love them.”

“Hey- Save me one!!”

[skyfucker]

Obi-Wan going down on Anakin for the first time. Scenario two.

For @ragnarlothcat who asked for this ^^

What the fuck the Force was thinking when she made Anakin this beautiful, Obi-Wan would never know. He’s eternally grateful though. Anakin was supposedly the Chosen One, destined to save the galaxy and bring balance to the Force. But how was he going to get anything done, let alone save countless lives, if everyone around him wanted to kriff him silly? His own Master included.

Obi-Wan was content with watching Anakin from the side, admiring his beauty and cherishing his smiles. Proud beyond words at how much Anakin had grown, kind and good. Reverent over the raw power he possessed, humble before the amount of time his once Padawan poured into his training. Yes, he was content. Content with quick smiles thrown his way, jabs and sarcastic comments, late night invitations for sparring, teary eyes that seemed to beg for something. Even though he longed for those beautiful, bright eyes to stay on him for longer, for those strong, capable hands pull him in for a hug, for sweeter words that he knew Anakin associated with him, for their sparring to get out of control, just a little bit, for Anakin’s grip to get tighter, for him to get closer, for him to, perhaps, notice how his Master’s signature in the Force stutters and fumbles whenever Anakin grunts right into his ear.

If he noticed, maybe, just maybe, Anakin would think it over and deem to give him a chance. A chance for Obi-Wan to show that he can be good for Anakin, not just as his Master, as his friend, or as his brother in arms.

Then the chance came, in the form of a horny Anakin jerking himself off in their little shared room.

Anakin had shielded his arousal well without closing off their bond and making Obi-Wan worry, and that was why Obi-Wan had no idea that he would get to see Anakin’s hard cock, that he would get to hear Anakin’s moans, when he opened the door fully intending to catch up on some sleep.

He had turned away instantly, his cheeks heating up and his heart doing silly things in his chest, but a second later something hot and crazy had taken hold of his will, perhaps the incredibly tight bond he shared with Anakin had finally rubbed off on him too much. With boldness that he didn’t know he possessed, Obi-Wan turned back to his flustered Padawan — Anakin would always be his Padawan — and said. “Apologies, my dear, I shall leave you to it. But… if you would like, I could help you?”

Anakin stared at him for a few seconds, a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Obi-Wan, before licking his lips and nodding. Obi-Wan had closed the door behind him and locked it. Anakin had swallowed.

Now?

Now Obi-wan can’t believe Anakin’s letting him do this. His gorgeous, young Padawan is letting him touch him, kiss him, take him in his mouth. And the way he looks, his feelings in the Force — oh, fuck, the way Anakin feels in the force — is all telling him something impossible. 

That Anakin loves him, wants him, even worships him.

Obi-Wan gently let Anakin’s pretty cock slide out of his mouth and was rewarded with a tiny whine. He gave small kisses as an apology. “Shhh, dearest, I’m here, I got you. I simply wished to —” The sound Anakin made when Obi-Wan took one of his balls in his mouth was rewarding all of his pleas to have Anakin feel good, like a gentle caress spoiling a loth-cat. He took his sweet time rolling his tongue around Anakin’s balls before going back to sucking him off. He used his hand to cover most of it, while working his mouth round the tip part.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin was watching him with his mouth wide open, eyes almost teary. “You’re so good, Master. That-that feels really fucking good,”

He knew that Anakin was jealous. He felt it in their bond, which should have been severed three years ago. Along with his delight to have his Master on his knees before him, and the intense pleasure he felt from having his pretty cock sucked for the first time, Anakin was also slightly displeased that Obi-Wan had done this to others before, even though he was begrudgingly thankful that Obi-Wan got to become this good at it.

Impossible boy. What would Obi-Wan do with him? Except of course give him everything he would ever want.

As Anakin’s orgasm approached, Obi-Wan felt his own get pulled closer because Anakin wanted it so.

Come together. Want you to come with me. Please, Obi-Wan. Come with me.

Demanding and powerful as ever in the Force, his once Padawan was basically using the damned thing to fuck Obi-Wan’s arousal. He had never felt anything like it before.

 “Master, I’m gonna… Obi-Wan… please… let go, or I’ll… in your mouth, ugh, Master!”

Sweet, sweet Anakin. How could he still not know how hungry his old Master was for his cum? Obi-Wan surged forward to swallow all of Anakin’s cock, at the same time grabbing his ass and squeezed, delighted to feel the soft flesh beneath his hands, slightly cool from the long exposure to air.

With greed that he felt only when it came to Anakin, Obi-Wan swallowed every drop of cum that his once Padawan generously provided. Some trickled down to his chin but he quickly wiped them with his fingers then licked off everything. Delicious. Perfect. Anakin.

Anakin was still watching him, breathing heavily, his curly hair plastered to his forehead.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Obi-Wan, you can't do that."

Pleased with himself, Obi-Wan planted one last (for now) kiss on Anakin’s sensitive cock before getting up to pull Anakin into a kiss, pushing back his sweaty hair and grabbing his ass again. He would fuck that ass later on, just as soon as he and Anakin got to have a small talk.

Scenario one here

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi. It’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. This is another one inspired by the State Visit (although more heavily influenced by some of the reaction I’ve seen online than by them per se.) Hope you all enjoy.

His staff doesn’t bring him tweets to look at often. While he has a social media presence (mainly run by his communication staff) and knows his way around social media, for his own sanity he tends to stay off Twitter, especially in light of recent developments. So he was intrigued when he saw a group of his young staffers, through their giggles, debating the merits of sharing whatever it was on their phone screen with him.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to take the choice out of their hands, sauntering up to the circle as they waited for Brigitte to change between events, asking "what’s so funny?"

After a quick moment of panic, the phone’s owner decided to give in, flipping the phone around for the president to see: a tweet, with a photo of the president at the state dinner and a caption "Bond, James Bond."

Emmanuel threw his head back in laughter, delighted by the comparison. "Oh I love that!"

"Love what, chéri?" he heard his wife ask from behind him, now in a beautiful black outfit for their dinner with cultural leaders and stroll through the heart of the town.

"This tweet -" he told her, turning around to face her, his wide grin somehow enlarging when he saw her, as it always does when she’s near.

"I thought you weren’t on Twitter," she asked, her eyebrow raised in light, teasing rebuke.

"Not on my phone," he said, turning back to the phone’s owner, he demanded gently, "show it to Brigitte."

"I don’t have my glasses," she apologized, getting a little closer to the phone screen than her husband in order to see it, laughing heartily too when the joke registered. "Oh. That is a good one!"

"You ready?" He checked before taking off on their final set of engagements during these incredibly hectic few days.

"Whenever you are," she replied, slipping her hand into his, feeling like no matter how tightly she held his hand, how closely pressed to his side in the crowd, no matter where her hand was on his back or his on hers, she was unable to get close enough to him today.

When they had settled into the back seat of the suburban, confident that they were away from the nosy ears of his staff, she followed up with a teasing, "Does that make me a Bond girl?"

He smiled at the image that provided, "you’ve always been far superior to a Bond girl."

"Charmer," she dismissed with a little shake of the head.

"Bond Girl, Marylin, Venus, Juno, none of them hold a candle to you, mon cœur."

"Thank you. Although, for what it’s worth. I think you’d make an excellent Bond."

"Oh don’t tell me I have to worry about Daniel Craig now too!"

"What do you mean, chéri?" She asked with a laugh.

"Well apparently you have another man in your life. Turns out, I have to be worried about your stylist!"

"That was a joke!"

"I know," he reassured her, letting her know he wasn’t upset.

"Mon cœur," she said seriously anyway, needing to reaffirm it anyway, "you are the love of my life. You are the only man who matters to me."

"Other than Sebastian -"

"Our son doesn’t count," she retorted with an eye roll.

"No? I’ll be sure to tell him next time I speak to him, see what he thinks about that,” he purposefully misinterpreted her comment for a laugh.

"You’re impossible!"

"You love me anyway!" He challenged her with a silly grin.

"I do," she replied, a soft, loving grin of her own.

(PS - for those who aren’t familiar with the references in this piece, the examples he provides (other than the obvious Bond Girl) are from: his comments about Brigitte being his own Marylin Monroe; he called himself Vulcan in the interview on Bastille Day and in Greek/Roman mythology, Vulcan was married to Venus; and infamously, he’s been referred to as Jupiter, who in Greek/Roman mythology was married to Juno.)

Helloooo fanfic Anon #2❤️

You know that I always wonder how Emmanuel works with social media? I mean, we know he has a team to post his stuff and all but I also think he checks/reads some stuff on his own 🤔

Hahahaha loved all the references and how they fit together! And then teasing each other hahaha it’s just way too adorable 🤤

Brigitte getting her face closer to the phone screen to see it without her glasses, is me in the morning checking my phone when I wake up without mine 😅

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[forever-once-gone]

OMG, how I'm missed this series. I hate when life makes me too busy to spend time with dear Maggy's writing, cause MY GOD do I love it!! This chapter was nothing less than magnificent, and I can truly feel the fear and nausea that Y/n was feeling throughout this chapter.

Poor Y/n, truly. The way that she is just constantly on the verge of a panic attack throughout the chapter is just so heart wrenching. Oh, how I wish I could help her escape from there. Hearing how often she felt her heat beating out of her chest made me just feel so awful. Poor woman, truly. And then hearing her thoughts about her parents? Dude, I was so close to crying along with her. The way that Namjoon was almost scolding her for not visiting her parents in a while, despite the fact that the only reason she hadn't was because of her STALKERS—oh my apologies, her soulmates (I wish you could see how I'm rolling my eyes—made me so incredibly angry on her behalf. Like, how DARE you. Like how blind can he be to how THEY'RE the ones that made her distance herself from her family. They're so deluded, I swear. And the way that he was all of a sudden so concerned about her info being easily accessible to anyone in the library, when he is the one that invaded her privacy, is just unbelievable.

Taehyung and Jimin are genuinely terrifying, like the way that those two are the ones that seem to see through her the most. The way they both seem to have such a short fuse (more so Tae, but you know). The way that they seemed to already be conspiring together, idk man, it's just creepy. It's also so interesting how Taehyung so casually seems to threaten her, like it was an indirect threat, but the point was clear, "do something I don't like and they'll be consequences" when talking about making sure she didn't do "something silly." Paired with his previous gory "gifts", yeah, not a fun time at all. I am so glad though, that Yoongi and Tae had found out that they shared her as their soulmate, because I shudder to think of what Taehyung would have been like without Yoongi reeling him back in. Probably like Jimin, but like ten times less sexual and a million times more violent.

I'm honestly somewhat surprised they all left her alone when she "slept" through the day. I get that they probably didn't want to make her more scared, but I'm honestly surprised nobody just watched her sleep or anything lol. Like the way that Tae was so willing to kiss her head, even though she was obviously terrified, I'm surprised he (or Jimin, or even Hoseok) wasn't just pulling up a chair to then watch her sleep. Especially considering Jimin was waiting for her to try and escape when everyone was asleep (though she was unsuccessful, at least she got some good soup out of the ordeal lol, thanks to Jin helping Namjoon from burning down the cabin).

You know, I get how she feels about Jungkook at the moment. I understand how she feels a bit safer with him, but also feels much more betrayed by him. It's a tough spot to be in with him, considering she thought of him as a friend. And it definitely seems that he realizes how much he's ruined his relationship with her, since he was so apologetic and stuttering over her words. I look forward to see how their relationship will go forward from here, I imagine she's not gonna let him get away with this with a simple "sorry" and "just give us a chance, we love you."

I genuinely loved this chapter, I could feel Y/n's every emotion, and I honestly just wish I could help her escape. I wish I could tell her parents, too. Maybe they'd be able to do something about this, but considering that she was already a bit distance cause of them, I doubt they'd notice that she's missing for a bit. Right now, her friends are her only chance to be saved, if they noticed her missing fast enough.

This chapter was amazing!! I hope you've been well!! Hopefully I'm able to catch up to where you've left off soon, 'cause I feel so behind 🥲 Take care!! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

lovesick (VIII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 10.7k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, mention of drugging, dissociation — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold​!

Previous - Next

You wake up to a dull headache pulsing at the back of your skull. Groaning, you push yourself up on one elbow, the world around you spinning as you force your lashes to part. You peer over at your bedside table through bleary eyes, squinting as you try to make out the blurry shapes on top of it. The books you bought months ago and never read are still there, but there’s something sitting slumped over next to them, something you swear wasn’t there yesterday.

Keep reading

[kiwixlime]

Between You and I - Part Two

Okay, let's go! Here is part two! Like the first part, it's a bit longer. This is your warning! This is also smut, but going forward this will be a smut-based mini series. So be prepared lmao. Parts of this are a bit rushed and messy, but I'm trying to condense this work into 10 parts and it's a little tricky because I don't know how to stop adding things sos. Anyway, hope you enjoy and as always, thank you so much for reading! <3 You have no idea what it means to me.

18+ Minors DNI

The morning after, you find yourself in Joel’s bed with a slight pounding in your head and a delicious ache between your thighs. Memories of last night trickle back to you in small doses, and a smile creeps onto your lips when everything settles into place. You stifle a groan and bury your face into one of the plush pillows beneath your head. Last night you slept with Joel Miller. Twice. And you don't know how to feel. Was it amazing? Absolutely. But now that your head is clear, free of carnal desire, you have some questions.

But Joel... Fuck, sex with him was better than your silly little brain could have ever imagined. Joel’s not only experienced, but he's vocal and attentive to your needs. He actually cares if you feel good, and it’s a change from the mundane hookups you’ve become accustomed to. Oh, you are so screwed. You don’t know how you’ll ever be able to move on from Joel now that you’ve had him. You don't want to.

His arm is draped heavily over your side, and his breathing is steady, suggesting that he’s asleep. You take advantage of the stillness and stretch your body out, humming at the pleasant sensation that ripples through you. You’re so cozy beside him as the morning sun gleams through the curtains, casting warm shadows over his bedroom. You shift in his hold, and a content sigh leaves your lips. The sunrise washes over his sleeping face, highlighting his tanned, aged skin, and you realize just how gorgeous he really is.

He’s more than just your friend’s hot dad. He's Joel. And you don’t want this to be a one - two - time thing. You want to get to know him, this older version of him. But you have no idea what he wants from you. He'd certainly never betray Sarah for you. And you would never ask him to.

It’s as if Joel can hear your thoughts rolling around in your head, stirring in his sleep before his eyelids flutter open. Those breathtaking hazel eyes blink back at you, and you instinctively avert your eyes, like you were caught looking at something you shouldn’t have been. You freeze for a moment, hoping he won’t freak out that you’re in his bed, snuggled up next to him. He breathes out deep, warm air hitting the side of your face, and you feel a pair of smooth lips along your neck. Good, you think. He doesn't mind you there.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Joel speaks in a deep, sleep-laced voice. His arm tightens around you, pulling you close against his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod and rotate to face him. The creases around his eyes crinkle as he smiles and your hand, having a mind of its own, reaches over to trace the lines of his face. “Did you?” You ask him softly, keeping your voice low, afraid that if you raise it, the glass bubble that surrounds you will crack.

“Sure did,” he chuckles and rolls onto his back. You’re both naked, and you miss his heat the second he sits up on the mattress, extending his limbs. Your drifting eyes drop to the flexing muscles in his chest, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in a whimper. “You wore me out, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, concealing your face behind your hands. Oh, god, you feel so embarrassed. The heat in your tummy spreads throughout your body. You cannot believe he just said that.

Joel, sensing your humiliation, leans over and peels your hands away from your face, giving you a promising smile. “Don’t apologize,” he tells you, his body looming over yours. “I had no idea you had that in you. It was incredible and I’d be happy to do it again, but I gotta shower and get ready for work.”

Your insides bubble with passion. Those words course through your body like venom, paralyzing you where you lay. It’s almost too much for your sanity to take in. “I should go,” you whisper, biting your lip.

Joel drones and settles back on the mattress. He watches from his side of the bed as you move from underneath the sheets. You don't bother to cover yourself as you run to the living room to gather your clothes. He laughs and gets up, grabbing his boxers from the night before. He follows you out of his room, a smirk on his lips as you slip your clothes back on in a hurry. If he had his way, he’d have you naked all day. But alas, work calls.

“I can drive you home,” he offers, leaning against his door frame, but you wave him off, hastily looking around for your bag. You don’t have a mirror. So you use the camera on your phone to make sure your hair isn’t a mess. To your horror, it is, and you still have some makeup smudged under your eyes. Everyone will know you’re doing the walk of shame. But is it a shame? Really?

“No, don’t worry about it,” you say, using the hem of your shirt to wipe away what mascara and eyeliner you can. You find a hair tie in your bag and throw your hair up into the messiest bun imaginable, but at least it’s out of your face now. “I can take the bus.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures you, thinking how cute you are all rattled and disorganized. It's a sight he could get used to...

“No, really,” you say quickly, stumbling over your shoes. “You stay. I’ll go.” You smile at him, taking meticulously planned steps towards him. You press a chaste kiss to his cheek before twirling around to compose yourself. A kiss is enough. You cannot jump his bones right now. “I’ll, uhm, talk to you later,” you say. “Nice to see you again, Joel.”

He holds back a chuckle as you awkwardly squirm out of his apartment. You’re adorable. And he’s so glad that you literally ran into him yesterday. The last time he saw you, you were getting ready for prom, and he was taking Sarah away. That's something he still feels guilty about, and maybe one day he'll tell you and Harmony the real reason, but for now, he just wants to focus on you.

You've changed so much, obviously. You're an adult now, but you still have that youthful charm, which is one of the things (admittedly) that he likes. He knows, under the surface, that it's creepy for him to be pursuing you. He's a handful of years younger than your own father, and he watched you grow up with his daughter. Nothing good can possibly come from this, but that's a risk he's willing to take. For the first time in a long time, he feels excited about another person.

He keeps that thought in his head as he gets in the shower.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you let out a shaky breath, dropping your hands to your knees and sloping over. Your heart is racing, pounding against its cage, and your mind is a mess of thoughts wrenched around each other. Harmony, you need to call Harmony. But before that, you need to find a bus schedule.

The nearest bus stop is around the corner from Joel’s apartment building, and luckily, you have some time before the next one comes around so you can call Harmony and properly freak out without the whole bus hearing your business. Phone to your ear, you wait, impatiently, for her to answer. When her voice finally comes through, your nerves settle. “Hey, girlie, I’ve been dying to hear from you--”

“I had sex with Joel,” you blurt out without thought, exhilarated and loud and full of satisfaction. “I had sex with him, Harmony. Twice. We had sex twice.” You’re rambling, all of your inner reflections pour out at once, and you don’t notice the woman who sits down next to you. But she notices you and presents a look of disgust, turning her nose up.

“Oh my god!” Harmony squeals, clangorous enough for you to pull your phone away and cringe. “You little slut!” She giggles. “I’m so fucking proud of you. That’s quite the accomplishment, landing the town's hottest dad.”

“Harmony, focus,” you groan, even though you’re blushing like mad. She's not wrong.

“How was he?” She asks, scouring for those dirty details. The details that you possess, the ones you know all about now.

“Amazing,” you exhale, closing your eyes and envisioning Joel touching you the way he did last night. “I never came so hard in my entire life,” you share. The woman next to you scoffs, and you jump, finally catching her. You scowl and roll your eyes. Maybe if she minded her own business, she wouldn’t be so offended. Seriously, there are other seats underneath the shelter. She doesn’t have to sit next to you.

“Is it wrong that I’m jealous?” Harmony quizzes with a playful tone.

“Don’t be, I feel so fucking guilty,” you confess as the acid in your stomach rises. “If Sarah ever finds out…”

“Sarah isn’t here,” Harmony says adamantly, and a little bitterly, if you add. “And yeah, maybe it would be weird for her, but you’re consenting adults. You had fun, yeah?”

“I did,” you grin, giddy like a schoolgirl.

“You deserve it, babe,” your friend tells you. “You’re in a rut. This is good for you. Are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, shifting your body away from the nosy woman beside you. “I’d like to… I was thinking about stopping by his office for lunch. But maybe that’s weird. I don’t know. I literally just left his apartment and I could not have been any clumsier.”

“Then you should absolutely do it,” she encourages you. “I bet office sex with him is—”

“I don’t even know if he wants me again,” you cut her off with a timid laugh.

“How could he not?” She responds, and you love how much faith she has in you. “Anyway, I gotta go. Elijah and I are driving in together. But call me or text me with any new details. I’m completely invested in this.”

“Will do,” you reply, smiling to yourself as you end the call. You turn to the woman next to you, still exasperated by your private conversation. “Best sex ever,” you say with a wink, watching her face contort in horror and standing just as the bus rounds the corner.

-

You sit at home, watching the hours pass until lunchtime rolls around. After a mental battle and carefully analyzing Harmony’s words, you ultimately make the decision to head to Joel’s work and check in with him. He and Tommy own a small architecture firm in the city where they operate as project managers, information you found through some light internet stalking. You’re not sure if it’s a good idea to bother him while he’s working, but there is a pull in your mind that you cannot ignore. You have to talk to him, even if he doesn’t want to speak with you.

The building is not what you expected it to be. It's small and compact with large glass pane windows lining the outer walls. The corners of the structures are sharp, and the color palette is sleek and cool-toned. It's refined. Not what you're used to when it comes to Joel Miller.

Inside is just as polished and neat. Gorgeous, actually. You never imagined the Miller brothers in a swanky place like this. But you don’t really know much about them anymore. Joel is not the freelance guy from when you were young; the one who spent his days outdoors and dirty.

Oh, yes. Sweat covered Joel with his muscled arms bursting through his shirt. That was a wonderful sight when you were young.

After taking a look around, admiring the work displayed on the walls, you head to the reception area to see a pretty young blonde sitting behind the modular desk. You won’t lie, your stomach drops at the sight of her. Now that you know Joel has no qualms about sleeping with younger women, you begin to question yourself and compare yourself with other girls. Bad idea.

“Hi, welcome to Sage Architecture!” The perky blonde greets you as you approach. Your mind zones out as you take a second to observe her features. She doesn't seem like Joel's type. But then again, are you? “How can I help you?” Her voice is light and sweet, sickeningly so as it pulls you back to life. It’s ridiculous, but you feel a little jealous.

But it’s too late to back out now. You’re already here. Might as well just go for it. “Um, I was just…” You stutter, probably sounding like a damn fool. “I’m looking for Joel…uh, Joel Miller?”

Her cheery smile falters a bit, but she does a good job at hiding it for the most part. The tone in her voice never changes from that animated inflection. “Mr. Miller is on his lunch break right now, and afterward he has a meeting. I’m afraid he won’t be available for the rest of the day.” She apologizes and pulls out a notepad. “Can I take a message?”

“Oh,” you frown and shake your head. You should have called. Yeah, this was a stupid idea. “No, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Her smile looks a little fake, but you don’t push it.

“No, I’m fine--” you start, finding yourself cut off as you see Joel make his way to the lobby. He notices you almost instantly, and a smile graces his lips.

“Hey, you!” He says excitedly. You have to admit, you weren't expecting this reaction from him. To know that he's genuinely pleased to see you makes your heart do a little dance. Obviously, he’s not fretting over your indiscretion anymore. Though you’re pretty sure he stopped worrying the moment you asked him to fuck you. Oh, how you wish you had the courage back. Now it seems you’re the one who’s having second thoughts. And it’s all because of Sarah and the hypotheticals. “Ain’t this a nice surprise?”

“Mr. Mill-- Joel,” you correct yourself with a blush. “Hey.”

“What are you doin’ here?” He asks as he strides over to you. His confidence is attractive and just one of many things you've always adored about him.

“Oh, I was just leaving,” you say, gesturing back towards the double doors from which you entered.

“No, stay,” he says quietly, turning to the girl at the desk. “Kendra, can you please make five copies of this?" He hands her a file and looks back at you. You can tell by his facial expressions that he's cooking up something in his mind. “I’ll, uh, come pick them up at the end of the day.” He says and motions for you to follow him.

Kendra grimaces as you trail behind the older man to his office. You wonder what Joel has in store for you, but you try not to dwell on it. He probably just wants to talk. And that’s fine. That’s what you want as well.

But you can appreciate how good he looks dressed up all professional with a suit and tie, a combo you've only imagined him in. But Kendra did mention he has a meeting. Maybe that’s why he looks so proper. Whatever it is, it’s working for you. You just want to drag him by the tie and…

That’s not appropriate.

Down the lengthy hall is where his office is located, tucked away but bigger than most of the others. Privileges of being one of the bosses. He unlocks the door, and you enter behind him, intrusively looking around his space. You notice that he has a few pictures of Sarah on the walls. Seeing her smiling face makes you sad. You miss her so much, but you know she’d hate you if she found out that you slept with her dad. And that you want to keep sleeping with him.

As you glimpse around, your eyes land on one photograph in particular. It’s one you recognize of her, Joel, and Tommy at Disney World when you guys were just kids. You remember when she came back to school after being gone a week. You’d never seen her so happy or chatty.

“I remember this,” you say fondly as you pick up the old frame. The picture is clear, and if you close your eyes, you can visualize yourself back in grade school, hugging Sarah as you welcome her back. You can hear her telling you all about her adventure. And how one day, you and Harmony should join them. But that was forever ago.

Joel hums and walks up behind you to see what you’re looking at. When you tilt the picture toward him, he chuckles. “Oh, man,” he sighs, thinking back on that outing. “I almost went bankrupt on that vacation.”

“She loved it,” you say, tracing over the photo with your fingertips. Sarah's smile is bright, and her pose is goofy, standing in front of Cinderella’s castle. “She came back with one of those colorful wraps in her hair and some mouse ears. Then she went on and on about the rides and the characters and how big Disney was.”

“I think that was our best trip,” Joel admits happily, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You dissolve into his touch and set the picture back down with trembling fingers.

“You're a good dad, Joel,” you tell him. “She was always so proud of you.” You frown. Would she be proud of him now?

“So what are you doing here?” He murmurs in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. How can he do this? How can he have this effect on you? And how can he be so damn calm when his daughter's eyes are watching from these pictures.

“I thought we should talk about what happened?” You reply, recoiling by how weak your voice comes out. But it's not your fault. Joel's pressing his thumbs into your hips, rubbing slow circles through the material of your dress.

His hands glide up the curves of your body, feeling up every contour, every line before stopping at your breasts. He hears your breathing falter and smirks to himself, lowering his hands. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

What a fucking tease.

“I just,” you lose your voice again as his warm breath fans across your neck, his fingers now trailing down your back in stimulating tingles. “I want you to know I don’t regret it,” you say through shivers.

He snorts and grabs your hair, pushing it over your shoulder. He dips his head down, kissing the exposed skin of your back, his lips blazing like fire along the surface of your delicate skin. “Well, that’s good to hear cause I don’t regret it, either.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, shattering in his arms. You are lucky he's holding you up or you would crumble into shreds at his feet.

“I know it’s wrong of me, and I’m being greedy,” he sighs. “But I haven’t let myself want someone in a long time. And baby girl, I want you. I can’t help it.”

You love listening to him say things like that. It gives you the assurance you need. “I want you too,” you confess.

He snickers and begins kissing your neck again, adding his teeth to scrape against your tender skin. His hands drift down your arms, across your stomach, and back to your hips. He handles every inch of you, much like he did last night. The faint sounds that come from your mouth go straight to his hardening dick. And he tugs you back towards his desk, ready to devour you.

“Come here,” he says and takes your hand, leading you to his chair. He sits down and swivels, pulling you on top of him. Your dress rides up as you spread your legs, hooking your thighs on either side of him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he voices, massaging the flesh of your thighs.

“It’s only the afternoon,” you smile, sliding your arms over his broad shoulders. He tries to respond by claiming your lips, but you turn your head, wagging your finger. “We’ve been apart like five hours,” you giggle. “You miss me that much?”

“You’re addicting,” he sighs against your face, so close he can smell your shampoo. “I need my fix.” Your brain goes static at Joel saying those things to you. How dare he know how to push all your buttons?

But hey, you have some power, too.

“I’m all for fucking in your office,” you say brazenly and watch as his eyes glaze over with lust. “But blondie said you have a meeting after your break. I shouldn’t stay.” You pout, glancing up at him with naivety.

“I can be quick,” he says almost desperately, tilting his head up, nudging his nose against yours.

“Oh, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you tease, flicking his chest.

“Kiss me,” he demands, and you give in. You claim his mouth with yours, licking his bottom lip. He happily accepts your tongue into his mouth, kissing you sloppily and with need. His hands drop to the round of your ass and squeeze, pulling you down against him so you can feel the bulge hiding beneath his slacks.

A whine rushes out of your throat, and you grind your hips down on him again. His hard cock presses into your sex and your quivering fingers twist in his tie and yank him closer. What you wouldn't give to have him inside of you right now.

You think he feels the same with the way his rough hands travel underneath your dress. He doesn't stop until he reaches your panties, groaning when he feels how soaked you are. He slides his fingers past the waistband, gliding over your dripping folds.

“Might be addicted to this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles in your ear, sending hot sparks through your veins. His lips attach to your neck, licking up your sweat-slicked skin, and you let out a loud cry, throwing your hand over your mouth. His fingers curl inside you, and his lips graze over your throat, and you don't know how much longer you can take it without feeling his hard dick pounding into you.

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you shudder, undoing his tie.

"Fuckin' love hearing that come from you," he admits, fulfilling some dirty fantasy. "Wanna fuck you, baby. Can I?" He asks, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

You don’t realize how much time has passed between your little...session. You're about to say yes until a knock on the door pulls the two of you back to reality. You curse and slide off Joel’s lap like you've just been electrocuted. Your dress is bunched up by your waist, and Joel’s tie is undone, and if anyone were to walk in, it would be obvious what you were doing.

“Shit, I gotta go,” you look around his office for an escape, but the door is the only way out. “Um, I can probably just…”

“Don’t,” he whines, grabbing you by the wrist. There’s a flicker in his eyes, and a wicked idea pops into your head. Rather than heading for the door, you drop to your knees (a sight Joel very much likes) and smirk up at him. You bring your finger to your lips in a shushing motion and crawl under his desk. His eyes widen, stunned to silence, but you just wink.

That annoying knock continues on the office door, and Joel groans, fixing his tie. His hands are still a bit shaky from your activities. And the bulge in his pants is not going away. He can only hope his client isn't very observant.

"Come on in!" Joel calls out and you bite your lip in anticipation.

The door opens, and Joel peers down at you, anxious and aroused. He looks back up as a man enters, and you barely listen to their boring conversation as the gentleman sits down in the chair across from Joel. A little thrill soars through you, knowing that this man is unaware that Joel has a girl under his desk.

"Mr. Miller," the man starts, and you look up at Joel with an innocent grin. You wonder if that phrase makes him hard now that he has you in his life. "I'm glad you could meet with me this afternoon," he continues. "I know how busy the firm has been. I appreciate you taking on my project."

"Of course, Mr. James," Joel responds, reaching a hand over the desk to avoid standing up. You have to hold back your laughter. This is going to be so much fun.

You wait an acceptable amount of time - about thirty seconds into Joel's meeting - before you reach your hands out to undo his slacks. He keeps a stoic expression, listening to his client and nodding his head. But his mind is a tangled web of sensations as he feels your fingers brush over his rock hard dick.

He rolls his chair closer to you and the desk to hide himself as much as he can. You waste no time in pulling him out of his underwear, inwardly sighing at the view. He's warm in your hand, thick and aching, and you want him inside of you again. But this will do for now.

Your soft palm slides up his shaft, caressing him with gentle traces just enough to have him shifting uncomfortably. You smile to yourself, proud of your achievements. You love that even the smallest of touches from you can make him weak. It's a powerful feeling.

He's in the middle of talking when you wrap your fingers around him, stroking his length at a slow, torturous pace while your other hand cups his balls. He jerks in his chair at the sudden feeling, and you look up, keeping the movements of your hands steady. You watch as his teeth come down on his lip, hard. Oh, he's good. He's barely breaking a sweat. But you can change that.

Joel has a nice dick. Really nice. And you love the way he looks in your hand, throbbing, leaking, all because of little you. You pump him quickly, watching with parted lips as his precum dribbles down his length, glinting over his perfect dick. Holding in a moan, you gather his slick in your hand to build the pleasure you're already giving him. You feel him thrust up into your fist, his first sign of distress.

So you decide to take him in your mouth, stretching your lips over his thickness. You inch him past your lips, sucking him halfway while your hand massages what you don't have in your mouth. You savor the salty taste of him on your tongue and breathe in deeply through your nose, twisting your wrist to work him up.

He shifts in his seat, letting out a tiny noise of satisfaction that he easily covers up by tapping on the keys of his keyboard. He has one hand curled to cover his mouth, playing it off as a look of thought. You love seeing him fidget, pulling your lips off of him and holding his cock still as you lick up with broad strokes of your tongue and down, reaching his balls.

He slams his fist on the desk as you suck on them. You feel a wave of pride crash over you. And then you listen as Joel tries to explain himself.

"Are you alright, Mr. Miller?" The client asks.

"F-fine," he mumbles, clearing his throat before finding his voice again. "Just this damn computer," he lies, clicking aimlessly at nothing with his mouse. "It's unbelievable."

The client nods, mumbling an understanding, “sure.”

In a brave move, Joel glances down at you, just in time to see you wrap your lips over him again. You lower your head down, slacking your jaw, and accepting his cock down your throat. "Damn it," he groans.

"Ah," Mr. James chuckles lightly. "I know the frustrations with technology," he says.

Yeah, technology, you think.

Joel's clever, sliding himself to the edge of his chair to hit the back of your throat. You take it, offering your mouth for him to fuck. You're so turned on that you move one of your hands under your dress, beneath your panties, to touch yourself. It's so hard to keep quiet when all you want to do is slurp his dick.

"S-so, Mr. James," Joel sputters, adjusting in his chair. Your hot mouth swallows him, and all he can think about is holding your head steady so he can fuck your face until he cums hot all over your lips. Yeah, you’d look beautiful like that. "Our estimates show this will take about t-three months to complete."

You pull off of Joel, catching your breath as quietly as you can. He looks down at you with blackened eyes, clenching his teeth when he catches you fingering yourself. You poke your tongue out and lap at his throbbing tip to taunt him.

He tries to hold on to his composure. The last thing he needs is to lose a client because his daughter's friend is giving him mind-blowing head under the desk. But damn, your mouth. Feels so fucking good around him, and those eyes of yours, wide and glistening, draw him in.

The client keeps talking about pricing and timeframes when Joel reaches under his desk, applying pressure to the back of your head with his hand. You take the hint and give up control, gagging around his cock as he pushes your head down.

"What?" The client asks, confused by the sudden noise.

"N-nothing," Joel shakes him off. "Let's talk about design," he encourages, taking a sip of his coffee to cover up a groan.

Joel brushes his fingers through your hair as an apology. And you tap his thigh, letting him know it's alright. You know he's about to cum. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, and fuck, you've wanted to taste him forever.

He moves your head up and down on him, brushing his thumb across your face, a silent way to ask if he can finish in your mouth. You look up at him, catching his eyes and shooting him a wink. He grabs his mug again, taking another long sip of coffee as he reaches his peak, cumming hard down your throat. Some of it leaks past your lips, down your chin, but you don't care. You're in bliss, and you use your fingers to collect the excess, wanting every drop of him.

Joel watches with heavy eyes, wishing he could pull you out and fuck you right here. The sight of you swallowing his load is one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen. "Mr. James?" He asks with a shaky breath. "Would you like to meet with my brother, as well?"

Yes, please, you think.

"Oh, no," Mr. James chuckles. "I think we're good. I really appreciate you meeting with me, Miller," he says. "I'll be in touch to move forward."

"Sounds great," Joel says, unable to stand up. "I'll get this written up for you right now before my next meeting," he lies.

"Wonderful," the man heads for the door. You can hear it open and then shut a few seconds later.

Once you're in the clear, Joel pushes his chair out and grabs you by the hand, pulling you up. His lips meet yours in a harsh kiss. It's messy, filthy, and you want more.

“You naughty little minx,” he purrs, grabbing your hips. “You suck my cock so well. And man, I am so glad you wore a dress today,” he comments and lifts you up, placing you on his desk. You spread your legs, inviting him in, and he accepts, pushing you down. "You have no idea what you do to me," he admits, reaching under your dress. "You have me wrapped around this cute little finger," he says, finding the edge of your panties and pulling them down. He smirks at you and holds them up in his hands. "Cute," he chuckles at the watermelon patterns on the pink fabric. "Think I'll keep 'em," he says and tucks your panties in his pocket.

He gets to his knees and kisses your thighs, biting and licking your sensitive areas. Your skin is like silk against his lips, and he can't get enough. "Have I told you how beautiful you are?" He asks, reaching your core. "I mean, this pussy alone..." He stops speaking, dragging his tongue through your slit.

"Joel!" You gasp, writhing at the feeling you were not prepared for. You grab onto his hair, pulling his face closer to your heat. He plunges his tongue inside you, lapping up your sweet juices, and you whimper. "Oh, god, Mr. Miller."

Joel moans at your taste and at the use of his new favorite name. Maybe it's wrong that that turns him on. But coming from you, it's one of the hottest things he's ever heard.

“Keep talking, princess, I love hearing your voice,” he encourages, entering a finger into you. He licks his lips at the sight of your drenched cunt, a possessive thought running through his mind that this is all for him.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel, fuck no one’s ever made me feel this good.” You admit, and he chuckles, adding a second finger to your hole. He brings his mouth back to your pussy, tongue teasing your clit. You meant what you said about him. No one has ever had this effect on you. And you have to wonder how long it’s been since he’s gone down on a woman, but if it’s been a long time, it doesn’t show. He eats you out like his life depends on it.

Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging at his scalp. But you can’t stop yourself. You can barely stay still the way he licks between your folds again. His mouth is magic, sucking your clit, drawing your climax closer. He looks up at you, scanning over your writhing body. “You can cum for me, baby,” he tells you, sensing you’re close. “Squirt those juices all over my tongue. I want to taste all of you.”

His words and the way his mouth works on you bring you to the edge. You cum, throwing a hand over your mouth to hold in your whimpers as your legs shake, your essence coating Joal’s tongue and chin. He’s eager as he licks you clean, kissing his way back down your thighs before standing.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips still glistening a little. He reaches a hand out for you, pulling your quivering body upright. You look so fucking good like this. He's tempted to do it again, but he should probably get some work done. Speaking of...

“Do you work tonight?” He asks, and you nod, sliding off his desk with wobbly legs.

“Same as last night,” you say, fluffing out your dress. You comb your fingers through your hair, brushing out the couple of knots that have tangled. When you finish, you look as you did when you first came into the building, minus the fact that you’re not wearing any panties.

“Can I pick you up?” Joel questions, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Bring you back to my place?”

“Of course,” you smile, thrilled that he still wants to see you. He pulls you in for a soft kiss, hesitant to let you go. But he does, waving goodbye and checking out your ass as you leave his office.

A young thing like you...you're going to be the death of him.

Masterlist

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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