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neochan · 4 months

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DESIRE (M) — PART ONE

he wants you. you want jeno. desire is a jealous little thing, isn't it y/n?

PAIRING. slytherin!haechan x hufflepuff!reader ft. gryffindor!jeno

WC. 12.1k

GENRE. harry potter au!, smut

WARNINGS. cursing, drinking, depictions of breaking a bone, solo male smut, haechan is sort of a perv in one (1) scene, oral male receiving, just really sloppy head <3, haechan does fuck someone in detail and he's mean abt it, but it's not y/n (oops spoiler of sorts), blonde!haechan, he's not a good person, so don't expect him to be. he's a big ole meanie with a longtime crush on reader.

A.N. this has been in the drafts for like three years. i want it out, so i'm splitting it into two parts :)

The Mirror of Erised - The mirror shows the most desperate desire of a person's heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad.

He loves you.

But he fucking hates it.

First year he was holding hands with you, sitting next to your huddled body on the train, and later sharing a meal in the great hall. Second year he saw you clinging onto him as he flew you over the quidditch field. Third year he watched the both of you sneak out to explore the restricted section in the library and run around the castle late at night. Fourth year he saw you in a beautiful dress as he took you to the yule ball. Fifth year he was kissing you on the astronomy tower. Sixth year you went down on him, and all he could do was watch and pretend that his hand was your mouth.

Now it’s seventh year.

Though the actions changed, it was always you he saw in the mirror, and he fucking hated it. Ever since first year, when all he knew was that you were cute and funny, there you were, taunting and teasing him in that godforsaken mirror.

And yet, he always comes back to sit and watch.

Just like tonight.

The train only arrived an hour ago, but instead of filing into the great hall to see which house the first years would be sorted into, he’s sitting on the floor in the room of requirement, back against a dusty chest of drawers, and eyes narrowed down to slits as he watches the scene unfold in the mirror before him.

It always starts with you appearing out of thin air. You’re wearing your house colors – a small grey skirt, barely covering the swell of your ass and a yellow button up. You’re rid of the required tie, but only for a second, only until Haechan shows up to stand behind you in the mirror with it stretched between his fists.

He shifts in his place on the ground. It wasn’t real, but lord have mercy, he wished it were.

In the mirror he watches himself loop the tie around your wrists, which were set behind your back. You were so beautiful, smiling up at him with those luminous eyes, and your lips parted in a sinful smile.

Under his robes, his hand inches across the flat of his stomach, towards the growing bulge in his pants. It was becoming hotter in the room, almost stifling, but if someone were to come in, he couldn’t be caught half naked. He’d have to get by fully clothed.

God, he despised the way you made him feel; so desperate for any sort of friction, anything to help relieve himself of the aching lust he felt in the pit of his stomach.

When his reflection is done tying your wrists together, a desk appears. He recognizes it as the one from potions class. His mouth drops open in an O as he watches himself back you up, so you were sandwiched between the desk and his broad chest.

His hand disappears under your skirt, and he could only imagine what his reflection was doing. Could only imagine how good you probably felt clenching around his fingers, gasping at his touch. Feeling pleasure because of him.

Your body arches against his, head dropping down to rest on his shoulder. He watches his lips move against your ear, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.

Biggest fucking curse of the century.

Stupid mirror should come with speakers, he thinks.

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep his composure, skin slick with sweat, and hands buzzing with the temptation to touch himself.

Fuck you, y/l/n

He watches as his mirror persona spins you around and pushes you flat against the desk, yanking your skirt up around your waist to bare your glistening pussy.

It’s never been this explicit, and he can’t help himself. Tentative fingers wrap around his cock. He throws his head back and hisses between his teeth; it felt too fucking good. His eyes snap open. There was no way he was going to miss the rest of the show, not when it was just getting good.

In the mirror, his cock replaces his fingers. He watches himself inch his way into you slowly. Watches your mouth loll open, eyes glazed over. You were already fucked out and he had barely started.

Haechans hands stroke himself under his robes as he watches the scene in front of him. He was having a hard time keeping his hips still, bucking up into his fist. He softly groans to himself when he sees his reflection grab your tied hands and pull back, fucking himself into you faster.

It was so unfair, so embarrassing, that he had to resort to getting off in front of a mirror displaying his deepest fantasy. It was so unfair that it was always you.

So Haechan sits there, watching the mirrored version of himself completely ruin you, while trying to pretend that his hand is your dripping cunt. He sits there thinking of all the things he would do to you if you would give him the time of day.

Fuck you y/n.

The first years had already been sorted by the time he arrived. In fact, dinner was almost over.

He makes his way to the Slytherin table where his friends were loudly joking. Renjun was the first to notice when he sat down and slides him a half-eaten piece of pie.

“Where were you?”

Through a mouthful of blueberry pie, Haechan acknowledges him, “I had to take care of some things.”

He shuts the discussion down quick. No need for them to know he shoved in a dusty room with his cock in his fist, and his mind full of you.

Speaking of which...

His eyes scan the great hall till he sees you sitting with your roommates, Jihyo and Mina. He almost chokes on the next bite when he realizes you were wearing the same outfit you had on in the mirror.

“Fucking hell man, don’t die,” Chenle slides him a glass of water, “We thought we were gonna have to sneak you some food back to the dorms.”

He gulps down the water and taps the glass with his ring clad pointer finger, automatically refilling it. The silver metal makes a tink sound against the glass. “Well, like I said, I had some things to take care of.”

Why the fuck did his friends have to be so damn nosy. A guy couldn't disappear for an hour?

“And was Y/N one of those things?” Chenle snorts.

The rest of the table bursts into laughter, louder than the entire great hall combined, and it makes you peek your head in their direction. Haechan drops his gaze away from you, grabs a stray spoon and chucks it at Chenle, hitting him square in the chest, “Shut up.”

“Dude, we all know you've been sweet on her since, what, first year?” Renjun snickers.

Chenle wipes the gunk that splattered off the spoon from his robes, ‘Yeah, we’re not blind man. I mean, she might be, but not us.”

"Sweet on her? What the fuck is this Renjun, the nineteen-fifties?" Haechan doesn't do anything but scowl. He hates how his friends knew. Hell, pretty much all Slytherins that knew him, knew.

His eyes flick up and catch yours. A soft smile forms on your lips, and he returns it. He hand twitched up for a wave, but Jeno, the infamous Gryffindor Seeker, sits beside you and steals your attention away.

“Ah look, now you’re too late.”

“Could’ve had a chance dude.”

Haechan turns to his friends and gives them a death stare, “Next word out of you guys and I’m gonna stuff the rest of this pie down your fucking throats.”

With a roll of their eyes, they turn their heads and start to talk amongst themselves about the new school year. Haechan can’t immerse himself in such conversation. His attention is pointed solely on you and the kiss ass that was Lee Jeno.

One of his arms sat slung around your shoulders, his face dangerously close to yours, but for some reason, you weren’t pushing him away, you were laughing.

Why weren’t you pushing him away?

Something in Haechan snaps when he watches Jeno lean his forehead against yours, both of you sharing wide smiles. It’s as if his heart was set on fire, the heat threading itself through his body and taking home in his hands. Oh, how he wanted to go punch that smile right off of Jeno’s lips. Smash his fist in his face and leave a nice mark, bloody broken gums bleeding.

Bet he wouldn’t smile at you then.

Haechan knows it’s insane. He does, but he quite honestly doesn’t give a single broom-flying fuck.

With determination, Haechan stood, pushing his chair back, and ignoring the calls from his friends. Everybody he walks past is enjoying their first-day-back meals, but Haechan has something else on his mind.

He walks by your table, hearing the pretty lilt of your voice chatting away with your friends as Jeno hangs off your side. Haechan’s tongue pokes his cheek in jealousy, but he walks right past without a word, no matter how much his brain is screaming at him to just hit Jeno.

Making it to the doors that seal off the great hall from the main corridor, he draws his wand out from his robes and flicks his wrist.

“Aguamenti”

A jet of clear water shoots out from the tip of his wand and smacks the side of Jenos head, effectively drenching him from head to toe.

Haechan stays for a split second, just to watch you and your friends erupt in a fit of giggles while Jeno picks at his wet robes.

He smiles triumphantly before slipping out into the hallway and sprinting to the Slytherin dormitory.

Haechan 1, Jeno 0

The first night back at Hogwarts; The first night back home.

You and your dormmates lounge in the common room and stare into the fire whilst making small talk. It had been a while since seeing them, but you had kept in touch out in the muggle world.

Jihyo hung her head over the arm of the couch, the rest of her body sprawled out and cozily covered with a blanket, attempting to toss popcorn in the air and catch it in her mouth. Her success rate, however, left the floor scattered with smashed pieces and kernels.

Mina sat on the end of the couch with Jihyo's feet in her lap, occasionally contributing to the conversation but mostly engrossed in her textbooks. It wasn't even the first day of actual classes, yet here she was, staying ahead. If you didn't know her kind nature, you'd think she belonged in Ravenclaw.

You were slung in the other chair opposite of them, fiddling with your wand. The end was slightly cracked from where you had accidentally stepped on it one day and it was worrying you. The last thing you needed right now was another trip to Olivanders.

“I’m just saying Y/N, I think Jeno really does like you!” Jihyo insisted, throwing another piece of popcorn in the air only to get hit in the face with it seconds later.

Mina snorts without looking up and Jihyo makes a face at her that she doesn’t see but leaves you giggling. You twist your wand around your fingers, something you learned back in second year, “Well if he does, he hasn’t said anything.”

Mina hums in agreement but Jihyo thinks differently, “He wouldn’t have offered to take you broom flying after hours if he didn’t like you.”

Shrugging your shoulders you turn to the fire, the burning warmth spreading over your chest. “Maybe he just wants some pussy.”

“Well, you better take the chance before I do. He can show me his broomstick anytime.” She winks in your direction sending you into a giggle fit. Mina rolls her eyes but continues reading her textbook. The both of you were used to Jihyos sexual jokes, but they never failed to make you laugh and Mina cringe.

A brief silence passed before you spoke, “Okay, but you have to agree, whoever splashed him at dinner tonight has it coming.”

“What do you mean whoever it was?” Mina piped up, giving you an inquisitive look.

“I didn’t see who it was, did y’all?” you asked, mildly confused. The water had seemingly come out of nowhere, and everyone around Jeno had denied responsibility. With everyone denying it, you suspected it might have been one of the lingering spirits.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N? He couldn’t have been any more obvious,” Jihyo said incredulously, sitting up to look straight at you, abandoning her bag of popcorn.

Were you supposed to have known who the culprit was? You were too busy watching Jeno splutter and gasp to have paid much attention to your surroundings. One thing she said caught your attention, “He?”

“Haechan? Lee Donghyuck?” Mina says slowly.

Jihyo chimed in, “He was walking toward our table all angry, and then when he made it to the doors, he turned around and used the Aguamenti spell.” Your mouth dropped open with every word she said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?!”

“I didn’t!” you argue defensively.

“Oh, and before that, he was staring at you.” Mina added, closing her textbook and standing up, dumping Jihyo's feet on the ground.

“I knew he was staring.” You say, chewing on your bottom lip, “Are you guys for sure he was the one?”

“I’m telling you,” Jihyo starts, “We both saw him.”

Emotions bubble in your chest. You were pissed off for sure. Who did Haechan think he was getting in your business like that, especially given the history, or lack thereof.

Ever since you met the Slytherin boy, he had despised you. There was something about you that completely irritated him, and no matter how hard you tried, he just wouldn’t be your friend. He wouldn’t even talk to you, only stare and mess with your relationships. Every time you were getting close with a boy, he would get in the way, first with Mark and now Jeno? This was becoming an issue, and one that you needed to correct soon.

“I’m heading to bed.” Mina says, waving goodbye and heading off to her room.

You and Jihyo are left to stare at each other. She narrows her eyes down to slits, “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m not,” you spun the wand faster around your fingers, twisting and spinning it until it dropped into your palm, “I’m just going to remind him who the hell I am.”

“That’s not very Hufflepuff of you.” she giggles, reaching for more popcorn and shoving it in her mouth.

Your grip your wand tightly, “Hufflepuff or not, Lee Donghyuck needs to learn who he’s fucking with.”

As you pondered your next move, Jihyo leaned back and said, "You know, a well-placed hex might jog his memory."

"No. Not a hex. He get's one warning. His only warning."

Haechan knew you were after him.

The past couple days consisted of him dodging your every attempt at waving him down. After classes dismissed, he was up and out the door in the blink of an eye, he never showed his face at the great hall, and when you caught sight of him during his quidditch practice, he disappeared while everyone else headed to the locker rooms.

Three days after the water incident, you catch him.

The professor asked him to stay back after class, supposedly to discuss his recent test scores. So, when the bell rang, you lingered outside the classroom door. A couple of minutes later, Haechan emerged, his blonde hair paired with a scowl etched onto his face. He made a beeline in the opposite direction, but you had other plans.

“Lee Donghyuck!” you shout, attracting stares from the other students milling about the corridor. You scurry over to him and tug his arm, his eyes shooting down to where you made contact “We need to talk.”

He glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and cleared his throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The threats you had rehearsed - the biting warnings you promised Jihyo you'd give him...they all catch in the back of your throat when you look up and make eye contact. It was almost condescending the way he looked down at you, without even saying anything, he made you feel small.

"I—um, I want you to leave me and Jeno alone," you managed to say, attempting confidence but knowing there was little force behind the words.

He knew it too.

His eyebrows shoot up, “I’m sorry darling, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

Oh, how good he was at feigning innocence.

Too bad you knew he was a big fat fucking liar, “The whole Aguamenti spell you did the other night in the great hall? Yeah, I know it was you.”

His jaw clenches and he reaches for his wand to twirl around his finger – something he did when he was nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit Haechan. Me and my friends saw you do it.”

As more people stared at the confrontation in the middle of the hallway, you considered finding a more private place, but you knew he wouldn't follow.

“What do you want me to say? I’m telling you I didn’t do it.” his voice is a low growl, his demeanor darkening and body slightly leaning towards your own. You wouldn’t be surprised if the next words out of his mouth were, ‘now get lost you little freak’.

Deciding to stand your ground, you stared up at him defiantly. However, instead of backing down, he laughed straight in your face, deflating any hope of setting him straight.

“Good one, Hufflepuff.” With a roll of his eyes, he palms his wand in thought. How could a girl like you go for a guy like Jeno? Didn’t you know he was an asshole?

Speak of the devil, he thinks.

A heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders, accompanied by a sweet and cheery voice. "Y/N! Just the girl I needed to see." Jeno's crescent eyes and beaming smile were inches from yours.

Haechan rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. He needs to leave; He should leave, but his feet don’t move when he tries. It felt like he was under a spell.

Yeah, if jealousy was a fucking spell, the thought bitterly.

“I hope you don’t mind me talking to your girl.” Jeno acknowledges Haechan and playfully punches him in the shoulder. The older boy just sneers.

“Oh, I’m not his girl” you declared adamantly.

A derisive scoff rumbles in the depths of Haechan's throat, and a fit of coughing seizes him, forcing him to double over.

“Careful there buddy.” Jeno smirks, harshly slapping Haechan’s back as way to help him catch his breath.

When the older boy straightens up, a look of pure hatred crosses his eyes and you giggle, “I’m fine, buddy.”

Jeno looks from left to right confused at Haechan’s hostility, but shakes it off and turns to you instead, “I wanted to invite you to the Quidditch game tomorrow night.” A ‘no’ forms on your lips but Jeno is quick to shut it down, “Look… I’ll play better if you’re there. You can be my good luck charm!”

A fake gag sounds from the back of Haechans throat and you stare daggers into him until he throws two hands up and takes a step back.

You turned to Jeno with the intention of declining, citing the need for studying, but his trademark smile was plastered on his lips. Wasn't the point of this conversation with Haechan to be something with Jeno someday?

“I’ll go.” You smile, and Jeno's face lights up like a kid on Christmas.

One second, you were on the ground, and the next, you were in Jeno's strong arms, spinning around. "Yes! You won't regret this, Y/N! You can even wear my jersey if you want!"

He slows down and sets you back on your feet, your head slightly spinning, “Jeno… you do realize you’ll need your jersey on the field.”

“Oh right.” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Didn’t think of that.”

Haechan makes an unamused snort, and you notice his hands are balled into fists at his side.

How could Jeno do that right in front of his face?

“I guess it’s the thought that counts.” Haechan spits, and turns on his heel, robes flying behind him as he hurriedly walks away.

“Wait! We still have to talk!” you shout after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, just keeps walking until he rounds a corner and disappears.

Why did he have something against Jeno? He hated you anyways. Was his job to make you miserable your entire Hogwarts life? Why was he always in your business?

Jeno startles you out of your thoughts, “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

A smile formed on your lips, and you murmured an 'okay' as Jeno looped your arm in his. Unfortunately, Haechan was long gone, along with any hope of setting him straight.

Hopefully he got the message, you think.

It’s the last thought of him before Jeno is tugging on your arm and walking you to class, the smell of cinnamon on his robes and his jovial tone taking home in your head and root in your heart.

He can’t stomach the sight of her face, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking her.

Who was she? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. She was wet enough and that was all that mattered. Thrusting into her sopping cunt was what she was here for, nothing more, nothing less.

His mind drifts while he pounds into her, the image of Jeno dragging you away, his arm slung over your shoulders driving Haechan to fuck harder. The girl hollers in pain but doesn’t tell him to stop, just grits her face and bears it, and he doesn’t check to see if she’s okay.

She said she wanted him to fuck her, so that’s what he was doing.

“Hy-hyuck.” She whimpers, fingers digging into his dark green sheets.

A harsh smack lands on her ass, “What, can’t take it Y/ -”

He stops himself before finishing your name. How stupid could he be. This wasn’t you; this could never be you.

Whoever the girl was, she doesn’t notice, too rung up on his cock pushing into her over and over again to understand that he didn’t give a single fuck about her.

Poor girl.

Her legs start to shake, an overwhelming orgasm washing over her right before Haechan pulls out and rolls off the bed, hastily putting on his pants. She’s left to catch her breath on his bed, peering at him from between parted fingers, “You didn’t finish.”

“Don’t need to.” He throws his sweater over his head and starts to fix his tie, “Here.” He picks her yellow robes off the floor and tosses them onto the bed next to her.

“Let me suck you off or something.”

His response is instantaneoous, “I’m good.”

Her voice is soft when she speaks up again, “It’s because of that girl isn’t it… the one in my house, Y/N?”

Was it obvious to everyone else but you? This random fucking girl knew, but you couldn’t catch on? Fucking ridiculous.

His eyes narrow down to slits, “I got to get to class. You better be gone when I get back.”

The door slams behind him, the echo being the only indication he was there in the first place.

Robes askew and papers flying out of your hands, you rush into potions class at the last possible second.

Jeno is already seated at your shared table, something that’s become normal these last few weeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you take note of Hyuck slumped over a piece of paper, furiously scribbling—probably homework.

Thankfully, the professor nods you off without issuing you a detention slip.

Slamming your books on the flat black table, you hop onto your stool.

“Thought you weren’t gonna show y/l/n” Jeno’s smile stretches from ear to ear, his fingers twirling a quill between them.

“I may not be a Ravenclaw, but I’d never miss a class.”

“Couldn’t bear to miss me?” His flirtatious comments always make your heart skip a beat. Your pulse becomes increasingly erratic, face flushed. A snort sounds from behind you, and when you swivel around, you see Haechan’s face adorned with a sneer. He doesn’t deserve a response from you, no matter how much you want to flip him off.

You turn back around, “I guess I couldn’t…” The blush on Jeno’s face is unmistakable and it warms your heart.

From the front of the room, the professor claps his hands, “Alright class, today we will be doing something I’m sure you’ve done before.”

“Please don’t say truth potion.” You mutter under your breath.

“Not quite, Ms. y/l/n. Today we’ll be brewing amortentia potions! All your ingredients should be in the back of the classroom, gather them and begin brewing! The instructions are on page 287 of your textbook! The first group to accurately brew their potion gets five points on the chapter quiz this week.”

The professor calling you out would be enough to send you into an embarrassed state of tucking your chin against your chest and keeping your head down for the rest of the class, but the mention of extra points on the quiz has you leaping up off the stool and waltzing to the back of the classroom.

Jeno doesn’t even have time to say anything. You’ve never done this potion before, but you know the ingredients by heart, just waiting for the day you get to brew it.

You make it to the ingredients table first, followed by Haechan, who’s furiously flipping through his textbook, trying to find the ingredient list. When he notices your empty hands, he narrows his eyes, “Don’t you need to know what to put in the potion?”

Grabbing various vials and jars of dried leaves, you snort, “Don’t need to. Jealous I know it by heart?”

His eyes slide to yours while he follows your lead and picks up a jar of blue rose petals, “Me? Jealous? Yeah right. That’ll be you when me and Chenle win the extra points.”

“Don’t count on it Hyuck.”

The nickname has him tensing, knuckles going white when he accidentally grips a vial of milky substance too hard. He puts it under his arm and reaches for another vial. Coincidentally, you were reaching for the same one, both of your hands brushing against each other's. Neither of you is hasty in withdrawing.

His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, nervousness flitting across his brow. Before you can make note, he clamps down, and his expression goes stoic again.

Heat pools in your stomach. A sickeningly sweet feeling that leaves you confused when Haechan plucks the vial away and whips around, his robes fluttering out behind his body.

Other students begin crowding the table, so you grab a different vial, the interaction leaving you all too confused.

When you get back to the table, Jeno has already begun heating the cauldron.

The ingredients spill from your hands.

“Have you ever done this before?” Jeno asks, “You didn’t even need the textbook.”

Your voice comes out mumbled, “No. I just know it by heart.”

His own textbook is splayed out in front of him, one finger rubbing down the page to read the ingredients list. Why don’t his hands make you feel like that? Sure, it makes you feel all cozy inside, but it isn’t… hot like that. There;s no heat when Jeno walks hand-in-hand with you in the hallway. Why?

“… petals.”

His voice peeks through your thoughts that were flitting around your skull at a million miles an hour.

“Huh?”

“Why did you grab blue rose petals? It doesn’t say we need them in the book.” He teeters on the edge of his seat as if he wanted to take them back to the ingredients table at the back of the room.

A smirk plays on the edge of your lips, “Haechan was copying what I was grabbing, so to trip him up, I grabbed those. Hopefully, he doesn’t pay close attention to the textbook like you…”

Jeno laughs, “Never would have struck you as the type Y/N.”

“What, too much of a Slytherin thing?” You bite back.

“No…No, I like it. It makes you… I don’t know… hot?”

Your eyes go wide, a laugh sticking in your throat. You cough it up and turn to the spread of ingredients in front of you, “Let's, uh… let’s start so we can get those extra credit points.”

Jeno turns around and so do you.

What you don’t notice is Haechan, who had become immensely interested in your conversation after hearing the word Slytherin leave your lips. The jealousy flickering through his nerves is hotter than the boiling substance in front of him. Oh, how he wishes this was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He’d love to put Jeno flat on his ass.

You and Jeno effortlessly master the brewing of amortentia in just twelve minutes, a symphony of perfectly blended scents swirling in your cauldron.

Chenle and Haechan shoot you annoyed glances as their potion turns into a goopy, blue disaster, nowhere close to the enchanting pink hue of yours.

The professor strides over, congratulating the two of you with a smile. He hands each of you golden slips of paper, designating you as the undisputed masters of amortentia potion-making.

Haechan stands with arms crossed, bitterness etched across his face as he joins the students gathered around your table. His jaw clenches when he witnesses Jeno pulling you into a snug side hug.

“Alright! As the first pair to get the potion right, you get the pleasure of telling us what you smell.

Fuck.

His jaw unclenches and instead is replaced by a shit-eating grin.

“W-What?”

Other students nervously chuckle, eager to see if Jeno, the star of Gryffindors quidditch team, would possibly smell their scent.

“I’ll go first y/n. Don’t sweat it.”

Carefully, Jeno leans over the cauldron and lets the steam waft up into his face. He takes a sniff. Another one. Another one. And finally a deep inhale.

“It’s smells like cherries… um, vanilla, I think… and, sweets? Like baked sweets?”

The professor applauds, “Good! Sounds like someone's after a Hufflepuff!”

All eyes turn to you. It's true, the Hufflepuff dormitory is adjacent to the kitchens, but why must everyone assume? Why must it be you?

The professor continues, “You next Y/N!”

Haechans doe eyes follow your figure closely, drinking in the way you lean over the cauldon, the top button on your blouse having come undone, breasts peaking through the top. He feels like a pervert, but he can’t help the stiffness rising in his slacks.

He should’ve had that girl suck him off.

You sniff one, twice, and a third time. Haechan watches as the blood drains from your face.

Why couldn’t it be cinnamon and firewood? Why not something to complement Jeno? It had to be that.

“I smell apples… and, and, um, caramel, and qu-quidditch gear.”

You don’t even have time to assess Jeno or Haechans faces. Jeno knew it was Haechan’s scent. Haechan knew it was his scent. Everyone knew. How could they not? Slytherins best asshole was known for smelling like caramel apples.

Fuck.

Your eyes are downcast, contemplating whether or not to do that chin tuck.

“Alright! Who’s next?”

“It’s not like it’s our house that’s playing.”

Slumped on the common room couch and stuffing your face with leftover popcorn (thanks Jihyo), your argument doesn’t come across as very convincing – to yourself, or Mina, who stands in front of you with her hands on her hips. “And anyways,” you raise a skeptical eyebrow, “Don’t you have to study or something. You’re not one for quidditch games.”

She reaches for you, snatching the snack bowl out of your hand and plopping it down on the coffee table. “I’m two weeks ahead in every single class. I can afford to skip a day of studying.”

For a moment, you shoot her a glare, sensing there's more to it. “Jihyo put you up to this, didn’t she?”

“Why do you say that.”

“Because I know her.”

“Okay, yes.” She sits down next to you, grabbing your hands. “But come on! Jeno invited you to watch the game and then go to the afterparty. You know how hard it is to get invited to those parties!” She drags out the last syllable, pretending to beg, “And Jihyo said she’d kill me if you bailed.”

You sigh. Jeno did invite you, and he had that killer smile on his lips when he did it. The reminder sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering about. The only reason you were planning to skip out was because you were nervous. And what happened in class yesterday. But that didn’t matter! Gryffindors seeker asking you to come watch him play, and then walking you to class? That made you more than friends, right? You didn’t know how to navigate that without being awkward… and you’d hate to disappoint him.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Mina squeals next to you and pulls you into a hug. “You won’t regret this! But hurry up, I wanna see if I can spot Renjun before the game.” She smiles to herself, a light blush dusting her cheeks that she tries to conceal.

“Renjun… Isn’t that the boy you’re tutoring in potions?”

She hums in response, a dreamy expression so evident on her face you could almost make out hearts in her eyes. It's like a real-life cartoon.

“You have a crush on him!” you tease, giggling when she holds her arms out defensively and tries to deny it. “That’s why you’re going to the game today! Not because you don’t need to study, but because you wanna see Renjunnnnn.” You draw out his name like you used to do when you were first years.

“Don’t tell Jihyo.” She groans. “She’ll give me hell for it, and I want this to progress naturally on its own.”

“I won’t, I’m just shocked our Mina has a crush!”

You feel happy for your friend. Happy that she’s found somebody who could actually drag her away from being holed up on a Saturday afternoon – it's real progress.

“Enough about me! Go get ready!”

She throws a pillow at you when you leap off the couch, and it hits you square in the chest, both of you thrown into another fit of giggles.

The stands were so jam packed with students, you thought there was absolutely no way you were going to grab a seat.

That was until you spotted Jihyos yellow Hufflepuff cap sticking out in a sea of Gryffindor gear. It was against house rules to wear anything outside of your house colors, so while you wanted to wear red to support Jeno, the best you could do was the red handheld flags they were passing out at the gate to the field.

A first year Slytherin tried to hand you a green flag, but you upturn your nose and brush him aside. You didn’t hate all Slytherins, but you’d be damned if Haechan caught sight of you supporting his team, especially since it was him pitted against Jeno. It saddened you that he was a seeker like the boy you were there to support; he didn’t deserve the position.

Mina grabs your hand and drags you into the thick of the crowd where elbows jostled you every few seconds and your cheeks were being whipped with waving flags. You duck your head down and try not to trip, a sigh of relief rushing past your lips when you make it to where Jihyo is sitting front row, batting away a couple who were trying to sit in the seats she was keeping for the two of you.

“See!” She yells, gesturing wildly to the two of you walking up, “My friends are here, and these seats are now occupied!” She grabs your wrists and tugs you to sit down.

The couple rolls their eyes and move on to find another seat.

“Bitches.” Jihyo curses under her breath.

“Thanks for saving the seat.” You breathlessly laugh, adjusting your jacket so that you were bundled up. Hogwart winters weren’t for the faint of heart.

Jihyo smirks, “Had to fight off about half the Gryffindor population for this good of a view, but it was worth it.”

On the other side of Jihyo, Mina laughed and clapped her hands at the commotion on the field, right before every other student erupted in cheers, hoots, and hollers.

From your midfield position, you saw the Slytherin team filtering out on the green, brooms in hand.

“WELCOME ALL FACULTY AND STUDENTS TO THE FIRST HOME GAME OF THE SEASON!! PLEASE WELCOME OUR SLYTHERIN TEAM!” The announcer's voice boomed, rattling through the entire stadium.

As much as you resisted cheering, Mina was there to support Renjun, so you gave a few half-hearted claps on her behalf, earning dirty looks from the surrounding Gryffindors. You were in the wrong section if you wanted to support the snakes.

You weren’t looking for him, but Haechan’s blonde hair immediately grabs your attention. He’s smiling, all sharp and smug, and you can make out green face paint dotting the side of his neck. It irked you that he was soaking in the cheering – you bet he got off to on the attention. What? With him being the infamous Slytherin seeker? It went straight to his head, and you knew it.

The team hopped on their brooms and flew around the students, tossing Slytherin gear into the stands as they weaved in and out of the sections. When Haechan passed, he blew you a kiss and winked, infuriating you to the point your face flushed hot.

“Ignore him.” Jihyo rolls her eyes and gives your hand a squeeze, “He’s trying to get you mad. Jeno will put him in his place.”

The thought of Jeno putting him in his place warms your heart. Oh, how good that’ll feel.

Once the Slytherins stopped showing off, the crowd went relatively quiet, waiting for the real star of the show to come out. A thrumming chant started somewhere opposite your section, and soon enough, the entire student body was collectively roaring for Gryffindor.

“WE WANT BETTER, WE WANT MORE, SHOW US GRYFFINDOR!!”

A rumble goes through the crowd right before cold air whips your face and a sea of red jerseys flies over your head. It makes you laugh giddily, and your eyes desperately search for number seven – Jeno.

It takes a second, but soon enough your eyes are locked on his lean figure which presses forward on the thin broom stick. He looked good.

Jihyo goes fucking wild beside you, “There’s your man!” she screeches, and you let out a belly laugh. You both watch as he makes his rounds around the towers filled with cheering students – each and every one until he gets to yours.

“You look beautiful” he shouts, and a dozen girls around you squeal in adoration. He was talking to you though, and you knew it. His eyes sparkle when he gives you a wink. “Wish me luck.” he mouths.

“Omg how cute are you two!?” Jihyo swoons.

You pressed a kiss to your palm and then blew it to him – a signal of your affection. With a wide eye-smile, he grabbed it out of the air and pressed it to his lips.

It was then and there that you decided you were going to kiss him after the match. All too quickly, he flew away, and you watched as he went.

Not two seconds later, a new Gryffindor player was in front of you, balancing on the tail end of his stick. Johnny, you remembered his name.

His jersey was tucked between his teeth, his abs on full display, which sent the hoards of girls around you into a screaming fit. You caught a quick glimpse before he spat the hem out of his mouth.

“Y/N, you want us to win?” He asks, his voice a deep timbre.

You were shocked that he was talking to you – let alone that he knew your name.

Gingerly, you nod your head.

“I bet. You coming to the party after?”

This interaction was so bizarre, and all Jihyo and Mina did to help was stare at the six-foot, built, fine specimen lingering only three feet in front of you.

“Jeno invited me.” For some reason, a blush settles on your face, and you fight the urge to cover it.

“Bet you’re gonna have a fun time with him after.” A dazzling smirk plastered itself on Johnny’s face. “You should ask him if he’ll let you ride his broomstick. I heard he’s a good teacher. It should be fun.” He flew around so quickly it left you blinking in his wake. Over his shoulder, you heard him call out, “See you after, prize girl.”

The entire twenty-second conversation left you reeling, and you tucked a mental note away to ask Jeno about it later.

From across the field, a certain Slytherin seeker was seething. Both his hands grabbed the broom so tightly his knuckles turned white. If he applied any more pressure, it would have broken.

The fuck was Johnny talking to you about? Did it have to do with Jeno? What did you see in him anyways? What did Jeno have that he didn’t? Did he have to prove himself? Yes, he thinks. That’s what he’ll do. He’ll win this match to prove to you that he’s better than Jeno. Maybe then you’ll truly see him – and give him a chance.

Game on.

Two minutes were left in the last quarter, and it was neck and neck.

Green and red jerseys fly around each other.

The stadium echoed with the thunderous cheers as the Quaffle exchanged hands between the opposing teams. The bludgers were like rogue comets, threatening to disrupt the fluid dance of the players. Jeno and Haechan had their eyes fixed on the glittering snitch.

A collective gasp filled the arena as Haechan executed a daring spiral dive, narrowly avoiding a bludger. Simultaneously, Jeno executed a swift roll, evading a clever attempt by the opposing team to intercept him.

The golden snitch continued to flit teasingly ahead, leading the seekers on a merry chase.

You grip onto Jihyo and Mina as the game comes to a crescendo.

It happens so quick you almost miss it, but in three seconds everything changes.

Three.

Jeno becomes unbalanced, teetering sideways on his broom that keeps flying straight. His eyes are locked on yours when a wave of pure panic engulfs his sweaty features.

Haechan flies past him, one hand outstretched towards the golden snitch that loomed just mere inches from his fingertips.

Two.

He flips over the side of his broom, hands reaching out to try and catch himself. One by one his fingers tap the stick, not able to gain any purchase, and then he’s falling.

The other seeker presses ahead, dodging his teammates who don’t have time to get out of his way with how fast he’s flying.

One.

Jeno’s body slams into the grass field beneath the players, his broomstick landing next to his broken figure. He doesn’t get up, doesn’t scream in pain, doesn’t move.

Haechan's hand closed around the golden snitch, a victorious shout echoing from him and his teammates. He turned, searching for you in the crowd, but your gaze was fixed on Jeno.

Zero.

Shouts and cries erupt from the crowd, half in victory and half in shock. Someone screams Jeno’s name and you’re not sure if it’s your own shout, or if that person was just really close by.

With wide eyes, you watch as a bunch of medical staff rush towards him on the field and surround his body. Your body becomes ice cold and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Please let him be okay; he has to be okay.

The Slytherin team flies around the field, visiting their supporters in the stands while everyone else’s eyes are on Jeno.

Jihyo grabs your shoulders and gasps when a white medical cot is lifted onto the shoulders of a few Gryffindor players.

“He’s okay. He’s okay.” Mina repeats, taking hold of your hand between hers and you almost sob in relief when you see him wiggling around in the cot, moans of pain falling from his lips too low for your ears to pick up.

Haechan watches from a distance, eyes wide in shock when he takes notice of Jeno’s condition and when he looks up, he sees your dormmates consoling you. He wanted to fly over to you and ask if you’re okay, but he knew you wouldn’t want to hear it, not when Jeno was hurt.

Once Jeno and the medical staff made it off the field, the stands began to clear out, but you feel like you can’t move.

“Come on.” Jihyo murmurs, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around you. It was silly that they had to take care of you like this when you weren’t even the one who was hurt.

When you made it to the bottom of the stand, you huddle together in a group.

Jihyo, with her arm still wrapped around you, gave you a side hug. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Mina nodded in agreement, but you started biting your nails – not that there was much to bite, lord knows they were almost stubs as it was.

Another person slides into your tight group, and you don’t notice until you hear his voice, “The scorekeepers say there was no evidence of foul play.”

When you looked up, you were surprised to see who you thought was Renjun. When he noticed your gaze, he gave a soft smile.

“That’s bullshit,” Jihyo declares, “We all know who did it, and he’s on your fucking team.”

Renjun just shrugs and slides an arm around Mina, and despite the timing and circumstance, you raise an eyebrow at her. She waves you off and slides her attention to Renjun, “Everyone knows it was Haechan.”

“Well, the scorekeepers say otherwise.”

You felt like screaming and crying and running away all at once, but you just stood there, biting your nails.

“I know I probably shouldn’t be asking right now,” Renjun's eyes flickered to you before looking away quickly, “But, I wanted to invite you guys to the after-party. I don’t need an answer, just show up if you want to, and I’ll have Chenle watching for you guys at the door. It starts in half an hour.” He started to pull away from the group but turned back at the last second. “By the way, Y/N, I’m sorry about Jeno. Just because I’m on the opposite team doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad.”

A hum falls from your lips and then he’s off.

“Well, if I need anything right now, it’s a fucking drink,” Jihyo joked, but one look at you, and her laughter died.

Mina is more concerned with you, “We won’t go if you need us.”

“No,” you blurted, dropping your hands from your face. “I –” A particularly loud shout jarred your attention away, and when you looked around to find the culprit, you saw the entire Slytherin team gathering to your right. Haechan stood in the center only long enough for you to make out it was him, then he was being hoisted onto his teammates' shoulders. His eyes met yours, and he smirked, lifting a hand to wave at you. It took everything in you to not storm over there and punch the absolute shit out of him. He wished he was your fucking priority, but that wasn’t the case.

“You sure?” Mina asks, snapping you out of your murderous thoughts.

“I gotta go check on Jeno.” You give a small smile, “Save me a drink?”

Jihyo and Mina both nodded, and before you walked off, you threw a middle finger at Haechan, who caught sight and clasped his chest like he was dying.

It pissed you off, but you had bigger priorities right now.

Haechan would have his turn.

As the cheering fades, the screams take over.

Deep, guttural screams of someone in agonizing pain echo through the empty castle halls leading right to the medical wing. They come in bursts; long strings of curses, grunts, and broken yells, and it makes you inwardly cringe because you knew who they belonged too.

“Jeno…” you whisper, after hearing a particularly jarring shriek.

After rounding the corner, the tall double oak doors loom in front of you, inviting you to join Jeno in his agony, or at least be there to comfort him. Pushing them open, you reveal a large, brightly lit room sectioned off by blue plastic curtains and medical cots. On the left side of the room, you see a nurse tending to who must be Jeno, but you can’t see his face.

You can hear him though.

His voice is amplified ten-fold now that you were in the same room, and instinctively you raise your hands to plug your ears but shake it off. Tentatively you walk over.

“Goddamn Slytherin.” You hear him groan, legs twisting in discomfort when the nurse applies pressure to his arm. It’s evident he’s never been in this much pain before.

“Jeno?” You whisper, startling the nurse who accidentally puts too much pressure on his arm, causing him to jerk away from her, a yelp passing his thin lined lips.

Her hands pepper over his body in apology, not turning her head to look at you, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know.” You whisper, and she doesn’t press any further on why you’re there or ask you to leave, so you stay.

Jeno doesn’t even seem to notice you, but that doesn’t matter. You shift around the bed slightly and catch sight of his face. Both his eyes are shut, one ringed in purple and his bottom lip split in two separate places. His nose seemed to get busted in the fall as it was surrounded by dark red, almost black, dried blood. A few droplets splattered on his shirt, accompanying the grass and dirt he had slammed into after falling thirty feet from the sky,

As bad as it may sound, you’re glad Jeno only broke his arm. A fall from that height could have meant paralysis or worse, death. He truly got lucky.

You stand quietly, watching as she shifts Jeno’s arm into a sling, securing it with a couple items you don’t know the name for and then popping a few muggle meds in his mouth. Lifting a glass of water to his lips, he groans, knocking back the pills.

It never sat right with you how the nurses used muggle methods of healing when there were more than a fair share of spells that could work much quicker. It was as if they wanted you to stew in your own misery.

Wasn’t the point of magic to make things easier?

Your thoughts are cut off by the nurse brushing past you, arms full of medical supplies. “Visiting hours are over in twenty minutes. Make it quick.” She warns, before walking away.

“Why are you here.” Jeno groans when she leaves the room, eyes still sticking shut.

“I –”A dull ache lands on your heart and the words catch in the back of your throat, a sudden cough clearing them away.

His lip curls into a sneer, “Spit it out y/l/n,”

The aggression radiating off of him makes you stumble back but you don’t let it scare you. You knew Jeno and he wasn’t scary… or so you thought.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You speak quietly, like any word above a murmur would startle him and hurt him worse.

“Obviously, I’m not fucking okay.” His voice is nasally, mocking you, “But you don’t care, do you? Bet you’re just here to make sure I don’t snitch on your little boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Your eyes narrow down to slits. It angered you that Jeno thought you would give any time of day to the little prick who kept messing with you.

“You should tell him that.”

His eyes snap open and home in on you, glaring from his spot on the bed. Uncomfortable in his position, he squirms a bit, trying to right himself, but he grunts and falls back down, the pain too much for him.

‘You should tell him that.’

The words bounce around the inside of your skull. Did Haechan think you were together? Think he had some kind of weird ass claim over you?

"Jeno –”

“You know I can’t even play quidditch now that my arm is broken. My fucking arm Y/N.” Tears form in the corner of his eyes, whether from the pain or the prospect that he was out for the season, you weren’t sure, “He knocked me off my broom. That’s like… that’s like attempted murder!” he splutters, a crazed expression overtaking his face.

As much as you disliked the guy, there was no way he was capable of murder. No, this was due to his unrelenting jealousy, and someone needed to set him straight.

“Oh, come on, it’s not attempted –”

Jeno’s free hand is shoved in your face, one finger pointing at you patronizingly, “Yes, it is. You and I both know he’s a crazy son of a bitch, and he obviously has something for you so stay the fuck away from me.”

“Really, can we just talk?”

He shakes his head, “No. Get the fuck away from me and keep your little boyfriend in check.”

“For the last time, he’s not –”

“I don’t care what he is! The both of you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

Your heart breaks.

It wasn’t because you liked him. No, that wasn’t it. You just thought this could have been the start of something new since your love life had been wrecked for years thanks to the one and only Lee Donghyuck.

You can’t believe he had the audacity to wreck it again.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out in a whisper, way too low for him to hear, but he waves you off anyway, “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t even watch as you turn your back and walk away, past the blue plastic curtains and out the heavy double doors. The more steps you take, the heavier your heart feels in your chest. Tears burn in your eyes and anger clouds your head with each passing second like poison.

Haechan wasn’t getting away with this, you were going to make sure.

You see fucking red.

Storming through the halls of Hogwarts was a rare occurrence for you, but today was different. People gasped as you briskly brushed past them, your head so hot it felt like smoke might billow from your ears. Annoyed shouts of 'hey' or 'watch it' barely registered as you descended the stairs leading to the ominous 'Slytherin Dungeon.' The air grew colder with each step, mirroring the iciness in your gaze. Thoughts of pounding Haechan's face swirled in your mind, and you couldn't shake the fiery anger fueling your every move.

You knew if Jihyo was here she would make fun of your anger, claiming that you didn’t belong in Hufflepuff with your temper.

Too bad she wasn’t.

Maybe she could have calmed you down, slowed your racing heart and spoken some sense into your hard head, but alas, she wasn’t, and you were only growing more furious by the second.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, you rounded a corner and collided with a Slytherin you recognized as Chenle, thanks to Renjun's heads up. His light green hair parted down the middle, coupled with the trademark Slytherin resting bitch face, transformed into a smirk upon seeing you.

“Y/N! Glad you could make it!” His voice is deeper than you would have thought, and he was much taller when you walked up to him.

"Yeah, yeah, let me in." Impatiently tapping your foot, you watched as he opened the door, revealing the booming bass of the music inside.

"Say hey to him for me." Chenle grinned, extending an arm to welcome you.

You pushed past him, retorting over your shoulder, "You can tell Renjun yourself." Confusion flashed over his face, but the door slammed shut before further words could be exchanged, sealing you inside.

The ambiance in Slytherin territory starkly contrasted with your dorm. Damp darkness replaced the natural sunlight, and the air carried the scent of spicy cologne rather than the comforting aroma of food.

Thank God I wasn’t placed in Slytherin, you think.

Music reverberates off the walls and lands loudly on your eardrums, a soft green glow emitting from the end of the hallway. Conversation and laughter can be heard just slightly above the music, and you follow it till you’re at the end of the corridor and in the den of the snakes.

Green.

There’s green everywhere.

But your dormmates were nowhere to be found. In fact, all you saw in every direction were green robes with the occasional pop of yellow and blue.

No Gryffindors, interesting.

A hand lands on your arm and you jump back at least ten feet.

"Woah, it's just me." Renjun's eyes crinkled with a smile as he extended a drink towards you. You accepted it with a silent 'thank you.'

"Your friends are in the bathroom, I think, but I can wait with you if you like." Renjun's politeness caught you off guard. This has got to be the nicest Slytherin boy you’ve ever met.

As you took a sip of the bitter liquid, you mused, "No need to wait with me... I came to see someone real quick, and then I'll be on my way."

"I know he deserves it, but go easy on him, okay?" Renjun's words hung in the air, causing you to stare at him with disbelief. Sensing your anger, he quickly stepped back, raising a hand. "You know what, forget I said anything."

Cocking your head, you smiled, "Know where I can find him?"

Renjun simply pointed behind you.

Turning around, you spotted the boy in question, lounging on a couch stripped of his robes. Clad in a white button-up shirt and black slacks, Haechan exuded an air of arrogant nonchalance. Two girls clung to either side of him, and a few friends surrounded him, exchanging laughs and banter.

"Thanks, Renjun." You mutter, not bothered to look behind you and see that he wasn’t standing there anymore.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and leave the plastic solo cup on a random side table as you stalk over to where the blonde headed boy was lounging. When you push past his friends, his eyes snap to you.

“Glad you could make it.” He beams, eyes washing over your body. You were in that damn skirt, and it drove him fucking wild.

Ignoring him, you placed your hands on your hips. "Get up."

He chuckled, patting his thigh. "Why don't you sit down and enjoy the party?" Laughter erupted from his friends, and the girls hanging off his arms glared at you.

“Get. Up.” You seethe.

“Feisty aren’t you.” He murmurs, shrugging off the girls at his side and standing up.

“Lead the way to your room.”

A few hoots and hollers followed you as he guided you away from the party and into the hallway. "Can't wait to get your hands on me?"

Ignoring him, you followed, your gaze trailing from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades visible through the sheer fabric of his shirt. The muscles rippled as he opened the heavy door of his bedroom, and you had to tear your eyes away before saying something stupid.

The room was as expected, draped in dark green bedding and scattered quidditch gear. The scent of him surrounded you, reminiscent of that damned amortentia brewing session.

While he walks further into the room, you slam the door shut and spin around, “Where the hell do you get off – ”

“Right there.”

“What?” You blink.

“I get off right there.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his bed, “Almost every night, unless I have a match the next day. You know, gotta keep the tension building so I do my best…”

You groan, “You’re unbelievable.” He chuckles a bit and steps closer to you, igniting the nerves that were already high strung, on fire, but you push the thought away, “Why do you feel the need to fuck around with the guys I like.”

“I was trying to win the game. Trust me, you and your relationship was nowhere on my mind.” What a fucking lie, he thinks. “I’m flattered you were thinking about me though.”

“Are you always this full of yourself?” You bite.

He flashes a beaming smile, pearly white teeth on display and you wished you didn’t stare too long at his canines. He had such a pretty smile and you wished you didn’t have to notice it. “When you look like I do, it’s kind of hard not to be.”

“Slytherin suits you, huh?” you sneer.

“Exactly.” He reaches an arm overtop of you and semi cages you against the door and his body, “So now that’s cleared up, can I go back out there and celebrate my win?”

He was so close to you, his lips only inches from your own, and his cologne was wafting up in your face sending you into a daze. God he was so cute, no not cute – hot. He was hot. You wonder what it would feel like to stretch your neck and kiss him. Did he taste how he smelled?

The fucking drink.

Whatever Renjun had given you was reaching your bloodstream way faster than muggle alcohol. You make a mental note to rip his head off later, but for now you turn your attention back to Haechan’s insanely close face.

“You need to realize –”

He cuts you off again, “Look, I’m all for being in here with you, but if you insist on keeping that pretty mouth running, I suggest you put it to good use instead of chastising me.” His eyes flicker from your own to your lips, almost like he was thinking about kissing you just as much as you were thinking about kissing him.

Do it, just kiss me, you think, but different words are said, “You wish.”

“Yeah, I do.” He quips.

“Can’t you be serious for one fucking second you asshole.” A drawn-out groan escapes you as you press your hand against him, hoping to coax him into backing off. Regrettably, he remains a solid wall of muscle and strength, unmoved by your attempts.

“Sorry, it’s just hot when you insult me. Do it again” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and leans in, one hand reaching out to caress the underside of your jaw.

He doesn't know where the newfound confidence was coming from. You were supposed to hate him, yet he had you in his bedroom. The same bedroom where he thought about fucking you. Where he got off to the memories of that goddamn mirror. Where he fantasized about you slotting your thighs on either side of his head, and sitting down on his waiting lips.

You swat his hand away, “Do you have any idea how stupid you are?”

“Not as stupid as you would look with a cock in your mouth.”

Wishful thinking, he muses.

You roll your eyes at his remark, but nonetheless a heat surges between your legs. You would look stupid – but Haechan’s cock in your mouth sounds all too great. “Are you done?”

“Done with what?”

You roll your eyes. Again. “Being an idiot.”

“Would an idiot make you flush so easily like this?” He strokes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingertips burning against your skin, “See? I make you flustered. You want me. Badly.”

Again, wishful thinking.

“You think I want you badly?” You scoff, a hand coming in contact with his crotch, “You’re the one hard. Do you get off on hurting people?”

“Yes.” He stares into your eyes, a mischievous glint shining in them, “I do.”

“God you’re fucking pathetic.”

He groans and pushes his hips into your hand. “Say it again.”

A loud and drawn-out gasp leaves your lips, “No fucking way you’re getting off on this too.” His dick twitches in his pants at your accusation.

“You talk too much. Just suck my dick already.”

Third times a charm.

Seeing him like that, pliant underneath your hand… it makes your heartbeat erratic and your face flush. You could tell he wanted it, and he wanted it bad, so why didn’t you give in to it? Give in to him? The air around you shifts and whatever it was, it has you lowering yourself down onto the floor so that you were kneeling below him, hands clawing at his belt buckle.

His eyes widen when he realizes what you’re doing. “I was kidd –”

“Is this what you want?” you coo, “Want me on my knees like this?” You slip his belt through the loops slowly and muster up the most innocent smile you could.

“You should stop, I was kidding.” He grunts, forearms tightening when you get his belt off and start on his pants button.

“I think you should shut up.”

He complies and doesn’t say a word while you pull both his pants and boxers down till they pooled around his ankle and he kicked them off.

Lee Donghyuck had a right to be cocky.

His cock sprung up against his abdomen standing tall and hard, clear, sticky precum droplets collecting on his tip. He fidgets under your gaze, but you were in awe at how big he was.

“Are you just gonna look at it?” He whines, one of his hands wrapping around your head and fisting tightly in your hair, “At least kiss it or something.”

You watched him twitch slightly as the cold air met his length, and again when your hand wandered past his thigh to grip him in your palm, squeezing him tightly at the base. He shivers into your touch, “You have a pretty dick.”

“So, I’ve been told.” He all but moans and tries to bring your head forward.

His neediness draws you closer, and you take him in your mouth. He was heavy and sweet, so fucking right for you that you don’t think straight and take him all the way in till he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck.” He groans, holding your head down till you were choking and batting his thighs.

When he lets up, you gasp for air though you don’t find yourself mad, instead, you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter and the wetness in your panties pooling.

“Ke-Keep going.” He stutters, the intent was strong, but his words broke in the moment.

You turn you head and lick from the base of his cock to his tip, relishing the way he bucks his hips into your fist. A rosy blush covers his neck and cheeks when you look up at him. When you meet his doe eyes, they were hooded with lust. For a split second he watches you lick all over him, giving a few small kisses on his tip, before he rolls his head back and closes his eyes.

Messily, you spit on his tip, using your hands to spread it down his length and he groans into the stilled air. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“So, I’ve been told.” You mock his earlier words, and his hold on your hair tightens as a warning.

Rolling your eyes, you take him in your mouth again, leaving your hand to pump his base while you harshly suck at his hot skin. He tries to push into the back of your throat again but knowing that you couldn’t take him again without choking, you dig your nails into his thighs, leaving him to shamelessly whimper out.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good baby.” He grunts, losing himself in the way your warm mouth glides down his length, and the right amount of pressure you’re squeezing around his base. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was your cunt he was pounding into.

You hum around his cock at the praise and repeat your movements, slightly taken aback by his pet name. In the back corner of your mind, you hope it was just a slip of the tongue.

The alcohol had too much of a hold on you to think about anything else other taking his cock down your throat, and loving every second.

His chest begins to heave, and his legs start to shake bit as you draw him deeper down your throat, and when you look up, you notice his curious eyes watching you. He thinks about unbuttoning his shirt but pushes the thought aside when you erratically rub the underside of his length with your tongue.

“Bet you love the taste of my cock.” He whispers and you moan around a mouthful of him, the vibrations sending him into a euphoric head high.

He wasn’t wrong. You loved this, loved the feeling of having him slightly submissive under you with his dominant nature peeking through a bit.

It felt like a fucking dream.

“Can I cum down your throat?”

You’re shocked that he’s close already, but with the palpable tension beforehand acting like foreplay, you shouldn’t be. You try and nod to the best of your ability and you guess he gets the message because he’s fisting your hair again and drawing you close, a string of curses falling from his lips.

Uncontrollable gasps and grunts leave him as he fucks your throat, leaving you to helplessly take it – take all of him, and before you know it, hot white cum is shooting down your throat, his head thrown back as he snaps his hips against your face.

You felt like a rag doll in his grip but that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was swallowing his arousal, a bit of it landing on your tongue and while you thought it was going to taste salty, you’re mildly surprised to find its sweet.

“My god, I can’t believe you actually did that.” He pants, moving to put his slacks back on while you stand up and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I – Thank you.”

A darker blush flushes on his face and he turns to you now fully dressed. He wasn’t sure what to say now, and that was a first for him.

“Are you happy?” You spit, a bout of spite coming out of nowhere, “Did you get what you wanted? Will you leave me and Jeno alone now?”

He stumbles back like your words had a physical effect on him, “What are you talking about? You dragged me in here?”

Where did the sudden flip of emotion come from? One minute you had his cock in your mouth and the next you’re yelling at him again. The both of you can’t come up with an answer, but somewhere in your brain you knew it was your way of trying to convince yourself the rising feelings you were having towards him weren’t a thing; would never be a thing.

“Just leave me and Jeno alone now. Okay?”

You straighten your blouse and fix your hair before opening the door behind you and storming out. He tries to follow you, half stumbling through the hall till he was out in the party again where his friends clap him on the back, congratulating him on ‘hitting that yellow tail’, but he can’t find it in himself to smile and jeer back. All he does is watch you storm away, his friend Renjun reaching out for you. Your dormmates try and stop you but you blow past them and round the corner where the door to the stairs were.

Should he let you go?

Or should he follow?

"Fuck this."

TAGLIST. @txpxwxk @sunshinedhyuck @honeym4rk2 @saenora @peachjaem00 @grassbutneo @capri-cuntz @seajae @kenmathegreat @aliceinwhateverland @fraechan @monyuno @meowniee @ggukkyu @quarter-life-crisis2 @nominsgirl @dewydew @httpxelysian11 @rainyjeno

#nct dream smut #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #nct dream x reader #nct hogwarts au #nct hp au #lee haechan smut #lee haechan x reader #nct dream haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct haechan smut #nct haechan x reader

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queers-gambit · 3 months

Text

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

prompt: ( requested ) basking in the sunshine, breathing fresh air, bare skin tickled by tall grass, and Felix, who can't focus on the Half Blood Prince when his girl's got his full blooded attention.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 2.3k+

note: i wrote this in an hour 'cause, you know, brainrot.

warnings: slight request variation (you'll see), there's probably cursing. anyways, suggestive language, no real spoilers, slight Ollie slander, college kids doing drugs, and no HP spoilers for those who haven't read.

All you could smell was his expensive cologne, barely breaking a sweat under the summer sun as he remained wrapped around you like a child did their mother on the first day of school. You were never one for suffocating affection nor clingy behavior, something leftover from childhood, but with your boyfriend, you craved it; and he knew it. He took advantage of it.

"Are you even listening or are you too busy trying to identify the smell of my shampoo?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, 'M listenin', love, uh, you know, something about... Harry doing something stupid, yeah?"

You snorted lightly, head tilting back to look up at your boyfriend's amused expression. "A lucky guess - 'cause Harry's always doing some dumb shit."

"Yeah, you know, there's a reason he wasn't considered for Ravenclaw."

"Don't be mean, we all have our strengths and weaknesses," you gently reprimanded. "So he's not the smartest guy ever, but he's brave as hell, isn't he?"

"Has to be, being a Gryffindor and all."

"I doubt we would've done half this shit at 16."

"Totally right, we had other worries - like our first pregnancy scare."

"Felix!"

"What, doll face? Huh? C'mon, what's the quote? I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

"Oh, you absolute cheesy fuck!"

His laugh could've echoed across the field, the two of you laid out on an oversized blanket; crushing the long grass surrounding his home, Saltburn. 'Home' always felt so mundane when describing the freaking castle his family inhabited; after all, his father, Sir James, was literally knighted - making the Cattons feel larger than life. You'd known the family for over a decade now, meeting Venetia on your first day of school when a rude boy smacked your lunch tray right out of your hands, being inducted to their family almost straight away.

As it turned out, your mother and father were friendly with Sir James and his wife, Elspeth Catton, and after only a month in your new town, you were invited to Saltburn for a family meal.

It became a monthly occurrence.

And when you started dating Felix when you were both 15, it was like life was simply alining with the stars. Destiny being fulfilled. Fate smiling on you both.

Your parents tried to play off the relationship, but after you turned 16, they realized how serious you two seemed about each other. And when you both decided to attend Oxford together (rejecting your father's alma mater, the University of Edinburgh), your mother made constant jibes about your wedding. At first, it was just a few, little, sometimes funny, but mostly harmless comments here and there, and then it escalated to full-on conversations between your mothers.

Like they had flowers and color scheme picked out, deciding on hosting at Saltburn, even debating wedding dress ideas! Your mother wanted something lacy, Elspeth wanted something form fitting and "sexy" - being where their opinions clashed and the conversation elevated to near arguments.

Anyways, laying on the blanket in the field, alone, became a regular occurrence for you and Felix once you realized the absolute HOLD the Harry Potter series had on you both. Where the brother and sister had matching HP star tattoos on their hands, that had convinced you to get a set of three stars - your only tattoo, nestled behind your left ear. Venetia technically got you into the series, letting you borrow the first book, and then gifting you each book once published; but it was more like a "tradition" to read them with Felix.

See, when you were younger, you had a stutter that made you wildly insecure, but reading out loud helped you work through it. Was it a perfect system? Of course not, but your boyfriend was adamant that it'd help - and eventually, it did. So much so, you received top marks in each of your public speaking or debate classes, something the Catton's still praised you over.

Felix liked listening, and the times you got a little tongue-tied and frustrated, he would take over to let you a small reprieve. Today was no different, laid in the field, the grass tickling your bare feet and calves as the sun soaked into your bare skin. Either of you only wore a pair of sunglasses, Felix sat up on his elbow to support your body laid against his; his fingers dancing light patterns over whatever body part he could reach. Currently, it was your hip.

He laid quick kisses where he could, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, used his teeth to nibble your flesh. Anything to make you trip over your words, like the little shit he was.

You felt your breathing shift when Felix's lips and tongue ghosted up your neck, sweeping stray strands of hair from your shoulder before his fingertips were ghosting over your collarbone and down your chest to tweak your nipple. The cold of his bracelets and watch on your sticky skin felt like a drastic contrast to the warmth of the day.

"You're infuriating, I'm trying to read," you scolded, swatting his hand away; but smirking in amusement that assured him you weren't truly annoyed.

"Roll over, sweetheart, I needa rest my arm," he muttered in your ear, licking the shell - making you squirm with a small giggle.

"Can you behave? For once?"

"How can I? When you look like this? I mean, Goddamn, I really got the prettiest girl, don't I?" He smirked, watching you lift off his chest to roll onto your stomach; perched on your elbows. "Now, that's a sight, might be my favorite," he grinned, bringing his hand down to smack one of your arse cheeks - palming the flesh tightly, giving a jiggle for his amusement.

"Felix!" You squealed, fully anticipating this treatment; trying to hide your full-teeth grin.

"C'mon, love, let's get a bit naughty," he teased. "Oliver doesn't get here for another two days, we're not gonna be alone much longer."

You scoffed lightly, "You're the one who had to befriend The Clinger."

"Oi, c'mon now, tellin' me t'be nice about Harry? Don't call him that, love, he's just a lonely chap. Needs a friend."

You hummed, readjusting the book under you. "He's a bit creepy, Fi," you admit. "I mean, he stares - like a lot. And remember I told you, I saw him looking through your dorm window that one night?"

He sighed, "He was just drunk, love, we've been over this."

"You're so quick to excuse him," you noted, offering him a bewildered look as he readjusted to lean over your back. His head nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting a hand pet down the slope of your spine; forcing a small tremor through your muscles.

"He's got no one else."

"Doesn't mean he needs you, my sweet boy. Honestly, you stretch yourself too thin. Maybe if you focused less on these so-called friends and more on your studies...?"

"I appreciate the worry, babygirl," he mused, laying three kisses to your shoulders, "but it's all right, got you quizzing me nightly. Swear, you know my coursework better than I do. And besides, you're the one who says there's no such thing as too many friends."

"Hm," you let your eyes roll slightly, "I was obviously high when I said that and probably didn't mean bloody Oliver."

"Speaking of," he grinned, reaching for the rucksack he brought with you; now hosting your clothes, but also carrying the Altoid tin he used to store pre-rolled joints.

"Are you even listening to the story anymore, baby?"

"Of course I am, toots, I can multi-task." You hummed in response, waiting for him to finish lighting up before continuing onto a new paragraph; feeling him shift on your back. But you faltered when smoke blew against your cheek, Felix's lips descending a moment later to noisily smooch your skin. "You're so fucking pretty," he mumbled.

"I think you have ADHD."

"We knew that."

"Maybe you need something for that."

"Because I'm not listening to Harry Potter?"

"I knew it!" You laughed, shivering again when his free hand drew up your spine to nestle in your hair; handing you the joint with the other. "Fi, you're still distracting me," you moaned slightly, leaning your head back into his touch - contradicting your own words.

"You're doin' great, love," he grinned, licking the skin behind your ear, at your tattoo. "Keep goin', c'mon, I wanna hear what happens next."

"You're gonna reread this chapter when I go to bed, aren't you?"

Felix paused, "Maybe."

You grunted, dropping your head to the book before lifting it again and taking an inhale from the joint. Felix grinned at you in mischief, rolling over onto his back; hand behind his head as he stared up at you. You shook your head at him, handing the joint over before shuffling so you were laid on his chest with the book spread open in one hand.

"Love?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?" You glanced at him.

"Maybe... Uh, yeah, maybe start the chapter over? I'm a bit lost," he snickered, coughing when you tisked at him and offered a slightly annoyed look. "C'mon, baby, you can't tell me you were totally focused, either! You love me touching you, I can see it on your face."

To prove his point, the arm he had wrapped around you drifted to, once more, take a handful of your ample bottom - causing you to gasp slightly.

But you pouted, "I kinda want to finish this chapter, baby."

"And I'm distracting you?"

"Obviously."

Felix laughed, "Spot on Professor Snape, baby."

"If I read like Snape the rest of the chapter, will you pay attention to me?"

"You know what? I don't know, that voice is kinda a turn on... Everything you do is a turn on, doll."

"You'd think the consistent fucking we do would rein in your hormones."

"Nah," he tutted, squeezing his hand, "not when I got a girl like you, gettin' me all riled up. I mean, Half-Blood Prince, who? Got me full blooded, right here." You chuckled when he glanced at his cock, folding the book closed and deflating onto his chest and accepting the joint again. "Oh, c'mon, don't stop, 's just gettin' good!"

"You were calling Harry stupid literally 5 minutes ago."

"Come off it, when isn't he?"

"When he's fighting Voldemort?"

"Hm," he considered, tucking his hand into your hair to massage your scalp; gently pulling through your hair. "You might have a point."

"And now Dumbledore's - "

"Hey, hey, no spoilers!"

"It's not a spoiler if you were listening to me!"

"I'm always listening," he whined, you blowing smoke across his abdomen; watching his abs contract from the slight tickle; his cock bobbing from the movement and making you flush with heat not from the sun. "You're just so much more interesting, hmm?" He mumbled.

"Hey, hey. Flattery gets you everywhere with me," you teased, loving the easiness of his smile. "C'mon, pretty boy, your turn."

He took the joint from you, watching you try to pull back - but tightening his arm. "Stay here, love havin' you close," he mumbled, placing the joint to his mouth and reaching for the book again. Not wanting his arm to retract from your form, you reached up to take the joint from him; listening as he went back to the beginning of the chapter while your leg hiked up his hips.

Every other puff, you fed Felix the joint until there was nothing left; wee small roach being stubbed out in the dirt, leaving you two relaxed, high, and laid over one another as he continued to lazily read. But his hand still traced invisible patterns over your skin, the warmth of the sun making you sweat, but the way your boyfriend touched you made you shiver.

He knew you loved it, yet didn't so much as stutter on a single word when his smirk would grow feeling your reactions to his touches.

At the end of the chapter, he glanced down at you and let his lips follow; tightening his arm to bring you in closer, leaving repeated kisses on your forehead. You squirmed closer, giggling and bringing your hand up to hook around the back of his neck, directing him to your lips as he rolled over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. "You're distracting me, now, li'l minx," he teased.

"Oh, how unfair, what ever shall you do?"

He chuckled, pecking your lips twice more, then asking, "Another chapter or...?"

"Yes, one more chapter," you laughed, "but then we're gonna have to head back up, your mum wanted my help with something."

"Oh, she's got you some new dresses she wants you to try," he relaid.

"I thought she stopped doin' that?"

"She loves spoiling you," Felix eased. "And Venetia stopped letting Mum dress her, so, you know... Here, you read this one."

You agreed, letting him readjust so he was sat up again, keeping you between his spread legs so he could peer down at the book from over your shoulder. Was it distracting, feeling his fully blooded cock at your back? Absolutely. Was it mildly erotic for you to ignore it and continue reading - as if his warmth wasn't making you wet? Also, yes.

"Fi," you whispered when his lips danced across your shoulder. "Distracting me, again," you half-scolded.

"You're doin' great, love," he chuckled.

But he didn't stop, it was like he was turning himself on (more) by his soft, gentle touches; and being spurred onward when he noted the way your chest heaved when your breath changed.

"Keep goin'," he whispered in your ear, dragging his hands up to cup either bare breast and swipe his thumbs around your nipples to stiffen them into peaks.

"Felix - "

"Don't stop," he encouraged, "'s real endearing the way you're tryna fight this."

"You try to get between me and Potter one more time, we're going on a sex strike."

There was a pause as you looked up at him, both sharing growing grins before bursting into echoing laughter that Venetia heard from one of the loungers close to the house. She grinned to herself, turning the page of her own Half-Blood Prince book.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton imagine #felix catton fluff #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #fix it felix #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn felix #saltburn felix catton #saltburn imagine #jacob elordi

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ethansluvbot · 1 year

Note

riding ethan for the first time please!!! love your writing btw<3

CRUEL SUMMER | SUB!ETHAN LANDRY

warnings: adult content, spoilers?, rough sex, riding, unprotected sex, and smut :)

an: i just got really sick randomly? anyways, i'm so so sorry for not posting in awhile. i just started a new school and even though its the end of the year its stressful. it also didn't help that i had horrible writers block. also, I've never written smut before so i will get better at this eventually! i'm binge watching the harry potter movies while eating soup now lol.

with a ton of convincing from sam, ethan and tara you decided to volunteer for a summer camp. sure, spending you day with kids had its downs, but you enjoyed seeing ethan interact with kids.

the kids screams filled your ears as you run to pick up their messes. the sticky hair didn't help your anxiety at all. you sat next to sam with your head on her shoulder.

"how did you convince me to do this shit?"

a quick slap hit your shoulder as you let out a yelp, "no cursing, there's kids around. plus you could never say no to ethan, it looks like he's enjoying it."

"i know. he's been going on about this since january.," you know ethan was a total soft guy, he never would harm a soul. it took him awhile but he finally convinced you to help out.

you both heard footsteps approach you, a sigh came out as you saw his shoes. immediately you jump up and wrap your arms around his neck.

"thank god you're here to save me from sam, she's trying to make me actually do something." he let out a chuckle as he waved to sam.

"im here to take you away," he smirked as you smiled back at sam. you heard her softly gagging beginning to walk away.

"hey! i missed you today, it seemed like you were having fun with your cabin."

"i was! i actually taught a kid how to swim today." you grabbed on to his hand. you loved this side of ethan the soft, dorky and funny side of him to be exact.

"umm, i was wondering where you see us in the future? i know we have a little until we finish college but it's been on my mind."

"well, to be exact i see us in well paying jobs, a modern family home and hopefully kids of our own." you felt his mood shift with that. you might've not been the most kid involved person, but it was great to know you would consider the idea.

you both stepped into the cabin immediately grabbing pajamas. you felt ethans shattered breath at your neck. turning around you slinked your arms around his torso.

"can i help you?"

"god- i want to kiss you so bad right now."

you gave in to ethans innocent act, attaching both of your lips. his cold hands found his way up your back as you moaned in surprise. he hummed in pleasure, kissing down your stomach.

you flip the two of you over, "i wanted to try something new if that's fine?"

he nodded intently, he trusted you with his life and knew you wouldn't do anything to hurt either of you. he's desperate to finally get you undressed as he tugs at your pants.

"someones needy," you tease unbuttoning your jean shorts. his hands explored your body, undoing your bra and throwing it to the side. ethan was already undressed by the time you turned around.

"lay down."

he threw his head back as you pushed yourself down onto his cock. you put your hand over his mouth being careful not to arouse any suspicion.

"will you be a good boy and be quiet?" he hummed in response, "words baby."

"yes, ill be good," he let a muffeled whined out.

you let your nails scratch down his abs as you begin to move. his fingers begin to trace circles on your clit as you bounce. you were still adjusting to his size but since ethan was so eager you began to move.

"don't stop," he lets an exaggerated sigh come out of his mouth. you grab his chin making him look at you. he keeps his hands on your hips as you trail kisses down his neck.

you rested your hands on his chest helping him move you. even without him speaking he could tell he enjoyed this greatly. you felt his hand kneed at your ass.

looking down you see his glossy eyes look up at you, "aw, poor baby. are you not getting enough attention."

you were almost using him for your own pleasure, which you felt bad but, oh did it feel so good. he was getting anxious as you felt him squirming.

you felt him thrust into you a few more times. you could feel his tenseness, only meaning that he was reaching his high. leaning down you planted a kiss onto his lips.

"oh fuck- i love you."

#ethan landry #jack champion #scream 6 #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #scream 6 imagines #avatar #scream imagine

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roseykat · 3 months

Text

TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?”

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly.

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him.

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.”

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.”

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely.

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments.

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.”

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again.

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side.

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last?

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.”

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least.

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex.

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.”

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call.

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away.

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch.

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug.

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before.

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.”

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.”

“To hang out tomorrow!”

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.”

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out.

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung.

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure.

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before.

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story.

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away.

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.”

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror.

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.”

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand.

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth.

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational.

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock.

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?”

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.”

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it.

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here.

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head.

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly.

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands.

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning.

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him.

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question.

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?”

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.”

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers.

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment.

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.”

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?”

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.”

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself.

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing.

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was.

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey.

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat.

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic.

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant?

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone.

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at.

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better.

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument.

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject.

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice.

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?”

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know.

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?”

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.”

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of.

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information.

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible.

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him.

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious.

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.”

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.”

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point.

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove.

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night.

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion.

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.”

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds.

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?”

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.”

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.”

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.”

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back.

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?”

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes.

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin x jisung #rosiewritesskz #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut

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rcksmith · 1 year

Text

Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

-----------

Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

3K notes · View notes

rrking · 3 months

Text

Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

246 notes · View notes

book-place · 1 year

Text

American Pie

Warnings: Harry Potter series spoilers, character death, violence, cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Harry Potter x aunt reader

Request: Hello I was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the potter twins . Like where y/n gets hold of Harry and sends him off and stuff and seeing him grow up and he can like rely on you ? And like your a cool aunt and everyone loves you ? You don’t have to but sorry for bothering you

Request by: @bellboy2107

*not my gif*

Summary: Since your brother was now gone, Harry was the only person that mattered to you

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!; This is a part 2 for Potter Twins

Inspired by: American Pie by Don McLean

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Long long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile

Slowly, your eyes opened and tried to adjust to the light streaming through the windows directly at you, as if on purpose to wake you up.

Stifling a groan, you sat upright and dropped your head into your hands, not wanting to face the day. Not another one. You didn’t know how much longer you could do it without your brother by your side. And it had only been a month.

The singular thought keeping you going was the thought that one day you would be able to get Harry back, your last link to James and your only surviving family member.

It had been a struggle tracking him down, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. But you weren’t yet ready to give up.

You had meant it, you would find the boy. Even if it was the last thing you ever did.

And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance

Picking up the Daily Prophet, you shoveled a spoonful of eggs into your mouth and began reading.

The news had long since slowed down, and tried to move on from the war by talking about it. As if that would erase it from everyone else’s memory. As if it never happened.

It was quite boring, the new players for a quidditch team, some Ministry of Magic mishap with the muggle thing called hand sanitizer mixed with a hair growing potion.

But then you got to the last page.

The reporters finally got a full list of everybody that passed on during the war. Names on random spots of the page jumped at your eyes in sharp, dangerous pangs.

James Potter. Lily Potter. Marlene McKinnon. Fabian Prewett. Gideon Prewett-

You harshly pushed away from the table, not paying any mind to the high pitched scraping sound it made against the floor, and your breathing picked up.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t be here, not without them. Not without them. Not without them. Not without-

Harry.

You needed to find Harry. He was the only thing that would keep you grounded. And if you didn’t find him soon, you don’t know what you would do. What you would live to regret.

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

After finishing buttoning up your cloak, you let out a sigh, slowly letting your eyes drift to the dresser in the corner of the room, the one that held a picture on its surface.

In it, you were jumping on James’s back making funny faces, stuck in a timeless loop of happiness.

What the camera hadn’t picked up on was Mia and Fleamonts smiling faces behind the flash, capturing the moment for all of eternity.

It was one of the only photos you could stomach to keep on display.

But February made me shiver

Finally. You had finally done it.

Frozen, you stood before the plain brown door with unseeing eyes and a mile-a-minute mind.

Harry James Potter was sitting just beyond this door.

You had finally been able to track him down with mountains of spells and potions that had taken months to go through. You had a first gone to Dumbledore, hoping he would give you any indication as to where your nephew was, but he offered you nothing, claiming it was safer that way. You had proceeded to storm out of the room, slamming the door harsh enough to shake the walls behind you.

The wind rushed against your skin like a swarm of needles, and you shuddered a little, officially breaking out of your thoughts and you raised your fist to knock on the door.

With every paper I'd deliver

You couldn’t believe your own eyes, not as you stared down at one year old Harry in your arms, staring up at you with wide eyes and an even wider, gummy smile.

You hadn’t wasted another second after standing on the Dursleys doorstep to storm in wand ablaze and demand you take your nephew.

The cowards didn’t even put up a fight as they let you take him, but you wouldn’t complain- you were able to get in and out without any trouble.

Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step

“Auny Y/n! Auny Y/n!” Young Harry babbled, making grabby motions with his chubby hands up at you from his crib.

You smiled softly, reaching your arm out and allowing his tiny fingers to wrap around your much larger ones.

The second a knock sounded through your home, your entire body stiffened and your hand automatically went to the wand you kept in your pocket at all times.

Turning on your heel, you left your giggling nephew behind as you slowly crept towards the front door, unsure of what was awaiting you on the other end.

Tentatively, you peered through the small window near the door and let out a sigh of relief, stance automatically relaxing as you opened it to reveal the headmaster of Hogwarts. Though you were still angry with him for not revealing Harry’s location, at least it was him and not anyone else.

“What do you want, Albus?” You asked, long since having stopped using teacher-student formalities.

He looked up at you with sad eyes, “I-“

Harry let out a particularly loud babble behind you, and your body once again stiffened.

What if he tried to take Harry away from you? What if you couldn’t stop him? What if-

“First of all,” His tone softened, “How is young Harry doing?”

You eyed the man skeptically, “He’s doing fine,”

He chuckled lightly, “I assure you, I’m not here to take him away, Miss. Potter.” His words made you calm down once more, “But I am afraid I come bearing bad news.”

It was like someone was playing with an on and off switch with your emotions, allowing you to think everything was okay before flipping the switch teasingly.

“I understand that you haven’t always been the closest with Sirius Black,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “No,” You admitted, “Not like James is-was, but he’s still my friend.” You cleared your throat slightly at the small error you made.

“I’m afraid Mr. Black has been sent to Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.”

You didn’t know if it was possible to have your heart torn into any more pieces than it already had been. But if it was possible, then that’s exactly what happened to you in that moment.

Though you and Sirius hadn’t in fact been very close, you had been there for him when he moved into your house that one summer after things got really bad with his parents. The two of you could always joke around in a class together and be comfortable around each other.

You never could have pictured him killing one of his best friends- even though you barely knew the other boy. From what you saw though, Peter was a sweet and gentle kid that would do anything for his friends. Just like how Sirius used to bed

“I shall leave you alone once more,” Albus declared softly, “And Miss. Potter?” He called after a silent moment. “I truly am sorry for everything.”

You slammed the door in his face.

I can’t remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed bride

For the first time in weeks, you picked up the Daily Prophet after being able to put Harry down for his first nap in a while, that boy was as stubborn as his father.

You casually flipped through the pages, skimming over the sections that went on about quidditch matches finally starting up again after the war. What you hadn’t expected to see, was the grinning faces of your brother and sister in law on the last page.

Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide when you realized that it was a tribute to the two of them from some of their friends from their time in Hogwarts. Some kids that knew them well enough to be friendly, but not enough to have any right to print a long section in the paper about how impactful their lives were.

It felt as though your lungs were closing in on themselves as you stared down with watered eyes at the words. You thought you had gotten over it. You thought you would be able to move on.

But seeing the page-long writing about them pushed you over the edge and you dropped the paper as you collapsed to the ground with a sob.

You reached a hand up to cover your mouth so you wouldn’t wake Harry, who was sleeping soundly in the other room over.

Apparently you weren’t quiet enough though, because Harry’s cries soon joined yours, alerting you of his newly awoken form.

Quickly, you reached up and harshly wiped your tears away. You wouldn’t let your own grief get in the way of taking care of Harry. You were going to do everything in your power to look after the boy to the best of your ability.

“Hey, Harry,” You smiled softly as you entered the room, bending down and scooping him into your arms, “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here now.”

But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died

“Auntie! Auntie!” Harry cheered, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled into the room, “Look! Look!”

You raised your head with an amused twinkle in your eyes as you moved your gaze to meet his, “What is it?”

Grinning wildly, he took a large eveleope from behind his back and presented it to you, “It’s my Hogwarts acceptance letter!”

Pride and happiness swelled and whirrled around in your chest and you broke out into a grin that was similar to his, “Oh, good job, Harry!” You cried, wrapping your nephew into a tight hug that he excitedly returned.

“Merlin, I can’t believe I’m going to Hogwarts,” Harry rambled, “I mean, after all the stories you’ve told I feel like I’ve already been there, but it’s still-“

“Harry,” You cut him off with a small laugh, pulling away and putting your hands on his shoulders, “Do you know what this means?”

He shook his head, messy hair that was much like James’s flopping back and forth, “What?” There was curiosity in his voice.

Your grin widened, “It means that we need to take a trip to Diagon Alley!”

The boy let out a cheer, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.

With that, the two of you took the floo network and began shopping around for any and everything that he could possibly need during his year, all while memories of the past tickled the back of your mind. Of the summers before every September that you and your family would spend roaming these very streets.

As the two of you sat down at a small table with some ice cream, you couldn’t help the small, sad smile you sent Harry’s way.

“Wha’?” He asked through a mouthful of the food.

You shook your head softly, “This just reminds me of times with your father.” You admitted in a small whisper.

He smiled understandably and reached over to squeeze your hand, “It’s alright, Aunt Y/n.” He comforted, “Because you have me now.”

You gave him a teary smile and patted his hand appriciantly, “Thank you, Harry.” You reached over with your other hand and ran it through his messy locks, “I know I do.”

So bye-bye, Miss American Pie

“Your grandmother always used to fuss over me and your father like this,” You mumbled, dusting imaginary lint off of Harry’s shirt, “I can't believe I’m turning into my mother.”

The boy smiled, “Getting more like an old lady every day.” He teased.

You scowled, reached up and lightly slapped him upside the head, “Watch it,” You mockingly scolded, “Or else I’ll make you live in the closet under the stairs when you get home.”

His grin widened and he reached over and wrapped his arms around your waist, “I’ll see you at Christmas.” He mumbled into your shirt.

Harshly, you blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of your nephew over something as simple as him leaving to go to Hogwarts.

“I shouldn’t be crying, right?” You mumbled into his ear.

He pulled away with a laugh and shrugged, “I don’t mind.”

You smiled at him through your blurry vision and reached up to cup his cheek, “I want you to write all the time. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything. I mean it, Harry.”

“I will.” He promised, hugging you quickly again so you could kiss the top of his head before standing back and picking up his bag, “I better go before the express leaves without me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You cleared your throat, “Good idea.”

“I love you, Auntie!” He called before disappearing into the crowd.

“Love you too,” You whispered to the empty place he had once been standing in.

“Oh, darling.” The familiar voice of none other than Molly Weasley cooed, making her way over to where you stood and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, “First year is always hard.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I don’t know how you’ve done this so many times.” You admitted.

“It’s still hard,” She confessed, “But it started to get a bit easier over time.” She turned her head to smile at you, “I’m just glad that Ron and Harry are together.”

You hummed in agreement, glad that he was with the childhood friends that he met in nursery school, causing you and the rest of the family to grow close as well over the years. Well, after they got over the fact that he was The Harry Potter, that is.

“I’m gonna miss him,” You mumbled.

“I know, but he’s going to do so well at Hogwarts. You’re going to be so proud of him.” The woman reassured you.

You smiled at her, “Both of them are gonna make us really proud.” Bringing her son into this as well.

Molly shook her head helplessly, “It’s either that or we will be getting a letter for their expulsion in a week.”

“Fred and George made it this far.” You teased with a small snigger.

She threw her head back with a laugh, “Indeed they did.”

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

You smiled widely at the letter that sat in your hands, reading and rereading everything that Harry had to tell you about his first week at school.

About the new friends he made, the adventures he already had in Gryffindor house, and even some of the enemies he made. Though, you couldn’t fault him for hating any son of Lucius Malfoy.

What you had said to Molly was true, you were going to miss Harry. But Hogwarts would be good for him. He would be able to make memories just like you had. The good and the bad.

Not only that, but he wouldn’t have a war to worry about. He would be able to enjoy being a kid within the walls.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Happy Christmas!” You and Harry cheered in sync the moment you stepped through the doors of the Burrow, piles of presents in your arms.

“Oh, Happy Christmas!” Molly cried happily, coming around the corner and beginning to help you with everything, “Boys!” She snapped, “Come help the Potters with their things!” Before smiling kindly at the two of you once more, emitting laughs from your lips.

“Thank you, Ron.” You breathed out once he took a particularly heavy wrapped box before turning and nodding in greeting to Arthur, “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, yourself.” The man chirped back while grinning and pulling Harry into a quick side hug before ushering the two of you into the living room where the rest of the Weasley children sat.

Quickly, they all scrambled up at the sight of the two of you and you all exchanged hugs and joyful greetings.

“Can we please do the presents now, mum?” Ginny whined, “We’ve been waiting all morning!”

Her mother looked down at her sternly, but you were quick to wrap an arm around Mollys shoulder and smile at her, “Come on, Mol, it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah! Listen to Aunt Y/n!” Fred piped up, George nodding along with his twin.

“Oh, alright,” Even Molly couldn’t hide the smile that sat upon her features as she said it though, “Pass them out, all of you.”

You looked up in surprise and slightly wide eyes when Ron shyly handed you a gift, “This is for you,” He mumbled.

“O-oh, thank you, Ron.” You said genuinely, not having expected anything at all.

As soon as you opened it, tears began to fill your eyes when you saw the contents. It was a sweater with your first initial sewn into it.

“I know I normally just do it for the kids,” Molly spoke, “But I figured you could use one too.”

You bit down on your lip slightly, running a hand gently down the soft fabric. It reminded you of when your own mother used to knit, “Thank you, Mol.” You whispered, thankful that the children were too preoccupied with their own gifts to realize what was going on.

“Oh, come now. Cheer up,” She rubbed your back comfortingly, “It’s Christmas.”

You smiled over at her, leaning your head against her shoulder, “Thank you.” You repeated.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“What the bloody hell happened?” You demanded as soon as you slammed open the doors to the Hospital Wing and stormed into the room with a cloud of rage sitting over your head.

“Ah, Miss. Potter. So nice of you to join us.” Dumbledore spoke, standing up from beside your nephew's bed, where he lay unconscious. The man spoke in such a way as if you had simply run into each other at the grocery store.

“Cut the bullshit, Albus.” You snapped with a deadly glare set on your face, “Your letter only told me that Harry was unconscious. You didn’t tell me a single thing about how he ended up unconscious.”

He sighed, cutting right to the chase, “I am afraid that Voldemort has returned.”

You froze in your steps, heart hammering mercilessly against your rib cage, “What did you just say?” As if he would change his words by your tone alone.

“This might be a conversation best had while sitting down-“ He gestured to some visitor chairs.

“I much prefer to stand.” You seethed, unable to slow your racing thoughts.

So the headmaster explained.

Voldemort. The man who slaughtered everyone you loved in the name of his pathetic war- and almost succeeded with taking Harry- was back and he went after your nephew again to try and seek revenge.

“I thought Hogwarts was safe.” It wasn’t hard to miss the way you had shifted your body so that you were standing in front of Harry’s bed, as if you alone could create a wall of protection around the boy, “This is supposed to be a place that will protect him.”

“Indeed,” Was the only answer you were offered.

You scoffed, “I hope you know that he will not be returning next year after all this.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” The older man asked with a single raised eyebrow, “It is your choice Miss. Potter, but don’t you think that it’s better for Harry to be surrounded by some of the finest witches and wizard staff who will now keep a closer eye on him?”

That made you hesitate.

“You alone can’t protect the boy from the world.” He continued.

Slowly, you turned your head to stare down at Harry, who’s steady rise and fall of his chest was the only thing indicating that he was still alive.

This will be the day that I die

“I don’t like this,” You mumbled, crossing your arms over yourself as your eyes flitted around the train station.

He sighed, “I know, Aunt Y/n, but I think Dumbledore was right, Hogwarts is the safest place for me to be.”

Finally, you met his eyes and sighed, dropping your arms to the side, “I know,” You admitted, “But that still doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

Harry gave you his best attempt at a smile, “I know.”

“Here,” You reached forward and plucked his glasses off his face before rubbing them softly against your shirt and placing them back on the bridge of his nose once you deemed them clean enough, “Remember what I said?”

“Notify you the minute anything seems off.” He repeated the words you had drilled into his head over and over again over summer break.

“Right,” You breathed out, “Now, are you sure you still want to go-“

“Yes.” He smiled a little bit, “I’ll be fine. I have Ron and Hermione.”

You huffed a bit, “I know that, but-“

“Auntie.” He spoke sternly, “You don’t need to worry, it’ll be fine.”

You were silent for a moment, before you put your hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, alright.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Did you write the Book of Love?

“This is the second time,” You ranted angrily, pacing up and down Dumbledore's office, “This is the second time in two years that Harry was put into immediate danger in this school.”

Albus sighed, eyes following you back and forth, “I assure you, it was never my intention to put him in any harms way-“

“I never said it was.” You rounded on him, “But it still seemed to happen under your watch.”

He pursed his lips together, “That is very true.”

You reached up and ran a hand through your hair in frustration, “What am I supposed to do now? You claim that Hogwarts is still the safest place for him, but he was attacked in this building twice.”

“I assure you, Miss. Potter, necessary precautions will be taken to ensure the safety of him and all of the other children.”

You glared at him, “I was told something like that last time. But then Harry was still attacked by a basilisk.”

It was silent for a moment before he spoke up again, “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to further worry you nor Harry, but there is a possibility that Voldemort is still out there.”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, “But you said after last year-“

“I know what I said,” He agreed, “But there is a large chance that I was wrong.”

Your eyes snapped over to meet his, “Having him here is better than having him outside of here if he decides to come for him again.” You whispered quietly.

Albus nodded, “My thoughts exactly.”

Slowly, you nodded and turned to leave, but paused with your hand on the doorknob, “Let’s not tell Harry yet. Just in case it’s not true.”

“You have my word.”

With that, you exited the office, softly shutting the door behind you.

And do you have faith in God above?

“Remus,” You froze, breathing out the name almost as if you didn’t believe that you were saying it.

“Y/n,” He was in a similar state to yours, staring at you with wide eyes, neither one of you paying any mind to the commotion of the platform going on around you.

The two of you hadn’t talked since that day you shoved him away while grieving for James. Sure, he tried to reach out from time to time, but ultimately decided that space was what you had needed the best.

You swallowed, “What- what are you doing here.”

“I’m going to be the new defense against the dark arts professor.” He informed you while clearing his throat, “It’s good to see you.” He added after a moment.

You shook away your shock and decided upon smiling kindly at the man, “You too, Remus, you too.”

“Is…” He trailed off, seeming to try and find the right words.

“Harry just got onto the train with some friends.” You informed him, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.

“Third year?” You nodded your head and he let a small breath loose, “It feels like we were just his age.”

Your smile turned sad, “We might as well have been.”

The train whistled and both of you turned to look at it.

“I should go.” He spoke, giving you one of his famously kind smiles.

Your face turned serious, “Listen, Remus. I know that I’m in no place to be asking for favors, but-“

“Of course I’ll watch over Harry.” He said softly, “And not just for James. For you too.” He looked you in the eyes to show his sincerity.

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, beginning to walk backwards towards the train, “There’s no need to thank me.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest because even though you hadn’t spoken to the man in years, you knew that he was one of the only people alive that you would trust with not just yours, but Harry’s life as well.

If the Bible tells you so

You gripped the Daily Prophet tightly, eyes scanning over the same line again and again. The one that read that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.

The very man that had not only betrayed Lily and James, but had also killed Peter right afterwards. And now he was loose and running amok in Merlin knows where.

As long as he stayed far away from Harry, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Even after all he did. It was best not to dwell on the man who had taken everything from you, it would only consume your entire being.

Do you believe in rock 'n' roll?

You crept up the creaking stairs of the Shrieking Shack after receiving a vague letter from Remus that you had no reason not to wholeheartedly believe.

He would never under any circumstances lie about Sirius Black not being the traitor that you all thought him to be. That Peter was really it and he was still alive. You knew you could believe it because James and Lily’s deaths are nothing to joke about, and Remus more than anyone knew that. So that’s why you had snuck into Hogwarts and were meeting him here.

As soon as you reached the top of the stairs, your eyes locked onto Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all cowering in a corner of a top room and you rushed to their sides. Immediately, you reached out to cup Harry and Ron’s cheeks as your eyes scanned over Hermione for any sign of injury.

“Are you guys alright?” You asked worriedly.

Without a word your nephew guestered shakily to a figure behind you, and you whipped around to face what he was so scared of.

Remus standing beside none other than Sirius Black.

Though he was dirty and had changed so, so much from the last time you had seen one another, you didn’t hesitate to spring forward and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a hug.

True, you had never been as close to him as your brother had. But you still spent most of your summers with him and he had once been someone you could consider a friend. And you didn’t have many of those now adays.

“What are you doing?” Ron shrieked in horror before either you or the man could get a word in to one another after pulling away, “He’s trying to kill us.”

“No, he is not, Mr. Weasley.” Remus explained patiently, “But I am afraid that there is another being in this room that is.”

“A-Auntie?” Harry asked shakily, “What’s going on?”

Before you could respond, a rat you hadn’t even noticed leapt forward and transformed into a man midair. A man you knew to be Peter Pettigrew.

The sight of him alone made you see red. Every bit of pain, grief, and despair that you had felt within the last thirteen years all coming to crash down on you at once because it was all due to him. He was the reason James was dead.

Ignoring Sirius’s hand that flew out to stop you, you stormed over and grabbed Peters collar with so much power that the large man was left stumbling, and pulled out your wand, jabbing it painfully into his neck.

“You dirty little rat.” You seethed, “How dare you,” You took a deep breath and repeated the question, shouting it at the top of your lungs this time. You missed the way the three children flinched at the suddenness of it.

You sensed the two men coming to stand at your sides.

“I’m going to kill you for what you did.” There was no threat behind your words, it was only a clear statement.

Gently, Remus guided your hand down, “He’ll pay for what he did.” He whispered the promise in your ear, “By sending him to Azkaban.”

You didn’t reply, just pushed your wand into his neck harder, making him whimper pathetically.

“Harry doesn’t need you going to prison too.” Sirius muttered from beside you, and those words finally made you pause.

You glanced over to where he stood, being held back from springing forward to help you by his friends, and you finally, reluctantly released your death grip on Peter.

As soon as you let go though, you reeled your fist back and sent it flying forward until you heard a satisfying crunch and a scream of pain from the traitor.

Without a look back, you allowed Remus and Sirius to grab either arm and begin to drag the struggling man out and you went to the trio that was still in the corner.

“Are you all alright?” You repeated your earlier question.

“Was that him? The man that turned my parents in?” Were Harry’s only words.

Ron and Hermione silently exchanged glances before slipping out of the room to give the two of you some space.

Biting down on your lip, you nodded your head and immediately wrapped your arms around the boys shaking form, “Yeah, yeah it was.”

“Did you almost kill him?” His words were slightly muffled through where he was resting his head against your shirt.

“Yes,” You didn’t even try to lie to him, “And I would have if I wasn’t reminded that you still needed me out here, not needing me to be thrown into Azkaban.”

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes, “But that’s where he’s going?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. That’s where he’s going.”

Can music save your mortal soul?

“I miss James.” Sirius spoke up after a comfortable silence had been sitting over the two of you for many moments.

You hummed, glancing at the man from the corner of your eye, “Yeah, I do too.” You said quietly.

You both sat a little bit away from the group, staring up at Hogwarts, so beautiful and lit up at night.

Neither of you spoke for another minute before you blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

He turned to you with furrowed eyebrows, “What for?”

“I didn’t at first…” You spoke hesitantly, “But I guess over time I began to believe that you really had betrayed them.” You shook your head roughly with a scoff, “There was just not other explanation and I couldn’t let myself live like that anymore. Going it over again and again in my head without end to try and figure out what really happened-“

“Hey,” He cut you off by placing a hand on your shoulder, “It’s alright, Y/n. I get it, I promise you, I do.”

“It’s still not fair to you.” You whispered.

“Maybe not,” He agreed, “But at least now we both can rest knowing that we put away the man that really betrayed them.”

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

You let curiosity take over and you blindly let your feet begin to walk by themselves towards the kitchen, where music appeared to be floating from.

Pausing at the entrance, you took in the sight before you. Harry was gently bobbing his head up and down to the music that played out of an old music player that sat on the counter as he made cookies a few feet away.

“This was your father’s favorite song,” You made your presence known with a small voice.

He startled, eyes whipping up to you frantically before relaxing when he realized it was just you, “Really?” He asked.

You nodded, “He would drive me and mum crazy by blasting it in his room with Sirius. They would sing at the top of their lungs to see who would get yelled at first between the two of them. It was always James though.” A fond smile played at the ends of your lips.

“Sirius didn’t tell me he liked this song.” He said, resuming his previous activities.

“Eh,” You waved it off, “There’s too many memories we have with your father to keep them all straight.”

He laughed lightly at that, “Wanna help with the cookies?”

You smiled and went to stand beside him, listening to your brother’s favorite song.

Well I know that you're in love with him

“Aunt Y/n?” Harry called hesitantly, shuffling into your room.

“What’s up?” You asked, looking up from your book with a raised eyebrow.

The boy's cheeks turned red and he began stuttering, “U-uh, how- how do I tell a girl that- that I l-like her?” He looked like he was about to die from embarrassment.

Immediately, you snapped your book shut and patted the empty spot on your bed next to you for him to sit down, which he did.

“Who is it?” You asked automatically, a small smirk pulling at the ends of your lips.

Quickly, he shot out of his seat, “You know what, this was a bad idea-“

“Hey, hey, no.” You stopped smirking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just excited, is all. Tell me about her.”

“Her- her name is Cho,” He mumbled, eyes averted to where he was fiddling with his fingers, “And I really like her but I don’t know what to do.”

You smiled softly, wrapping your arm around the boys shoulder and pulling him down onto the bed beside you, “Just tell her how you feel.” You told him, “That’s the best thing you can do. No big gestures or confusing signals, just the honest truth.”

“What if she doesn’t like me back?” He looked up at you as he softly spoke the question.

You squeezed his shoulders lightly, “Then she’s an idiot.” You reassured him.

He laid there for a moment, taking in your words before nodding along slightly, “Thank you,” He mumbled.

You playfully poked his side, “Look at my little boy growing up.” You teased.

Harry scoffed a bit, cheeks tinting red again as he tried to push your hands away, “Shut up.” He protested weakly.

“Hey,” You pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “Let me know how it goes. Okay, bud?”

He nodded, standing up and quickly scurrying out of the room to be saved from any further embarrassment.

'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym

“The Triwizard Tournament?” You burst out, leaning back in your chair and running a hand through your hair, “What kind of bullshit is that?”

Harry grimaced, “I kinda don’t have a choice in it, Aunt Y/n.”

You rubbed two hands down your face before looking down at your nephew through the floo network, “I know, but why does it always have to be you?”

“Because I'm special?” He weakly joked.

A scoff escaped your lips, “Yeah, that’s special alright… Just- just promise me that you’re gonna be careful.”

“Of course I will,” He reassured you before shaking his head and laughing to himself, “I feel like this is the only conversation we ever have.”

“That,” You glared pointedly at him, “Is because of your father. The two of you always seem to attract trouble, whether you want to or not.”

You both kicked off your shoes

“He-he was killed right-right in front of me-“ Harry sobbed into your arms as you gently rocked him back and forth, tears of your own sitting in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You kept mumbling over and over again into his hair, where you had buried your face.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to him or anything that he was forced to live through. And of course, the Triwizard Tournament just had to be added to that list, and Voldemort was really back this time.

“Cedric is gone,” He choked out, hands gripping onto your arms tightly- desperately- as if they were a lifeline for him.

“I know, I know,” You blinked and tears slipped down your face, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Then I dig those rhythm and blues

“We’re getting the Order back together,” Sirius informed you, leaning back in his chair with a small grin, “So I suppose I’m here to recruit you.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “Because the last Order ended so well.” You shot out sarcastically.

The man’s smile faltered, “It’ll be different this time.”

For some reason, those words only made you angrier, and you harshly pushed back your chair and stood up, pointing accusingly at him with a glare , “In what sense?” You hissed, “In the sense that I don’t have a brother to lose anymore? In the sense that it’s just another war?”

He shook his head from side to side sadly, clearly trying not to take your words to heart, “In the sense that you have Harry to think about and look after this time.”

That made you freeze, just like he knew it would, and you dropped back down into your seat, “Shit,” You cursed softly, running a hand through your hair.

“We will win this time,” He told you confidently, reaching out and squeezing your hand, “We’ll avenge James, Lily, and everyone else that we lost the first time around.”

Hesitantly, you began nodding, “Fine, I’m in.”

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck

“What the hell were you thinking?” You shouted over the chaos, eyes panickingly sweeping over Harry for any sign of pain, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders.

All around you, Order members and Death Eaters shot curses at one another with no sign of slowing.

“I- I thought he had you and Sirius,” The boy quickly explained, “I couldn’t reach either of you and it was driving me crazy, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“Why would Voldemort have brought us to the Ministry?” You hissed at his idiocy before sighing heavily and stepping back slightly, “Okay, okay, I would’ve done the same. I’m sorry for getting mad.”

Tears began to fill his eyes, “I’m sorry for coming here.”

“Hey, hey,” You rushed to comfort him, “It’s not your fault.”

“Y/n!” Sirius called with a grunt from nearby, narrowly blocking a curse thrown his way, “I hate to break up your little Potter reunion, but I could use some help over here!”

With one last smile at Harry, you tightened your grip on your wand and took off in Sirius’s direction, the sound of footsteps behind you letting you know that he had followed you.

Quickly, you threw a stunning curse towards Sirius opponent, sending him flying back into a nearby wall.

“It’s just like old times!” Only Sirius could grin that wildly despite the circumstances.

You scoffed playfully as Harry joined the two of you, both blocking two separate curses in sync, “If this were like old times, then you’d be owing me a drink for saving you!” You teased.

For a split second, he diverted his attention away from the task at hand to smile wider at you, “Maybe I’ll get you one-“

He was cut off by a blinding flash of green being sent directly to his chest.

Both of you froze in sync and you were forced to watch with your feet glued to the ground as he looked between you and Harry with a small smile before his body was pulled into a nearby veil.

Your blood curling scream sounded through the room long before Harry’s did, and you were practically numb to the arm that Remus wrapped around both of you as you each sobbed violently.

You weren’t even able to register the way the man himself was shaking with tears, but he didn’t let up his grip on you and Harry.

How many more times did this have to happen for you to become immune? How many more people did you have to lose before you stopped shedding tears in their names?

With a pink carnation and a pickup truck

With a shaky sigh, you dropped the pink carnation bouquet that you had picked out into a vase you and filled with water and let it rest on the counter, where you then let your head fall and rest upon.

“What’s with the flowers?” Harry piped up softly from behind you.

You raised your head to look at the beautiful plants slightly before signing again, “When Sirius first moved in with us, he didn’t know how he could ever thank my parents for what they had done for him. So he started doing little things to say thank you, meaningful things. One of them was picking a bundle of these types flowers that grew nearby the house and bringing them to my mother, getting her new ones every time the others died.”

He nodded in understanding, gazing at the pink leaves, “They’re beautiful.”

A hum of agreement left your lips, “My mother thought so too.”

But I knew I was out of luck

“With your bad luck, I’m surprised you three idiots made it this long.” You informed them with a small, playful scoff.

Hermione smiled a little bit, “Yeah, me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m grateful for it!” Ron squeaked, and frowned a bit as the three of you laughed.

“Auntie, we have to get on the express.” Harry said softly.

You nodded a little bit, pursing your lips, “I know.”

“We’ll be careful,” Hermione promised, and you smiled softly at her while cupping her cheek, rubbing your finger up and down subconsciously.

“Oh, come here.” You quickly pulled all three children into a tight group hug before kissing every one of them on the tops of their heads.

The day the music died

“What happened that night?” You whispered, watching as Harry’s eyes glazed over quickly and his defenses went up.

He shrugged stiffly, and though you felt guilty for asking, you needed to know what really went down at Hogwarts the night that Dumbledore was killed. You needed to know how much Harry would be affected by it and how negative that affect would be.

“Harry,” You begged with a soft whisper, “I just want to help you.”

“I know,” He admitted with a sigh, dropping his head against the back of the couch you both sat on in your living room.

Silence fell over you for a few minutes that consisted of you chewing on your bottom lip nervously before he finally spoke up again, “We need to prepare for a war.”

His words made your head snap over to him in alarm, “Don’t talk like that,”

“It’s true,” He insisted, turning his body to face you, “After everything that’s been happening, we both know it’s coming.”

You shook your head stubbornly, tears filling in your eyes, “Don’t you talk like that,” You warned through gritted teeth, “Your parents died so you would never have to live through a war like we did.”

He sighed, reaching over and wrapping his arms around you, “I know,” He whispered into your hair as you leaned your head against his chest, “But it’s true. And I’d rather fight and defend others than not and watch them die.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “But you're just kid.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“…I know.”

“Please reconsider this, Harry.” You turned so you were staring up at him with wide eyes, “I know that I’m not your parent, but please, don’t go through with this. This isn’t what they would want for you.”

“Would they prefer I stand by and do nothing?” You fell silent, “They fought in the first war, and if they were still alive, they would fight in this one in a heartbeat… you know I’m right.”

You dropped your head in defeat, because you did know that he was right.

“Then I’m fighting with you,” You sat up.

He was quick to shake his head, “I don’t want you getting hurt-“

“You forget that I’m the adult here, Harry.” You reminded him sternly, “And if I can’t stop you from doing this, then you can’t stop me either.”

Slowly, he nodded, “Okay… okay… We’ll do this together.”

I started singing bye-bye, Miss American Pie

You gripped your wand tightly as your eyes scanned the forest back and forth, you quickly glanced behind you at the sound of leaves crunching.

“Under different circumstances,” You spoke as Harry sat beside you, “This place would be beautiful.”

He hummed in agreement, looking around as well.

The tent that Ron and Hermoine were in rested a few yards back, where they hopefully were sleeping off the craziness of the day.

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I wasn’t sending you to school this year,” You laughed softly at your own words.

Harry chuckled beside you, kicking at the ground a little bit when his smile faded, “I wish I didn’t have to drag you all into this.” His face was twisted up with guilt.

“Hey,” You grabbed onto his hand and shook it slightly, “This was our choice, we all knew what we were getting into. But we all love you, so it’s gonna be worth it.”

“What if one of us doesn’t make it?” He wondered out loud, voice barely above a whisper.

All at once, your body stiffened, “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true though!” He cried, “What if Ron, Hermione, or-or y-you die because I dragged you into this?”

“And what if we hadn’t come along?” You rounded on him, “What then? Would it have been you that died?” You asked furiously, “I would die in a heartbeat to keep you safe- all of you.”

He paled at your words, looking slightly nauseated, “You can’t die.” He whispered.

“Then we’re going to drop this discussion.” You determined, “And neither of us are going to think about it again. Got it?”

He nodded numbly and you sighed, “Come ‘ere,” You muttered, wrapping your arm around him.

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

The snow fell gently across the town that you had once viewed as beautiful. That is, until your brother and sister in law moved into a certain quaint house and your entire life was flipped upside down.

You swallowed harshly, fighting with every bone in your body not to turn around and sprint in the other direction with every step forward that you took.

Hermione and Ron had gone off to a small coffee shop, muttering about giving you and Harry some space.

The boy had his arm tightly locked around yours and he seemed to be struggling just as much as you were, both of you with your feet frozen right in front of the cemetery.

“I haven’t visited this place,” You admitted with a guilty whisper, “Not once. I didn’t even show up to the funeral. I couldn’t.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked you hesitantly, eyeing you sideways.

You forced a tight smile on your face and gave him one nod of confirmation, “It’s about time I said goodbye for real.” Before adding, “Both of us.”

With that, arm in arm, you slowly made your way past the gravestones until you came upon two side by side with the names of Lily and James Potter printed across them.

You inhaled sharply at the sight of it, blinking away tears, knowing that they would freeze instantly on your face if you let them loose.

Slowly, Harry took out his wand and muttered a small spell that Hermione no doubt taught him, and a bundle of pink carnations appeared on each of their graves.

A watery laugh left your lips at his actions, causing a small smile to pull at the ends of his own lips, “They’re beautiful, Harry.”

He rested his head against the top of yours and you each silently said your own goodbyes to the ones that you lost.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Look! They’re here! They’re here!” Students all around you cheered, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight spark of happiness at the looks of hope and joy on their faces.

When you and the children had returned to Hogwarts to finish what had been started, you hadn’t expected all of these students to begin cheering your names as they finally got their first sign of hope in seemingly months.

As your eyes scanned through the sea of kids, you knew that you couldn’t let them down. They had all lost so much, being forced to go through what you and your peers had back then in some ways, and you would be damned if you let them suffer any longer.

Glancing over at Harry, you knew instantly that he had the same thoughts.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“No!” You screamed so loud that it felt like your throat was ripping, but you could barely feel it over the pain in your heart, “No! No! No!”

Molly let out a sob, quickly wrapping her arms around you to stop you from running forward towards the Death Eaters at the sight of Harry’s limp body in Hagrid’s arms.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort announced with a malicious grin, thoroughly enjoying watching as your entire world came crashing down right on top of you, suffocating your lungs.

It felt as though he held your heart in his disgusting hands and was squeezing it in an agonizingly painful way.

Arthur had to make his way over and wrap an arm around you as well, your sheer strength from anger and denial making it impossibly difficult for Molly to hold you alone.

You couldn’t even hear the rest of what The Dark Lord had to say over your hopeless, despair-filled cry’s that raked through your entire body violently.

Harry was the only thing that had kept you going after all these years, after what happened. And with him being gone now, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to go on. Not without him.

Then, without warning, Harry’s body rolled out of Hagrid's hold and he jumped up, locking eyes with you briefly before picking up his wand and pointing it at Voldemort.

You gasped, a large amount of air filling into your lungs for the first time since thinking he was dead, to much in a state of shock to even register the chaos that erupted all around you as everyone sprang into action, firing spell after spell at the opposing side.

When you finally snapped out of it though, you sprang forward and fired a deadly curse towards Voldemort, years of rage and heart brokenness behind it for everyone and everything you lost at his hand.

He barely even glanced at you as he deflected it and sent a light of green straight into your chest.

This will be the day that I die

It was over. The only war was finally over. And for the first time in weeks, Harry felt himself smile as he desperately looked around for you. Despite all the two of you had gone through, at least you would be able to enjoy the new world- one rid of Voldemort- together. A world that was finally safe.

His eyebrows furrowed and he paused in his steps when he caught sight of Hermione, Ron, Molly, and Arthur all standing in a circle in the middle of a hallway, every one of them crying.

He moved forward to see what was the matter, “What is it? What’s wrong-“

Harry cut himself short and he felt all the air get knocked out of his lungs, sending him falling to his knees, “A-auntie?” He stuttered out, mouth running dry as he looked down at your limp form on the ground.

Your lips were parted slightly and your eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at a nearby pile of rubble.

Everyone’s heads snapped over to him and Molly fell down beside him, wrapping her arms around the boy, “Oh, Harry-“

He immediately shrugged off her hands, instead frowning slightly and beginning to shake your shoulders, “Auntie? Aunt Y/n, wake up.”

All anyone could do was just stand there and watch silently with tears streaming down their faces.

“No,” He choked out when you didn’t stir, “No, wake up. Please, please wake up,” He begged through sobs, “We’re free, we’re finally free. Wake up!”

Nobody left his side, not for a single second of the hour he sat there, screaming- pleading- begging- you to wake up until his throat was raw and scratchy and he fell backwards on his heels.

“All she ever wanted was what was best for me.” The boy whispered, “That's all she ever wanted.”

“Then let’s give her that,” Molly spoke softly, hugging him again, “Honor her by living your life to the fullest. She wanted your happiness more than anything in this world.”

Harry looked down at you once more, the woman that had taken him in on her own free will in order to honor her brother and lost friends. The woman who raised him and taught him everything he knew. The woman who gave him everything. The woman who sacrificed herself so that he could keep living his life.

It’s LeviOsa 🪄- @i-writes-things @kiyomi-uchiha777

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multific · 1 year

Text

I Noticed

Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Mention of injury and violence, John Wick 4 spoilers

Summary: Being his sugar baby was one thing, but being in love with him was completely different.

A/N: This is a continuation of a headcanon I posted recently. Enjoy!

You couldn't believe it.

You could only look at him and now you noticed it more and more. His actions were a lot softer than in the beginning.

You recalled him spending hours at the bar, flirting with you or just looking at you, as if you were his prey, and you truly thought you were.

But now, as you watched him wearing nothing but his boxers, he slowly walked over to the bed, he was looking at his phone, scrolling as he hummed, satisfied with what he was seeing.

Before he looked up you laid down and turned on your side, your back to him.

You lay in silence as he joined you in bed.

You heard him put his phone on the nightstand as he turned the lights off.

He soon joined you in the big bad and as if it was so natural, put his arm around you, with his palm against your stomach he pulled you towards him.

His arm stayed as you felt his hot breath hit your neck.

"Good night." he whispered with that beautiful accent as he got more relaxed and soon, fell asleep.

But you couldn't. Your mind kept racing and you didn't know anymore what to think.

You could recall when he wanted you to move in with him, in the beginning, you had your own room, you still do, but only your clothes are there.

Almost eight months ago, he asked you to join his room as he wanted you close for 'When he needed you'. But even sex wasn't as big of a part of your relationship anymore as it used to be.

And even during sex, he became more gentle. While he used to be rather rough and demanding, now he was more gentle and soft.

Was he getting tired of you?

No, with his sadistic ways, you would be either dead or long gone.

If he wanted you gone, you would be gone. And yet, here he was holding you close to his chest as he slept.

Now, you noticed the small things. You recalled the small things.

Maybe and just maybe Mrs Ghandram wasn't lying. Maybe but just maybe Vincent was in love with you.

You nearly laughed out loud.

No fucking way.

Vincent? Vincent de Gramont? In love? With you?

PFFF.

No.

Probably he just got used to having you around, or the fact that he was employed to kill John Wick kept his mind busy.

Yes. It was possibly John Wick.

---

"No! PLEASE!" You ran in front of Vincent as John held the gun, pointing at his head. "Don't kill him."

"Step away." said John. "MOVE!" he yelled but you didn't, you just shielded Vincent.

"You can't kill him. I'm pregnant." you could tell John was taken aback by your statement. Of course, you were lying but you were willing to if it meant saving Vincent's life. John moved the gun again, motioning for you to move but you didn't. "You wouldn't kill a pregnant woman, would you?"

"I will kill him."

"No, you won't. Judging by your wounds you should slowly lose consciousness, Mr Baba Yaga." just as you said that John's hand started to shake. "You are free. Go now." you said as John collapsed in front of you. You grabbed the gun and threw it away.

"Look at that. My Kitten is actually pretty smart." you quickly turned around to look at him. He was bleeding from various wounds and you could tell he too, was about to faint, but thankfully not die.

The next time he woke up he was in a hospital room. A room he was probably too familiar with.

You sat right next to him in an armchair, reading a book.

"Kitten." he said with a quiet voice as he reached out to you, you moved closer, placing your hand in his. "Smart little girl you are. Telling him you were pregnant so he would bleed out. You saved me."

"I did what your two hunks of meat couldn't do." you said simply before you turned back to your book.

"What are you reading?"

"Harry Potter." he groaned, knowing how much you liked the books and the movies. "You should rest, Vincent, you need to heal."

"When did you stop calling me Daddy?"

"Three months ago, you never noticed?"

"No."

"But you notice everything."

"I noticed that you were in love with me." your head snapped at him as you locked eyes. "But you never noticed that I was in love for longer."

He fell first, but you fell harder.

"You should still rest." his hand squeezed yours.

"You have no idea how much power you hold, do you? I would burn the entire world down for you. I would go on a bigger rampage than the Baba Yaga himself, just for you to smile at me."

"Why are you saying this?"

"Because when you put yourself in between me and a gun, a gun that was held by John Wick, I wanted to push you away. I needed you safe. I rather die than have you killed."

"I saw your men dead, and while I do know you are trained, I couldn't... I needed to save you."

"You saved me a year and a half ago, mon amour." you wanted to laugh if it wasn't for the serious look in his eyes.

"Tell me please that you are lying. Tell me that this is one of your cruel plays. I can still forget it, I can still let go of the hope. Please, do not play with me like this."

"I'm not playing, Princess. I am very serious. I do love you. Did you really not notice?"

"No. It was difficult, trying to push my feelings down and hide them from you while trying not to feel guilty and bad about everything."

"You hid it very badly. Your eyes said it all. At first, I thought you liked my money, but then I found out you don't even spend it. You gave a lot to charities. To the dog shelter and the kid's hospital."

"Yeah, I thought they needed it more than I do."

"So, you never wanted my money, then it got me thinking, were you in it for the sex? Or were you just a spy to creep on me? But no. It was a shock but one evening, when I was in my office and you came in with... muffins... fucking muffins. I realized that you truly care for me. Really good muffins by the way." you smiled. "There she is. The smile I would kill for. Never stop smiling."

"Never stop giving me a reason to smile." he lifted your arm to his lips and he kissed the back of it.

"Kitten, I hope now you realize just how much you mean to me."

"I think, I always knew, deep down I must have, but I couldn't hope. The chance of you playing with me or that I was just simply stupid was too big, I couldn't risk that." you noticed how he flinched at the word stupid.

"The woman who plays the Baba Yaga himself is not stupid. Mon amour, I hope you know I stopped looking at you as my sugar baby for a long time now. You have to know that I am truthful." looking into his eyes, you could tell he wasn't lying.

"I know and we will talk about this after you heal, Vincent. Sleep please. I'll be right here." his hand squeezed yours one last time before he allowed himself to fall asleep.

You watched him sleep for a couple minutes.

"Stop staring." he said without opening his eyes.

"I'm not!"

"Don't lie to me, Kitten."

He slightly moved, now both of his hands holding yours as he fell asleep. You smiled before you returned to your book.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

Taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @l4venderia @theuncommoncorner @28cnn

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#Vincent de Gramont x reader #Vincent de Gramont #Vincent de Gramont imagine #Vincent de Gramont imagines #Vincent de Gramont x you #Vincent de Gramont x fem reader #Vincent de Gramont scenarios #Vincent de Gramont scenario #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick imagines #Marquis de Gramont x reader #the marquis x reader #marquis imagine #marquis imagines #the marquis

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hollandsfavbabe · 2 months

Text

Peter's Precarious Polyjuice Potion - part 1

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis: in which you and peter are forced to take extreme lengths to protect your secret relationship with the help of your shape shifting powers

warnings: a little suggestive language, lot's of fluff, lack of impulse control, extreme secrecy

word count: 5.7k

masterlist

a/n: Just a quick psa: this is going to be the first of two parts and the second is nearly finished! I tried to make it a one shot, but it was wayyy too long. There are some mentions of Harry Potter, obviously by the title, but no major spoilers and I want to make it very clear that I DO NOT support JK Rowling nor her transphobia. Trans women are women and trans men are men🏳‍⚧! That being said, I have another little surprise in the works that may have something to do with the wizarding world...

If you want to know what it is (and maybe get a sneak peak) comment your favorite character from the series and make a guess as to who you think mine might be. I'll reveal it with the next part of this series.

Thanks and enjoy!

Was there anything better than a chilly winter morning with the one you love most? Absolutely, a chilly winter morning with the one you love most and Harry Potter in the background. That’s all you could think of as your fuzzy sock clad feet padded across the campus floor.

The festive season’s aroma invaded your senses as you managed to steal the first four films from your father’s extensive DVD collection without being caught, the cover of the first one glinting in the light that flooded in from the wall of windows encasing Avenger’s campus as you admired how young the cast used to look and made your way to your boyfriend’s bedroom.

Suddenly, the usual quiet of the campus in the early morning was disturbed by the sound of footsteps of another Avenger in the distant halls and using your powers you immediately concealed the DVDs into a stack of school notebooks and a folder of overflowing miscellaneous papers as a facade. It wasn’t unusual for you to use your gifts this way.

It was only five years prior during a mission in the Czech Republic that you were introduced to Peter Parker and while everyone had expected the two of you to get along as teens of the same age, no one knew just how close you and Peter really were. The rule had initially started at Stark Tower as a branch off of one of your father’s household rules: no dating superheroes. You thought he would be less strict as your life became centered around them, as did his, but you had no such luck. There was little chance Tony Stark would ever change the rules set for his little girl. So you were left to bend them instead.

While you and Peter seemed like close friends, you only started out as a platonic couple before your relationship escalated faster than either of you could’ve anticipated into something more fulfilling than you could’ve ever hoped for. Peter became your everything. Before you knew it, he was your rock. He was the first person you wanted to share a new dirty joke with or an unlocked childhood memory or even complain to when your father became too restricting. It was so much easier for the both of you to be together during high school. Being a college sophomore made your relationship much more complicated. Especially seeing as Peter stayed close to home at NYU and you left town to attend MIT (your father would never let you go anywhere else).

With campuses that were over a 4 hour drive away from each other, you and Peter only got the occasional three day weekend to spend with each other and that was only when you were able to evade spending time with your dad by making up an excuse as to why you couldn’t come home and held your ground until you had to eventually cave to his demands. The only time you and Peter really got together was during holiday breaks when you two could both be at the campus and sneak around like smitten teenagers all over again. With only three weeks, you were determined not to waste a single second with so little time, even if it meant using your shapeshifting ability to disguise wizard school movies as chemistry homework. What could be suspicious about two close friends sharing notes about stoichiometry?

You felt your heart start back up as Natasha passed you in the hallway instead of your father, shooting you a smile.

“Morning, y/n.” she greeted pausing to look at your stack of folders with a look of confusion.

“Uhh, good morning.” you croaked, praying that there wasn’t some defect in your ability that allowed her to see a portion of the one of the movies you were disguising. Thankfully, your facade held.

“Homework? Really? This early on a saturday?”

You gulped as you nodded.

“You know me,” you forced a smile. “I’m actually on my way to wake Peter up so we can review together.”

“Good for you,” she nodded, impressed. “Breakfast should be in a couple hours if you two want a break. Try not to get bored!”

“Thanks?” You shrugged before continuing off to where you knew Peter’s room was, conveniently all the way on the other side of the building from your own. Soon enough you were at Peter’s door, turning the knob and entering without knocking, quick to shut it behind you to prevent anyone else from seeing how eager you were to ‘study.’ Surrounded by the comfortable closed walls of privacy, you let your platonic friend disguise fall and set the stack of papers on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Your boyfriend was still tucked beneath the covers, as was expected. You two had made your marathon plans ages ago and after losing several rounds of rock paper scissors, Peter’s room was made the place of the marathon meaning it was your job to wake him up. Overall you thought it best as you were more natural at lying (literally as you were aided by shape shifting powers) and a little more strategic when it came to social interaction and plotting.

You neared the stirring boy, his sleep disrupted by the clatter of the discs and the movement of his bed as you sat down to kiss him.

“Peterrr…” you whispered, hovering above him with an unshakable grin etched upon your face. “Wake up.”

You awoke him by placing a soft kiss on his nose and smiling down on him as he furrowed his eyebrows in aversion. It wasn’t until his eyes fluttered open that he grinned as he saw you and craned his head up to kiss you properly, his lips soft against yours, slipping a hand up from under the covers to cup your cheek.

“Morning.” he greeted, smiling affectionately as he sat up against the wall behind his pillow, pulling you into his lap so that he could kiss you once more. That was until he took a look at what you had brought, books and paper for studying. He cringed, pulling you closer and kicking up his covers in disgust.

“Oo no. I refuse to study on a Saturday. Can’t we save that for the last minute like every other time we’re together?” his lips turned into a sly grin as they neared yours once more.

You laughed as his complaint sparked many memories, most of you both tangled up together out of what started as procrastination, but ended up in unbridled desire that poured out after being built up each time you were away from one another for too long.

“Nice try, Parker. And here I thought we’d have a nice time today. Don’t you remember our plans?”

As you gesture to the folders and notebook on the edge of his bed they instantly shrunk back to their original form. All of a sudden, instead of the obnoxious red notes and blue folders filled with paperwork were the four DVDs with their easily recognizable covers that screamed nostalgia. Peter’s face lit up instantly, a mix of excitement and relief as his morning amnesia faded away. But even still, his seductive grin returned as he slid you further up his lap.

“We can’t start just a teeny bit later?” he teased, his fingers sending chills down your spine as they glided up the sides of your thighs. One of the downsides of how long you two had been together was that Peter knew exactly how to bend you to his will. “I think I’d rather spend our first morning together a little differently.”

He leaned in for another kiss, but instead of meeting your lips in the middle, his mouth was met with your finger as you pulled away and sat next to him, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before shuffling into his comforter. It was by luck that your Stark genes made you extraordinarily stubborn and resistant to his persistence.

“Maybe later. Right now I am seriously craving a Hogwarts escape,” you lightly pushed Peter towards the DVDs, hinting that he would have to be the one to pop it into the reader. You teased him as he left his bed, grinning wickedly. “Besides, Harry’s wand is way bigger than yours.”

Peter’s head whipped around as the previews started to roll on the flat screen TV behind him that could be found in every resident room on the campus.

“Hey,” he pouted, though there was still enough of a smile left that you were sure he knew you were only kidding. He settled beside you, tucking an arm behind your head so you could rest on him as you normally did when you shared a room. “It’s hard to compete with 11 inches.”

After skipping through each advertisement for movies that had come out over a decade ago and finally selecting the play option on the movie menu, Peter planted a soft kiss on your forehead as the movie finally began and the familiar notes of the main theme played from the speakers.

“I think you should wake me up like this every morning.” he mumbled into your skin.

“I think that would be nice.” you agreed and nuzzled closer into him.

You two spent the entire first movie just like that, two nerds wrapped up in each other so close that you could hear each other's heartbeats, but so involved in the film that you didn’t get distracted by the distant pulsing of them.

“I think I'd make a great chaser.” you confessed during Harry’s first quidditch game.

“No, I think you’ve got it all wrong,” Peter argued. “I’d make a great chaser. You’d definitely be a beater. I mean legally hitting people off of flying brooms in a competitive wizard sport? If that isn’t right up your alley, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re right.” you agreed right before Harry crash landed into the sand, the golden snitch popping out of his mouth.

It was after the first movie that you started feeling peckish and by the way Peter squirmed to change positions every few seconds, you could tell he was feeling the same. Two hours awake without any food was an abnormal event for you and as a result your stomach was growling loudly. As you had other needs to attend to, you excused yourself and offered to grab the two of you something from the kitchen to snack on during the rest of your marathon.

“I’ll get it babe, you can stay in bed.” Peter offered, sitting up with you as you stood from his bed.

“That’s alright,” you assured him, handing him the disc to the second movie and the sleek black remote that controlled the monitor. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom so I’ll grab it on my way back.”

Peter laid back, his hands coming behind his head on the pillow as he eyed you on your way to the door. You smiled at him in confusion, wondering why he was admiring you so when all you were doing was fetching food.

“What?” you questioned, sliding on a sweatshirt over your pajamas.

“Sometimes I can’t believe we’re together,” he admitted. “You’re way too good for me.”

You giggled at his honesty as you moved towards the door.

“Are you still trying to sleep with me?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted, shaking his head adamantly. “...but I’m not opposed to the idea.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you turned to leave, chuckling to yourself.

“I’ll be back soon. You can save the sweet talk for then.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture Peter’s smile as you shut the door behind you and meandered to the bathroom closest to the Avenger’s kitchen before starting towards the food.

As promised, the breakfast feast awaiting you smelled gloriously of hot buttered pancakes, sweet maple syrup, and so many other wonderful items. You prepared a lie to explain Peter’s absence as you entered the kitchen and grabbed a plate, when suddenly, the voice of your dad sounded from behind you.

“Ahh, y/n!” he startled you, causing you to drop your plate back on the stack of white porcelain where you had just barely plucked it from.

“Hi dad,” you forced a smile, turning to face him. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been looking for you. C’mon, it’s family meeting time.” he stated casually. You realized then that the dining hall was eerily empty for a Saturday morning. The weekly buffet was normally packed with superheroes or at least a starving Thor. You furrowed your brows in confusion, never before having heard of any such meeting as you followed after your father.

“Family meeting? What about breakfast?”

“It can wait. I’ve got something we need to discuss.” you dad explained as he opened the tempered glass door to one of the many meeting rooms at the campus which was normally reserved for more professional causes.

“Okay. I’ll get Peter.”

“No time, come with me. Peter’s not invited to this one.” your father informed you as he grabbed your arm, pulling you with him inside of the meeting room where every chair was already filled by various heroes who also resided at the campus. You gave a small wave to those who cared to acknowledge your arrival and wandered to stand in a corner at the back of the room while your father took up the front. From what you could tell, everyone else was as confused as you were. You pulled out your phone just before it commenced, giving you enough time to shoot Peter a quick text explaining your prolonged absence.

I might be awhile

That’s fine. Take your time.

You fought the urge to smile at your boyfriend’s message as you slipped your phone into your pocket and looked up to your father who was commanding everyone’s attention.

“Thank you for coming, everyone. Really, I appreciate it.”

You recognize a feminine scoff from the right of the table, Natasha shaking her head, a fearful gesture from your main combat trainer. It was a general rule around the Campus, along with don’t introduce Steve Rodgers to ASMR: don’t get Natasha Romanoff angry unless you want to be dead.

“Cut the bullshit Tony. We’re all too tired and hungry to be here for longer than necessary. Get to the point. Why are we here?”

Others voiced their agreement and Tony put his hands up.

“Fine. I prepared a nice little welcome speech for you all, but I guess I’ll skip to my main point. You’re welcome by the way.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“The reason I’ve gathered you here today is to discuss a serious matter concerning one of our youngest recruits who I’ve purposefully made sure is not in attendance - ” he stated as he pressed one of the buttons on the controller to the meeting room monitor, the picture popping up on the screen of a face that was all too familiar to you with tousled brown hair and chocolate eyes. “- Mr. Peter Parker.”

Your heart stopped as you heard your boyfriend's name roll off your fathers lips. From a lifetime of knowing him you were sure whatever he wanted to discuss couldn’t be good. You tried your best to not look so shocked and managed to keep a neutral expression as you mirrored Bucky who did not care for the conversation whatsoever. In fact, his expression resembles that of someone who was desperate to deck someone.

“Ah yes! The Man of Spiders!” Thor called out, quite possibly the only Avenger who seemed to be not in the least bit irritated.

“Yep, that’s the one. Here’s the thing,” Tony began as you braced yourself. “It has been two years since he graduated high school. That means he’s had two whole years of college life to get out there and make some new connections, to be a kid! But instead he comes home late every night and is always so exhausted. He’s working way too hard. So I propose that we help our little spiderling find someone he can lean on and turn to. Someone who can really help him slow down and start to be himself. It’s time we help Peter get a girlfriend.”

Your eyes shot open as his words hit you, you had to force your hands to stay down and try not to react too much. You looked around at the reactions of the others, searching for someone who may agree with you, but much to your disappointment, no one seemed as against it as you were. It seemed the topic of helping Peter made the annoyance of the meeting more tolerable and many Avengers were nodding their heads in agreement. Thor especially as he hollered in his seat in clear support.

“Yes! Wonderful idea! A lady spider! Tis like those Midgardean movies that are so popular around this time of year! What do you call them? Wrong-Cons?”

Everyone looked around in confusion.

“Thor is referring to the movie genre of romantic comedies or rom-coms.” Vision explained. With the confusion cleared others started agreeing more.

“Yes, the boy needs a break,” Wanda concurred. “And I love a good rom-com.”

“He works too hard.” nodded Nat.

Others started muttering to their neighbors how they also agreed as you shook your head in utter disbelief.

You pushed off from your place on the wall, quickly gathering the attention of the others as you joined your dad at the front.

“Are you guys crazy?” you laughed nervously. “Peter doesn’t need a girlfriend! Yes, he can be hard on himself sometimes and I agree he needs a break, but that doesn’t mean you should try and shove something in his life that he has never shown any liking towards.” you explain, trying your best to sound as unsuspecting as possible.

Here in the crowd of adults, you were only Peter’s best friend and you wished to keep them in the dark for as long as possible, especially considering your father forbid you from growing a closer connection to Peter.

To your surprise, another Avenger stood to back your point as the Winter Soldier himself took on the crowd.

“She’s got a point, Tony.” Bucky agreed.

“Yes! Thank you!” you smiled, gesturing at Bucky a little too excitedly.

“We shouldn’t force the boy into something if there’s no confirmation of his own interest,” the Winter Soldier restated, earning a nod of encouragement from you. “There’s probably a reason he hasn’t gotten a girlfriend and I think we should leave him to discover himself if you know what I mean.”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” at once you started refuting his claim. “Peter’s not gay, he’s just not interested in dating.”

“So he’s asexual? Is that what it’s called nowadays?” Steve asked, his tiny notebook of modern definitions at the ready as he pulled a pen from the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. He too had only just woken up.

“No. I mean yes that is a real and valid sexual identity and some people don’t have a desire to be with someone romantically, but that’s not Peter. He’s interested, just not right now.”

“How can we trust that the Tiny Stark knows what she says of the Man of Spiders?” Thor quirked a brow at your claims. You nearly blew up at him as he asked, glaring at the rest of the room on the edge of insanity from the thought of them shipping off your boyfriend to be with another.

“I’m his best friend, okay?! And I know him better than any of you so I know for a fact that he doesn’t need a girlfriend right now!”

Your father grasped your shoulder gently, a weak attempt at calming you down.

“That was exactly my next point. You’re his best friend and you’re right. You know him way better than any of us.” your father agreed. You gave him a thankful smile, glad to finally have him on your side.

“Thanks, dad-”

“That’s exactly why you’ll be out intel and our connection to Peter in ‘Operation Pair Parker.’ That way he won’t suspect anything.” he interrupted with a proud expression.

You stared at him with wide eyes.

“You already named it!? You’re kidding right? You have to be kidding. You all know this is just unbelievably crazy right?” you asked the crowd.

“I don’t see a reason why not. It’ll be good for the kid to have someone.” Natasha disagreed and by the disapproving looks from the others, you could tell her opinion was shared by the majority.

“Exactly. See everyone gets it and we need you to carry it all out,” your father continued. “I already have a few people in mind that I can pair him with. The only reason to not to would be if you know something we don’t. Peter isn’t seeing anyone, right y/n?” your father eyed you, suspicious of your relentless attitude towards his thought out plan. You knew you couldn’t own up to it, the risk of discovery was much too great, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything you could do to shut down Operation Pair Parker.

“Well, I didn’t want to expose Peter since he’s only just barely told me-” you began, hardly believing the words were leaving your lips. “-but he has been seeing someone and I think it’s getting pretty serious.”

“Oh really? And who is this girl?” your father interrogated.

“Or boy.” Bucky added.

“It’s a girl,” you clarified, hurrying to think of exactly you could pin Peter’s secret relationship on without creating too much damage. “Her name is um, MJ!” you exclaimed as the name came to you. It was perfect too as she was one of your best friends and someone Peter could’ve easily hypothetically gotten with ages ago.

“You mean the overwhelmingly unenthusiastic girl that Peter has only ever talked about once?” You could tell by his raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes that Tony didn’t believe you, but there was still time to convince him. And you would do anything to end this scheme.

“Yep,” you gritted your teeth, letting out a fake laugh that you hoped sounded convincing enough. “That’s the one, good old MJ. You know what they say, opposites attract.”

Tony wasn’t fazed as the intensity of his suspecting expression lingered on.

“You sure he isn’t seeing someone he’s closer to? You’re not dating him right?” he questioned, reminding you of the age old rule. Under no circumstance were you and Peter allowed to see each other. No matter how many battles you had fought together nor how many times he had protected you from harm. Not even if the world was on the brink of collapse. Never.

“Yeah, you’re acting pretty suspicious.” Sam chimed in.

“Is something up, y/n?” wondered Nat.

You burst into nervous laughter as you thought of a plausible excuse and your web of lies deepened.

“Oh, you guys are too good. You’ve got me! I have been seeing someone.”

“I knew it! Lady Stark is with the Man of Spiders!” Thor pointed accusingly towards you.

“You did not know that.” argued Wanda as Thor had been the least suspecting of all the Avengers up until your false confession. It didn’t help that he was also the most gullible.

“No! No, no, not Peter,” you scoffed, choking out a laugh. “His name is um… Flash!”

Your face burned red as you realized who’s name had just slipped out of your mouth. Oh why hadn’t you said Ned? At least you actually enjoyed spending time with Ned. But as your father’s face shifted and your lie began to work, you knew it was too late to go back now.

“Flash? You mean that boy who’s been mean to you and Peter since you were kids?” your father knew exactly who he was through years of his name popping up in counseling sessions Tonty provided to help you figure out how to defend yourself in public without using your powers.

“Yeah. He’s actually really nice once you get to know him and we’ve been together for a little while now.” you tried, changing your voice to match the same doting pitch it took on whenever you talked about Peter.

“Huh,” Tony pondered, but eventually shrugged the confession off as your lies snapped into place. He turned off Peter’s image on the monitor, leaving a blank black square in its place. “Well, in that case, the operation is off.”

“Alright, I guess that means I can go…” you smiled, ready to sneak off to finally grab some breakfast and more hidden moments with your real boyfriend.

“And date night is on!” Tony cheered unexpectedly.

Your eyes widened as your stomach dropped in realization of what you had just done. You and Peter were really in trouble now and it was all because you couldn’t admit the truth.

“Date night?” you repeated uneasily.

“To celebrate my children finding love, I want you both to invite your sweethearts over and we’ll have a big dinner so we can get to know them. Let Peter know he has to invite MJ.” specified your father which could only mean he expected you to invite Flash.

Oh shit. There was no getting out of it now.

“What a splendid idea.” deadpanned Vision who you could’ve sworn knew the truth about you and Peter as his room was next door. You almost glared at the android, but caught yourself.

“Yep, sure thing,” you grimaced, knowing that your lies would soon catch up to you. “And when is this whole thing supposed to be?” you asked, hoping it would be after the break so you and Peter could retreat to your separate schools instead of owning up. By then, you’d probably be able to come up with two break up stories so heart wrenching that the Avengers would understand why you would never want to date again.

“Let’s do tomorrow if we can. The sooner the better.” Tony proclaimed, pulling out his device from his pocket so that he could put the dinner into the following day’s agenda, scheduling it as a mandatory event.

You felt like you were gonna pass out.

“Great! I’ll just go tell Peter then. We’ll be ready!” you fake laughed as you walked off, truly dying inside as the crushing weight of what you had just done hit you.

Once you were out of sight of the Avengers (all of which started voting on what theme your dinner would be), you completely spaced picking up something to eat and sprinted down the hallway to Peter’s room. You stumbled in when you arrived, closing the door behind you and leaning on it, gasping for air from the rush.

“Hey baby,” Peter welcomed you back from his bed, lifting the remote to turn down the TV volume by a couple notches. “I hope you don’t mind, I started the second one, but we can totally rewind if you want…”

Confused by your lack of a reply, Peter looked at you and immediately sat up in bed, ignoring the film with a worry riddled face. The remote fell from his grasp and into the twisted sheets of his bed, never to be found again.

“Are you okay?”

You shook your head as you caught your breath, sliding down the door until you collapsed on the floor.

“No, Peter. Something terrible just happened and it’s all my fault.” you cried and curled to tuck your head into your lap. You weren’t quite to the point of tears, but it was enough distress to alert your boyfriend.

Peter sprung off his bed with a start, swinging his legs to the edge so that he could fully face you, but he was apprehensive about approaching your sullen form.

“Is it your period? Is that why you took so long? I knew I should have come to check on you…”

“No, I’m not on my period and I didn’t spend all that time in the bathroom. This is so much worse than that.” you lifted your head to speak so the words didn’t come out jumbled, but as soon as you had finished, your face returned to your lap.

Peter stood and neared you slowly, placing his hands on your forearms and squeezing you comfortingly as you lifted your head.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” he assured you. “What is it?”

You inhaled deeply before rushing out a summary of the events that had taken place only moments before.

“Long story short, my dad was trying to hook you up with someone because he thinks you're so sad and lonely lately so I tried to get him off your back and now he thinks that you’re dating MJ and I’m dating Flash and we have to invite them to a big dinner with all the Avengers tomorrow.” you sputtered in one breath, gasping by the end.

“WHAT?!”

“I KNOW!”

“How are we supposed to do that? I mean maybe MJ would agree if she were even in town… maybe, but we can’t invite Flash here!”

“I know!”

“Why didn’t you say Ned?!”

“I don’t know! That’s not the point, Peter. What I’m saying is that we need to come up with something fast.”

“I think we should just tell him.” Peter confessed, not one to share your disregard for the truth. Instead, he imagined a future where he could be more open with his teammates about the love you shared, maybe even rub it into Sam and Bucky’s faces as the three held a long standing rivalry since an opposing battle at a German airport. “Better fess up now.”

“NO! Peter, my dad will KILL US if he finds out we’re together!” you shut down his suggestion, too afraid of the consequences to even contemplate telling the truth. “We’ve got to come up with something better, I can’t let him win this.”

“Ugh, you Starks and your stubbornness.” Peter groaned. While he was well informed of your father’s rule, he didn’t understand why the two of you were so competitive, especially when it came to ethicality.

“I just wished there was a way we could pull it off without inviting either of them.” you pouted, staring off into the distance when the scene playing on the screen caught your eye.

The meeting had lasted so long that while you were gone, Peter had managed to watch up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s secret potion escapades in the abandoned girls’ bathroom.

“Add the hairs.” directed Hermione as the golden trio sprinkled the strands into their separate goblets of green sludge, so young in only the second film in the saga.

“You're right,” Peter sighed, his attention turning to the movie at the same time as you. “Things would be so much easier if we were wizards and could make Polyjuice Potion.”

Suddenly an idea popped into your head.

“Peter! That’s it! You’re a genius.” you exclaimed, pulling away from his hold and running across the room to his closet, flipping excitedly through his collection of colored flannels.

“Thanks,” Peter blushed, moving to sit on his bed once more. “Why exactly am I a genius this time?”

Your smile widened as you came upon it, Peter’s darkest flannel that distantly resembled something your dear friend MJ would wear. You pulled it on and discarded the hanger, throwing it haphazardly to another corner of the room as you looked at your boyfriend. You beamed at him as if you had just won the lottery. For a skilled liar, stringing together a new fake story was almost as accomplishing.

“Can I borrow this?” you asked.

“Of course,” Peter obliged. “You know how I feel about you wearing my clothes. Can I just ask why this in particular?”

“We can’t ask MJ or Flash to attend themselves so we’ll just have to become them instead!”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, picturing MJ in your mind and spreading your arms out from your body as the familiar tingling sensation started and your body began to change from the will of your shape shifting powers. Before long, you began to resemble the quiet girl from your school. Your hair grew longer and curled into her familiar pattern as your jawline sharpened and your limbs lengthened until the girl standing in front of Peter was no longer his girlfriend, but the one and only Michelle Jones.

You opened your eyes that now resembled her dark brown ones and smiled at him, something MJ would never do. Peter’s own face lit up as he realized what you meant.

“That’s even better than Polyjuice Potion!” he grinned, watching you nod as you looked yourself top to bottom, satisfied with the extent of your abilities.

“I think we can make this work.” you stated, moving towards Peter who was gazing at you with admiration.

“You just need to master her facial expressions. MJ would never smile that much.”

You closed your eyes again and took a deep breath as you let your smile fade away to capture MJ’s unwavering neutrality.

“That’s perfect.” Peter complimented once you had mastered it. You chuckled out of pride as your usual smile carved back onto your face along with an affectionate look as you glanced at Peter. You leaned into him, lips at the ready to peck his perfect pretty face until you were stopped by his outstretched hands.

“What?” you questioned, unused to being denied by your boyfriend.

“As much as I would love to kiss you right now, you still look like one of our best friends.” Peter explained with reddened cheeks.

“Oh right.”

Quickly, you shook off your disguised form and shifted back into yourself. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed Peter and allowed him to pull you in closer by your waist, his hand sneaking up to meet the skin under his flannel. It seemed at last he would get to have his own rendition of a perfect first morning with you.

After a few moments, he lifted away from your lips with a heavy breath to ask, “Does this mean I have to be Flash?”

You sent him a guilty smile.

“Sorry babe, but we’ve gotta do what we’ve gotta do.”

part two coming soon!

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