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rhaeverie · 2 years ago

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ty maam ty maam <333 no cause i wanted to make the trio goofy in this

Gloves & Dittany ‣ cyj

‣ pairing: slytherin!yeonjun x gryffindor!reader

‣ genre: fluff, hogwarts!au, idiots-to-lovers (on reader’s part), sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 13.7k

‣ summary: ❝Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that didn't hold any significant meaning… Right?❞

↳ Alternatively, where Yeonjun’s flirtatious nature leaves you no choice but to doubt his evident feelings for you and, in turn, dismiss any emotions you may be developing for him

‣warnings?: reader is just,,, confused all the time, prob poor attempts of 'flirting' bc idk how to flirt, side characters may potentially be more entertaining than the mains, reader tends to make playful threats to their friends

‣ an: big thanks to @hoonieji (<3) for reading over more than half of this to build my confidence! anyways the amount of revising this went through is horrifying but I hope it was all worth it! it's so bittersweet that I finished this bc I enjoyed writing it :( I'm going to miss this pair a lot,,, anyways, hope you all enjoy!

‣tags: @flowerjun @forever-in-the-sky2 @yxnjvnnie @cookiehaos @ioveastera @yeonyeonyeonjun @fireheaurt @agustdiv1ne — couldn't tag @shwizhies

I. HEARTS IN HERBOLOGY

Over the years you've spent at Hogwarts, your love for Herbology has blossomed into a deep passion. Contrary to what your peers say about the class being boring and useless, you believe they couldn't be more wrong. Herbology is an underrated and misunderstood subject that offers unique elements not found in other classes.

At first glance, certain plants looked welcoming, but from what you’ve learned, the most attractive herbs can be the most deadliest. This could even work the other way around. Growth patterns of the plants can directly affect its magical properties, which explains why the professors created emphasis on the care for plants.

Although Herbology looked like any other ordinary subject at Hogwarts, there were a lot more layers to its content. You suppose this was the reason why you grew to love the subject.

“What’s the difference between you and those flowers over there?”

Enter Choi Yeonjun. The main reason why advanced Herbology isn't the perfect class for you, and you mean that in the kindest way possible. Yeonjun is something else. While you hope to simply enjoy the class, he sees it as an opportunity to engage in endless conversation. You once joked with him that his voice could win a competition against a mandrake for being the most ear-piercing, but, surprisingly, he took no offense to this.

To make matters worse, a significant portion of his chatter is dedicated to shamelessly flirting with you. Despite months of this routine, he always finds new ways to keep things interesting, and you have to admit, it's quite impressive.

It was strange how all this had even started. You and Yeonjun were only familiar with each other because he was childhood friends with your fellow house member, Changbin. But after an encounter with the pair at Hogsmeade, Yeonjun started becoming quite adamant about making his presence known to you. And regardless of his motives and advances, you’ve, since then, been choosing not to indulge in his actions.

If you were given a knut every time someone asked you why you never gave him a chance, you’d be rich. Hell, you’d be bathing in galleons if you did, because this was Choi Yeonjun we were talking about. The one and only Choi Yeonjun who could practically steal hearts without the use of some silly charm pulled straight out of a textbook. He was reasonably one of the most attractive guys in the entirety of Hogwarts and his personality was one to adore, so you weren’t surprised with the persistent interrogation of those interested in him.

Though every question was worded differently, each one becoming more and more creative than the last, you hit them with the same, lazy explanation that you knew never left them satisfied.

“I just don’t see him in that way.”

Yeonjun stands by your side, hands comfortably nestled in gloves, which completely disregards Professor Longbottom's instructions that the gloves were not necessary for today's class. He looked ridiculous being the only one wearing the heavy-duty gloves. You hold back a laugh as your gaze follows his pointing finger, which leads you to a cluster of asphodels.

You look up at him, “One is an accessory to a deadly sleeping potion.” You’re cleaning up your area, making sure dirt is only where it was supposed to be.

“Y/N, c’mon~” Yeonjun whines, “Just play along.”

“Okay,” you huff, “What is it?”

Yeonjun stands quietly for a short moment, lips pressed together, “Now you made me forget what I was going to say, but it was something about you being pretty.” Yeonjun turns to put some pots away, leaving you unamused.

Although Yeonjun continues to make such advances, you admit that his playful personality was endearing. Just a few months ago, you regarded Yeonjun as nothing more than an annoyance, constantly looming around even when unwelcome, sort of like a wedgie. However, as time passed, you couldn't deny the odd bond that had formed between the two of you.

Just recently, you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he’s grown on you to the point where you realize that the day would feel incomplete without his babbling. On a good day, you might even consider him your friend.

When Yeonjun returns, he flashes you a smile, “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe I can take you to Hogsmeade.” He bends down slightly and reaches out, “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” You feel his finger graze your nose for a quick second before it’s back at his side.

“I’m afraid I already do,” you hummed. Since the period has ended, you grab your belongings and take your leave. With no surprise, Yeonjun is trailing closely behind you.

Yeonjun’s lips were moulded into some sort of pout, brows furrowed, “Maybe the week after?”

“I have plans that week, too,” you say promptly, though you weren’t even entirely sure if you did, “Sorry, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you but you don’t catch him doing so. Instead, you’re dead set on finding your best friend Yena by the courtyard. Before Yeonjun could let out a sigh, he takes a big step forward and spins so that he’s facing you. Yeonjun executes this with ease. He’s quick on his feet and the next thing you know you’re walking into his chest.

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the hallway so you both aren't blocking the stream of students, “There’s always another week…” He pushes his lips towards one side of his face, eyes looking to the side. He was deep in thought, “Maybe you can come to the final game of the season? I know your house isn’t playing but it would be nice to have the support… I’ll even let you wear one of my extra uniforms… maybe some facepaint?” Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the thought.

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly.

“As a friend?” Yeonjun’s head is tilted to the side, brows knitting as he brings his lips into a pout, “Please?” His eyes pour into yours, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze. He’s waiting intently on a reply.

“I’ll… think about it,” You stall.

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied with your answer. Before he speaks up once again, he hears his name being called from across the hall. It was Wooyoung.

“I’ll see you later, beautiful~”

You groan and call out before you’re out of ear’s reach, “What did I tell you about pet names, Choi Yeonjun!”

Yeonjun turns to acknowledge you, but instead of saying anything to excuse himself, he sends you a wink before reaching his friend.

As expected.

You huff, shaking your head before you finally turn to the courtyard, where you immediately see Yena kicking dirt underneath one of the smaller trees. She pulls up her robe slightly, engrossed in watching the dirt particles defy gravity and form swirling clouds.

You say nothing as you approach her, laughing underneath your breath.

“You took so long I started growing white hair,” Yena jokes. She drops her robe and stands up a bit straighter, “Where to?”

When Yena finally catches a glimpse of your face, her brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” She leans forward to analyze your expression, eyes running back and forth across your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, “Let’s start heading for the hall.”

Yena clicks her tongue against her teeth and grabs your wrist, “I’m not stupid, you know. I can easily tell that something’s up. So, what’s up?”

“The sky,” you say wittingly. Yena gives you her stern, rather motherly, look, causing you to break immediately, “Yeonjun asked me to ‘hang out’ again.”

Her eyes widen, brightening, as a smile appears on her face.

The thing about Yena is that, despite understanding that you genuinely do not have feelings for Yeonjun, she still clung onto that ship for dear life. It was quite amusing watching her squeal over the smallest interactions between you both. You could say she was more delusional than Yeonjun was.

“Please tell me you said yes!”

“Well… I didn’t say no?” You look over at her, “I just told him I would think about it.”

“Progression!” She exclaims, “Character development!”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” you groan. You look around to make sure no one associated with Yeonjun was around, “I don’t even think he’s being serious.”

You and Yena are nearing the great hall and the smell of food is drifting out the big wooden doors and up your noses. You both are walking rather slowly, moving to the edge of the corridors to keep out of the other students’ ways, “Why would you think that? From how long he’s been at it, he seems rather serious about this.”

“Yen…” you sigh, “Have you seen the way he interacts with other people, better yet, girls? I don’t want to give him a chance because it already seems like he’s just doing this for fun. I don’t wanna be… sought after for entertainment.”

Yena throws an arm around your shoulders, “If you think that, then tell him you can’t go. Simple.”

“The Choi Yena telling me not to hang out with Yeonjun?” You scoff, “Please.”

“I’m actually giving you helpful, wise advice and this is what I get?” Yena huffs, “Fine. What I really wanted to say is that you should give him a chance. Who knows, he can actually be serious about you and you might end up liking him back.”

You shake your head, "Not until I know he has genuine feelings for me. Besides, I would have given it a shot if I had as little as a single cell in me that was interested in him. But, as you already know, I don’t.”

Yena eyes you down as if it were going to knock the honest truth out of you. But it doesn’t, because you were telling the truth. You have no feelings for Choi Yeonjun.

“Now let’s go eat,” you grumble, “Because you say the most unpleasant things when you’re hungry.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When Yeonjun reaches Wooyoung, he’s greeted with a big fat thwack to the back of the head.

“Ow!” Yeonjun jumps, rubbing the area that the other had smacked, “What in Merlin’s name was that for?” The two begin making their way down the corridor, keeping a look out for Changbin who they should be crossing paths with sometime soon.

“For being a lovesick fool,” Wooyoung shoots, “Get yourself together!” He slaps Yeonjun’s back, “Why are you wasting time over someone who clearly doesn’t like you back when you can literally be with anyone else you want?”

Though Yeonjun knows that Wooyoung means well, he can't help but feel a twinge of offense at his friend's statement. He could go on about the reasons why he’s still trying, but he knows for certain that Wooyoung could not care less.

Frankly, when Yeonjun sets a goal for himself, there is no doubt he’ll be working towards that goal with no uncertainties. And this trait easily applies to this situation.

Yeonjun really likes you.

Sure, he doesn’t know the tiniest, intricate details about you, but based on what he’s heard through Changbin and things he’s learned while talking to you in class, he has this rather strong urge to get to know you better.

And he’s serious about this.

At a loss for words, Yeonjun blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “She’s different.”

Wooyoung blinks back at his friend, “You better not be serious.”

“I’m just summing things up, Wooyoungie,” Yeonjun flicks Wooyoung’s shoulder, “I don’t take you as a guy who likes hearing things about feelings.”

“True that,” Changbin butts in. He slides in from a nearby classroom, briefly greeting the other two wizards.

Wooyoung glares at Changbin, “Do you even know what we were talking about?”

“Yes,” Changbin shrugs, “Y/N. Yeonjun. Who else?”

Wooyoung hums, “And you support Yeonjun making a fool out of himself?”

Before Yeonjun can shoot a remark at Wooyoung, Changbin quickly interjects, “Well, no, but I just want to see where it goes. Plus, Y/N didn’t explicitly say she didn’t like Yeonjun.”

“Wait, really?” No one notices but Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the information.

Changbin nods, “I mean to me at least. And you’d think she would tell me because you and I are friends. She just says that she has her own reasons or something.”

Yeonjun smiles to himself. That’s all he needed to know.

II. DOUBTS AND DUNDERHEADS

Yena’s reading the ingredients of a newly learned potion as you scan over the list yourself.

“You know, I don’t get why we’re even making this potion,” Yena grumbles. As you prepare the cauldron, Yena leaves the table to grab the ingredients, plopping them down carefully in an organized manner, “It’s much more dangerous than Amortentia, don’t you think?”

“I can see why you think that,” you chuckle under your breath. You eye the ingredients that Yena has set down, using your finger to track each one of them, “You forgot the moondew.” But seeing that your friend had already settled in her chair, you took it upon yourself to grab the plant at the bench at the back of the room.

“Moondew… moondew…” you mumble. You look around for the plant, shuffling back and forth in hopes of it catching your eye, “Where are you?”

Before you know it, the herb is being dangled right in your line of sight, causing your eyes to cross for a brief second, “Here you go~” Your eyes flicker up and you immediately spot the green lining of the sleeve.

You reach up to take it from him before turning around, “Thanks.” Yeonjun was standing rather close to you, though it wasn’t a creepy proximity. He’s just… tall. So to him you could guess that the distance between you both wasn’t as close as it was for you.

“Anything for you,” he hums and sends a smile and a wink your way.

You groan and shoot him a look, walking right past him, “Choi Yeonjun, is this your way of asking for me to give you this potion?”

He feigns hurt, “No. And even if it was, I know you wouldn’t do it.” Yeonjun follows you to your bench and you see that Yena’s placing the ingredients in order of which to drop in first. She smirks at his presence.

“And how would you know I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know actually,” he shrugs, jutting his lip out in a pout. Yeonjun takes a step back to his bench, which was conveniently the one next to yours and Yena’s, before he continues, “I just feel like you wouldn’t.”

You furrow your brows right as Yena adds wormwood infusion into the cauldron. Your nose crinkles, “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust your gut.”

Yeonjun mindlessly takes the same step, gesturing for Wooyoung to go ahead with the next step, “I have a good intuition!” Yeonjun sounds like he’s genuinely trying to convince you of his secret powers.

“Well, okay, what number am I thinking of?” You add the asphodel into the cauldron before turning to look at Yeonjun. From the way his eyes were looking off to the ceiling, lips resting into a pout, you can tell he’s thinking.

“Eight.”

“Wrong, it was two.”

“Hey, you could have easily changed the answer!” Yeonjun exclaims, giving you the accusatory finger, “Cheater.”

“I thought your intuition was good,” you say, “Doesn't your intuition say something about if I really did cheat or not?” You make sure Yena’s stirring the mixture the way the textbook had instructed. She even went ahead to plop the sloth’s brain into the pot.

Then your professor speaks up, “Remember, students, that the hardest part of this potion is the stirring, please please pay attention to the stirring patterns.”

The entirety of your attention is brought back to your cauldron, you and Yena taking turns adding the needed components of the potion before preparing yourselves for the stirring. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Yeonjun have already started stirring the mixture.

“Counter… counter… clockwise…” Wooyoung says slowly, making sure that Yeonjun’s stirring in the same direction as he instructed. When Wooyoung realizes that he’s on the other side of the table, he gasps, “Wait, that’s my counter, counter, clockwise!”

Yeonjun’s eyes widen before stirring the mixture the other way as if it would cancel out the stirs that he’s already completed. Then it dawned on him, “You dunce! It’s the same for you and me—”

And right as Yeonjun finishes his sentence, the mixed elements burst onto Yeonjun, leaving him covered in an odd-coloured substance.

Screams of surprise echo through the room before the same individuals burst into laughter, seeing that Yeonjun was now drenched and filthy. Yena was laughing out loud, fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep herself stable. You were trying your best not to laugh out loud, pressing your lips together to hide the growing smile on your face.

When the situation finally clicks, Yeonjun knocks himself out of his state of shock, using his own robe to wipe the substance off of his face. It was sticky, so there was a good amount of resistance keeping him from successfully cleaning himself up.

Now you feel bad.

You watch Yeonjun for a few moments to see if he truly needed help. But when you realized that he was practically hopeless on his own, you sighed and stood up, grabbing the boy by the wrist, “Professor, may we be excused? We will be back before class ends.”

He nods, allowing you both to leave. And at that, you’re dragging the long-limbed Slytherin out the door of the classroom. You take him down the stone corridor and towards the girls’ washroom. Your steps echo against the walls of the hallway as you fast-walk towards the end of the hall. Once you reach it, you sit Yeonjun down on a nearby window ledge, “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Yeonjun nods, making himself comfortable. He watches you leave and disappear into the bathroom for a good thirty seconds before you return with one hand full of wet paper towels and the other with dry ones.

You start wiping off the gunk from the boy’s face, starting at his forehead and working your way down his face. You're half an arm’s length away from the boy, still trying to keep distance. You’re surprised at how easily the potion slides off his face with the help of water.

“I thought you were good at potions,” you grumble, “Next time you need to be careful… you’re lucky that the potion doesn’t get absorbed into skin because this situation could have been worse…” You continue scolding him under your breath, but it was so quiet that even the closeness between you doesn’t allow Yeonjun to hear what you’re saying.

You don’t notice the way Yeonjun is looking at you. His eyes are crossing just to catch a proper glimpse of your focused state, flickering between your lashes to your cheeks, and your lips… He mentally shakes his head to rid of all thoughts clouding his head, squeezing his eyes.

“You know, I don’t need help to clean myself up,” Yeonjun says, but his expression completely contradicts his words as he grins at your actions.

You freeze and take a step back to reassess the situation, “You’re right.” You hold the paper towels out to him, “Here.”

“Wait, but I do need help.”

You sigh and start wiping the remaining stuff off of his face, “You’re a dunderhead, you know that right?” You put pressure onto his cheek bone for a moment and plaster a playful smile on your mouth.

Yeonjun snickers, “Yeah, a dunderhead for you.”

Your smile drops from your lips and you frown, “Oh, shut up.” His face was basically clean from the potion. All that’s left was the dried liquid in his hair and some lingering on his robe.

“It’s true,” Yeonjun sighs. He wonders why you’re so against him and his advances. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong to you. You haven’t even given him a chance.

You roll your eyes and attempt to scrape off the dried up potion that was clinging on to his hair, “I’m guessing you’re a dunderhead for Chaewon and her friends too.” There’s a slight tone of passive aggressiveness in your voice but you don’t notice.

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun’s ears perk up, genuinely confused.

You let the question sit, finding the appropriate way to explain to Yeonjun what you meant. It was a difficult thing to put simply and you and Yeonjun were currently bound by time.

“Yeonjun I…” your eyes search Yeonjun’s as if he could physically hand you the help you needed, “I don’t believe you actually like me.” You almost cringe because it sounded as though you were accusing him of lying, but this was truly how you felt.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “W-what? Why do you think th—”

“You flirt with me—a lot—but you flirt with other people too,” you explain, “One second you’re calling me pretty and treating me nice and everything that, I admit, someone who likes that person would do… but the next you’re doing practically the same things for another person… How am I supposed to believe that you like me?”

Not that it mattered—you didn’t even have feelings for the boy—but it was good that he knew for someone he actually was interested in.

Yeonjun is taken aback by the confession. Is this how you felt the whole time? Is this why you haven’t actually given him the chance to take you out? “How can I prove to you that I’m serious?”

“You’re an expert at flirting, aren’t you?” you retort, “I’m pretty sure you can figure that out yourself.”

III. A SLYTHERIN’S EFFORT

After confronting the Slytherin about your feelings towards him and his actions, there was a period of complete silence over the following days. It was like radio silence—as if something had gone wrong with the antenna and you were forced to scramble to fix it. Encounters with him in the halls or in class were kept minimal by the boy, only going as far as saying a hi and goodbye before going on his merry way.

Judging from his actions, you took it as a confirmation that Yeonjun really didn’t have feelings for you. This realization evoked mixed emotions within you. Sure, you’re glad that you got him off your back, having the peace and quiet in herbology that you used to have. But you’d be lying if you said that you wished that Yeonjun would still speak every once in a while to fill that silence.

It was odd if you think about it. Why did Yeonjun even ask how he could prove his feelings for you if those feelings were non-existent? Was that just part of the ‘fun’? An attempt to get your hopes up before stopping altogether?

Ouch, you think, shaking your head to get rid of these thoughts from your head. If Yeonjun didn’t actually like you, he could’ve just said so. But hey, you should be ecstatic that he's finally done with this whole act, right?

At least he’s making it easy on you.

That is until Yeonjun came unannounced to the Gryffindor table one morning. He, surprisingly, did not don the smirk he often wore on his lips. Instead, his lips were curved into a gentle smile, his eyes mirroring the same warmth.

“Morning, Lions,” he greets.

“Changbin’s still at the dorms,” you mumble, dipping your head to sip on your soup.

Yeonjun shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you.” He held out a small, white plastic bag toward you. It was full, but you weren’t quite sure with what.

You guess that Yeonjun read the confusion on your face, quickly following up his disorderly actions with, “My mom usually sends snacks and I asked her to send these for you.” You hear Yena almost choke on her food, but she shuts herself up by downing water.

Odd. “Oh… thank you?” You’re not even sure how to act, reaching out for the bag before sticking your nose into it to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned snacks. And funny enough, this is what catches you off-guard.

They were your favourite snacks—ones you couldn’t get here or at Hogsmeade.

“How did you know I liked these?” Yeonjun warms up at the way your eyes light up. You look up at him and thank him again.

Yeonjun shrugs, “You might have mentioned them a few times during herbology. Anyways, I gotta go back to the table. But I hope you enjoy those!”

“I will,” you say mostly to yourself. You set the bag on your lap and stare at it, puzzled.

“Ooo—”

You clamp your mouth over Yena’s mouth and side-eye her, “Shut your mouth right now or else I’m lodging a breadstick down your throat.”

Yena’s eyes widen but she grabs your hand and peels it off her face. She whispers, “I thought you said Yeonjun didn’t like you.” You nod, “I did but… No. I don’t think this means anything.”

“Are you crazy?” Yena’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head, “He remembers what you’ve told him and he’s asked his own mother to send you these!”

You don’t look at Yena because she’s right. The process into actually pulling this off is… sweet. And thoughtful.

With a dismissive shake of your head, your gaze falls on the closest person, who happens to be Soobin, “Binnie, can you please pass the breadsticks?”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Why do you like herbology?”

The question causes you to freeze, gloved-fingers stuck in the dirt when you try to process Yeonjun’s question of the day. When you look over at him, you realize he wasn’t even looking back at you. Instead, he was fiddling with the herbology textbook sitting on the table, flipping back and forth between the pages of today’s lesson.

You let out a sputtered "Huh?" as your head tilts to the side in confusion. The question seemed to have come out of nowhere, leaving you uncertain whether it was asked out of genuine curiosity or sheer boredom.

“I never really asked you why you liked the class so much,” Yeonjun takes a quick glance at you through the corner of his eye, “I mean well. I genuinely want to know.”

You wanted to continue questioning what was going on. First the snacks and now this?

Was Yeonjun broken?

Your mouth had opened just a bit in preparation to interrogate the boy, but since he had made it clear that he was being serious, you shut your mouth before mustering up an answer.

“There’s just something… interesting in the fact that all the plants we deal with can be used to create things that can either benefit or create drawbacks to a person’s life. Others have such useless purposes, too, but I still find it captivating that plants can do things you could hardly expect… Like mandrakes. They’re god-awfully annoying, but they can help heal curses and stuff.

“Then there’s dittany… I think it’s easily one of my favourites. They can help heal wounds easily so they come in handy in a lot of situations… like my grandma’s created her own ointment recipe with dittany and it’s done wonders in my family. I guess the main reason I like herbology is the idea that we can somehow use these things to help people. That’s what I prefer, at least.”

When you finished speaking, you realized that you have never said that out loud to anyone before. It was something that never came up in conversation—a topic you knew no one cared about—yet here you are blabbing on to Choi Yeonjun about your love for the subject.

“Wow, when you put it that way, herbology does sound cool.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him, “You’re saying that as if you’re not in an advanced class right now.”

The softest grin appears on Yeonjun’s face as he pushes his textbook away from him, “I know. But herbology isn't the main reason I’m here.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“For you.”

The corners of your lips lift at the brief appearance of the playful Yeonjun you were familiar with. Of course, you think.

Before you could even question further, Professor Longbottom launched into another rant about the day's lesson, drawing your attention away from the strange, indescribable sensation that was slowly taking over your heart.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were on your way back to the hall for dinner having taken a stroll around the castle grounds after a nap. With workload becoming heavier and days growing shorter due to the time of year, you were hoping to clear your mind while sightseeing.

You couldn’t say it worked, though.

All your mind could do was wander back to the topic of the upcoming defense of the dark arts exam, the feeling of anxiety continues to creep up your neck despite the efforts to get rid of them. The subject was not one of your strengths, as your strong distaste for dueling led to a lack of effort in the class.

Now that a practical assessment was coming up, you weren’t sure how you were going to do… and frankly you didn’t like doing horribly in your classes.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You gasp quietly at the sudden presence of Yeonjun, who’s wearing an odd combination of his quidditch uniform and training attire. In his hand he’s holding his broomstick. By the looks of it, he just came from quidditch practice.

"I don't think it matters that much," you let out a lackluster, breathy chuckle and continue walking towards the castle. Yeonjun adjusts his pace to match yours, even though his long limbs seem eager to move faster.

“That look on your face says otherwise,” he shrugs, “But, do not worry, you still look as pretty as always.”

You stop in your tracks and glare at the boy, who halts two steps too late.

“What?” Yeonjun questions, “It’s true.” He recognizes a specific glint in your eyes and Yeonjun realizes that this was not the time to be flirting, “In all seriousness, though, what’s wrong?”

Yeonjun takes you by surprise once again and you almost stumble in your steps from his efforts. It was nice to see that Yeonjun did have this side of him. While you've grown fond of his playful personality, it's refreshing to witness him in a different light.

You think about what you want to say to Yeonjun. “I think it’ll help more if you just tell me about your day,” you tell him. You needed distraction from the near-overbearing stress that you’re experiencing. In hindsight, you realized that taking a stroll alone may have been a mistake. Being left alone with your thoughts was never a favourable situation for you or for anyone.

Yeonjun immediately understands the situation, and before you know it, no questions asked, he begins to tell you all about his quidditch practice.

Yeonjun’s position was the team’s beater, so he spent the entire practice with his fellow house member, Jongho, who was also a beater, hitting bludgers back and forth to get used to what strength they needed to exert to send it going any way they wanted.

“We were just hitting it back and forth,” he says, “Like we always do. But this time, we decided to use our non-dominant hands to hit them.” Yeonjun swings his left arm as he continues, “And, you see, Jongho’s left handed so we made this a competition between just the two of us to see who was better with their other arm.

“So we went back and forth. It was hard at first, but he and I started getting… cocky about how I was doing better. It was actually terrifying because, you know, the rest of the team was just there… they could easily have been hit and all. But since, we’re the best beaters in this entire school—” Yeonjun sends a prideful smile your way and you can’t help but scoff, “—we didn’t let that happen–”

“Until?” you butt in.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe you think there’s an ‘until.’

“Am I wrong?”

Then, Yeonjun's eyes narrow and he tightens his lips into a thin line. "You're lucky you're cute..." he remarks, reaching out to poke your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him do it. "Anyways," he continues, "That was until we remembered that we also have a coach... guess who's at the infirmary with a bruise as big as a crab apple?"

You gasp, “I thought you guys were Hogwarts’ best beaters?”

Yeonjun exclaims, “We are!”

“Then why is your coach in the infirmary?”

“Accidents happen!” Yeonjun defends himself, “He’s alright, though. The nurse says he’s going to be back in shape by tomorrow.”

The conversation turned out to be much more enjoyable than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, you were already approaching the doors of the hall. You could see other students trickling in, and your eyes instantly caught sight of Yena through the doors.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifle a laugh, “Anyways, I gotta go, I’m starving.”

As you’re turning to leave, you’re stopped by Yeonjun, who has reached out to grab your wrist, “I hope your problems will be resolved soon.”

A warm feeling tickles your chest and you let a genuine smile appear on your lips, “Thanks, Yeonjun.”

With that, you give him a small wave and head inside the hall to join Yena and the other students for dinner, feeling more at ease than before.

IV. THE GLOVES

If given the chance to describe your best friend in one word, you’d say spontaneous. Since the day you met her, she has the habit of making a decision in one moment and then completely changing course in the next. It was a trait of her’s that you found rather impressive, because you could never live your life like that. But despite being impressed, it's still hard to deny that it doesn’t occasionally frustrate you.

Last night, Yena was determined to study for the upcoming dark arts exam over the weekend—you even agreed to study with her (which wasn’t the best option on your end)—but upon waking up at right at noon, she’s decided to give up on this goal and, instead, take an impromptu trip to Hogsmeade. What’s worse was that she’s dragging you along with her, practically giving you no choice but to tag along.

Although you had no plans for the weekend but to begin studying, you were planning on staying in the dorms because temperatures were dropping to an uncomfortable low. You were in no mood to visit Hogsmeade since it did take a great deal of walking to get around. But since Yena would not shut up until you agreed to come, you were now digging through your trunk, trying to find the pair of gloves you swear you packed.

“Y/N, make haste!” Yena exclaims from downstairs, “Time is ticking!”

“If you keep speaking like we’re in the nineteenth century, I will not make haste,” you yell back. There’s a sudden urge to bang your head against your trunk. Your gloves were nowhere to be seen and now you have to accept the fact that Jack’s going to be nipping your fingertips during the entire trip.

Slamming the trunk shut, you let out a deep huff and pull your coat sleeves down over your hands.

This will have to do.

Yena makes a beeline for Honeydukes the second you make it onto Hogsmeade grounds. She’s hauling you along with her, and you do nothing to protest.

“My supply of jelly slugs are dwindling,” she mutters, throwing the door open before stepping foot inside. The warmth is comforting, especially since the two of you had been walking in the cold for the past 20 minutes, “Changbin took two packs because apparently I owed him.”

You look at her, “Why did you even give them if you weren’t even sure?” Yena’s arms are filled with jelly slug packages, cradling them as if she gave birth to them.

She shrugs, “I was actually convinced I owed him until I thought about it.” She secures the sweets and looks over at you, “Don’t you want anything?”

You scan the selection of candies and chocolates surrounding the both of you, “I suppose I can use some gum for studying.”

“Ooh, you’re right! Grab me a pack too, please!” She’s jutting her chin to gesture towards the pack of gum laid out on a nearby shelf, thanking you when you grab a pack for you both, “I’ll pay for it since I forced you to come with me.”

You don’t protest again, “Fine by me.”

Plopping all the sweets down onto the counter, you immediately see the look of horror on the employee’s face. You can read her mind—probably thinking that Yena was crazy. “I-is that all, sweetheart?” Yena nods and slides her a note before even waiting for the total.

On your way out, she’s already ripped a pack open, snacking on the slugs, “Want one?”

Before you can even reply, a male voice butts in, “Don’t mind if I do!” To accompany it, a hand slides in from your left and straight into Yena’s new bag of jelly slugs. This slightly startles the both of you, stumbling away from the new presence.

Yena groans, “Seo Changbin, you literally have the ones I gave you back at the dorms!” Yena tucks the candy into her sleeve and gives Changbin a crossed look—one that could kill.

“Wait, I want one!” Wooyoung appears from behind Changbin, who’s closely followed by Yeonjun. Both boys have their chins tucked into their jackets, hands stuffed deep in their pockets, “May I please have one?”

Yeonjun waves at you, and though you couldn’t clearly see his mouth, you can tell he was smiling because it reaches his eyes. You wave back and you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

Yena blinks for a quick moment, but then moves slowly to give the Slytherin a single slug, “Only cause you asked nicely… unlike someone over here.” She shoots Changbin another deadly glare before moving on, “What are you guys doing here?”

Wooyoung uses his thumb to point toward the castle, “We were just about to head back. You guys?”

Yena shrugs, “I’m about ninety-percent sure we were going to head back, too. Unless you have somewhere to go, Y/N?” Your best friend’s looking at you, waiting for a reply.

“Oh, uh…” you shake your head, “No.”

Yeonjun beams, “That’s great! We can all walk back together?”

You don’t notice the way Yena smirks before she agrees on behalf of the both of you, “Sure, why not?”

And before you know it, you find yourself walking alongside Yena and the boys, witnessing Changbin and Wooyoung playfully shoving each other off the path. Yeonjun takes long strides beside them, unsurprisingly condoning the play-fighting. Yena’s busy picking out specific jelly slugs from her bag, occasionally looking up to make sure she doesn’t stumble over a rock or tree root.

“If you guys hit me, you’re getting hit back,” she mutters, attention still directed towards her sweets.

Meanwhile, you’re freezing your arse off at the rear of the group. You feel the chill in the air seeping into your bones and you’re desperately blowing warm air into your hands in hopes that you won’t get frostbite.

As the castle grows closer with each step, you feel the urge to break away from the group and sprint ahead, painfully longing for the warmth of the castle. Your hands are numb, and at this point, you’re afraid that you’re never going to get sensation back, even if you go as far as sticking your limbs into fire.

The thought makes you panic. Sure it was a bit unrealistic, but still your mind rushes past a bajillion different thoughts that involve things you did with your hands. Herbology, crocheting, playing sports… what if you can’t do those anymo—

“Here.”

You blink to suck yourself back to reality, shaking your head to grasp how Yeonjun was now directly in front of you. His arm is extended, handing you something that you don’t quite recognize at first. After taking a closer look, you realize that he’s handing you over his own pair of gloves.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.”

“I know what they are,” you say softly, “But for what?”

“You’ve been breathing into your hands since we left Hogsmeade,” Yeonjun points out, “So put these on. I can take them back when we get to the castle.” He nudges the mittens towards you, urging you to take them. “Take them.”

You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at the gesture. “I’m okay. Besides, you need them, too.”

You attempt to walk around the boy but he stops you, "I don't want to see you freeze. It's either these gloves or... I hold your hands to warm them up." His voice trails off with a playful hint, and you can't help but feel your heart flutter at the thought. But as quick as the feeling came, you knock some sense back into your head before you hastily pluck the mits out of his hands.

“Good,” he grins, patting your head through your toque. As you slide your hands into the gloves, you realize they're a bit too big for you, causing them to slip off easily. You ball your hands into fists and stick them into your pockets. Then Yeonjun asks, “Hey, have you thought about the game?”

To be honest, the invitation had almost slipped your mind amidst the recent events. However, now you find yourself more open to the idea. But before you could confirm that you were willing to go, the yelling of both Wooyoung and Changbin interrupted your conversation.

Yeonjun apologizes and groans, making a beeline to the other two to calm them down.

“I swear it wasn’t this far of a walk to Hogsmeade.” Your best friend stuffs her hands into her pockets and sinks her head behind the collar of her jacket.

“No, I’m not carrying you to the castle,” Changbin looks like he turned his head 180 degrees to look back at Yena, but it was just his coat giving you the illusion.

“Who in bloody hell said I wanted to be carried by you,” Yena gags. She bends down to pick up the nearest pebble before chucking it at Changbin’s leg. The latter flinches, and again, his head spins to look at you both. He sends Yena a dirty look before maturely continuing on (mainly because Yeonjun already gave him a warning).

The five of you trek back to the school grounds in near silence, the exhaustion evident in your steps as the chilly weather envelopes the area. You wonder if Yena actually regrets going to Hogsmeade on such a gloomy day, but when you look over to check how she’s doing, she’s munching on the jelly slugs with a content expression.

As the Slytherins break off, Wooyoung bids a simple "goodbye," forcefully dragging Yeonjun along with him. He knows damn well that Yeonjun’s going to spend an extra 10 minutes talking to you when all he wants is to get back to the dorms to take a nap.

Wooyoung’s so quick to leave that the two disappear in the blink of an eye and you’re not given the chance to return Yeonjun’s mittens. Though, it was also on you for not remembering to give it back.

Yena notices how you’ve slipped the mittens off and are now staring at the pair as if they hold some sort of enchantment. “And you still haven’t fallen for him yet?” Yena smirks, eyeing the item of clothing in your hand.

“Gross, why would I?” Your face scrunches and you hold the gloves out to Changbin using your index and your thumb, “Take them. Give them back to him.”

“Please,” Yena scoffs, “Don’t lie, I know you’re all warm and fuzzy for Yeonjun.” Yena playfully pushes Changbin's arms away, preventing you from giving him the mittens, “And don’t give those to the poor boy. Return them yourself.”

"Poor boy?" Changbin questions, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

You groan, “I’m not all ‘warm and fuzzy’ for Yeonjun.” You look down at the gloves in your hands, “Obviously, I like him better than before but my feelings for him aren’t romantic.”

“Poor boy?” Changbin repeats, but seeing that you and Yena were absorbed in your own conversation, he gives up.

The three of you finally reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Yena rolls her eyes, “Mmmhmm… it’s just a matter of time before you actually start liking him like that.” She mutters the password and soon, you’re making your way into the common room. It was miraculously empty.

“What do you even mean by that?”

Yena throws her head into her hand and palms her face, “My sweet, sweet Y/N… Think about it. Not too long ago, you were constantly complaining about Yeonjun and how irritating he was. Now you’ve just confessed that you like him better than before. Guess what the next stage is?”

“Best friends,” you answer, attempting to seem nonchalant about the subject.

“You guys talk more than he and I do,” Changbin points out, snickering, “And we’re best friends.” Yena nods eagerly, gesturing to the boy as if he’s made a life-changing statement.

You shrug, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Yena speculates, “Can I point out that you were in a bad mood the four days Yeonjun barely spoke to you?”

“I was in a bad mood because of the potions exam,” you justify, “And I have you as a partner.”

“Okay, fair, but you have to admit it wasn’t all just because of that,” Yena pushes.

“I won’t because it was all because of that,” you facepalm, “You’re just saying anything at this point.” “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel at least something after all those things that’s happened this week,” Yena remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms in a challenging manner.

“Things?” Changbin’s eyes grow wide, “What things?”

“They mean nothing,” you repeat, “Just… friendly random acts of kindness, which I do appreciate. Nothing wrong with it.”

“There’s also nothing wrong with admitting that you like him at least a smidge,” Yena frowns, “I know you’re a softie at heart, and I know there’s no way that you didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy at least once.”

As Yena continues to probe about your feelings for Yeonjun, your stubborn nature kicks in, and you find yourself reluctant to admit what she’s assuming. Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that doesn't hold any significant meaning.

Right?

Besides, you weren't ready to admit something to others that you hadn't fully come to terms with yourself.

So you shake your head and deny, “Nope. Not once.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

If Yena saw how much of a fuss you were making over something as simple as returning Yeonjun's gloves, she would tease you relentlessly. So you figured that this would be a solo quest, one that required not being caught by Yena.

You stand at the doors of the hall, gloves clutched in your hands as you try to search for the Slytherin. The hall was busier than you thought, but it wasn’t intimidating. You’re not even sure why you’re worried about this. You were simply handing the gloves back and telling him that you were going to the game as friends. It really didn’t mean anything.

A sense of relief washes over you when you spot Yeonjun fooling around with Wooyoung and Changbin in a relatively empty area. This means that you can get this over with. Hand them over, tell him, then you’re done. Simple.

Working up the courage to do it, you slowly make your way down the long room, gripping the gloves tightly with one hand. When you’re near, it's Wooyoung who first catches sight of you since he happens to be facing your direction. He utters something that you couldn't quite make out, but it's accompanied by a gesture that catches the attention of Yeonjun and Changbin, prompting them to turn around.

Yeonjun lights up, which you only interpret as a smile, before he waves at you, “Y/N!”

You don't know why you’re suddenly shy, feeling yourself shrink under the attention of Yeonjun. You grin back and give them all a small wave before you take small steps, “I forgot to return these the other day.” You hold it out to him. Your arm begins to shake at the slightest, so you steady it with your other arm.

“Did you really forget or did you want to keep them?” He teases, sending a wink before gently retrieving them. He thanks you.

You feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head, “I forgot to… if it weren’t for Wooyoung who dragged you away.” You give the other Slytherin a look, “And… before I leave, I didn’t get to tell you yesterday that—”

“Choi Yeonjun,” a female voice rudely interrupts your sentence. You’re slightly shoved to the side by another Slytherin who you were not familiar with (nor did you care), taking your place in front of Yeonjun. Changbin looks like he’s about to tell her off, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kim Hyunji,” Yeonjun greets, “What brings you here?”

You start playing with the sleeves of your wool sweater, growing impatient despite the fact that the new presence has barely been there for a minute. The words being exchanged between Yeonjun and the girl soon turn into an unintelligible babble, leaving your mind unable to grasp their conversation. But judging by the way the girl grew gradually closer to Yeonjun, you didn’t need to know what was being said. The exchange goes on for a bit too long for your liking and you can feel your brows dropping to form a scowl.

As you recall the recent interactions with Yeonjun, you realize that amidst all of them, you forgot that Yeonjun was still the flirt that he was. Sure, it probably came naturally to him, but witnessing him flirt with another girl evokes a foreign feeling that tickles your chest.

“I’ll see you there, then?” Yeonjun’s words are suddenly clear and you feel something tap your chest.

“Of course I’ll be,” she replies, a smirk forming on her face as she turns to leave.

The second she’s gone, Yeonjun turns back at you, eyes softening, “Sorry, Y/N, she tends to do that a lot… what were you saying?’

As if you’ve experienced an emotional whiplash, you freeze and lose the words that you previously practiced in your head. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

What was happening?

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You swallow nervously and, in a hushed voice, you say, "I-it can wait." Without wasting a moment, you swiftly leave the room, your hand instinctively moving to your head as you try to make sense of your confusion.

Finding the nearest bench outside of the hall, you sit down and catch your breath, unable to focus on anything else that was going on around you.

“Y/N?” Your eyes meet Yena's, and without hesitation, she takes the empty seat next to you, her brows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, trying to explain exactly what you’re feeling, “What does being jealous feel like?”

Yena hums to indicate that she’s thinking. She presses her lips into a thin line and looks around, “I think the best way to describe it is kinda like… you want to squash whoever you’re jealous of with a boot.”

You’re not sure if that was even an accurate way to describe jealousy, but the way Yena describes it is exactly how you felt with Hyunji. Sure, you’d never ever condone physical aggression, but if you had the power to pull her out of that conversation with Yeonjun like a mandrake, you would.

“Bloody hell,” you mutter. Because why in Merlin’s name would a single cell in your body be feeling jealousy in that situation? You have no right being jealous of this girl. Not when you don’t have feelings for Yeonjun.

Yena’s ears perk up and lean closer, “Bloody hell? What do you mean bloody hell?”

Unless… you do have feelings for Yeonjun.

Which could explain every odd thing that’s been happening to you. The way you practically dreaded the days when Yeonjun spoke to you so minimally. The way Yeonjun has made your heart skip more beats than one. The way you were feeling jealous over some girl you’ve never met before.

Maybe you did have feelings for Yeonjun and maybe it was time that you had to accept them.

“And what does it mean if someone makes my heart race?”

Yena’s jaw drops, finally processing what’s going on. You didn’t even need to explicitly say Yeonjun’s name to indicate that this was about him. She saw it coming. But she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. She’ll let you tell her yourself, “Depends… is it in a good or bad way?”

“I suppose…” you blink, “Both?” Confirmed, Yena holds back a smile, “It means you like that someone a lot.”

V. AND THE DITTANY

No you weren’t avoiding Yeonjun on purpose.

You do embarrassingly admit that you’re afraid to see him after the whole ‘realizing your feelings’ ordeal, but it's as if the universe decided to give you a break today and made sure you and Yeonjun wouldn't cross paths.

By some stroke of luck, or perhaps the mischievous workings of fate, today was a day that you and Yeonjun did not share one class apart from herbology, which had miraculously been cancelled at the very last minute. It seemed almost magical that you didn't cross each other's paths at all during the entire school day.

To be wise with your time, you took the day away from Yeonjun in an attempt to think the situation through. Because what do you do now?

Do you just drop the bomb on him like, ‘oh hey, I like you by the way!” Or should you keep it a secret for a bit to build momentum?

Yena was quick to advise that you should confess ASAP, “And preferably at the quidditch game! Imagine how cute! You’re cheering for him and only him… and when the snakes win, you’re going to be there and—” Then you interrupted her because you weren’t completely sure if that was even the best way to go about it.

But if you think about it, Yeonjun was a simple guy. You could tell through the way he did decide to show you that his feelings were genuine—bullocks! He paid attention to all you had to say in herbology, asked his own mother to send your favourite snacks just to give them to you… he didn’t hesitate to make you feel better the day you were stressed for an exam.

Hell, even before you confronted him, Yeonjun had been showering you with the sweetest gestures that you could only now fully appreciate.

If only you could knock some sense into your past self.

“The library will be closing soon,” you look up and find the library’s student assistant, an apologetic smile sitting rather awkwardly on his face. With a nod, you wait for him to leave, giving yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. You begin collecting your things, the fatigue from the long day making your eyes feel strained and exhausted. Almost as if they could pop out of their sockets with the slightest blink.

As you make your way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, you hear shuffling far behind you before you suddenly hear your name being called out. You turn around to see who it was, and to your surprise, it's Yeonjun, running down the empty corridor with his arms waving frantically to get your attention.

When he finally catches up to you, you greet him with a shy smile, “Yeonjun.”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he says, a pout appearing on his lips, “I was looking forward to herbology because I finally got to see you, but curse Professor Longbottom for eating bad soup.”

Your stomach flutters at his nonchalant comment and you feel shoving your head into the nearest bush, “Yeah, haha… What are you doing here?”

“I was just going on a stroll to clear my head,” he grins, “Are you heading back to your dormitory?”

You nod.

“Well, let me walk you back then,” Yeonjun offers and you don’t protest. If you hadn’t seen Yeonjun all day, at least you had this, “Don’t want evil creatures creeping up on you.”

You give him a look, “Don’t be silly. There aren’t any evil creatures on the school grounds.”

“I know,” Yeonjun snickers, “It’s just an excuse for me to walk you anyway. But my intuition is telling me that you would have let me regardless.” He leans forward and down to your height, pretending to search your eyes for answers, but you don’t budge.

“Your intuition is wrong,” you say, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Never. At least, not this time,” Yeonjun shakes his head, “Anyways, I’m happy I bumped into you because I was going to ask you if you’ve decided on coming to the game.”

“That… that was what I was going to tell you the other day with the gloves but—”

“But Hyunji, I know,” Yeonjun nods, “I know it sounds like I invited her to the game but since she’s a Slytherin, she was going to go anyways and—” Yeonjun sighs and pauses to find words to explain the situation, “I want you to know that you were the only one I invited.”

The tone in Yeonjun’s voice takes you by surprise. You can tell that he still has his mind set on proving to you that he has feelings for you and no one else. You frown, “Yeonjun… I know you’re only telling me this because of what I told you that day during potions but… I want to tell you now that I believe you.”

Yeonjun’s face lights up and questions, “You do?”

You nod bashfully, “I realized it that day on the way back from Hogsmeade.”

Yeonjun wishes he could tell how much that meant to him, a feeling of relief washing over him like soft waves, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For believing,” he grins, “It’s one step closer to making you like me.” Yeonjun winks before his eyes squeeze shut, breaking into a wide smile. His expression fills with an exaggerated appearance of triumph.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Choi Yeonjun,” You laugh at the irony, “Anyways, I was saying that I will be going to the game.”

“You are—”

“For Jongho,” you tease, “The best beater of the team.”

“You don’t even know Jongho!” Yeonjun exclaims, “How can you—”

“I’m joking,” you poke the side of his arm and roll your eyes, “I’m going for you. The only one who invited me.”

“In that case, I’ll lend you some facepaint and my extra jersey—” He stops when he sees the look you’re giving him, “Just the face paint then?”

Although a small part of you would have wanted to wear his jersey, you were still currently keeping your feelings to yourself. Rejecting the jersey before and suddenly accepting it would look a bit too suspicious, “I suppose that would be fine.”

You don’t realize that you’re at the portrait and you can’t help but feel a bit bummed that the walk was over. It was too short. You barely had the opportunity to talk with Yeonjun about anything else, “I’ll see you then?”

Yeonjun nods, a smile reaching his eyes, “Yes I will.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The day of the game, you, Yena, and Changbin found yourselves in search of ways to pass the time before it was time to head for the pitch. There was truly nothing to do, so you all opted on taking the longest route around the castle possible.

The three of you were dressed in any green item of clothing you could find in your packed clothes, agreeing that it would have been odd if you all showed up in Gryffindor attire. If you were there to cheer for Yeonjun, you all had to at least look the part.

Yena takes the opportunity to fill the silence, bubbling with excitement as she talks about the day's upcoming events, specifically your plan to finally confess your feelings to Yeonjun. She knows that you weren't keen on going along with her previous ideas, so she gave you the freedom to come up with your own plan. “Tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“Well,” you begin hesitantly. Truthfully, you have not found the time to think the plan through, opting to just ‘wing it’ when the time came, “I was just thinking of simply telling him?”

“That’s the most rubbish plan I’ve heard in my years of living,” Yena blinks.

Changbin snorts, “I don’t even think that’s considered a plan.”

You scowl and give them both a look, “I just don’t want to make too much of a fuss.”

“I know you don’t,” Yena blinks, “But there’s something missing.”

“This is going to be gross,” Changbin grumbles, completely ignoring the problem, “I don’t want to see you and Yeonjun getting all mushy-gushy around me!”

You physically jump, “You could have used any other term and you settled for ‘mushy-gushy’...”

“I’m serious!” The boy exclaims, “I support you two… getting together… but please don’t be those couples that do PDA in the halls.”

“You really think Y/N would do that? She would never…” Yena scoffs. Then she looks over at you with a slight glint of fear in her eyes, “R-right Y/N?”

You nod, “Never. And I give you both permission to knock me into my senses if I do.”

From a distance, the sound of rapid footsteps reach your ears, gradually growing louder and closer.

“Why… in Merlin’s… beard… are you all… the way…” Wooyoung gulps as if he could catch his breath easier, “Back here?” He’s clutching items in his hands and he holds them out for any of you to take them, “Yeonjun said… oh, bloody hell.”

You watch him catch his breath for a couple of long moments before he starts again, “Yeonjun said he forgot to give you these.” Reluctantly, you take them to get a better look. Turns out, it was just two small cans of silver and green face paint, “He was going to give you them himself but he was called in by the coach for a pre-game talk.”

“You ran to find us just for this?” you say, “You could have just met us at the game.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, “Nope, I was sent to find you.” He takes in the outfits that you three were wearing, “It looks odd seeing you all in something that isn’t black, red, or gold.”

Something in Wooyoung’s comment causes something to click in Yena’s head, brows shooting up, “Jung Wooyoung, can you help us out?”

“Depends…” Wooyoung says carefully, “What’s in it for me?”

“I can’t believe you made me steal one of Yeonjun’s extra uniforms,” Wooyoung groans, unamused. He’s out of breath again, having to run back to the Slytherin dormitories and to a chosen meet up spot next to the bathroom.

“We’re not stealing, we’re borrowing,” Yena rolls her eyes, grabbing the jersey from Wooyoung, “Besides you could have said no.” Without another word, your friend grabs your wrist and pulls you into the bathroom.

“Put it on,” Yena says, “And then we can paint your face.”

“You seem more excited than I am,” your voice is laced with equal parts intrigue and nervousness. Finally giving in to wearing Yeonjun's jersey (and without him knowing) was something even you didn’t expect, especially since you had turned down the idea before.

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to even fret about,” Yena scoffs, helping you tug the larger jersey on, “Okay, now for the facepaint.”

Yena was wrong. Sure, you knew Yeonjun’s feelings for you were reciprocated, but there was just something about confessing your feelings that was downright terrifying.

Positioning herself in front of you, your best friend blocks your view of the mirror, and with a mischievous grin, dips her fingers into the paint. Without any hesitation, she begins painting the right side of your face, her touch gentle and precise. You can feel her fingers tracing a swoop underneath your eye and on your cheek bones. With the same maneuver, she moves to the left side of your face, creating another swoop, but this time, just overtop your brow bone.

“And for fun,” Yena presses dots on your left cheek and right brow bone to create a reverse image on your face, “Okay, now take a look.” She backs away from you, letting you look into the mirror.

You couldn’t help but cringe at the silver and green paint on your face, not to mention the green jersey you were donning. You looked like you were a Slytherin, which in this case was a good thing, but it still pained your inner Gryffindor.

“You look cute, even though you’re wearing green and silver,” Yena smiles, “Anyways, we should get going. The game starts soon and we need good seats for your boyfriend to see you~”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you groan childishly. She drags you back out the bathroom, causing you to stumble out through the doors and in line of sight of Wooyoung and Changbin.

“He will be soon enough.”

“Traitor!” Changbin jokes, pointing to you, “Gryffindor’s got a traitor!”

“Can you shut your mouth or I’m stuffing it with the first critter I find in this castle,” you say through gritted teeth.

Changbin puts his arms up in a feigned surrender, “Can’t believe you’re doing this all for Yeonjun.”

“You look pretty Slytherin-y,” Wooyoung nods in approval, “You’re going to knock him off of his broom.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Welcome to the final game of the season!” The announcer, Soobin, delivers, “Today… Slytherin versus Hufflepuff!” Soobin’s voice is followed by whoops and whistles, livening up the stands. You’re cheering alongside everyone else, feeling the nerves begin to dissipate as your attention is directed toward the game.

You can see the players are making rounds in the air, getting a feel of the pitch before the game begins. Your eyes try to spot Yeonjun, who, at first, was nowhere to be found.

“Where is he?” you whisper. The players zoom by so quickly that they appear as mere blurs, their movements too swift for your eyes to track.

Slowly, the players start taking their positions at the center, facing each other as they wait for the referee to release the snitch, the bludgers, and the quaffle. And there, right by the goals, you spot him, positioned next to who you assumed is Jongho. You feel a kick of energy take over your system and you begin shouting for the green team (mostly Yeonjun).

As if he had a sixth sense, Yeonjun feels your gaze on him. When he manages to find you in the small sea of people his face lights up. His nose scrunches up as he playfully waves, all before he puckers his lips and sends a blown kiss your way.

And although you’re supposed to be used to Choi Yeonjun’s flirty antics, you’re left stunned and internally screaming, unsure of how to react in that moment. You're lucky Yeonjun doesn't catch sight of all this, too busy refocusing on the game that was about to begin.

“The game begins! The Hufflepuffs have taken possession of the quaffle!” You hear Soobin’s voice boom over the speakers.

Although you weren't much of a regular at Quidditch games like the other wizards, you did understand the appeal. The current game was thrilling, both teams proving their worth as the score remains neck and neck. But to be embarrassingly honest, the first two periods seemed like a blur to you, as most of your attention was shamelessly focused on Yeonjun.

“Make sure your eyes stay in your head, now,” Yena teases, leaning over to whisper, “You have all the time in the world after this.”

“Am I being that obvious,” you freeze, eyes widening.

Yena nods, “Yeah, but only to me because I know. I don’t think anyone around here would notice you staring at him.”

Changbin butts in, “I noticed.”

“And no one asked,” Yena redirects Changbin’s head to the game.

Just as Yena leans in to whisper another comment, the booming voice of Soobin echoes through the speakers, announcing, "Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun is currently taking on two bludgers!"

Your gaze snaps towards the pitch, searching for Yeonjun in the sky. True to Soobin's words, you spot Yeonjun veering away from the bludgers that chase after him. The determination etched on his face is evident as he’s trying to carefully time his swings to counter the oncoming attacks. Jongho trails closely behind, swinging his bat in an effort to redirect at least one bludger off course, but his attempts fail.

“Can bludgers even do that?” Wooyoung yells, “They can’t, right?”

Changbin and Yena shrug while your attention is still entirely on Yeonjun. “C’mon, Yeonjun,” you mutter underneath your breath.

Everyone around you seemed to be holding their breath, their eyes fixated on Yeonjun. It feels as if time has slowed down, with the entire crowd sharing a collective sense of anticipation. The other players were, for the time being, long forgotten, completely uncertain about what’s going to happen next.

Was Yeonjun going to be able to out-fly the bludgers or was he going to be knocked?

As you watch Yeonjun continue to fly, you can't quite tell if the bludgers are picking up speed or if he was slowing down. But you’re sure of one thing, the gap between Yeonjun and those bludgers was closing in fast—so close that you found yourself bracing for impact.

“He’s hit!” Soobin yells through the microphone, which was closely followed by a whistle.

Your eyes widen in shock as Yeonjun, in a desperate attempt to regain balance on his broom, slips and loses control of the broom. Before anyone could even process what was happening, the broom shoots straight to the ground, taking Yeonjun with it.

You're left speechless, leaning over the railing of the stands in disbelief, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. A group of adults rush to Yeonjun's aid, their faces etched with concern and panic. It doesn't look good from where you're standing, and a wave of worry washes over you.

“I-I need to go down there!” you speak before you think. Your grip around the railings is so tight that your knuckles are ghost white.

Yena shakes her head, “I know you want to be sure he’s okay, but look how much people are down there already.” She’s right, there were tens of people already surrounding the boy and it wouldn’t be a good idea adding to the chaos.

“Bloody bludgers,” Wooyoung mutters, “Since when did they do that? I’ve never seen bludgers do that.”

Your heart’s pumping, beating against your chest while you try to anticipate any news on Yeonjun. The stands sound like beehives, eyes trained on the situation happening down below.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Soobin’s voice returns through the speakers, “I have been informed that Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun will be okay but will be taken to the infirmary for care. The game will start again shortly.”

“I’m leaving,” you say flatly.

“Wait, Y/N,” Yena stops you, “I don’t think they’ll let you visit him right now, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I’m going back to the dorms,” you frown, “I can’t keep watching the game if I know Yeonjun’s hurt.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

And you don’t refuse her offer, mainly because you’re still stunned by what just happened, before bidding the boys goodbye.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The following day, you made it your mission to visit Yeonjun in the infirmary. According to Wooyoung, hadn't returned to the dorms overnight, so you expect that he’s still there and resting.

“Hello, sweetheart,” the nurse behind a desk greets you, a smile reaching her tired eyes, “May I help you?”

You glance into the infirmary and notice that only two beds are occupied. They were both indicated with privacy screens, “I’m here to visit somebody. He was brought here last night. Choi Yeonjun.”

She nods and you watch her gentle smile slowly transform into a knowing one, “He’s in the occupied bed to your right. I believe he’s still asleep, but you can wait for him to wake up if you’d like.”

You thank her and quietly make your way to Yeonjun’s makeshift room. There's this nagging feeling that visiting him is a bit strange, like you're going out of your way for a guy you're not supposed to be crushing on. But then you remember that Yeonjun is also your friend. Friends check up on each other when they're down, right? So, here you are, paying him a visit like a good pal.

You peek around the screen and see that Yeonjun was, in fact, asleep. Your eyes catch sight of a broken left arm and some bandages that were wrapped around his other arm and his head. He was laying on his side, using his good arm to support his head.

You couldn’t help but frown at the sight of an injured Yeonjun, sitting down at a chair already pushed up near the bed.

“Damn, bludgers,” you mutter, scanning over his injuries one more time. They weren’t the worst injuries, but they were still injuries that needed to be treated.

Treated.

You gasp quietly, almost forgetting what you had brought with you. Digging into your pocket, you fish out a container of ointment that you and your grandma had managed to concoct a few weeks before the year had started. It was the ointment with the dittany. The one you remember telling Yeonjun about.

You swear by your grandma’s recipe.

Leaning back in your chair, you run your thumb over the lid of the container, deep in thought. The room is filled with an overwhelming silence, and Yena's voice echoes in your mind, urging you to confess your feelings to Yeonjun and make him feel better. However, you decide to prioritize his well-being for now, putting your confession on hold and focusing on ensuring that Yeonjun is okay.

Then you can practically hear Changbin gagging from how awfully ‘mushy-gushy’ the decision was.

Air shoots out of your nose when you huff out a laugh.

With a sigh, you shift your focus back to the injured boy who was still sound asleep.

At least who you thought was sound asleep.

As you turn your attention back to Yeonjun, you catch him staring right at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. It's almost as if he had been waiting to get caught in the act.

“Yeonjun!?” You exclaim, nearly jumping out of your seat, “Why are you just sitting there and staring at me!?” The nurse shushes you, and you quickly quiet down, collecting yourself. You’re tempted to hit his shoulder, but you remember that he’s injured, “How long have you been awake for?”

Yeonjun doesn't bother answering your question; instead, he leans in, locking eyes with you. The look he gives you is soft, and his lips form a gentle smile. You feel your cheeks heat up, your chest doing the same as you shrink back into your chair.

“What?”

“You like me.”

You freeze and begin to panic. How were you supposed to react to that? You were supposed to be having a conversation about how he was feeling… if he has a concussion… you were supposed to be giving him the dittany ointment you brought with you… but not this.

“N-no I don’t!” you try your best to keep composure, gulping a growing lump in your throat.

“Why else would you be here to visit me?” Yeonjun’s nose scrunches, “You care about me.” His head tilts to the side, still training his eyes on you, “I think it was about time.”

At this point, your heart’s running a mile a minute and the room’s growing hot. What were you supposed to do? You were still in the position to deny everything. That, no, you weren’t here because you liked him. You could say you did care about him but as a friend. It worked. Besides, you were here strictly to make sure he was well. Not to confess.

But then again, this was practically an opportunity that was beckoning for you to go for it and take the chance. Yeonjun was making it easy for you. So, why not?

"And what if I do like you?" You narrow your eyes at him, a playful smile forming on your lips. "Did you forget that you like me, too?"

“Wait, what?” Yeonjun’s eyes widen and his jaw drops to his chest, “You’re not joking right?”

“Joking about what?”

“A-about you liking me,” he stammers. Yeonjun shuffles in his bed, trying his best to sit up, “I-I was just joking about you liking me… I didn’t think that… you’d actually agree to it.”

“Why would I joke about that?” you frown.

“I-I don’t know,” Yeonjun begins to play with the edge of his blanket. He’s a stuttering mess and he can’t seem to muster up the confidence he’s always had around you. It was an odd feeling. He’s never been on this end before, “You’re really… not joking?”

“I would never joke about that,” you shake your head.

“A-are you sure you’re not joking,” Yeonjun repeats, “Like really?” He hopes that he’s not visibly sweating through his bandages and that you can’t hear the hint of nervousness in the tone of his voice. There was even a part of him that thinks that he’s just woken up in a dream and in reality, he’s still passed out on the infirmary bed and recovering from his fall.

What… What if he’s not actually alive right now and his brain is shamelessly walking through his dreams?

Nope. Too much.

He knows that this was real life solely because he could still feel a mix of both stinging and dull pain in his broken arm.

“Choi Yeonjun, I really am not joking!” you groan, frustration evident in your voice. "Do I need to provide you with evidence? Because I can't even pinpoint when I started liking you! It just... happened, okay?"

Yeonjun takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his expression shifting. He realizes you're not joking. Like, really not joking.

You really do like him back.

At the realization, a surge of confidence washes over him and that playful smile that you’ve grown familiar with appears on Yeonjun’s lips.

"You can... prove it to me with a kiss," he suggests, his voice tinged with anticipation. Yeonjun can’t quite read your expression, so he quickly follows up his cheeky proposal with, “Only if you’re okay with it! But I’m just… saying that I’m okay with it.”

Yeonjun's gaze drops, and he focuses on the imprint of his toes in the blanket as he waits for your reply. He hears you shift in your chair and soon he feels a looming presence right by his cheek. He feels a rush of warmth from your breath, causing a shiver to run down his spine and momentarily freezing him in place.

With a mix of nerves and excitement, Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest. He's not entirely sure what to expect, but the hopeful part of him believes that you might be leaning in for that suggested kiss. Just as he thinks you might lean in for the kiss, he feels a gentle peck on his cheek.

You pull back, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "There," you tease.

Yeonjun's cheeks flush a tint of red, “T-There?”

“Was that not enough to prove it?”

He pouts, “I was… expecting it to be…” Yeonjun gestures to his lips in the cutest way possible. He appeared to be genuinely confused, brows furrowing, “To be…” He’s too embarrassed to say it out loud.

You playfully roll your eyes and lean in once again, aiming for a gentle peck on the corner of Yeonjun's lips. But Yeonjun's curiosity drives him to turn his head toward you, causing your lips to meet.

The contact of his chapped lips on yours catches you off guard, sending what felt like jolts of electricity through your body. For a moment, you consider pulling away, afraid that you've made a mistake, but the gentle hold of Yeonjun's arm around your forearm anchors you in place, easing your nerves. It was like his own way of saying it was okay if you were okay with it too, allowing you both to melt into the kiss.

There’s a brief second that you both forget that you’re sitting in the infirmary of the castle, the world around you fading into the background. All you could hear is the muffled sound of your heart knocking against your chest, and you’re hoping and praying that Yeonjun doesn’t hear it.

Just as Yeonjun brings himself to deepen the kiss, you’re both interrupted by the voice of a certain Gryffindor, “This is exactly what I was afraid of!”

You turn to find Changbin with a bouquet of flowers (which he had obviously picked from the castle grounds’ bushes) and a rather appalled expression on his face. He lets out an exasperated groan before turning away, muttering under his breath as he walks off. His voice fades off into the distance, “I’ll be back later… won’t be mushy-gushy my arse… I wonder if there’s a spell that’s equivalent to bleaching my eyes…”

You and Yeonjun exchange a glance and burst into fits of laughter, unable to contain the hilarity of the situation. Of all people, it just had to be Changbin who walked in at that moment.

As the laughter subsides, you both catch your breath, still wearing wide smiles on your faces. You and Yeonjun settle back into the moment. The interruption may have momentarily disrupted the moment, but it also added a touch of light-heartedness to the intensity of your feelings.

“So…” You say, “Did I prove it to you?”

Yeonjun's warm gaze meets yours, his voice filled with certainty, "That was more than enough to prove it."

If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for taking the time to read this! It would be cool to hear what your fav part/'chapter' was (I'm a curious person)! If not, it's okay, I'm still thankful you read this! <33

#fav besties trio lesgetit

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nitakvi · 3 months ago

Text

lesgetit to 400 notes

死 KKANGPAE | #13 死

† the wound that always bleeds †

"Like a mathematical equation, turns out sleeping next to a warm body has always been the solution, which to Jungkook is ironic. Just how ironic it is to Taehyung, that Jeon keeps pretending he's above everything and everyone."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6,5k

rating: mature

content: walk of shame (not), sharing secrets, best friend gossip, 8 hours of sleep for jeon (yay), v's sadistic streak shining through, v being a psychotic lil' shit, takama stepping in to save the day, v ruining lives for the fun of it and jimin being too soft for his own good (why do i always do this shit to jimin bro)

☠ author's note ☠

First of all, Kiki Nation on Tumblr is FUCKING UNHINGED. The goal was 200 notes and it took y'all less than 24 hours. I'm flabbergasted. But also it was smut so... understandable. I see you, horny little gremlins. I respect your dedication.

So here's chapter 13! (I had to proofread this while revising tax law so if something doesn't make sense, it's your fault somehow. Don't question my logic.)

AHHHHH I finally got to show off V's more psychotic nature! His little sadistic side coming out to play! He's such a little shit I love him. Writing characters with mental instability is my emotional support activity.

Well well well, things are slowly unveiling, huh? So what the fuck happened?! Who is Sylvia?! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

That's for me to know and you to lose sleep over for now (◕‿◕✿)

You know, sometimes I genuinely forget you don't have access to the absolute chaos that is my brain. Like it's genuinely hard for me to understand this from an outside perspective because I have the whole plot mapped out in excruciating detail, but you're still in the dark and it's like—is it too obvious? Is it too vague? AM I BEING COHERENT?

The eternal struggle of writing mysteries when you already know the answer. It's like trying to play poker while everyone can see your cards except you think they can't but maybe they can a little bit?? This is why I don't sleep.

Anyway, that's it for now! Love you all, you enablers of my questionable coping mechanisms! (ง •̀_•́)ง

EDIT: If you haven’t read the prologue… you must. Otherwise this is going to be hard to understand bahahaha.

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The alarm rips through your dreams like a knife, and god—you've never hated a sound more in your life.

Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead, your body heavy with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from... well. Last night's activities.

The blankets are so warm, and you smell like pine and sex and masculine. Just five more minutes...

Then reality bitch-slaps you awake. You're in Jeon's tent. At dawn. Which is exactly where you're not supposed to be.

His leg is thrown over yours, arm draped across your waist like he's trying to keep you there. It's almost... cute?

No, not cute. Definitely not cute. Just annoying. And inconvenient.

You nudge him with your elbow, trying to wiggle free without fully waking him. The grunt he makes is surprisingly soft.

"Stay still..." His voice is rough with sleep, half-muffled against your shoulder. "Just five more minutes. Let me doze off again before you go."

You huff but stop moving. It's just five minutes, right? Not like anyone's awake yet anyway. And he's so warm, his breath steady against your skin.

It's... nice. In a way that's probably dangerous.

His breathing evens out quickly, dropping back into sleep. The mighty Chief Jeon, passed out and cuddling. If you weren't so tired, you'd probably laugh.

When you finally ease out from under him, his body twitches slightly—this tiny, unconscious movement that's so unexpectedly human.

It's so weird seeing him like this, soft and sleep-warm skin. Almost makes you forget he's the gang's deadliest assassin.

Or one of them, if you consider V.

Better not tell Jeon you thought that, anyway.

You wiggle back into your clothes as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him—leggings, panties, bra, that stupid crewneck that started all this. No need to give the rest of the camp a morning show.

You crawl out of his tent like the trained seductress you are—silent and graceful. Well, as graceful as anyone can be at ass o'clock in the morning.

The camp is dead quiet except for the occasional snore from distant tents.

Your heart doesn't stop hammering until you're safely away from his tent. The morning air hits your skin, fresh and sharp, washing away the lingering scent of pine and sex.

With each step, you build up that sense of normalcy that someone who didn't fuck a chief last night should wear. No walk of shame here—just a perfectly normal morning stroll. Nothing to see.

The portable table catches your eye as you pass—someone's left out water bottles and snacks like offerings to the gods of late-night hookups. You grab a bottle, the plastic cool against your palm. The water helps, but it doesn't quite wash away the taste of him.

Not that you're thinking about that. Nope. Not at all.

You take another sip of water, trying to convince yourself you're totally fine with how things went down.

(You're not.)

Because seriously—what kind of assassin doesn't carry protection? The absolute audacity of Jeon, walking around looking like that, with those hands and that mouth and those fucking bedroom eyes, and not being prepared?

Criminal. Actually criminal.

Not that you're thinking about his hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd worked you up so perfectly, taking you apart piece by piece until you were shaking.

You drain half the water bottle in one go, but it doesn't help. Your body's still humming with leftover want, still craving more than just grinding and kisses.

Because fuck—it was good, but you know it could've been better. Could've had him filling you up, stretching you open, making you see stars...

If only he had brought condoms with him.

"Fucking hell," you mutter, slightly crushing bottle. The plastic crackles satisfyingly in your grip.

You can't even properly be mad at him. Not when he'd made sure you came first, not when he'd been so attentive to every little sound and movement.

But still.

The fact that you'd been this close to getting properly railed by Chief Jeon, only to be cockblocked by his own lack of preparation?

Infuriating.

Your core throbs at the memory of his cock pressed against you, at how big he'd felt even through layers of fabric. God, the things he could've done to you if he'd just—

Fucking stupid sniper. The audacity of leaving you wanting more.

And oh, there will be a next time. You're getting that dick properly, even if you have to staple condoms to his fucking forehead.

Because someone who looks like that and kisses like that and uses his hands like that? Yeah. You're not done with him yet.

"Good morning."

JM's soft voice yanks you out of your definitely-not-horny thoughts. He looks adorably rumpled, all oversized sweater and messy salmon hair. His cheeks are pink from the cold morning air, making him look even softer than usual.

"Morning," you manage, grateful that your voice sounds normal.

He takes a sip from his own water bottle and you mirror him, mostly to have something to do with your hands.

"Sleep well?" You ask because it's polite, and also because talking about sleep is way better than thinking about what you were doing instead of sleeping last night.

His smile is warm and genuine. "Yeah, I did. And you?"

"Yeah." You nod, aiming for casual.

Like you didn't spend half the night grinding against Chief fucking Jeon. Like you're not still feeling the ghost of his hands on your skin.

Just a normal morning chat. Nothing to see here.

You give JM a quick wave and head back to your tent, trying not to look suspicious. Like you didn't just spend the night getting railed—well, almost railed by his coworker.

God, that's weird to think about.

When you peek inside, Yunjin's already stirring, one eye cracked open in the dim light.

"Y/N?" Her voice is thick with sleep.

"Yeah, it's me." You whisper back, watching her untangle herself from Eunchae, who's apparently decided Yunjin makes an excellent teddy bear.

It's kind of adorable, actually.

She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. When she looks at you again, her brow furrows.

"You didn't sleep here?"

You open your mouth, ready to spill everything—about Jeon's hands and his mouth and how fucking good he'd been—but snap it shut. Not exactly tent-appropriate conversation.

"No."

Her eyes go wide, and she leans in close. "Did you sleep outside? In the freezing cold?"

"No, no, I didn't sleep—" You cut yourself off, suddenly very aware of all the sleeping bodies around you.

The tent walls might as well be tissue paper when it comes to privacy. A quick check outside confirms you're clear.

You duck back in, keeping your voice low. "We can't talk about this here."

You can see the exact moment sleep leaves Yunjin's eye, replaced by that familiar spark of gossip-hungry curiosity. Her lips curl into a grin that says she knows something juicy is coming.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 5." She's already reaching for her clothes, suddenly very awake.

You duck out of the tent to give her privacy, leaning against a nearby pine tree. The bark digs into your back through your clothes, but you welcome the discomfort. Keeps you from getting lost in memories of other things that were digging into you last night...

Nope. Not thinking about Jeon's hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd—

Fuck.

When Yunjin finally emerges, her pink hair is a mess and she's practically vibrating with curiosity. You tilt your head toward the edge of camp, where the trees grow thicker. Perfect for spilling secrets that definitely shouldn't reach certain ears.

You find a fallen log away from the other tents, tucked between snow-dusted pines. The wood is freezing through your pants, but whatever. Some things are worth a cold ass.

Yunjin plops down next to you, already leaning in close. She smells like campfire smoke and cotton candy.

"So, what's going on? You look like you've been through hell and back."

More like heaven and back, but you're not about to say that out loud.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. The memory of his hands, his mouth, his everything makes your pulse skip.

"Jeon happened."

"Jeon?" Yunjin's eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into her forehead. "As in, Mr. I'll-Kill-You-With-My-Thumb Jeon? That Jeon? What the hell did he do now?"

There's teasing in her voice but you catch the flash of concern in her eye.

Sweet, but unnecessary.

"He didn't do anything... wrong." God, your face is burning. "We were alone and things got... intense."

"Intense how?" She draws out the words, scoffing. "Did you two fight each other to death—?"

"It's not like that." You cut her off before she can get carried away. "I mean, we did fight at first but then—well—"

You gesture vaguely, like that explains everything.

"We didn't plan it. It just... happened."

"What happened?"

She crosses her arms, looking supremely unconvinced. Then, presses her lips together, biting back a smile.

"So what, you got stuck and stepbro came to your rescue—"

"Yunjin!" You slap a hand over her mouth, mortified.

Your skin's still tingling with phantom touches and she's out here making porn references? You drop your hand with a scowl that's only half-serious.

Looking anywhere but at her knowing grin, you mutter, "it was mutual."

The words come out barely above a whisper, like saying it too loud might summon him. Or worse—his ego.

Yunjin's smirk turns absolutely feral. "Oh my god, I knew there was something brewing between you two since the croissant thing. Come on, spill the dirty details."

You laugh, but your neck's getting hot just thinking about it. Leaning closer, you drop your voice even lower.

"Well, one minute we were fighting, and the next..."

You tell her about his hands, his mouth, the way he'd taken you apart piece by piece. How every touch had felt like lightning under your skin.

"He's like a fucking storm," you try to explain, but words feel inadequate.

How do you describe the tempest that is Jeon?

"And?" She's practically bouncing now, pink hair falling in her face as she leans in.

"And it was... intense. Like our bodies just clicked, you know? The way he touched me, the way he moved..."

"Holy shit." Yunjin lets out a low whistle. "Sounds like Chief Murder-Eyes knows how to fuck. I'm almost jealous."

You can't help but laugh, relief flooding through you at finally being able to talk about it. "I mean, we didn't actually—you know. No condoms. But still, with everything going on... with the gang and the rules..."

"Well, it's just fucking, right?" She cuts in, voice matter-of-fact. "You didn't break any rules."

Her words hit different, reassuring—exactly what you'd said to Jeon last night.

Right. No strings attached. Just two people scratching an itch.

"Yeah." You shrug, aiming for casual. "Just some good ol' fucking."

Yunjin's laugh is warm, understanding. "Well then, there's nothing to worry about. Just be careful. Jeon's not just any guy. From what I've heard, he's got layers, and not all of them are pretty."

You snort, rolling your eyes.

"Pffft, I know." You lean back. "I only have eyes for the pretty. And his dick."

That sets you both off cackling like teenagers sharing secrets behind the bleachers. It feels good to laugh about it, to make light of something that could've been way more complicated.

Yunjin stands, brushing pine needles off her pants. "Well, I gotta head back before they start sending out search parties for us. But we'll talk more about this later, yeah?"

"Yeah, later."

You're grateful she's not making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Just two adults having some mind-blowing- well, almost mind-blowing sex. No feelings, no drama.

She punches your shoulder playfully before heading back to camp, leaving you alone with memories of callouses on your skin and that fucking lip ring against your mouth.

Not that you're thinking about round two.

The early morning light bleeds through the tent, and for the first time—his eyes are not open to perceive it.

Jungkook stirs slowly, consciousness creeping in like the dawn. His hand reaches out, seeking the familiar cold touch of his phone screen.

Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Eight fucking hours without a single nightmare clawing at his mind. No cold sweats, no jolting awake with a scream lodged in his throat.

Just... peace.

His eyes drift to the empty space beside him, still holding a ghost of warmth where you had been. The indent in his pillow, the lingering scent of chai tea mixed with his pine—evidence that last night wasn't just a fevered dream.

Interesting.

The tactician in him can't help but analyze this development.

Eight hours of proper sleep, achieved simply by having another body next to his. The data suggests a correlation worth exploring. It's purely scientific interest, of course —nothing to do with how your quiet breathing had somehow matched his own, creating a rhythm that had lulled him into the deepest sleep he'd had in months.

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile.

Who would have thought that the solution to his insomnia would be so... straightforward?

Just add another warm body to the equation.

Simple.

Efficient.

The gang's best sniper, finally getting proper rest because of a quick hookup.

There's probably irony in there somewhere.

Jungkook stretches, feeling unusually light. His muscles are loose, relaxed in a way that has nothing to do with the previous night's activities.

Well, not entirely due to them.

Eight hours.

He could get used to this.

Jungkook sits up, letting the cool morning air hit his skin. Eight hours of actual sleep has him feeling... different. Not better, exactly. Just less like death warmed over.

He takes his time straightening his tent—a habit drilled into him and not voluntarily.

When he makes it outside, the camp is quiet except for the occasional bird call. His hands find his pockets as he heads toward the mess area, following the siren call of caffeine. The neat row of coffee cans almost makes up for sleeping on the ground.

Almost.

But then he sees V.

And just like that, his rare good mood evaporates.

Evaporates fast.

Jungkook's tongue clicks—automatic. His body already tightens before his mind even catches up. For a second, he considers turning back, caffeine be damned. But no. That'd hand the bastard a win, and Jeon doesn't hand out victories before breakfast.

V's lounging like he owns the clearing. Hair a tousled mess, skin flushed from either a fight or a fuck—Jeon doesn't care which. He just notes the details, stores them. It's habit. Just another target to assess.

The bastard tracks his approach with lazy, half-lidded eyes and that signature smirk—like he already knows he's about to ruin something.

Jungkook grabs a can off the table. Doesn't even look at V yet.

"Had fun last night?" The words come out dry, flat. No bite. Just noise.

V lifts his chin, amused. "Some of us don't need to buy intimacy with imported espresso machines."

Jungkook opens the can with a sharp hiss. Keeps his eyes on the label. "Didn't realize desperation was charming now."

"I call it efficiency." V stretches his arms overhead, exposing fresh marks on his throat. "In and out. Simple. No cleanup. You should try it—might loosen that iron rod you've got jammed up your spine."

Jungkook takes a slow sip of bitter coffee and finally looks at him. "You're bleeding self-worth all over the ground. Try wiping it up before someone slips."

V laughs, delighted. "There he is. I was starting to worry you'd gone full ghost. Thought maybe you finally snapped and joined the meditation club upstairs."

Jungkook doesn't answer. He's already turning away, walking slowly toward the edge of camp—toward the trees. Not far. Just enough distance to mute V's noise.

Of course, V follows. He always does.

"You know what your real problem is?" V's voice floats lazily behind him. "You think control's the same thing as peace."

Jungkook says nothing. Another sip. The coffee's still shit. V's steps crunch through the grass behind him. Closer now.

"But it's not. You're not calm, Jeon. You're just buried."

Jungkook stops. Just briefly. Looks up at the sky like it might offer patience.

V grins, eyes glittering. "Bet it gets lonely. All that quiet. All that nobility. Ever wonder why no one's lining up to warm your bed these days?"

Jungkook doesn't flinch. Just watches a bird take off from the trees. "Didn't realize we were counting bodies now. Thought you preferred keeping score in blood."

"Oh, I do," V murmurs, stepping beside him, too close. "But you—God, you used to have heat, you know that? Used to burn. Now it's all smoke and mirrors. All that rage shoved behind protocol and detachment."

Jungkook doesn't look at him, but his hand tightens around the can.

V keeps pushing, voice sweet as poison. "You used to laugh. Fuck, remember that? You'd stay up past curfew, cheat on drills, get into knife fights for fun. Now look at you—clockwork killer with a loyalty complex."

"You done?" Jungkook's voice is sharp now. Controlled, but edged.

"Not even close." V steps in front of him, cuts off the path. "See, I get it now. You stopped fucking because you can't do casual anymore. Too dangerous, right? Someone breathes near you and you start imagining futures."

Jungkook's jaw tightens.

V leans forward. "What was it RM said? 'Attachment makes you weak'? Or did you have to learn that one the hard way?"

"Careful," Jungkook says, low.

V just smiles. "I'm not touching your secrets, Jeon. Just pointing out the obvious. You're terrified of getting close again. You think if you fuck anyone, they'll catch feelings. Or worse—you will."

Jungkook doesn't blink. Doesn't speak. But the can in his hand dents slightly under his grip.

V notices. Of course he does.

"I mean, maybe that's why no one touches you anymore." He tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. "Not because you're intimidating. Not because you're better. But because they all see it—the grief in your bones. The guilt. Like it might rub off."

"You talk a lot for someone with nothing to say."

V grins, stepping aside, letting him pass. "And you say nothing hoping it makes you mysterious. But guess what, Jeon? I see right through that bullshit."

Jungkook exhales slowly through his nose. The air is cool, the trees just ahead. He keeps walking. He doesn't rise. Not yet.

But V's still behind him.

And he's not done.

Jungkook moves, calm steps through dew-soaked grass. The can in his hand hisses with pressure, dented from his grip, but he doesn't look back.

"You know what your problem is, Jeon?" V's voice cuts through the morning air, sing-song soft. "You're so far up your own ass you can't see what a joke you've become."

Jungkook doesn't bother with a glance. Just takes another sip of his shitty coffee. Tries to drown out the taste of chai from his tongue.

"The perfect soldier," V continues, pacing a few feet behind, voice louder now. "Marching in lockstep behind Commander like a good little ghost. You think if you bleed enough for RM, he'll forgive you for what you let slip through your fingers?"

Still no answer. Just another sip of that bitter, mass-produced garbage. Jungkook focuses on the taste—the chemical bitterness coating his tongue, sharp and synthetic. Easier to focus on that than the ache V's voice digs up.

"Nothing to say?" V's tone lifts, faux-curious. "Come on, where's that famous discipline now? Or did you leave it behind in your tent last night?"

The can pauses mid-sip. Barely a hitch. Just one second too long.

Jungkook lowers it slowly. "Your obsession with where I sleep is weird. Maybe try journaling."

V grins wide behind him, practically skipping to keep up now. "You're right. I should write this all down—'Jeon, once fierce and unfiltered, now drinks piss-coffee and pretends not to feel anything.' Bestseller."

"You done with the poetry?"

"Almost," V chirps. "Just wanted to make sure you knew everyone sees it. The way you're chasing scraps of forgiveness like a dog with its tail between its legs. You used to lead the escapades. Now you just brood and play pretend."

Jungkook stops walking.

V nearly collides with him, amused.

"Touch a nerve?" he murmurs.

Jungkook's head tilts slightly, eyes still forward. "You should work on new material. The old lines are starting to bore me."

V steps around him, circling like a vulture. "That's the thing about ghosts, Jeon. They're repetitive. They just haunt the same places. Same faces."

Jungkook's eyes shift. Cold. Level.

"You sound jealous."

V barks a laugh. It's short, sharp, too loud for the quiet trees.

"Of what? Your sad, monk-ass existence? Nah. I just miss the guy who could take a punch and throw three back."

"He grew up," Jungkook replies coolly. "Maybe you should try it."

"Nah," V says, too quickly. "That guy didn't grow up. He crawled into a cage and slammed the door shut."

Jungkook takes a step forward, chest brushing V's shoulder as he passes. "Or maybe he realized some things aren't worth fighting for anymore."

"Oh?" V pivots, stalking behind again. "Like loyalty? Brotherhood? Control?"

Jungkook doesn't turn. "Like noise."

V's smirk sharpens. "Funny you mention that. Because the silence after you let her die? That was deafening."

That stops him.

One step shy of the treeline.

Jungkook doesn't move, but something in the air shifts. Not loud. Not visible.

Just cold.

Real cold.

He sets the coffee can down on a mossy rock, slow and steady. Wipes his hand once on his thigh.

"You sure you want to go there?" he says, soft as snowfall.

V's smile flickers. Not with fear—he doesn't do fear—but with pleasure.

This is what he came for.

"I'm just saying," V hums, circling again, low and lazy. "You've been pretending for so long. Pretending she didn't matter. Pretending you're fine. Pretending you're not still clawing your way out of that night like it didn't gut you."

Jungkook says nothing.

But his silence means something now.

"I was there, Jeon," V says, inching closer. "You looked at me like I'd ripped out your heart and eaten it."

"You did," Jungkook murmurs. Still not looking at him.

"And yet," V's voice softens to a whisper, "you still didn't pull the trigger."

"Because you weren't worth it."

V snickers. "That's not what your eyes said."

Jungkook turns his head slowly. "No. That's what restraint looks like. Something you wouldn't recognize if it slit your throat."

V's lips curve, crooked and violent. "But you wanted to. You still want to."

Another long pause. Jungkook's jaw flexes once.

"Not as much as I want to forget you ever mattered."

And that—that hits.

V's grin falters. Just for a split second. The moment is small, but Jungkook catches it. He always catches everything.

Then, it changes again. V watches him like a cat watches a cornered bird. Head tilted. Smiling like he knows what's coming, and he's going to savor every second of it.

"You know what's funny," V says, voice maddeningly casual, "I always wondered if that was the problem."

Jungkook doesn't bite. Doesn't blink.

V goes on. "Not the rule-breaking. Not the secrecy. But who you broke the rule for."

Jungkook's gaze sharpens. Just a sliver. Just enough.

V catches it, of course. "Maybe if it had been someone else. Someone... less delicate. Maybe then, I'd have understood."

Jungkook's jaw shifts—tightens, releases.

"You picked soft," V continues. "You always hated soft. But that's what you chose. That's who you let in."

"Don't," Jungkook says quietly.

But V's already grinning, teeth and cruelty.

"God, what was her name again? It's been so long." He taps his chin mockingly. "Right there. Tip of my tongue."

Jungkook turns away. Starts walking.

He needs to get away from that sicko before he does something stupid.

"Don't go yet," V calls behind him, voice lilting like this is a game. "Help me out, will you? Dark hair? Big eyes? Always looked like she was about to break?"

Each step Jungkook takes feels heavier now. Like the gravity around him's been recalibrated.

"Jeon," V sings. "C'mon. Starts with an 'S,' right? S... Ssssss—shit, it's gonna bug me all day if you don't help."

Jungkook stops walking. Doesn't turn.

"V."

One word. Dead calm. A warning that sounds like the moment before a trigger snaps.

But V doesn't stop. He never does.

"Wait—don't tell me—Sarah? No. Sophie?" He's grinning now, wide and unhinged. "No no no, it was something sweeter than that, wasn't it? Something fragile."

Jungkook's whole body goes still. His shoulders square. Not aggressive. Not defensive.

Bracing.

"I won't tell you again."

"Oh, don't be like that." V's voice drops to a near-whisper. "We're just reminiscing."

"You say it," Jungkook murmurs, quiet enough that the wind almost eats it. "And this conversation takes a very different turn."

"Isn't that the fun part?" He replies.

Jungkook turns back to walk away. But before he can do just that, V opens his mouth again.

"No, wait, wait, wait! I remember it now."

V tilts his head, feigning thought, acting like he just got enlightened by the powers above.

Then—

"Sylvia."

The name detonates behind Jungkook's eyes.

He moves before he even registers it—before thought can catch up to instinct. One hand fisting V's collar, the other slamming him into the nearest tree with bone-rattling force.

His voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.

"I told you," he breathes, "to shut the fuck up."

V chokes out a laugh, even as Jeon's forearm presses against his throat. His smile is bloody, triumphant.

This is exactly what he wanted.

"There he is," V wheezes. "Knew you still remembered."

Jungkook tightens his grip.

"You don't get to tarnish her name with your mouth."

"Oh come on," V gasps, grin never faltering. "You're the one who made her matter."

Another inch and V's feet almost leave the ground. Jungkook's pulse is thunder in his ears. Vision tunneled, voice low.

"You don't touch her memory."

V's eyes shine with something unholy. "Why not? You left it out in the open."

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He just breathes—through his nose, slow, controlled—because if he doesn't, he'll crush the bastard's windpipe right here and now.

"You never even cried for her," V says, voice straining now. "Not once. I watched you. All that grief, and nothing came out but silence."

"Shut up."

"She begged for you, Jeon." V's voice slips into a mocking lilt. "Right before I pulled the trigger."

His hands go up, mimicking the movement of guns. Two fingers, cocked and pointed.

"Bang. Bang." V grins. "Guess some lessons need to be learned twice."

Jungkook's fist curls tight, shakes from the effort of not slamming it into V's face.

"She looked at you," V whispers, "and said thank you."

That's it.

Jungkook lets go of his throat—and punches him hard enough to split skin across V's jaw.

Bone cracks under knuckles. Blood spatters across bark. V staggers, but he's laughing—fucking laughing—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fucking finally" he slurs through red teeth. "Welcome back, Kooks."

Jungkook doesn't hesitate.

The second punch lands even harder than the first—knuckles slamming into cheekbone with enough force to whip V's head sideways.

Blood sprays from his mouth this time, a thick crimson arc that spatters across tree bark, across Jeon's hand, across the ground between them.

Still, V laughs.

It's breathless, giddy, delighted.

"Fuck, I missed this," he rasps, tongue darting out to taste the blood slicking his bottom lip. "So you're still human, huh?"

He licks it slow, like he's savoring it.

Like it's dessert.

Jungkook steps back just enough not to kill him.

"You don't get to call me that," he says, voice low and splintered. "Not anymore."

V blinks once, mock-innocent. Then that crooked smile curls back up, jagged and satisfied.

"Oh, right." He taps two fingers against his temple. "Because I'm not Taehyung to you anymore, huh? I'm V." His voice twists around the name like it's something sacred. "Your words, not mine. Or was it mine first? I forget."

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He can't.

Not when his pulse is pounding in his ears, his vision swimming at the edges with a red haze he hasn't let himself feel in months.

V steps closer, shoulders relaxed, body loose with that particular high only someone like him can ride. His lip's still bleeding, and he doesn't wipe it off this time—just lets it drip, red on his teeth, staining the corner of his mouth.

"God, you hit harder than I remember," he says, eyes gleaming. "Must be all that repressed emotion. You're like a soda can in the sun—shaking, sealed tight. One little crack and boom."

Jungkook doesn't say anything back. He's not looking at him anymore. He's looking through him. Past the trees. Somewhere far and unreachable.

But V keeps talking. Of course he does. Because once he has momentum, he's unstoppable.

"I always knew it was still in there," V's finger digs in his chest. "That spark. That fire. You've been playing dead so long I almost believed you were gone. Almost."

Jungkook's hands are fists again.

"You've been sleepwalking, Jeon," V continues, grinning like he's high on the taste of violence. "Dead-eyed. Robotic. Miserable. Just waiting for someone to fucking jolt you back awake."

He leans in close again. Too close.

"I'm just giving you a favor."

"You don't do favors."

V cackles, loud and wild. "Sure I do. You just don't like the way they taste."

Another pause. Jungkook's breathing is steady now, but it's forced. Every inhale pulled through clenched teeth.

"You think this brings me peace?"

"No," V says, licking blood off his thumb now. "I think it brings you clarity."

There's something predatory in the way he steps back, finally, giving Jungkook space—but not out of mercy, no.

It's rather just to admire the way he's held together by muscle memory and sheer willpower.

"You pretend you buried it," V says softly, quirking an eyebrow. "But it's still there. Under the skin. Under the guilt. Under all that self-hatred."

"You're wasting your breath," Jungkook replies.

But V just keeps smiling, lips slick, eyes blown wide with delight.

"You can't kill the part of you that liked it. The rage. The power. The need. You just locked it away in a box and lost the key."

V's voice drops now, low and rich and terrifyingly gentle.

"And I'm the only one who still knows where it's buried."

That's when Takama steps in.

No warning. No sound. Just a hand locking around Jeon's bicep before the next blow can fly.

"Enough," Takama says, firm and calm.

Not a command.

A lifeline.

Jungkook doesn't resist. Not yet. But his chest heaves, and the knuckles on his right hand are starting to swell. V leans lazily against the tree now, licking the blood of his lower lip that won't stop gushing out.

"Aw, don't stop now," he drawls, voice hoarse from the chokehold and the punches. "We were finally getting somewhere."

Takama doesn't even look at him.

His grip stays tight. Not painful. Just steady. Anchoring.

"Let it go," his second in command says under his breath.

Jungkook's eyes stay locked on V's face. Not with hatred. With control.

The kind that takes every ounce of strength to maintain.

"You should've stayed buried," he murmurs.

But V just laughs. Loud, unhinged, manic.

"And miss this reunion?" He wipes blood from his jaw with the back of his hand. "Never."

He steps back, licking the burgundy remnants from his fingers as he turns to walk away.

His voice floats over his shoulder like a final cut.

"Same time tomorrow?"

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He just watches him disappear into the trees, that thorned scent of roses lingering behind like a stain you can't scrub off.

Some poisons don't kill you right away.

They stay in your blood.

Rot you from the inside out.

Blood tastes like copper and victory.

It slicks across his tongue, drips warm from the split in his lip. He doesn't wipe it off. Why would he? It's a mark of success—Jeon's control fractured, broken open just enough for the truth to spill out.

The scream he didn't let out. The grief he still pretends doesn't exist.

Taehyung practically skips through the camp, boots crunching over frost-stiff grass. His knuckles sting from where Jeon deflected that second hit, but the ache feels earned. Like something sacred.

He exhales, slow and sweet, watching the vapor curl into the cold morning air.

That was better than sex.

No, scratch that.

That was sex.

Pushing Jeon to that edge—watching the cold, calculated sniper fucking explode in real time? That's the closest Taehyung ever gets to euphoria.

The high is still rushing through him as his tent comes into view. The buzz behind his teeth. The heat in his skull. He's not even pretending to slow down.

He lifts the flap with a flourish, practically singing, "Honey, I'm home," as he sweeps inside.

Jimin's already there. Cross-legged on the floor like some kind of aesthetic devotional painting. His salmon hair falls messily across his forehead, catching light like spun sugar. He doesn't startle—he never does—but his head tilts just slightly in that way Taehyung always notices.

"You're late," Jimin says, not looking up from whatever he's scribbling into that little black journal. "Let me guess. You pissed off Jeon again."

"Mmhmm," Taehyung hums, swaying into the room. "It was glorious."

He doesn't wait for an invitation. He never does. Two steps and he's folding himself into Jimin's lap like a lithe, bloody jungle cat.

Jimin grunts at the impact, but he doesn't move. Doesn't push him off.

He never does that either.

"You're bleeding," Jimin says quietly, brushing hair back from Taehyung's temple before his eyes drift down. "Lip's split."

"Little love tap," Taehyung breathes against the curve of Jimin's neck.

He nuzzles there a moment, deep inhale. Jimin smells like warmth. Like brown sugar and caramel and fabric softener.

Soft things. Domestic things.

He doesn't know why it makes his teeth itch, want to take a bite.

Jimin finally meets his gaze—and there it is.

That flash of worry in his eyes. That's the part Taehyung likes. Not the sympathy. The fact that it costs Jimin something every time he pretends this isn't poison.

"What did you say to him this time?"

Taehyung grins slow, letting his tongue drag over the blood at the corner of his mouth. "Just reminded him of something he didn't want to remember."

"Don't play stupid. This is getting out of hand." Jimin's hand brushes lightly against his jaw, tilting his face to examine the cut.

The pads of his fingers are warm. Careful. It makes something behind Taehyung's ribs twitch.

"Jeon's going to snap one of these days," Jimin adds, voice low.

"He already did," Taehyung whispers.

And he can't help it—he giggles. It bubbles out of him like champagne and gunfire, bright and wrong. He presses closer to Jimin, legs tangling, arms looping around his waist. The tension bleeds out of him slowly, replaced by that delicious hum of control reclaimed. He can still feel Jeon's rage in the fibers of his hoodie. It clings like perfume.

Jimin doesn't move. But his breathing changes. Shallow now.

"You're high on it again," Jimin murmurs.

Taehyung pretends to consider it. "Maybe."

"It's not healthy."

He shrugs, lashes fluttering as he leans in. "Neither are we."

Jimin sighs through his nose. Doesn't argue.

For a moment, they sit like that. Quiet.

Taehyung lets himself rest his head on Jimin's shoulder, lets the silence expand between them. This kind of stillness is rare. He doesn't know how to hold it without squeezing too tight.

Jimin's voice finally cuts through. "Let J-Hope look at it. That lip's going to get infected."

"For you?" Taehyung draws his thumb along the line of Jimin's jaw, soft and mocking. "Anything, love."

The way Jimin flinches is small. Almost imperceptible. But Taehyung feels it.

That's the thing about Jimin. He's not like the others. He doesn't play back. Doesn't bite or snarl or shoot. He just absorbs it all, like a sponge in a slow leak.

And Taehyung knows it's cruel—knows he's twisting something tender into something sharp—but he does it anyway.

Because this is what's left. This is what he has.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Jimin says, eyes on the floor now. "With him."

"Sure I do," Taehyung murmurs, already curling into his lap again, like a cat that doesn't want to answer. "The show must go on."

Jimin shakes his head once, slow. "You're always like this."

"Good things don't change."

There's no bite in it. No anger.

Just truth.

And then, before Jimin can speak again, Taehyung presses a finger to his lips. It's light. Thoughtless. Charged.

"No more lectures," he says. "Tell me something sweeter."

"Like what?"

Taehyung smiles, eyes gleaming. He leans in, close enough for Jimin to taste the blood on his breath.

"Tell me a secret."

Jimin's lips are warm beneath his finger. Too warm.

Taehyung holds it there a beat longer than necessary, just to feel the resistance—such a pretty little line of defiance, always broken down the same way.

Gently.

Repeatedly.

"Tell me a secret," he whispers again.

Jimin doesn't answer.

He doesn't have to.

Because his eyes do. The way they drop. The way his breath skips. The way his hands twitch against the floor like they're unsure whether to push away or pull Taehyung closer.

It's always like this. Hesitation that tastes like anticipation.

Taehyung leans in. Presses his mouth to Jimin's cheek, just shy of his lips, and breathes him in—caramel warmth, a little bit of sweat, and something almost shy beneath it.

He imagines for a second biting down. Hard. Leaving a mark. Branding softness with something it doesn't deserve.

Instead, he draws back and tugs Jimin forward.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Right into his lap.

Jimin doesn't resist. He never does. Just settles into the space Taehyung makes for him like he's made of silk and apology.

God, it's addicting.

"So obedient," Taehyung murmurs, mouth ghosting along the curve of Jimin's jaw. "You always melt so easily, Jiminie."

He feels Jimin's pulse jump under his hands.

Feels it in the way his thighs tighten just slightly, in the way his spine curves—not in retreat, no.

In submission.

Taehyung smiles. The kind that never touches his eyes.

This is the part that matters.

Not the tenderness. Not the connection. This.

The aftershock. The reward.

The thing that lets him bleed out the rest of Jeon's name from his teeth.

His hands roam lazily—up the curve of Jimin's back, slipping under the hem of his shirt just to feel the skin heat beneath his palms. He doesn't rush. He doesn't need to.

Jimin's already folding.

Taehyung tilts his head and brushes their lips together—barely. Just enough to taste breath.

Then he whispers, soft and cruel against Jimin's mouth, "Let me ruin you for a bit."

Jimin exhales shakily. Doesn't nod. Doesn't speak. Just presses closer.

Perfect.

And Taehyung?

Taehyung finally feels calm.

Not better.

But calm.

The high burns slower this way.

Controlled.

Directed.

And by the time Jimin's head tips back and Taehyung's fingers slide lower, he's already thinking of the next morning—when he'll do it all over again.

Because Jeon's fists can bruise skin.

But Jimin's silence?

It lets him feel powerful.

goal: 400 notes lmao I'm not doing this shit again in 24 HOURS.

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