#going back and forth between resting my arm and over working it i have yet to find a middle ground

[gunwoo-bh]

you like because, you love despite part seven [together] - myg

together

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» so much going on, fluff, physical affection galore, so much fucking yearning, yoongi and reader are goners for each other, MAJOR warning for death and loss, grieving and such, cussing as usual, reader gets roasted a little at the beginning,

wc »» 10.3k

author’s note »» HI EVERYONE. I am sorry for the absence here, I have been overwhelmed with life and I took my sweet time writing this. I really wanted to cover a lot of ground and I don't think I'll ever be truly happy with what I write but this is a big one. I really hope you enjoy it!!!!

Celebrating a big event with your friend group always required a lot of planning.

And that hadn’t changed since the last time you gathered for a celebration. Running around the kitchen gathering plates and food, you’d swear you’d worked in a restaurant your entire life, not as a doctor. Yet here you were, helping Yoongi plate food while the sound of laughter echoed from the dining room.

When Namjoon came to Yoongi with the idea of throwing a congratulatory dinner for Seokjin and Soojin’s engagement, Yoongi hadn’t hesitated. With Namjoon’s help, they had chosen a date and time—tonight. Involving you in the planning had been easy, so here you were, apron tied around your waist, finishing up the last of the prep.

Jimin and Jungkook were running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room, carrying out dishes. Compared to the last gathering, Seokjin had requested surf and turf, and Yoongi, ever the perfectionist, had curated a special menu for the night. He was proud of it, wanting everything to go off without a hitch—even if he acted like he couldn’t care less.

You wiped the edges of a plate with a cloth, making sure it looked exactly how Yoongi envisioned. Jimin slid beside you, eagerly waiting for the “okay” to take it from your hands.

“Go ahead.”

“This the last one?”

You glanced up. “Yep. Just mine and Yoongi’s left, but we’ll bring those in. You go sit down, okay?”

Jimin gave you a playful salute and darted out with the final plate. You turned back to Yoongi, who was still hunched over a large pot, keeping the stew simmering on low heat.

You approached him, grabbing his forearm as he glanced up, eyebrows raised.

“Let’s go eat. The stew will be fine.” You tugged gently, trying to pull him away.

He grabbed you by the waist before you could move. You froze, your face inches from his as he pulled you closer for a moment, his hands resting on your lower back. You met his gaze, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes, before he tugged on the strings of your apron.

You laughed, “Don’t want you hiding that outfit.”

He grinned as he folded your apron, and you took the chance to untie his apron from his waist. He watched you with an amused smile, and you could feel his eyes on you even after you’d finished.

“Thank you…” he hummed softly.

You smiled, heart racing. “No, thank you, doll. You helped me a lot.”

“Hey!” You both jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Jimin stood there, a curious look on his face as he glanced between you and Yoongi, who still had his hand resting casually on your waist. “You two coming? We’re all waiting!”

Jimin’s gaze flicked between you and Yoongi, the closeness between you two obvious. He grinned, crossing his arms. “We’re hungry. Come on!!”

Yoongi flipped him off in response, but Jimin just burst into laughter. You grabbed Yoongi’s hand and pulled it between you two, looking up at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief. His grin was smug, and your cheeks turned bright pink.

Yoongi gave you a gentle nudge, squeezing your hip as he turned you toward the dining room.

“Wait! My plate,” you suddenly remembered, trying to reach around him.

He clicked his tongue and grabbed both plates, smirking at you. “God, you’re stubborn.”

You walked out in front of him, heading to your seat. When you both finally entered the dining room, everyone cheered. You rolled your eyes at their antics.

“Okay! Okay! Enough with that! You weren’t waiting for that long!” You teased, sitting down as Yoongi placed your plate in front of you.

He sat beside you, but before you could settle, he pulled your chair closer, making you startle. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, confused and a little breathless.

Things had definitely shifted between you and Yoongi. It was December 20th, almost a month since your botched date, and in that time, boundaries with your best friend had blurred in ways you hadn’t expected.

Like now. You hadn’t realized why he’d seated you both at the head of the table—Seokjin and Soojin were in the center of the seating arrangement—until he scooted your chair closer. His hand settled on your thigh, and you froze, squeezing your legs together instinctively at the intimate touch. You licked your lips nervously, grateful no one seemed to notice—or they were too focused on the happy couple.

You placed your hand over his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing in warning. You gave him a sidelong glance.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everybody. I wanna start by thanking Yoongi for letting us use his restaurant again for this amazing moment in our friends’ lives. And for cooking up such a storm, as usual!” Everybody raises their glass up and then right back down. “But what I would like to really bring to attention is why we’re gathering. Soojin,” she looks up with a grin, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Everybody laughs as she leans into Seokjin. “I’m gonna make this short and not drag this out because damn, this food smells amazing! But uh, Seokjin, Soojin? Congratulations on your engagement and upcoming wedding! We are all so happy for you and you two deserve every bit of happiness. Cheers!”

Everyone raises their glass and finally takes a sip this time, digging into the beautiful meal. Yoongi finally takes his hand off your thigh and you let go of his hand as you dig in. 

Listening to the engagement story from Soojin’s own lips makes everyone awe at Seokjin’s master planning of this proposal. She shares the photo of the night he had planned, passing the phone around and it truly makes you burst in pure joy hearing the pure happiness emanating from your friends. 

When you take the first bite of your steak, you turn to Yoongi with a soft look, “It’s not fair that you’re this good. Please teach me how to cook?” 

He chuckles, smirking, “No.” 

“Fuck you…” you mumble, earning yourself a glance from Taehyung who hears your interaction. 

“What did he do now?”

You pout, “He won’t teach me how to cook. I asked nicely.” 

Taehyung looks at Yoongi, “Yah. Why won’t you teach her?”

Namjoon leans over, joining in, “Better question. Why won’t you teach any of us? Some of us need real help!” 

This gets a round of laughter from everyone as you look over to him with a slight grin and he looks amused as he shrugs, “I can send you recipes.” 

Namjoon sighs, “See? This is what we’re dealing with.” 

You look at him and stick out your tongue, “You’re mean. I don’t love you anymore.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you but says nothing as he continues eating, listening to the flow of conversations happening all around him. You keep an eye on him between bites, reaching for his hand as he looks over to you with a soft look. You feel him squeeze your hand, your eyes focusing on your friend talking amongst themselves and laughing. 

You snap your eyes up when your name gets called, meeting Jimin’s eyes when he smiles, “How did your date go?” 

And in a matter of seconds you see every single pair of eyes looking at you, except the ones of the man sitting next to you. Everyone has a shocked look followed by an eagerness to hear about it as you glare at Jimin because he knows exactly how it went. He got a full report on it. The dipshit. 

“It was fine. More of a friend vibe so I never went back on a second date. I’m thinking of setting him up with someone…” you keep your eyes on Jimin.

Hoseok grins as he looks at you, “You went on a date and didn’t tell any of us!?”

Harin smiles, “Look at you getting back out there in the dating world! 

Minha leans forward, “I have someone I could introduce you to if you’re looking to go on a date!”

Right away you shake your head, “No, no, thank you. That’s fine. I am uh,” you inhale deeply, “I’m actually thinking of not going on dates for a bit to focus on myself…”

A silence falls at the table and you know why. You’re the dating girl. You rarely say no to a date because dating was fun, but this being the first time you are refusing to be set up confuses everyone it seems. And you get it. 

You’re not oblivious to the inner gossip in your group of friends, especially the light gossip about you. It’s no secret that all of your friends have hoped and wished for Yoongi and you to end up together. It has been a ‘not so secret’ secret amongst your group. And you always joked with Jimin – your favourite gossip – that the day you stopped dating was the day you most likely were either going to end up single for the rest of your life or the day you would consider Yoongi. 

And here you are now.

Jimin shoots Yoongi a quick look then back at you as you shake your head as subtly as possible. 

“I say ‘yay!’ for self-care, girl!” Soojin cheers you on, smiling brightly.

Taehyung looks at you, “But seriously,” everybody glances at him, “tells us about the guy?”

“What?”

“Your date. The one that was friend vibes only…”

You shake your head and Yoongi steps in, “Guys, come on…”

You feel his fingers tighten around yours when you quickly look up at him, Namjoon shrugging when he looks over to you, “Won’t lie, I’m a bit curious too…”

Yoongi scoffs and Hoseok looks at him, “When you end up on a date with someone one day, we’ll be all over you too but right now…” he grins at you too.

You laugh nervously, “Jesus, guys, have you all become so boring…”

Hoseok chuckles, “Come ooooon…no one here ever goes on a date, you gotta keep us, like, entertained or something…” he’s teasing, grinning wide.

“Well, I’m going on one.”

The room falls silent and your heart drops, snapping your head to Yoongi who’s captured everybody’s attention. 

“On a date. I…asked a girl out.” 

You let go of his hand and look at him as your friends start badgering him for answers. Especially the boys who are all curious and getting out of their seats in excitement. You meet Harin and Jimin’s eyes, the only two of your friends who know anything about your feelings or where your mind was at in regards to your best friend. 

A part of you is aware this could very well just be a ruse for them to leave you alone because Yoongi is like that but the suddenness of it startles you enough to feel like you need space. To breathe and to process. Not too freakout over what he means by that. If you were hoping to keep your attraction subtle to him, the secret was probably out of the bag now. 

The group disperses as most of the guys swarm Yoongi, and you’re playfully ousted from your spot. You chuckle as casually as you can manage, then make a beeline for the door. Once you’re out of sight, you break into a sprint — through the kitchen, out into the back alley, where the December chill rips a shudder from you.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, like it’s trying to claw its way out. You rub at your sternum, trying to soothe the sudden onset of anxiety. God, how you wish you’d dragged Yoongi out here with you — just to ask if he was kidding.

Of course he was. He wouldn’t have let the last few weeks happen if he planned on dating someone else. Is he even planning or thinking of me that way? You sigh, confusion washing over you as you exhale loudly.

“Fuck, calm down. It means nothing until you get an answer out of him…”

You concentrate on your breathing, releasing the anxiety that consumed you so fast.

“You’re right, y’know?” You yelp, jumping what feels like five feet in the air when you turn to see Jimin there. “You’ll relax once you talk to him.”

“Shit, you scared me.” You can’t help but laugh. 

“I’m sorry.” He looks guilty. “I was hoping for a different result and I didn’t think he would…do that.”

“Maybe…maybe he does have a date…” 

Jimin snorts, “Let’s be honest here,” he walks towards you, “he does not. Unless you have something to tell me…”

You shake your head, “You or Harin would be the first to know…if that were the case…”

Jimin grins, “I’m glad to hear…”

Sighing loudly, you meet his eyes, “What if he does have a date?”

“He doesn’t. He would have told you way before and never in front of all of us like that.” Jimin is right, you think. Yoongi would never do that. “And I think he’s holding out hope.”

You frown, Jimin adding, “For you.”

“No…”

He nods, “Babe,” you feel him grab your hands, “I love you and you’ve become one of my closest friend, so I am telling you this because you need to hear it and believe it…” he takes the longest pause known to man as you inhale sharply, anxiously anticipating what he says next, “Yoongi has been hopelessly in love with you for as long, at least, as I’ve known you two…”

Hearing it out loud from someone’s lips feels unreal. You don’t even realize you whimper until Jimin gathers you in his arms to hug you and you don’t realize how badly you needed that. 

“Really?” 

He hums, “We’ve all known but to be fair, he’s scary when it comes to you so…”

“I still…have a hard time believing it…” You confess.

He chuckles, “I expect you not to until he, hopefully, decides to just tell you…” he pulls back, “which one of you should because you two have been avoiding this for so long…”

You can’t help but laugh, “I really hope you’re right because…” he listens intently, “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him now…”

“Oh, babe, c’mere…” he hugs you again, squeezing you so tight against him. “Look, I’ve known him for a while and he won’t believe you could actually like him until you make a gigantic sign to say so…or until you grab that face and kiss it…”

You snort, “Oh my god, I don’t know that I could do that…”

Jimin smirks, “Babe, I have seen you make first moves and you are damn good at them…”

The compliment makes you blush, “I am not about comparing but you two have been the longest ‘been a long time coming’ I have ever seen and you would absolutely be mind blowing together…Your chemistry is through the roof already when you’re just friends…” 

You’re giggling as you blush harder, “God, am I as red as a tomato now?”

“Oh, definitely…A bull would definitely run at you with how red you are!”

You smack him, “Yah! Stop making me blush…”

He laughs, shaking his head when he pulls away just to hold your hands but you both startle when the back door opens again, Yoongi stepping out as he looks at the two of you. He immediately looks down to your joined hands before looking at Jimin.

“Can we get a second?” 

Jimin looks back at you, a soft smile, “Yeah, sure.” He squeezes your hands one final time before letting go as he walks past Yoongi to go back inside. 

You suddenly hope Yoongi hasn’t heard a thing about your conversation with Jimin. 

“Hey…”

“I don't actually have one.” At your confused look he adds. “A date.”

Oh god. Could Jimin be telling the truth? Could Yoongi have feelings for you?

“Oh.”

He sighs, “I thought I was gonna get them to leave you be but I made it so much worse…” he rubs the back of his neck. 

You shrug, “I didn't want them to get excited over a guy I won't be seeing again other than as a friend…” 

“So, you are gonna see him again?”

His voice wavering catches you off guard, “Yeah. As a friend. I am setting him up with someone I know.”

“Oh. You're the one setting him up?” He steps to you. 

“Yeah. Figured I would try this matchmaking thing considering it doesn't seem to work well with me…” you cross your arms over your chest, shivering. 

Yoongi walks over, slipping his coat off and over your shoulder so fast you don't even have time to protest. The closeness immediately gives you anxiety because you don't know how much longer you'll be able to resist acting on your feelings. 

“Thanks…”

“Any time…” you jump at the warmth of his hand suddenly cupping your cheek, eyes snapping up to him. “I’m not going on a date.” he reaffirms, his voice steady and certain. 

“Okay,” you try to look everywhere but his face, “it doesn’t matter…” 

Yoongi huffs the softest laugh, amused by your blatant lie, “Sure, okay…”

Yoongi’s hand pulls your face up and you gulp, “What?” 

“Doll,” he begs, “look at me, please…”

You do as he tells you, meeting his eyes and this is the first time you’ve been so close where you actually believe he might just kiss you. He leans in softly but stops when your foreheads are just shy of touching. 

“I. Am. Not. Going. On. A. Date.” 

He licks his lips when he watches your reaction to his words but you bet he feels it because you relax immediately, releasing a breath held in so deep your entire posture changes. You believe him. And more than that, you believe Jimin. 

Yoongi probably does have feelings for you, because no way would he lead you on simply out of boredom. He would never do that. He loves you too much. 

“I believe you…”

“Thank god…” he sighs in relief, “I was worried what hoops I was gonna make myself jump through to make you believe me…”

You snort the tiniest laugh, “Not that many, luckily…” 

“I’d jump through a thousand of them…”

“You can’t keep saying shit like that…” Oh shit! Did you actually just say that?

“Why not?” 

You sigh when you look at him, “Yoongi…”

He cups your other cheek and pulls you as close as he can, “Doll…”

“It’s confusing…” you confess, making him nod, “so fucking confusing…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know…” you sigh, “can we clear this up,” you gesture between you two, “after the holidays?”

You rarely feel like he would protest but he’s about to before thinking better of it, “Yeah…I promise.” 

“Until then…” you pull away, “I need to figure myself out so, I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight…”

“Are we gonna be okay?”

You smile right away, nodding with absolute certainty, “We will be. Always. But I can’t pretend that things haven’t changed…not anymore.” 

Yoongi still holds onto your face, keeping you close as his breath hits your face, “Doll…”

“We’re fiiiiiiiine…” you grab his hands, gently pulling them off your face gently and he clings to your hands then. It hurts you to feel him clinging to you like that, feeling his fear of you pulling away. “But we gotta head back in…”

He keeps holding onto your hands, eyes filled with concern, “Don’t…”

“I won’t…I promise…”

You let go of him and for the first time, you think, in your life you walk away from him and head back inside. 

And it fucking sucks doing it.

January 3rd

You don’t ever regret choosing being a doctor as a career, because being able to help people is exactly what you were meant to do. But you are human and have feelings. So, understandably, having your holidays cut short three days in had been upsetting nonetheless and since then you hadn’t had a day to yourself until your senior had noticed the amount of days in a row you had worked. You were finally headed home for some well deserved rest, given more than two days to finally get the rest you had so badly needed after a particularly busy, and not so great, holiday season.

Christmas back home was well needed and had gone on really well, both your family and the Min’s holding a wonderful holiday dinner together. And even with the mild awkwardness – left back in Seoul – between Yoongi and you, things had felt normal for those few days until you got the call. 

You had disappointed people when you told them you got called in and saying goodbye to everyone had sucked. Saying goodbye to Yoongi had sucked even more. 

You remember the way he drove you to the train station and checked that you could still talk when he came back to the city. And you had promised. You’d just had no time whatsoever. 

You weren’t pulling away – not entirely at least. You were terrified of the change that could, or would, follow once you two figured things out. But aside from a few texts daily, these last six days had been the longest you had gone without seeing him since his mandatory military service.

You missed him. More than words could ever describe.

Driving yourself home is something questionable considering the hours you worked recently, but you figure the fifteen minute drive will be just fine. You love driving this late at night in the city because the city is still awake but far quieter, enough to enjoy the beauty of it through the quick drive home. 

When turning on your street you’re filled with warmth at the mere closeness to your bed, knowing you get to rest your weary body soon enough. 

Dragging your body out of your car and up to your apartment, the trek feels unreachable but your dramatics aside, you’re glad to come out of the elevator and see your door at the end of the hallway. When you get in, you kick your shoes off as you march inside and directly to bed.

“Oh shit!”

You scream so loudly, startling yourself so bad you slip and fall on your ass, grunting as you look up to Yoongi standing in the kitchen. Your kitchen. 

“Jesus christ, Yoongi!”

But he doesn’t move. He stays still, leaning against your kitchen island and his stoic posture, plus his lack of reaction to your falling directly on your ass is enough to let you know something is off. You’re still on the ground, slowly dragging yourself up and once you’re on your feet, you carefully approach him and you notice then the streaks of tears falling down his cheeks, making your heart hurt.

You hurry to his side, turning his entire body towards you, grabbing his hands and you feel the guilt crawl up your tired body. Did you cause this? Did you make him feel this way? 

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have reached out and I really have no other reason than the fact that I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of what this means for us and you’re the most important person in my life and I hope to god you know that, and that losing you is not an option for me and oh my god, Yoongi,” the cry of his name makes him look at you, “please tell me what’s wrong…”

“My mom called…”

Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for him to continue, “What did she want?”

He finally looks at you and you hate that the only thing that crosses your mind in that instant is how much being close to him makes you feel like being home, “My grandma passed in her sleep…” 

It all washes over you so fast. The disbelief, the anger, the grief and the sadness, but you’re still in doctor mode and you’re also in caring mode over Yoongi. But you do feel the tears streaming down your face as you wipe them with your shoulder. You sniffle as you let his hands go and you grab his neck, pulling him in and you’re glad he wraps his arms around you. 

Yoongi lifts you, making you gasp softly as you let him hold you for as long as he wants. You let your legs dangle, taking all of him in. But he pulls back faster than you anticipate, looking at you as you tenderly cup his cheek, “Oh, I’m so sorry, babe…”

His eyes widened just barely, “Is that normal for pancreatic cancer? To just be asleep and die? She looked smaller but she looked okay still, right? I mean, you saw her at Christmas…”

He sets you down, your hands settling on his shoulders, “It depends. There could be other factors…I mean, I don’t have…” you sigh, “I don’t have an answer for you and I hate not being able to give you one…”

It’s his turn to grab for you, hands gathering your face, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I know…” 

“What do you need? Let me help. Tell me what I can do…”

He sighs, “Can you drive me to the train station in the morning?”

You frown, “Train station? What the fuck do you mean?” 

“I gotta go back home…” 

“No, that’s obvious, but you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.” He sighs.

“What about work?” He sounds annoyed.

You push his chest, “They ruined my fucking holiday, I’m not not gonna be there for you and your family, especially for this. So, no. I’m not driving you to the train station in the morning. But I will drive us back home.” 

He stares at you, scoffing, “Fucking stubborn, you are…”

“I thought you loved that about me…” His breath catches in his throat and you keep staring at him. “Look, it’s almost one in the morning. We need rest, okay? I am…gonna figure work in the morning before we leave. Do we have to stop at your place before?”

Yoongi looks over your shoulder and you follow his gaze to a duffel bag, “I brought my stuff already…”

“Good. Smart. Let’s get some sleep, okay? We’ll be gone by seven and be there a little after ten if we drive straight through, yeah?” You make to move past him but he grabs your arm, looking down at you. 

“Thank you…”

You nod, “Get ready for bed…”

You hurry past him to your bedroom, snatching your sleeping clothes and closing the door to the bathroom, leaning against it as you collapse to the ground in tears. You slap your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries as you sob. His grandmother might not be family by blood but she is family, and until now you had never lost someone so close to you or the people you love. You’ve never grieved this kind of loss before and it's come crashing down faster than a bullet train.

Minutes pass, calming down as you drag your body up and you get changed. You feel exhausted from all the crying and your body feels like it weighs a ton right now. Once you’re done patting your face dry, you swing the door open and don’t know why you’re shocked to find your bedroom empty.

Padding your way to the living room you find Yoongi lying down on your couch, on his back and arm tucked behind his head. You walk next to it, poking his shoulder as he snaps his eyes open and stares up at you. You lean down to grab his hand and it triggers something in him that takes your breath away. 

He moves so fast, swinging his legs over the edge and comes to stand at full height, wrapping his arm around your waist and picking you up like you weighed nothing, his free hand patting the back of your thigh and wrapping it around his waist as he carries you to bed, your face buried in his neck. No point in hiding it anymore. 

He deposits you gently on the bed, following after you as you watch the way he grabs for you and pulls your back against his chest, effectively pulling you into his arms. Grabbing your hand in his, he laces his fingers with yours as you both relax in the darkness of your bedroom. 

You both feel the weight of the last few weeks weighing down on you, carrying you both to sleep.

It’s five when you wake up. An hour before your alarm. 

You gently crawl out of the grip Yoongi has you in and make your way out to the living room with your phone, calling your supervisor at the hospital to explain your absence over the next couple of days. It’s a small battle, but you gather your courage to say it’s non-negotiable, calling them out on calling you in over the holidays. You fear reprimand but once you hang up the call, you’re given five days off. 

Sneaking back into the bedroom and you start to pack a bag, quietly shuffling around and being careful not to wake Yoongi up. It still feels completely unreal to think you’re headed home again but for a funeral, just mere days after what is usually the happiest time of the year. 

You finish packing your bag right as the alarm is about to go on, sneaking over to his phone and shutting it off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watch over him sleeping and you smile softly. You reach over, placing your hand steadily against his chest as you rub it back and forth. He startles awake but calms down the moment his eyes settle on you, grabbing your hand on his chest. 

“Hey…”

“Morning…” he sighs, rubbing his face with his free one.

You watch as everything comes crashing down on him again, his eyes growing sad as he breathes out loudly and you call his name, “I called work and I was given five days. I can take a train back if you want to stay longer obviously…” 

“I need to get someone to cover at the restaurant…” 

You shake your head, “How about you go get ready and I’m gonna figure that out for you?”

“It's my restaurant…”

“I am very aware, but you shouldn’t have to think about that, okay?” He sits up, looking at you. 

Yoongi has never looked so haggard before, the bags under his eyes making him look sunken in. It hurts to watch what grief does to a person. 

“I can call–” “Baby, please…”

Yoongi reacts viscerally to you calling him that – again – and he sits up as he stares at you. You feel it in the way he squeezes your hand that he is holding back from doing what you think he would do if he had the chance. Kiss you. 

“Let me call. Take a moment to wake up and we’ll snack quickly before getting on the road…” You cup his cheek, smiling softly. “Take your time. I’ll be a minute…”

You get up off the bed and wander out of your apartment, calling Jungkook first and letting him in on what was happening, begging for his help which you find out, you really don’t have to beg for too hard. He promises he will keep the place running.

“Do me a favour though, Kook,” he hums, “if there are, like, any questions or issues, call me first? I’m just…just trying to keep his mind away from thinking about all the things that could go wrong over there…” 

“I promise. You’ll be my first call…” 

You hang up with Jungkook to call your mother, letting her know you’ll be on the road with Yoongi soon. You coordinate with her what’s going to happen when you arrive, knowing the funeral viewing would be taking place already.

“So, we’ll go to his and get ready there, I’ll bring my stuff back home after the viewing. Can we make sure, and I am begging, that he doesn’t touch a single pan or stove? This man is going to want to cook to feed people but I will personally poison people with my cooking if I see him touching any kitchen items…”

Your mother laughs sadly, “He’s in good hands it seems…”

Your heart flutters because you believe that to be true, “Yes, he is.”

“Okay, you drive safe now.” 

When you enter the apartment you see him standing in the living room in the same clothes from the night before. His hair is messy from the restless night of sleep and it makes you wonder if he’s slept at all or much. 

“Hey, you good to go?”

He nods, “Yeah, I grabbed us some food we can eat maybe when we hit the road?”

You go around shutting off all your lights, the gas appliances and taking one final look at your apartment before following him out the door, locking it behind you. He carries your bags in his hands as you go to his car, realizing just now he had parked on your street which you should have noticed last night. 

You take the keys from him, insisting you’re driving and he gives in without a protest. 

Thank god.

Halfway through your journey home you feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, startling you until his fingers settle between yours as he lets it rest between you. This feels comfortable and it actually makes you think of something else. Home. Yoongi is home and has always been. And even in the sadness and grief of the situation, you’re constantly reassured by the fact that he is your home.

“Have I said how much I love you?” You randomly say. 

He squeezes your hand and you know your words hold more meaning than ever now, because the way he’s looking at you makes it easy to finally believe without the shadow of a doubt what Jimin had so confidently revealed to you. 

“I’m always gonna be here for you, y’know that, right?” You squeeze his hand a little bit tighter.

“I know.” He nods, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. 

He stays quiet just for a moment, glancing from you to the road and back again. You feel his hand getting sweaty, his nerves definitely getting to him as you glance towards him a few times. You focus on driving as you let him take your words in, merging into a different lane as you exhale loudly. This whole being honest with yourself about your feelings for him is honestly the most uneasy you have felt, but it’s also felt so much lighter on your shoulder. What a weird fucked up way to feel. 

“I have a favour to ask you…” 

You glance over to him, “Anything.”

He can’t help but grin at your eagerness to help him at that moment, “My grandma hated my hair.”

You snort, “You mean, your dyed hair.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like the least I could do for her is get your help to…” 

You start smiling, “...toooooo dye it black?”

He nods, “Yes. Black.”

You hum, trying to hide your satisfaction at hearing that, “Yeah, I can do that. Before the viewing?”

“Mhm. Ideally.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“You’re really happy to be the one dyeing it black, huh?”

“I am so fucking happy to be the one dyeing it black!” You giggle. 

He sighs, trying to stop his grin from growing wider before clearing his throat, “Then, the honor is yours…We just need to stop at a store before going to mine.”

“Min Yoongi,” he looks at you, “I am so fucking happy you trust me with your hair…” 

He softly looks to you, “I would trust you with more than just my hair…” he feels your reaction and you know it too, because his hand tugs your linked one closer to his body, “I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to say shit like this…” 

“You can say whatever you'd like, you hear me?” 

“Okay then,” he turns his body towards you the best he can, “I trust you with my life…”

You're silent as you process his words, humming softly, “Maybe say shit like this when I am not behind the wheel, driving one handed…”

He laughs softly and you're glad you get that out of him, chuckling to yourself. Hearing him chuckle always makes you happy, makes you feel relieved. 

Driving the rest of the way with his playlist playing in the background as a distraction makes the drive go faster than you had imagined, pulling into town and stopping by the store to grab all the supplies needed for your hair dyeing mission. Yoongi follows you around the store, keeping close behind you and making it so much harder to focus, his hands always at your waist and moving to look over your shoulder. 

When you turn around and he is right there, you push his abdomen softly and he barely budges, grabbing the basket from your hands before walking to the counter to pay. Yoongi barely ever lets you pay for anything even though you have a full time job and even though this is ultimately for him, you really wanted to buy it for him. You just want to do things for him. 

Fuck. Being in love sucks sometimes. (It doesn’t.)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Like, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Fifteen.”

Smack.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t be a smartass, Yoongi…”

“Doll,” he grabs your gloved hand, looking over his shoulder, “I want to do this.”

You sigh nervously. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You’ve done worse. Remember the first time you helped me bleach my hair?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. What a fucking disaster that was…”

He laughs, tapping your wrist. “It’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

You grab the dye bottle, your hands shaky as you start to apply the product to his honey-blonde hair—saying goodbye to every strand as it darkens. The silence between you stretches, broken only by the sound of time ticking away, closer to the beginning of the funeral service. You shuffle around him, glancing down at his legs, nudging them apart with your knee. His sharp breath catches, but you try your best to ignore it, inching close enough to gather his front bangs to ensure an even spread of the dye.

A shiver runs up your back when you feel his hands grip the back of your thighs. You continue emptying the bottle, your focus split between the task and the heat of his touch. The back of his head already darkens, the dye working faster than you'd anticipated. When the bottle sputters air instead of color, you squeeze it one last time, trying to extract whatever’s left. You use your fingers to rub the product in, slicking his hair back to prevent it from dripping messily down his face.

“There,” you say softly, glancing down as he looks up at you. “The box says we’ve got to wait twenty minutes…”

“Okay…” His gaze lingers on you.

You pause, taking a moment to really take him in. Then, exhaling, you mutter, “So unfair…”

“What is?”

“You have such nice skin…” Before you can reach out, you realize you're still wearing the dye-covered gloves. You carefully pull them off and drop them in the empty box on the counter, then gently brush the back of your fingers along his jawline. His eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“You do too…” he mumbles, “I bet,” he pauses, carefully weighing his next words, “I bet your skin is soft, too…”

You laugh, pulling away softly, “It is…” He exhales loudly as you start cleaning up, throwing away any sign of any kind of hair dyeing happening. “We’re gonna have to rush outta here…”

“Yeah, we’re cutting it close…”

“So, while you wash the colour out I’ll get dressed then when you’re done, we can just hustle to the hospital…” you lean against the counter, looking at him sitting there.

“Will you help me with my tie?” 

You snort, “Of course, I will…” you grunt, “I am gonna go put my face on a little, I’ll save myself the trouble later…”

“Okay…”

Disappearing in his childhood bedroom you grab your makeup bag and rush to apply a thin layer to look presentable and not as tired as you are. It’s really useless which you realize that as you’re applying your waterproof mascara because you’ll be crying most of it off within a few hours. 

Yoongi pokes his head in, eyes tired but kind, dark hair damp and falling into his face. There’s a small, almost sheepish curve to his lips. “I might need your help to wash my hair…” he says quietly, voice soft — like asking is a small comfort in a morning that feels unbearably heavy.

You smile, gentle this time, because you know what today is for him. “I’ll be right there…” you say, setting aside everything else, because nothing matters more than being there for him right now.

You’re glad you haven’t gotten dressed yet. The bathroom fills with steam as you carefully work your fingers through his hair, massaging shampoo in slow, soothing circles. His eyes fall shut as he leans slightly into your touch — a moment of peace in the chaos of grief. Water splashes, drenching both of you before you even notice, but neither of you really cares. There’s comfort in the distraction, in the simple act of being close, of sharing this quiet task.

By the time Yoongi has a towel draped over his now dye-free, ink-black hair, you’re both soaked, your clothes clinging to your skin. But you’re breathless with soft laughter, a fleeting lightness breaking through the weight of the day. He stands there for a second, looking at you — clothes dripping wet, cheeks flushed — and his expression shifts. His eyes soften, glistening not just from the water. There’s gratitude in them. And love.

He clears his throat, glancing away, grounding himself again. “We should—get ready,” he murmurs.

You nod, and together you move through the motions of dressing, quieter now, helping each other smooth out the wrinkles, button the collars, tie the black tie just right. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, and for a beat, neither of you speaks. The air is filled with unspoken promises: I’m here. I’ve got you.

Yoongi can’t help but smooth out your dress at your hip as you stand in the kitchen, gathering your things in your purse before leaving for the hospital. You look over your shoulder to him, “Let’s go?”

He nods, humming quietly. 

Returning later feels weird because you aren’t with Yoongi, having left separately and with your parents. He returns home with his for a moment alone with them and you ache to be there with him, knowing you have to go later to grab your things which you’ve left there. It hurts. This entire afternoon hurt. Seeing the very people you’ve considered family be greeted by what feels like your entire neighbourhood and given condolences was hard, but you ensured everything went off without a hitch. That the Min’s didn’t have to worry about a thing as they focused on saying goodbye.

“Honey, are you hungry?”

Shit, yeah, you probably should eat. 

“Uh, I’m okay…” 

Your mother tilts her head, staring at you, “You have to eat. You have been in hostess mode, answering medical questions for people who don’t even need to know and trying to process your own grief too…” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad it went as well as a funeral could have for them. There’s still two more days of this too, so…”

Your dad walks in from the bedroom, “Eat, honey.” 

You huff a dry laugh, “I want to go see him.” 

Your parents aren’t completely surprised but your needy tone is what surprises them. You often want to just be with him, that’s just who you two are. Attached at the hip, but this time your chest hurts being away from him in a moment where he’s clearly stated wanting you around. 

“Let’s eat first then we can go check on them.” 

You agree, reluctantly, because you know he’s just next door, meaning you can go see him any time. But the waiting until then is driving you up the wall. 

Your mid-bite when the soft buzz of your phone on the table is almost too loud in the stillness, but it’s the sound you’ve been waiting for. Your heart lurches as you grab for it.

Yoongi 🧡🍊[8:18 PM]: Come over please? Window is unlocked.

You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair nearly topples over, your parents startled by the sudden movement. Their voices blur together as they call after you, concern laced in their tone, but you’re already slipping on your shoes. “I’m sorry — thank you — I’ll be back late!” you rush out in one breath, grabbing your phone with trembling fingers. Your heart races, thundering in your chest as you bolt out the door, the cool night air biting at your skin as you sprint down familiar streets.

By the time you reach his house, your lungs burn, but it’s nothing compared to the fire of anticipation and nerves twisting in your stomach. You don’t slow down — you can’t — as you round the side of the house, your steps quick and light, your fingers tightening around your phone like it’s the only thing grounding you.

You stop at his window, heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. The sight of it — the soft glow spilling from inside, the faint shadow of him moving — only makes your chest tighten further. With a shaky breath, you raise your hand and tap on the glass, the sound small but urgent. The seconds feel endless until he appears, sliding the window open with those familiar, graceful hands.

His dark eyes widen slightly in surprise, and in the dim light, that ink black hair of his makes him look different — striking, almost unreal. The sight of him steals your breath, but it’s relief that wins out, flooding through you so powerfully your knees nearly buckle.

Without thinking, you cross the space between you in a heartbeat, launching yourself forward. Your arms around his shoulders, clutching him like you’ll fall apart if you let go. You feel the low rumble of his soft gasp against your ear as he instinctively catches you, his hands firm and warm as they slide down to the back of your thighs. He lifts you effortlessly, and your legs wrap around his waist, fitting together like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

For a moment, neither of you speaks — both caught in the swell of everything unspoken, everything you’ve been aching to say. All you can do is hold him tighter, your face pressed against his neck, as his arms anchor you to him like he’s just as unwilling to let go.

The room smells faintly of him — clean laundry, a hint of cologne, something warm and familiar that makes your heart ache. His window clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in a pocket of quiet where it feels like the rest of the world can’t reach. His hands don’t leave you; one stays at your thigh, the other drifts up, fingers splaying across your back, holding you so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, his voice low, like he’s afraid to break the moment. His forehead presses gently to yours, his breath fanning across your skin, calming and electrifying all at once.

“I had to see you,” you whisper, your voice shaky with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. Your fingers thread into the hair at the nape of his neck — that new, striking black that makes him look softer somehow, like it reflects how vulnerable he’s been feeling.

For a beat, he just gazes at you, eyes tracing every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize it, as if you might slip away if he looks away even for a second. Then his lips brush your temple, feather-light, and he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little as he finally lets himself hold you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs, voice thick, like the words cost him to say out loud. His thumb rubs slow circles against your back, grounding you both.

You loosen your legs from around him and let him lower you gently to the floor, though neither of you really lets go. His hands settle at your waist; yours linger on his shoulders. The room is dim, just the soft glow of his lamp casting long shadows, wrapping you both in warmth.

“I was there all day with you.” 

He huffs the gentlest laugh, “Not where I wanted you to be.” he sighs, “I can’t believe we have two more days of this…and tomorrow is really an all day affair…”

You lift your hand to frame his face, “I wish I could be next to you for that…”

“Please, be?” 

“How do we explain that?”

“We don’t have to. My grandmother adored you. That’s reason enough…”

He watches you pull away as you exhale loudly, making you feel like it should have been the easiest of decisions but you know what people will think. You don’t want the focus to shift from what’s really important but Yoongi is pleading with you. How can you say no?

“Okay. Can you please make sure your parents are okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” You tilt your head sideways. “Okay, I promise. I’ll ask, but I seriously don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

You take your time to wander around his room, smiling at the wall of photos of you two. It makes you smile, “You never took those down?”

“No,” he sits on his bed, “why would I?” 

You shrug as you look at your luggage, still open and unpacked. You meet his eyes and you both know what should come next. But neither of you want that. 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed, fingers laced together like he’s trying to hold himself together. And when you softly say, “I should probably let you rest…” his head snaps up, eyes wide and glassy in the low light.

“No. Please…” His voice cracks, raw from the weight of unspoken grief. He stands and crosses to you in a few steps, his hand reaching for yours, holding on like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Don’t go. I don’t—” he swallows hard, gaze dropping as if he’s ashamed to ask. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his voice. Without another word, you nod and let him pull you gently into the room. His fingers stay wrapped around yours as if afraid you’ll change your mind. He exhales, relieved, and guides you toward the bed.

You settle under the worn blankets together, the ones that still smell faintly of this home, of old memories. Yoongi tucks his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and shaky against your skin. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, grounding himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “Just… stay.”

And you do as your fingers comb through his hair, your touch slow and soothing. You lie there in the quiet, his grief softening in the safety of your presence, his heartbeat steadying against yours.

There is no hurry the next morning when you both get out of bed, followed by Yoongi who clicks his tongue when he realizes you’re still wearing your dress. You can tell he feels awful for the way you didn’t even get the chance to get into proper sleeping attire but you reassure him.

“I’m more concerned about explaining to my mom and dad where I slept. And your parents too. I’m shocked I even made it through the window with my dress…” 

He chuckles, stepping to you, “I didn’t think it was appropriate but you look good in that…”

You look down and smile, “Thank you. I’m changing to a new one for today.” 

You’re both still standing near the bed, feet barely apart, voices low like you’re afraid to break the fragile quiet of the morning. His eyes are tired but warmer than they’ve been in days, fixed on yours like he’s grateful you stayed, like he doesn’t want you to go.

“Don’t know how weird it is to say but I can’t wait to see you in it…”

You shift your weight, heart pounding — because it feels like something should be said, like something should happen, but neither of you dares cross that invisible line. Not yet.

Then the floor creaks just outside the door. Before either of you can react, the door opens slowly, and his mother steps in, her expression gentle, but her brows lifting ever so slightly in surprise at the sight of you both — standing there, close enough that your fingers could easily find his if you dared to reach.

“Oh.” She pauses, eyes flicking between you and Yoongi. Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a knowing smile. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

You feel your cheeks go warm. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before meeting his mom’s gaze. “Sorry, um…I didn’t want to be alone.”

His mother’s features soften completely, any trace of surprise melting into tenderness. “You don’t have to explain, Yoongi,” she says, voice quiet and kind. “I’m glad she was here.”

You look down, embarrassed, but when you glance at her again, you see that same look — the one that says she’s been hoping for this, for you, for him.

“I was about to start breakfast,” she adds, turning toward the door but casting one last glance at you both. “Come join me when you’re ready.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving behind a lingering warmth — and the sound of Yoongi’s soft exhale, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

“She’s gonna think—” you start, voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi looks at you, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners, that familiar, shy smile playing on his lips. “Maybe… let her think it.”

And before either of you can say anything more, the air between you feels charged again — full of what’s been building quietly for so long.

It’s not very long before you exit his ensuite wearing a different dress, your hair up in a neat bun as you watch him slip in behind you to get changed quickly. He’s gone for a while before you knock on the door, Yoongi allowing you in.

Yoongi stands in front of the small mirror, his fingers fumbling with the dark tie that hangs crookedly against his chest. His brows are furrowed in frustration, his shoulders tight beneath the black suit jacket that seems too heavy for him today.

You watch him for a moment from the doorway, heart aching for how tired he looks, how much weight he’s been carrying — and then you step forward before you can think too much about it.

“Here,” you murmur, reaching out. “Let me.”

He hesitates, glancing at you in the mirror, and for a second it feels like the room holds its breath. Then he lets his hands fall to his sides, swallowing hard, and nods once.

You’re so close now — closer than you’ve dared to be before — and you feel the warmth of him, the subtle hitch of his breath as your fingers brush the hollow of his throat. The fabric of the tie is smooth beneath your hands, but it’s nothing compared to the awareness of him standing so still, watching you with those deep, unreadable eyes.

Your fingers work carefully, looping and folding the tie into place. “You should’ve told me you were struggling,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to carry any louder.

His lips quirk, just slightly. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, your heart thudding hard. “You’re never a bother.”

And it’s the truth. Every second with him feels like something you shouldn’t want this much, but do anyway.

He watches you as you tighten the knot gently at his collar, your knuckles grazing his skin. His breath fans your cheek, and for a moment you swear he leans in, just barely — like he’s fighting the same pull you are.

You smooth the tie down against his chest, your palm lingering for a beat too long over his heart, feeling its steady, nervous rhythm beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, stepping back, though it takes effort. “Perfect.”

But the way he looks at you — gaze dark and tender all at once — makes you wonder if you’re talking about the tie at all.

Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks. The air between you hums with all the things you aren’t saying, all the things you want to say.

And when his fingers twitch like he might reach for you, when his lips part like he might speak — the sound of his mother’s voice calling softly is what finally breaks the moment.

Yoongi clears his throat, nodding. “Thank you,” he says, voice low, but his eyes say far more.

You manage a small smile, turning before you give yourself away completely. “Anytime.”

After breakfast, the car ride is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels thick, like the world itself is holding its breath. Outside, the morning is overcast, gray clouds hanging low, as if even the sky understands the weight of the day. You sit beside Yoongi in the backseat, hands folded in your lap, gaze flickering between the window and the side of his face — pale, solemn, his jaw tense as he stares ahead.

You want to say something, but nothing feels right. So you just are, next to him, hoping somehow that’s enough.

And then his hand finds yours.

It’s slow, like he’s debating it in his mind even as he does it. His fingers brush yours first, tentative, and then he laces them together, his palm warm and a little unsteady against yours. His grip tightens, like he’s anchoring himself, like holding you is the only thing keeping him grounded right now.

You glance at him, heart squeezing at how his thumb grazes yours absentmindedly, over and over, like a silent thank you. And when you meet his eyes — dark, glistening, exhausted but soft as they flick to you — you understand. Words aren’t needed. His touch says it all. I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t know how I’d do this without you.

You squeeze his hand back, gentle but sure. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Neither of you speaks, and neither of you needs to. The silence fills in with that simple, steady connection — fingers woven tight together, two hearts holding on in the middle of the storm.

The rest of the ride passes in a hush, the kind that hums with unspoken things. Yoongi doesn’t let go of your hand. Even as his parents speak quietly up front, even as the funeral hall draws closer, he holds on like he’s afraid he might lose his grip on himself if he lets you go.

When the car slows to a stop, you feel his fingers flex around yours once, almost like he’s checking — you’re still there, right? — before he releases you, slowly, reluctantly. You can feel the absence of his touch like a ghost against your skin.

Outside, people have already gathered. Family, friends, faces lined with sympathy and grief. Yoongi draws a breath, deep, steadying. You watch the way his shoulders square as he steps out, the weight of the day settling over him.

But before he closes the door, he pauses. Leans down just a little. His eyes meet yours, and they’re shining with unshed tears, with exhaustion, with gratitude so deep it nearly breaks your heart.

“Come with me?” It’s soft, barely audible over the murmur of voices outside.

You nod. “Always.”

And so you do — walking beside him, close enough that your arm brushes his. During the service, you stay near. Your presence is a quiet constant: the tissue you press into his hand at the right moment, the way you rest your palm at his back when the weight gets too heavy, the way your gaze finds his whenever he needs something steady to look at.

And Yoongi feels it all. Every little kindness, every silent reassurance. In the middle of it all, he keeps finding you. Your face, your touch, your warmth.

It hits him between one breath and the next. There’s no life I want if it doesn’t have you in it.

When it’s all over, when the goodbyes have been said and people start to drift away, he pulls you aside — behind the building, where it’s quiet, just for a minute.

He takes your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks. His black hair falls into his eyes, and there’s something raw in his gaze as he looks at you.

“I don’t want to do any of this without you,” he whispers. “Not today. Not ever.”

And as he leans his forehead to yours, as his breath mingles with yours in the hush of that moment, you know — you’re both exactly where you’re meant to be.

Together.

author’s note »» Here we are! Part seven! A heavier and loaded chapter but things are unfolding for our dear reader and Yoongi! I am planning on longer chapter and I truly hope you plan to stick around to see where this goes for these two!

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[joelssimp]

STILL | CHAPTER 19

CW: alternating pov, jealousy, secret relationship, phone-sex, masturbation, +18 MDNI.

6.9K words

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19 - So Obvious

The mountains were a different kind of cold, way colder than Calgary at this time of the year. They were dusted with snow that stuck, not like the teasing flurries we’ve been getting lately. Canmore felt quieter and it looked older — like something tucked between the folds of time and hundreds of pines all around. It was a colder kind of beauty, and maybe that suited us for this next phase of the shooting schedule.

We all arrived late in the morning. The crew was already buzzing, unpacking lights and cables, heaters humming in every corner. I kept my head down, camera over one shoulder, my bag over the other. Pedro offered to carry it for me again, but I just smiled and brushed his hand without saying anything.

We were being careful for real this time. Or at least we were trying.

Just a handful of people knew about us, mostly his family and the closest of friends. The plan was to keep it this way for a good while.

We were still trying to figure out our relationship ourselves, no need to have more eyes on us.

We didn’t have to name anything out loud yet. It was there in the glances, the brushing fingers, the quiet looks when we thought no one else was paying attention. We were trying to keep the work clean, keep the feelings where they belonged, just in between us when we were alone. And yet… something leaked out anyway.

One person was back with us after five months, and that person was too damn smart for his own good.

He had the same easy stride, and that wide grin we all missed. The way his jacket was too thin for the weather but he wore it like it didn’t matter. Gabriel hadn’t changed much — just looked more rested, his hair was longer and he grew a killer mustache for the role. 

Last time we saw him was the wrap day for Nico as Sarah, back when we were shooting episode 1. And that felt like a lifetime ago. We’d promised him not to have much fun without him, and he picked up on what happened in the last few months too quick.

“Look who’s back” he shouted, arms already open.

I jogged the last few steps and hugged him, letting myself fold into the familiarity.

“Still falling into rivers?” he asked into my ear.

“Still laughing at me for it?” I shot back.

He pulled away, hands warm on my arms. “You’re different,” Gabriel said with his brow raised.

“Aren’t we all?” I replied too quickly, trying to deflect. My stomach did a little flip inside my body. “It’s been a long five months.”

He nodded slowly. “For all of us.”

Pedro showed up a moment later, and the smile that Gabriel gave him was full of something older than just a work friendship. It felt more like a brotherhood. They clapped each other on the back like men who’d bled together. And they did, even though it was fake blood.

“Caballero,” Gabriel said.

“Look who’s finally back,” Pedro replied, that lazy boy-ish grin I loved already slipping out.

Gabriel squinted at him. “So. Should I congratulate you or pretend I haven’t already put two and two together?”

Pedro didn’t answer. Just shoved him lightly and changed the subject. 

I was thankful when he let it slide, not picking up too much on our situation. We weren’t confirming anything, at least not here with all the crew members going back and forth around us.

Bella joined us a few minutes later, bundled in a parka twice their size, red cheeks and nose like they were already part of the scenery. Gabriel’s eyes lit up excitedly. They missed each other when we first started, he wrapped a day or two before Bella started.

“And there is our Ellie,” he said warmly.

Bella smiled and offered one hand. “So… You’re Tommy.”

He grinned. “Sometimes. But only on the good days.”

That cracked them up. I loved watching that — Gabriel, already pulling Bella in like he’d known them for years. He was all warmth and positivity. And that was just what we need around this cold small town.

We spent the next hour in and out of production meetings and tech checks. I floated between second unit notes and camera tests, my eyes always sharp to catch any different angles of different moments. Pedro was off rehearsing blocking with Bella and Gabriel. When I peeked through the monitor, I caught Gabriel throwing Pedro a wink when no one was looking.

I rolled my eyes and looked away. But I couldn’t deny my shy smile.

Pedro caught my gaze once, from across the lot. His eyes held me for just a second longer than he was supposed to. I pressed my camera to my face to hide the way my mouth curled up at the corners into a smile that only he was able to get from me.

It was a random Wednesday in that little town, and we were between scheduled shoots. There was a lot of extras around the set of Jackson, new hires, new interns, and new people meant “we need to be more cautious”. But we grew tired of not having enough time around each other, so Pedro and I had managed to sneak away for lunch together. And it was nothing extravagant — just a little further from the place we usually eat with the crew, just enough that we didn’t need to worry too much.

The kitchen of that set was too damn small, the kind of cozy that made you stay closer to the other person than you needed to be.

We weren't even doing anything scandalous, we were just... laughing, together. His hand was on my lower back, and mine resting lazily on his left thigh. I was curled up in his hoodie, that black “Carrie” one that he took everywhere, and it was so natural now, the way we existed together in these little stolen pieces. 

We forgot we weren't supposed to be touching each other… The door swung open. I didn’t fucking hear it. Not until it was too late.

“Oh—shit! I’m sorry!” a voice rang out from that direction, kind of too panicky.

I jumped, nearly knocking over my thermos with piping hot coffee.

Pedro turned in his seat, slow and calm, but his hand subtly moved to mine under the table. “It’s okay,” he said, calm as ever. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

The intern — I think her name was Lydia or something like that — stood frozen like she had just walked in on a crime scene. Which, to be fair, in terms of PR for his career, maybe that’s what all it was.

“I was just bringing the updated call sheets… They told me to come by… I didn’t mean to—”

I stood up, trying to act like it was all very professional, like my cheeks weren’t flaming. “Really, it’s fine.”

“No! I mean— I didn’t see anything,” she said, clearly seeing everything. Her eyes bounced between Pedro and me, connecting invisible dots faster than I could swipe them away.

Pedro just gave her that charming, easy smile. The one that could’ve stop the internet entirely for a full day if he wanted to. “Let me take those from you,” he said, walking over and gently taking the papers from her trembling hands.

But she still lingered. Interested in what was happening with us. She was curious like anyone would be in her place.

And then, from the hallway behind her, another voice: “Lydia, why are you—?”

Kate.

Of all the people. The one that knew everything, and still was a little distant for me to fear something I couldn’t see.

Lydia stammered again, but Kate, sharp as always, clocked the whole thing in about half a second. Her gaze snapped to me, then to Pedro, then back to Lydia. No sub-context, no second guesses, she just went with it…

“Oh, great. You found the kitchen,” Kate said, stepping forward, cool and collected like nothing was out of place. “I was looking for you, actually.”

Lydia blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah. You were supposed to be with camera crew B today. They’re down at the Christmas Tree with Gabriel. Let’s go.”

Lydia looked like she wanted to cry or evaporate, or maybe both, but she nodded quickly and stepped aside. “Okay… yeah, sorry.”

As she passed Kate, I watched my friend lean in and whisper something — low enough that I couldn’t catch it, but effective enough that Lydia didn’t dare look back once.

Kate stayed far enough so we wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

She looked at me, then at Pedro, and then back to me again. “You two need to lock your damn doors.”

I exhaled through my nose. “Thanks,”

“Yeah, like I said… I got you,” she shot back, but for once her voice was missing that bite from the last couple of days. “You both owe me, big one.”

She turned and left before I could say anything else.

I looked over at Pedro. He stood with the call sheets still in his hands, brows lifted, mouth slightly parted like he was still catching up to everything that happened.

“Well,” he said finally. “We’ve officially been caught.”

I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. “We’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“Do you think she’ll say anything?”

“Who, Kate?”

“No, I mean, that girl… Lydia?” He pointed to the way they went back.

“I don’t know.” I met his eyes.

He walked over, brushed a loose hair off my forehead. “Guess we need to lay low for a little while.”

I didn’t say anything back. Could feel the little bubble we’ve been wrapped cracking just a little in front of me. It was just a small crack, a glimpse of how life could be in case we took things publicly.

Because the thing about being caught… is that the secret doesn’t stay like that for too long.

It started with just a look.

One of the set decorators — I think her name was Mandy too, short for Amanda, but everyone called her Dee for some reason I didn’t know. She raised just one eyebrow as I walked past her around the catering area. And it was nothing too dramatic, but you could tell she knew something was up, but there was no courage to bring anything right there.

I was able to ignore that, but then there was the sound guy — Derek — who asked me, too casually, “You working close with Pedro again this week?” Like it was just small talk fit for an evening of work. And the fucker already knew the answer… Yeah, he was just confirming.

By the third incident, it wasn’t subtle anymore. Bella found me near the make-up trailer one morning, fiddling with my lens cap. “Heads up,” they said, voice low as they passed by. “There’s noise going around.”

I glanced up at them. “About?”

They gave me a look that said don’t make me say the obvious.

“Oh,” I said. “fuck.”

“I’m brushing it off,” Bella said. “Kate too. She’s being—surprisingly loyal, given… everything.”

I nodded slowly, with no courage to look in their direction. The cracks were getting bigger and bigger each working day.

“It’s just gossip,” I muttered.

“Yeah. But gossip in a crew like this one is like glitter. It doesn’t go away easy. There’s always a reminder.”

I didn’t even have time to answer before someone from wardrobe stepped outside, cutting the conversation short.

That same day, Pedro and I decided to keep our distance from each other. It was a scene in Jackson outdoors, light snow falling, the actors and extras going around a huge Christmas tree. He didn’t sit with me at lunch, like we used to do. I didn’t take that many pictures of him, just left it to Kate’s lenses. Our eyes met once — just once — across the field of fake tents and fake houses of Jackson.

It hit me right there — how different Canmore was from Calgary.

In Calgary, we had pockets of freedom, the city was too big for people to get their nose in our business. But here? The town was too damn small, and the production footprint was even smaller. Everyone stayed in the same hotel or cabins, and ate in the same two diners. I could already feel the walls closing in on us.

Later that week, Kate found me after wrap, as I shoved gear into my case too roughly.

“You’re being obvious,” she said.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” she cut in. “And he is too. And look, I’m not gonna be the one to call the press or anything. But someone else might.”

I stared at her.

She sighed. “I’m trying to help. I know you don’t trust me after everything, and maybe you shouldn’t. But I’ve seen what a rumor like this can do to a set. You two need to cool it down.”

I swallowed hard, nodding my head “I hate this.”

Kate gave a dry laugh. “Welcome to the film industry.”

“Yeah” I said blankly, with this weird feeling growing inside my chest “Thanks for helping tho. You didn’t need to.”

“Don’t mention it” She brushed it off “We’re friends. You would have done the same thing for me.”

“I would,” That got a smile from me. “I Totally would.”

I told Pedro that night — over text: Let’s just take some space. Until things cool down. Please.

He answered ten minutes later: Whatever you need. I'm here. Even if I’m not next to you.

It hurt more than I expected — To pull back after so much closeness. To pretend and smile when I was handed notes by someone whispering behind my back. To walk past him like he wasn’t mine in the quiet moments anymore.

But the rumors were out. And even though Bella and Kate kept swatting them away like flies, the buzz was already in the air.

And all we could do… was wait for it to pass.

The next day, we tried again. I keep my head down. Told myself I was being professional, by staying out of Pedro’s orbit unless it’s absolutely necessary. But Canmore was too tight, too small, and every corner I turn, he was somehow right there — in frame, out of frame, leaning against a prop trailer or listening intently to Gabriel between takes.

And then there was this girl.

She’s new, or at least new enough that I haven’t learned her name yet. Maybe nineteen or twenty. A PA or something adjacent. She had long blonde hair, bright lipstick, and a laugh that rings louder than it needs to.

She’s shameless about it too — standing just a little too close to him while he’s running lines. Touching his arm when he makes a joke. She was flashing her teeth, twirling her lanyard and saying all the things any girl would want to say to him.

And he’s—God, he’s nice. Too fucking nice.

Of course he is. He smiles, big and wide. He also listens, or at least pretends to, and he responds whenever she asks anything to him. Pedro even laughs at something she says. He’s not being flirty — thank God — but he’s not pushing her away either.

And I want to scream. I want to tell her to back-off from my man. Tell her and anyone who would listen that he’s mine… Mine to touch, mine to care—He’s just mine.

I’m half a second away from walking over there and pulling her by her shiny little lanyard when someone catches my elbow. “Nope,” Kate says, cool as ever. “Turn around. Right the fucking now.”

I glare at her. “You saw that, right?”

“Oh, I saw. And I also saw your face. You were about to launch a grenade at that girl’s feet.”

“She’s so obvious, Kate.”

“Yes, she is. And you’re about to make it worse.”

I press my lips together. My hands are fists by the side of my body.

Kate guides me behind one of the wardrobe trailers and leans back like we’re just two crewmates shooting the shit.

“You think he’s into it?” I ask, hating the way my voice sounds — small, too tight in the throat.

Kate glances toward where Pedro and her are still talking. “No. But he’s… you know. He’s Pedro. He’s charming when he’s breathing.”

“Shouldn’t he know better?”

“Probably. But you can’t start fights on a film set, Sweetheart. That’s like… rule number one of hiding a relationship — you don’t act like you’re in one.”

I sag against the trailer wall, stomach twisting.

Kate watches me for a beat. Then, in a rare flicker of kindness, she adds, “He only has eyes for you, you know?! I’ve seen it, it’s so obvious… That man would eat dirt if you asked him nicely.”

A dry laugh escapes me, too fast to catch.

She bumps my shoulder lightly. “You good?”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

We stand there for another few minutes. Watching nothing, trying to calm my nerves down and letting the wind bite at our jackets.

Eventually, Kate says, “Let’s go back before someone sees us together and starts another rumor about us.”

I smirk. “Wouldn’t that be so much fun.”

“Oh, please. You’re not my type.”

“Neither are you.”

We grin — briefly. And for a moment, the tension lifts from our friendship.

Until I round the trailer again and see Pedro with her one last time, still smiling like nothing’s burning. Like my insides aren’t burning with this jealousy that wants to eat me alive.

I knew something was off the second I saw her disappear behind the trailer with Kate.

She wasn't great at hiding what she feels — not with me, anyway — and whatever mask she tried to put on for the rest of the day didn’t do much more than smudge the edges of what she was fighting internally.

Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine when we were close enough. She only gave me short answers and walked off the second the scenes were done.

I figured I’d done something wrong. Maybe I said the wrong thing, or looked at her the wrong way… Or maybe that’s what taking time apart meant for her.

Took me until after dinner to piece it together — that girl from production, the one who looked like she belonged on a campus lawn and not a working set. She’d been hovering all damn day, hanging on every word I said, laughing too hard at nothing. At first, I thought it was just nerves from being in a big production. But by the time she asked if I had any “insider tips” about the next episode — with her palm pressed flat against my bicep — I got it.

And that sharp photographer’s eyes had seen it too. Of course she saw it, and she didn’t like it.

Now it’s past ten, I’m lying on the couch in the apartment they gave me here in Canmore, and I dial her number like I’ve been meaning to since the wrap earlier that day.

She picks up after four rings.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hi.”

She’s probably curled up in her bed by now. And I can hear it in her voice. She was not cold, not exactly, but somehow it was too sharp. Kind of guarded — Her tone’s too careful for how we usually talk when we’re alone.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Liar. But I don’t call her on it yet.

“I missed you today,” I say instead. “You ghosted me.”

“Kind of the whole purpose of staying apart, I think.”

I pause for a second, then decide to just go there straight up.

“Was it the girl?”

Silence.

I smile, even if she can’t see it. “It was, wasn’t it?”

She groans — quiet, low. “She was so fucking obvious.”

“Yeah, I figured it out eventually.”

“You didn’t stop her.”

“I didn’t encourage her either,” I counter, shifting the phone to my other ear. “I was trying to be polite.”

“Well, polite Pedro looked like “flirty” Pedro from where I stood.”

“I wasn’t flirting, mi amor.”

She’s quiet again, and I wait. Then:

“Maybe I just don’t like being invisible.”

That lands harder than I expect. Because she’s not wrong. I also hated the way my life could affect the way people were going to treat her. How if one word got out, there would be thousands of girls after her to hurt her feelings in any way they could. How we had to stay low, and I couldn’t tell people how she picked me when she could’ve picked any guy her age.

“You’re not invisible to me,” I say softly, “Not for one second.”

“I know.”

“I thought we were doing the right thing. Keeping it low. At least it should be easier.”

“I know that too.”

I close my eyes. “You want me to stop? I will.”

“No. Just… tell me next time. When someone’s that obvious. Warn me so I don’t want to light someone’s clipboard on fire.”

That makes me laugh a little. “Duly noted.”

She lets out a breath — the kind that tells me she’s finally, finally relaxing.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” I murmur.

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are. A little.”

“…Fine. Maybe a little.”

“I liked it.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“I like when you care about me.” My voice softens even more. “I like you.”

Another quiet second. Then: “I like you too,” she whispers. “Even when you’re a dumbass.”

I grin. “Especially when I’m a dumbass?”

“Don’t push your luck, Pascal.”

We talk like that for another fifteen minutes — quiet little teasing, joking whenever I want to make her laugh, and the kind of intimacy that feels right with her.

She’s curled under the covers, I can tell by the sound of her voice. Soft and low. I can hear her laugh more muffled than usual, like she’s got the edge of the comforter pulled up to her chin.

“So… Tell me what you’re wearing,” I say, just to mess with her.

“Oh my God,” she groans, a laugh tucked behind it. “Are you seriously—”

“I mean it,” I say. “You were jealous of a twenty-year-old today. I think I deserve a little something.”

“Yeah? And what exactly do you think I’m wearing to bed in this town?”

“I’m picturing that T-shirt. The gray one, the one that’s technically mine.”

She exhales. “Technically.”

“With nothing under it.”

“Technically.”

I close my eyes, letting that sink in for a second. The idea of her in my shirt, legs tangled in her sheets, phone pressed to her ear — it makes my chest go tight, my throat warm and the blood rush right to my groin.

“You should’ve let me come over.”

She hums, teasing. “So you could defend your honor from the clipboard girl?”

“No,” I murmur. “So I could take my shirt back.”

There is a pause.

“You’d have to earn it.”

“Oh?” I smile at that. “You giving out dares now?”

“Only for you.” Her voice dips lower, like she’s not entirely joking anymore. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Say something… and it sticks with me. Stays in my head after we hang up.”

“Good,” I say, voice low. “I hope I live there.”

“You do,” she says, almost like she doesn’t mean to admit it. Then quieter: “You really do.”

My hand tightens around the phone. “If I was there right now…”

“Pedro...” She warns, like saying — don't go there.

“You know what I’d do?”

She lets out the smallest, sharpest inhale. “Tell me.”

“I’d start slow,” I murmur. “Fingertips under the hem of that T-shirt. Kisses to your shoulder. Your neck… All of it.”

There’s some silence. And I imagine her biting her lip, with her eyes closed, just letting the words sink in.

“Pedro,” she whispers, and I feel it — in my gut, my chest, lower. That need pulling me like a tide.

“Yeah, baby.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know. But I still miss you.”

I rub my hand over my jaw. “Tomorrow. I’ll find some time. I don’t care if it’s ten minutes. I’ll come get you, kiss you like I wanted the whole fucking day.”

She doesn’t answer for a moment. Just breathes, heavy and slow.

“Cariño,” I say, a little rougher now, shifting my body on that damn couch “say goodnight before I really lose my mind.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then:

“Maybe I want you to.”

My breath stops halfway through my throat.

“What?”

Her voice is soft, but certain. “Maybe I want you to lose your mind for me.”

I sit back, stare at the ceiling like it’ll help me to calm down. “You’re not playing fair.”

“You started it,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re the one who called me baby. You’re the one who brought up my shirt.”

“I was trying to be good.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Fuck.

“Baby,” I say again, voice barely a rasp now. “What are you doing?”

“Imagining your hands on me.” Her voice drops lower. “The way you look when you’re about to touch me. Like you already know how it’ll wreck me.”

I groan, low and sharp. “You’re killing me.”

“I want to.”

I close my eyes tight. She’s messing with me, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Tell me,” she whispers. “What would you really do if you were here?”

“You really want to know?”

“Tell me—”

“I’d start with your thighs,” I say, already gone now. “Spread them slow. Drag my fingers in a touch so light, you would have goosebumps from it. But I was not gonna give it to you. Not yet.”

She lets out a breath that nearly breaks me.

“Then what?”

“I’d kiss you. Right between your legs.” My voice shakes a little. “Hold you open. Taste how much you missed me.”

She exhales, rough, and I know her body’s reacting — I can hear it in the way she shifts, in the way her breath snags on my name. She’s already gone too.

“Cariño…” I call her, my teeth biting down my lower lip.

“Mhm?”

“I want to be there.”

“You are.”

“No, baby. I want to touch you.”

She hums like it’s a confession. “I’m already touching myself.”

Yeah, fuck it.

That’s all it takes. I lie back, hand slipping beneath the waistband of my sweatpants like I’ve already given in, and I have, I’m already all in with her, falling a thousand times over just for her.

“I need to hear it,” she breathes.

“What?”

“That I do this to you. That you’re touching yourself too.”

I groan, palm dragging over the front of my boxers. I’m already leaking, already pulsing for her. “I’d kiss down your chest, your stomach… tongue teasing that spot just above your—fuck—your waistband. And I wouldn’t stop until you were begging me.”

“Pedro…”

The way she says my name — wrecked, reverent — makes me dizzy.

“You touching yourself right now, baby?” I ask.

There’s just a moment, and then: “Yes.”

My hand slides under the waistband without hesitation.

“How?” I whisper tugging down my clothes just enough so it can spring free.

“Two fingers,” she says, voice breathless now. “Circling slow. Like I’m pretending it’s your tongue.”

Fuuuck.

My hips lift off the couch. I’m barely stroking myself and it’s already too much, too sensitive. I miss her already and it’s only been a couple of days since I had her.

“I’d eat you until your legs were shaking,” I rasp, stroking more firmly now “Hold you open for me. Whisper your name right against your cunt, again and again, until you came all over my mouth. And even then I wouldn’t stop”

She moans so quietly it’s almost a breath — but I can hear her, my ear is trained to expect that kind of noise now.

“You want that?” I ask, hips shifting, imagining her laying on that bed alone, touching herself to the sound of my voice. “You want my tongue buried in you until you cry?”

“Yes—god, yes.”

My hand moves faster now. “I’d flip you over, face down. Pull your hips up, and slide in slow. Not all the way. Just the tip.”

She lets out this gorgeous, broken little sound. “Pedro, please—”

“You’d feel so tight around me, baby. So fucking warm. I’d hold you there, right on the edge, just breathing through it, because if I moved—if I really fucked you— I’d lose it.”

Her breath is ragged now, little stuttered gasps between words she can’t quite say. “I’m—close.”

“Cariño,” I breathe, “tell me what you’re doing.”

“Pressing against—fuck—against my clit,” she says, voice trembling now, heat dripping from every syllable. “Fast circles now. Thinking about your mouth. The way you talk to me when I let you have all of me.”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, stroking harder. “I’m right behind you.”

“Pedro—”

“Tell me what you need.”

“You,” she gasps. “Just you. Inside me. Deep.”

“Use your fingers, let them sink in” I close my eyes.

“Oh-my-god—” She gasps as soon as she obeys me.

“Baby, I’d take my time. I’d keep you on that edge until you’re begging.”

“I am begging.”

I shift on the couch, legs spread wider, free hand holding the phone even tighter. “I’d pin your wrists,” I let my shaky voice carry through. “Kiss your neck until you can’t think straight. Slide in slow — just once — and hold there until you lose your mind again.”

“Pedro—”

“I’d say your name, again and again, like it’s holy. Like it’s the only thing I know how to say”

She lets out a long, desperate moan — no shame in it. She’s unraveling fast, and I will not last longer.

“I’m close,” she whispers.”So fucking close.”

“Don’t stop. Let me hear you. Let me feel it with you.”

My hand picks up the pace. Precum spreading all over it, making it easy for me to go as fast as I can. The image of her body crumbling being the fuel to it. I imagine her there — thighs shaking, lips parted, phone pressed to her ear while her back arches in bed. I stroke faster, jaw clenched tight. I want to be there. I want to be the one moving inside her, kissing her after the shakes slow down and holding her down through the last wave.

“Pedro—” It’s her voice, cracked open now. “I’m—fuck—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”

She cries out — not loud, just a sound of someone who can’t keep it inside, like she’s letting go of something she’s held in all day. And I feel it break me open, too.

“Baby—fuck—I’m coming—I’m coming, ahhhh…”

It hits hard, like it always does when it’s her. Sharp, hot and ragged. I fuck my hand up to ride it out with her name in my mouth, every muscle strung tight, the heat of white and thick cum hitting the skin of my hand. I groan until I don’t have anything in me anymore, and then finally—finally—collapse into the aftermath.

She breathes, slow and uneven, like she’s floating. And my breaths are heavy and deep.

I bring a sock to clean myself up, throwing it somewhere near the laundry room. 

Rub my face, still catching my breath. “You okay?”

“More than okay,” she says, voice warm and sleepy now. “You?”

“Destroyed. That was so fucking intense. Wrecked me.”

She laughs — and it’s soft and real. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d let you ruin me every night if you wanted to.”

“Worth it.”

“Every fucking time.”

She hums, sleepy now, the full effect of a perfect orgasm hitting hard now. “Next time… in person.”

“Next time, you won’t be able to walk straight for two days.”

There’s a satisfied little moan. “Good.” She yawns. “I should sleep.”

“I should too. But I might just lie here thinking about you instead.”

“Me too.”

“Buenas noches, baby.” (good night)

“Buenas noches, Pedro.”

I don’t hang up and neither does she, and eventually, we both fall asleep — still connected, breathing in sync.

I woke up with the phone still pressed to the pillow beside me. Battery at 13%, screen black, and the call still going.

For a second, I thought I’d dreamed it — the way his voice sounded when he came undone in my ear, the low, almost reverent way he said my name like it meant more than anything. But then there’s a quiet little snore through the speaker that caught up with me.

We’re still connected.

I rolled onto my side and unlocked the phone, screen glowing way too bright. The call timer said 7 hours, 18 minutes.

“Pedro,” I whispered, not really expecting any answer.

There was a pause. Then a low, groggy hum. “Yeah?”

I smile big, biting my bottom lip, warmth blooming under my skin like a second sunrise. “We fell asleep on the phone, mi amor.”

“Good.” His voice was wrecked with sleep — deeper than usual, like gravel and honey. “Means I wasn’t dreaming.”

Yeah, neither was I.

He yawned, and I closed my eyes, letting the sound carry through me. Then a moment passed, and I remembered — every word, every whisper and every moan from the night before.

I squeezed my thighs together on instinct, my body waking up all over again. Well, shit.

“I should get up,” I said, already stretching, eyes flicking to the light seeping through the blinds. “Long day ahead.”

“Turn the camera on,” he mumbled. “I wanna see you.”

I hesitated, then hit the red camera button.

He did the same a second later — his image filling my screen, salt and pepper hair sticking up in every direction, the old t-shirt is very stretched at his collar, and there’s pillow dent on one cheek. He blinked at the screen like he was still adjusting to the light. I watched him grin slow and lazy when he saw me.

“You look cute,” he said.

“Liar,” I mumbled, pushing my hair back. “I look like I got hit by a truck.”

“The cutest truck victim I’ve ever seen.”

I rolled my eyes, grinning despite myself, and dragged the phone along with me as I got up. My gear was still scattered near the door from the day before — batteries charging, memory cards stacked neatly in a tiny box, tripod leaning against the wall.

He stayed on screen as I moved around, brushing my teeth with one hand, propping him against a lens case while I tied my hair up.

“You’re quiet,” he said eventually, pulling on a hoodie on top of his shirt. “Thinking about last night?”

I stopped mid-motion, glancing at the screen. He raised an eyebrow, amused and already smug.

“Yes,” I said, not even pretending to hide it. “I keep getting flashes. Like... your voice. The way you said—”

“Careful,” he said, smirking. “I’m still very much a problem down there.”

I laughed, grabbing a battery pack and stuffing it into my bag. “We’re soooo not allowed to look at each other today.”

“No eye contact. No smirking. No tongue against teeth thing you do when you’re pretending not to smile.”

“You love that.”

“I do,” he said. “I really, really do.”

I felt my face warm again, and turned slightly away from the screen, trying to stay focused on the little tasks — packing gear, checking cables, just the normal things.

But I could still feel him watching. Even through a pixelated small screen.

“You’re really doing it,” he said after a moment. “All this gear, and the work. You just don’t stop.”

“I could say the same about you,” I said, zipping a lens pouch closed. “And you didn’t even drink coffee yet.”

He held up a mug just then, like I’d summoned it into his hand. “Didn’t want to miss your pretty face.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I shoved the last cable into the bag and looked back down at the screen. He was watching me again — this time less teasing, and just a little softer.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I am now.”

There was so much more I wanted to say — about last night, about how much it mattered that he saw me like that, wanted me like that, even from a distance. About how maybe, this version of us, even when we were apart, still felt closer than anything I’d had before him.

But instead I said, “Battery’s almost dead. I should go.”

“Meet you at the set?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the smile settle easy on my face. “Try not to look too hot.”

He winked. “No promises, baby.”

I hung up reluctantly, the silence in the room returning a little too quickly.

We were really doing this. The whole relationship together, as partners. Even if we couldn’t show anyone. It was ours with every single little detail.

I left my room feeling lighter. Humming a soft song, and ready for my work day.

After a while, I spotted her just as I was climbing out of the van — coffee in hand, eyes half-lidded from another too-early morning. Kate stood by the trailers, hoodie pulled up, hair in a messy braid, hands tucked into her pockets like she didn’t want to admit she was freezing.

Our eyes met, and there’s a small pause. Then she gives me a nod followed by a: “Hey.”

I smiled back. “Hey.”

We fell into it too easily, both of us walking toward the production tent. The light snow crunching with every step we took. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds — but it didn’t feel tense like before. It felt... like something thawing, like sun warming frost off a windowpane.

“You look better,” Kate said, finally. “Well. Less dead inside, at least.”

“Thanks, I think?”

She grinned, bumping her shoulder into mine. “You been sleeping good?”

I made a face. “Yes. Sort of…No… Maybe.”

Kate shot me a look. “That’s not a real answer.”

I laughed and wrapped my hands tighter around my coffee. “Fine. I slept last night, just... not very restfully.”

She smirked. “Oh?”

I glanced over at her. That look in her eyes — teasing, alive, curious in the way she used to be when we’d sit on the floor of our apartment at 1am, spilling secrets with wine and half-finished edits on our laptops.

So I leaned in a little. “I might have... had a very late phone call last night.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “With him?”

I nodded.

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Did it... escalate?”

I let the silence answer.

She nearly choked on her own coffee. “Jesus.”

“I know,” I whispered, grinning like a fool. “It was—God, Kate, it was so much. He’s just—he knows exactly what to say. And he listens. Like he’s hanging onto every word, every breath.”

Kate whistled. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“I’m so fucking gone.”

I didn’t realize I was glowing until she said it. “You look... really happy.”

I stopped walking for a second, surprised at the way that landed. Kate looked at me, not like a skeptic look this time, not guarded or hesitant. It was just like my friend… Just finally Kate.

“I am,” I said. “And it’s weird because there’s so much going on, and it shouldn’t make sense, and I still feel like the world is shaking under me—but with him... I feel secure, protected even”

We kept walking, the weight between us lighter now. I glanced toward the lot where the actors’ trailers were. Pedro’s was already nearby. He was standing outside it, talking to Gabriel and one of the makeup girls, dressed in a dark crewneck, coffee in hand, curls still a little damp.

Then his eyes flicked up—right at us, like a string had pulled his attention.

Kate didn’t notice at first, but I did. The look in his eyes wasn’t casual. It was sharp, heated and intimate. I knew what he was thinking right at that moment.

I felt my breath catch.

Kate followed my gaze, then snorted. “God, you two are so obvious.”

“We are not,” I hissed, eyes wide.

“Sweetheart,” she said, gesturing between us with both hands. “He just looked at you like he’s playing back last night in his head like a podcast. On. Fucking. Repeat.”

I covered my mouth, stifling a laugh. “He does that tongue thing when he’s thinking about it.”

“He definitely just did the tongue thing.”

We reached the edge of the tent, and I turned a little, hiding behind a stack of gear cases, trying to get my heart rate under control. My skin felt hot all over. Kate leaned against the table next to me, watching me with that old familiar grin.

“So,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Phone sex, hun?”

“Kate!”

“What?” she shrugged, teasing. “If you can’t talk about it with me, who the hell can you talk to?”

I let out a slow breath and leaned into her arm, finally letting myself laugh.

It didn’t fix everything. But having her there, after everything felt right. A missing part of the too-messy puzzle.

And somewhere across the lot, Pedro was still watching — still smiling in that quiet, dangerous way — like this town held on to our little secret.

[elikajinnie]

Together As Gold - N.R & Y.J

P: Slytherins!Ni-ki & Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @milksugatae

Warnings: Love Triangle, Tension, Flirting, Humour, Arguments, Jealousy, Two Endings screw it, i cant choose between them! I MADE THEM TOO TEMPTING HELP! GO FOR BOTH IDK! THEY BOTH DOWN BADDD, Teasing... LIKE ALOT OF TEASING!!! peeves is a canon matchmaker!

Synopsis: What do you do when two cunning Slytherin boys want you? If only you knew the answer yourself.

a/n: i got a few ideas for the shenanigans so special thank you to @starf4lls and @encrifice <33 dont mind any mistakes!

see request here | hogwarts au masterlist

--

When you first found yourself at Hogwarts, you were alone. The tall stone walls, the constant chatter of students—it was all overwhelming, and you didn’t know anyone. So, you kept to yourself, focusing on finding your place, giving yourself just enough time to get used to the classes and the eccentric professors.

But once you settled into the flow, things started falling into place. You made friends with your housemates and exchanged stories. The days went by easier after that, and before long, you had a solid group of friends around you, your circle expanding little by little. It was all going well—until you were assigned to work with two Slytherins for a Herbology project.

Ni-ki and Jungwon.

They were the kind of people who knew exactly how to get under your skin. But you would figure out just how different they were from everyone else, with due time.

--

You walked out of Herbology, your hands full with books, the weight of them pressing against your chest. You were double-checking, making sure you had all your materials. The hallways were bustling with students heading to their next classes, but you didn’t mind. It gave you a bit of space to organize your thoughts.

You hadn’t noticed them at first. Ni-ki and Jungwon were trailing behind you, their voices rising in a playful but heated argument.

“I’ll ask her first,” Ni-ki insisted, his tone cocky as always.

“No way,” Jungwon shot back, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear the back-and-forth, but it didn’t quite register until Ni-ki, with a sudden burst of energy, slid in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. His sharp, mischievous smile was the first thing you noticed as he raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t completely interrupting your path. “What do you think about getting a head start on that project? Have you figured anything out yet?”

You blinked, surprised, and for a moment, just stared at him. Behind him, Jungwon stepped up to stand beside him, equally as composed but with a glint in his eyes that made you feel like this wasn’t just a casual suggestion. They were both waiting for you to respond, their eyes studying you, each trying to gauge how you’d react.

You narrowed your eyes at them, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well…” you started cautiously, “I have something figured out, but I’m still not completely sure.”

As if that was the cue they’d been waiting for, Ni-ki and Jungwon suddenly moved in closer. Before you could protest, they both grabbed your arms—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and pulled you along with them. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard, and blinked at the two of them in confusion.

Ni-ki’s mischievous grin never faltered. “Good, then we’ll figure the rest out together,” he said, as though it was perfectly normal for him to be dragging you along through the hallways.

Jungwon let out a soft laugh, the sound oddly charming as he looked over at Ni-ki. “Herbology isn’t even my strongest subject,” he admitted, his tone casual, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to reassure you or not.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. “As if you have a strong subject at all,” he shot back with a grin, a little too confident in his jab.

Jungwon smirked, unbothered. “At least I don’t fail every practical. Your last Herbology experiment looked like a failed potion, Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Better than your Charms assignment, which was basically a disaster in a teacup.”

“Better than your Transfiguration homework that could only be fixed by Professor McGonagall herself,” Jungwon retorted smoothly.

You just stared at the two of them, utterly baffled. Was this really happening? They bickered back and forth as if they didn’t have a care in the world, each comment more sarcastic than the last.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on your Potions, Jungwon,” Ni-ki continued, practically laughing. “Last time you nearly blew up a Hufflepuff with a single sneeze.”

Jungwon shot him a playful glare. “At least I didn’t turn a batch of sleeping draught into a batch of pepper-up potion. You nearly made the whole class go into a caffeine frenzy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to make sense of it all. Was it possible to survive being caught in the middle of this?

Jungwon leaned in a little closer, smirking. “Face it, Ni-ki. If it wasn’t for me saving your ass last semester, you’d be stuck in the library trying to figure out what went wrong with that failed Firemaking spell.”

Ni-ki grinned wider. “Who says I needed saving? I had it all under control, except for the little incident with the blast-ended skrewt…”

You sighed, realizing that you were witnessing a rivalry of sorts, but one that seemed more like the banter between good friends. It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. How were you supposed to survive having these two as your project partners?

Okay, turns out you would survive having them as your project partners. Despite their obvious lack of skill in Herbology, they did help—or at least tried to. Both of them seemed strangely determined, which you quickly realized wasn’t out of pure goodwill but out of a mutual fear of failing the subject. For what reason, you didn’t know, but the way they occasionally exchanged nervous glances during Professor Sprout’s lectures told you there was more to it than they were letting on.

What you did know, however, was that they were a surprisingly funny duo. Whether it was Ni-ki accidentally knocking over a pot of bouncing bulb roots and blaming it on Jungwon, or Jungwon deadpanning as he handed you a watering can he had accidentally charmed to spray in every direction but the plants, they somehow managed to turn the tedious project into something… enjoyable.

“You were supposed to prune it, not scare it to death!” you groaned, staring at the now-drooping Flutterby bush in Ni-ki’s hands.

“It’s not dead! It’s just taking a nap!” Ni-ki argued, holding it up defensively.

“Sure,” Jungwon interjected with a smirk. “Because plants definitely sleep like that.” He gestured at the pitiful bush, which was half dangling out of its pot.

“Do you want to take over?” Ni-ki shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh wait, you can’t even tell the difference between a Shrivelfig and a gourd!”

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “And yet, I’m still doing better than you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Somehow, their antics made it easy for you to relax and talk to them, like you’d known them since your first year at Hogwarts. They had this way of making you feel included in their little bubble of chaos, like you were already part of their circle of friends.

The three of you spent hours in the greenhouse, working on the project—and while there was plenty of bickering and mishaps, you couldn’t deny how much easier it was to get through with them.

Surprisingly, you all managed to finish the project on time, even if a few mishaps happened along the way—and even if a few unfortunate plants didn’t make it. The Flutterby bush never quite recovered from Ni-ki’s aggressive pruning, and Jungwon accidentally overwatered the Fanged Geranium, which resulted in a small flood and several frantic minutes of dodging snapping leaves. But somehow, against all odds, you pulled it together.

What shocked you most wasn’t just that the project was finished, but that you actually enjoyed your time with them. Sure, they were a pair of chaotic distractions half the time, but their constant banter and ridiculous antics made the whole ordeal much more bearable than you’d expected. It was easy to laugh with them, easy to talk to them about random things that had nothing to do with Herbology. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a school assignment and started feeling like… fun.

When Professor Sprout handed back your marks, you almost didn’t believe it. The three of you passed the project with flying colors.

“See?” Ni-ki said smugly, leaning back in his chair and flashing a grin at you and Jungwon. “I told you we’d ace it.”

“You told us nothing,” Jungwon deadpanned, elbowing him lightly. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have even known which end of a Mandrake to pull.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be trying to figure out how to trim the Devil’s Snare without getting strangled.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the two of them. “If it weren’t for me, neither of you would’ve made it past the planning stage.”

They both paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” Jungwon said with a small grin.

“Yeah,” Ni-ki added, nudging you playfully. “Guess you did help us.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. They might have been annoying, chaotic, and occasionally useless when it came to Herbology, but you had to admit—working with them had been fun.

And you honestly thought that was it—that after the Herbology project, you wouldn’t have to worry about Ni-ki and Jungwon anymore. They’d go back to their own lives, and you’d go back to yours, free of their chaos. But clearly, you were wrong.

The very next day, you were calmly walking toward the Great Hall for lunch, your mind blissfully occupied with thoughts of pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, when a loud BOOM echoed through the hallway behind you. The ground shook slightly, and the smell of smoke began to fill the air.

You froze, eyes widening as you turned around. Before you could even process what had happened, the rapid sound of footsteps thundered in your direction. Your gasp caught in your throat as you saw them—Jungwon and Ni-ki—sprinting down the corridor with wild, panicked looks on their faces.

“Run! Let’s go, let’s go!” Ni-ki shouted, his voice loud and urgent.

Before you could even ask what was going on, they spotted you. Without missing a beat, they grabbed you—Ni-ki gripping one arm, Jungwon the other—and practically dragged you along with them as they continued their frantic escape.

“Wait! What—what are you—” you tried to protest, your feet stumbling to keep up as they pulled you at full speed.

“Let’s go, let’s go, don’t stop!” Ni-ki repeated, glancing back over his shoulder like he expected something—or someone—to be chasing you.

“What did you two do?” you demanded, the words coming out more like a yell as they yanked you around a corner.

Jungwon was panting but managed to shoot you an innocent look. “Nothing serious,” he said, though the faint hint of panic in his voice betrayed him. “Just… a minor miscalculation.”

“A miscalculation?! What does that even mean?”

Before either of them could answer, another explosion rang out from somewhere behind you, followed by an angry voice shouting something you couldn’t quite make out. Your stomach dropped as realization began to dawn on you.

“Did you two blow something up?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief.

“Not on purpose!” Ni-ki shot back defensively, still pulling you forward. “We were just experimenting in the Potions classroom—”

“It was his idea,” Jungwon interrupted, cutting him off with a pointed look.

“Oh, don’t even start!” Ni-ki snapped, glaring at him. “You were the one who said, ‘Let’s add just a little more firewhiskey to see what happens!’”

“And you’re the one who actually poured it in!” Jungwon countered, his tone exasperated.

You stared at them, completely dumbfounded. This couldn’t be real. How had you gone from a peaceful walk to being dragged into yet another one of their disasters in less than two minutes?

“Why am I even here?!” you shouted, half running, half being dragged.

“Because,” Jungwon said, shooting you a quick grin despite the chaos, “you’re our lucky charm. And we figured you wouldn’t mind helping us... again.”

“You figured wrong!” you snapped, but neither of them seemed to care.

All you could do was sigh as they continued dragging you down the hall, their bickering somehow louder than the chaos they’d left. You were starting to think that surviving the Herbology project was only the beginning of whatever mess these two had planned for your life.

And, well, you were right. After meeting Ni-ki and Jungwon, your once relatively peaceful life became a whirlwind of chaos. Everything they did—everything—somehow ended up involving you, whether you wanted it to or not. It wasn’t long before their mischief became a permanent fixture in your day-to-day existence.

If they were planning a prank, they either roped you in to help or you’d somehow stumble across them in the aftermath, frantically trying to help them hide from Filch. And of course, you’d end up covering for them because they’d flash you those overly innocent smiles that made it impossible to say no.

If they were skipping class, you found yourself torn between making up excuses to the professors on their behalf or—more often than you cared to admit—being dragged along with them. “Just this once,” they’d promise, only for it to happen again the next week. And the week after that.

If they were goofing around, you were inevitably dragged into it. A simple walk to the library would somehow turn into a duel with floating chocolate frogs in the middle of the corridor. And if they decided to sneak out to Hogsmeade, you’d find yourself sandwiched between them at the Three Broomsticks, half-laughing, half-sighing as they plotted their next big thing.

Even their visits to Hagrid’s hut became a regular thing for you. The first time, they claimed they just wanted to “show you something cool,” but the next thing you knew, you were in Hagrid’s hut, trying to dodge a Blast-Ended Skrewt that had gotten a little too excited. It was a miracle you all made it out in one piece.

Somewhere along the way, though, all of the chaos and madness began to feel normal. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but you’d become friends with them—real friends. The kind who stuck by each other, no matter how ridiculous the situation. And, as much as you hated to admit it sometimes, you enjoyed it. They made life more exciting and a lot more fun.

Eventually, the three of you became known across the school as the Mischief Trio. Every time something happened—whether it was a dungbomb going off in the middle of a Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch match, a swarm of enchanted paper birds in the library, or Filch’s office mysteriously flooding—it was almost guaranteed that you three were involved in some way. Professors groaned at the sight of you, and other students either avoided you or gravitated toward you, depending on their appetite for trouble.

But no matter how much trouble you got into, you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Sure, they drove you crazy most of the time, but they also made Hogwarts feel a little more like home. And you knew you’d always have their backs—just like they’d always have yours.

So it wasn’t really much of a surprise when you were sitting quietly in the library, diligently working through your Potions notes, and Jungwon suddenly appeared, slipping into the seat across from you. A second later, Ni-ki followed, plopping himself down beside him. Neither said a word, which was unusual. You didn’t even lift your head, only glanced at them for a brief second in acknowledgment before returning your attention to your notes.

The silence lingered, and for a moment, you were genuinely surprised. Normally, by now, they’d have already started whispering—well, trying to whisper—about their latest harebrained idea or grumbled about how boring studying was. It would escalate until Madam Pince would inevitably swoop in with her stern glare and a sharp “Silence!” by which point they’d be grinning like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But this time, they just sat there, completely quiet.

It was so unlike them that you couldn’t help but glance up, a little suspicious. Jungwon was leaning casually back in his chair, flipping idly through a random book he’d grabbed, while Ni-ki seemed to be doodling on a scrap of parchment. Neither of them met your gaze, though you could tell something was up by the way they were both sneaking glances at you from the corners of their eyes.

Before you could say anything, Jungwon slipped something across the table—a small folded piece of parchment. You frowned, curiosity piqued, and carefully opened it.

We need your help. Meet us at the Astronomy Tower after dinner. Don’t tell anyone.

You stared at the note for a moment before glancing up at him. Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, his expression unreadable but with just enough of a spark in his eyes to make you wary. Beside him, Ni-ki finally looked up from his parchment and gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with stealing a cauldron cake.

“What exactly do you need help with?” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at them.

Ni-ki quickly shushed you, his grin widening. “Not here,” he muttered, gesturing around dramatically as if someone might be listening. “Just come later, and we’ll explain everything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to get me into trouble?”

“Because it probably will,” Jungwon said with a small, unapologetic shrug. “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

You gave him a flat look, but he and Ni-ki just grinned at you, their expressions far too innocent for comfort. Whatever they had planned, you already knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. And yet, you knew you’d end up going.

Because somehow, they always managed to drag you along.

So, you did end up going to the Astronomy Tower after dinner, half-expecting to find them already waiting for you. But when you arrived, the place was empty. The cool night air swept through the open windows as you looked around, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor.

"Jungwon? Ni-ki?" you whispered, peering into the shadows. No response.

You frowned, waiting for a few minutes, debating whether you’d been pranked. Then, the faint sound of stone shifting caught your attention. Whipping your head around, you scanned the room—and almost screamed when you saw a hole opening in the stone wall near your leg.

“Relax,” Ni-ki’s grinning face popped out of the hole, his head tilted mischievously. His voice was almost too casual for someone emerging from a secret passage. “It’s just me. Come on, get in.”

“What—Ni-ki? What is—how did you even—” you stammered, taking a step back as he motioned for you to follow.

“No time for questions. Just get in,” he urged, already reaching out to grab your ankle.

“Wait, get in where?” you asked, taking a cautious step closer, only for him to start pulling you toward the hole. “Ni-ki, this is insane—what is even—”

“Just trust me!” he said with a grin, dragging you through the opening before you could protest further.

You stumbled into the narrow passageway as Ni-ki pushed the stone slab back into place behind you, sealing off the entrance as if it had never been there. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a spiraling stone staircase, the air growing colder as you descended.

“This better not be a prank,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“Oh, it’s not,” he said, his voice carrying a suspiciously gleeful undertone.

Finally, you reached a small, dimly lit room, the stone walls lined with shelves holding jars of unidentifiable substances. In the middle of the room sat Jungwon, surrounded by an assortment of ingredients, potion books, and a bubbling cauldron. The faint greenish glow of the potion illuminated his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish grin.

“You made it,” he said simply, as if you’d just arrived for a casual study session.

Ni-ki let go of your wrist and plopped down beside Jungwon, motioning for you to sit. You hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering yourself onto the floor. As you settled in, your eyes darted to the mess of potion ingredients scattered around the room—lacewing flies, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, boomslang skin.

Your stomach dropped as you recognized the familiar list of items. Glancing at one of the potion books lying open beside Jungwon, your suspicion was confirmed.

They were making Polyjuice Potion.

“Are you two insane?” you hissed, your voice sharp but quiet. “You do know this is against the rules, right?”

“Rules?” Ni-ki scoffed, waving you off as if you’d just told him the sky was blue. “Only if we get caught.”

“And we’re not going to get caught,” Jungwon added confidently, gesturing toward the cauldron. “We’ve been careful. No one even knows we’re down here.”

You stared at them, utterly baffled. “Why are you even making Polyjuice Potion? What could you possibly need it for?”

They exchanged a quick glance, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like their answer.

“Well…” Ni-ki started, dragging out the word as if trying to figure out how to phrase it.

Jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just… need to, uh, borrow someone’s identity for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Whose?”

Ni-ki grinned, clearly finding the entire situation amusing. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “I want no part in this. You two are going to get expelled if anyone finds out!”

“Relax,” Ni-ki said, leaning back against the wall. “We’ve got it under control.”

“You don’t even have it finished yet, do you?” you said, gesturing to the messy pile of jars and powders.

“Well, no,” Jungwon admitted, his tone hesitant. “That’s… kind of where you come in.”

You groaned, already regretting every decision that had led you to this moment. “Of course it is.”

“We just need a little help,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And who better to help than the smartest person we know?”

You glared at him. “Flattery isn’t going to work.”

“Come on,” Jungwon said, his voice annoyingly reasonable. “You’ve already helped us so many times. What’s one more?”

“One more? This is Polyjuice Potion we’re talking about!” you hissed, staring at them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as they launched into a chorus of pleading.

“Please,” Ni-ki whined, dragging out the word like a child denied dessert. “Just this once—well, technically not just this once—but, you know, this time’s important!”

“Very important,” Jungwon chimed in, nodding solemnly.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Important? You mean ‘reckless’ and ‘completely unnecessary.’”

Ni-ki pouted dramatically, scooting closer to you on his knees. “Come on, don’t be like that! You’re our only hope.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t happening,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering.

But then Jungwon joined in, mirroring Ni-ki’s position on your other side. Now you were flanked by both of them, their faces far too close for comfort, with matching grins.

“Pretty please?” Jungwon said, tilting his head and batting his lashes like he was trying to win some sort of charm contest.

“With chocolate frogs on top?” Ni-ki added, leaning in with a cheeky smirk.

You glanced between them, your eyes narrowing as they started piling on the dramatics.

“You’re the best at brewing potions!” Jungwon said, nudging your arm.

“And the smartest,” Ni-ki added, nudging your other arm.

“Way better at this than us,” Jungwon continued, his tone dripping with faux admiration.

“And let’s be real—you’re kind of already involved, so why not just see it through?” Ni-ki finished, his grin turning downright devilish.

You rolled your eyes. “You mean you two dragged me into this against my will. That’s not the same thing as being ‘involved.’”

“Details,” Jungwon said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Come on,” Ni-ki teased, leaning so close that you instinctively leaned back. “We’re your friends, remember? What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help us out?”

“Yeah, what kind of friend?” Jungwon echoed, his voice dripping with mock hurt.

You glared at them, your resolve faltering slightly as they both gave you identical puppy-dog eyes. They knew exactly what they were doing, and unfortunately, you knew exactly how this would end.

“You two are the worst,” you muttered under your breath, looking down at the potion book in front of you.

“Does that mean you’ll help?” Ni-ki asked, his grin widening in triumph.

“Ugh, fine,” you groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “But if we get caught, I’m telling them it was all your idea.”

“Deal,” Jungwon said quickly, already flipping to the next page of the book.

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “Knew you’d come through for us.”

You sighed, wondering for the millionth time how you always let them talk you into these things. If Hogwarts ever handed out awards for bad decisions, you were pretty sure you’d win one.

You sighed for the umpteenth time as you carefully added a pinch of powdered bicorn horn into the bubbling cauldron. The potion hissed softly as the powder dissolved, releasing a faint green wisp of smoke. Ni-ki and Jungwon sat on either side of you, their usual antics subdued for once as they watched you work, their eyes glued to your every move like you were performing some kind of ancient magic ritual.

"Can you two stop staring at me like that?" you muttered without looking up, your voice edged with exasperation.

"We're just... observing," Jungwon said innocently, though the small smirk on his lips betrayed him.

"Yeah, gotta make sure you're doing it right," Ni-ki added with a teasing lilt.

You shot them both a sharp look. "Oh, I'm the one you're worried about messing this up? Let me remind you whose brilliant idea this was."

Ni-ki grinned, leaning closer. "Exactly. Which is why we need you to handle it—you’re way better at this than we’d ever be. Right, Jungwon?"

Jungwon nodded seriously, though his gaze didn’t waver from the potion. "Yeah. If it were up to us, we’d probably blow something up by now."

You couldn’t argue with that. They had the combined attention span of a niffler in a jewelry shop.

"Just don’t distract me," you muttered, carefully stirring the potion clockwise. "If you make me mess this up, we’ll have to start all over again, and I am not spending another night like this with you two."

"Aw, you love spending time with us," Ni-ki teased, leaning his chin on his hand as he continued to watch you.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead focusing on the precise instructions in the book. Step by step, you added each ingredient, your movements careful and deliberate. Occasionally, you’d glance at the timer Jungwon had set, making sure everything was timed perfectly.

As the potion began to turn the intended muddy brown color, a sign that it was nearing completion, you let out a small breath of relief.

"Wow," Ni-ki said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was softer, almost genuine for once. "You’re, like... really good at this."

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t sound so surprised."

"I’m not," he said quickly, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "But watching you work is kind of impressive."

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "Yeah. We’d be completely hopeless without you."

For a moment, their compliments caught you off guard. You felt heat rising to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it by focusing on the potion again.

"Well, maybe next time, don’t drag me into something like this again, and I won’t have to save your butts," you said, though your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Ni-ki chuckled. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Jungwon leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. "You wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves, though. Admit it—you’d miss us."

You rolled your eyes, stirring the potion one last time. "I’d miss the peace and quiet more."

They both laughed, and for a brief moment, the room felt lighter. As chaotic as they were, you couldn’t deny that there was something oddly comforting about their presence, even when they were dragging you into one ridiculous situation after another.

"Alright," you said finally, stepping back and wiping your hands on your robes. "The potion’s done—for now. It needs to sit for a month before it’s ready to use."

"A month?" Ni-ki groaned, slumping back against the wall dramatically.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "Did you even read the instructions before planning this?"

"Of course I did!" Ni-ki said, though his expression said otherwise.

You shook your head, gathering up the leftover ingredients. "Typical. Anyway, you two better figure out what you’re actually going to use this for. I’m not getting involved beyond this point."

"Sure you’re not," Jungwon said with a knowing smirk.

Ni-ki grinned, leaning forward with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off your robes as you stood up, ready to leave this chaotic duo behind for the night. "Well, good luck with your little plan or whatever. I’m going to pretend I was never here."

But before you could take more than a step, Jungwon was suddenly on his feet, grabbing your wrist with a firm but gentle grip.

"Wait," he said, his eyes bright with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Ni-ki. "What now? I already did what you wanted. I’m not doing anything else."

Jungwon grinned, ignoring your protests entirely. "We want to show you something."

You blinked, confused. "Show me what?"

"You’ll see," Ni-ki chimed in, already moving and motioned for Jungwon to hurry up.

"Come on," Jungwon said, tugging on your wrist before you could protest further.

Sighing, you let yourself be dragged along, too tired to argue. "This better not get me into more trouble."

"No promises," Ni-ki called over his shoulder, a teasing lilt in his voice as he disappeared down the corridor.

The three of you navigated through the dark, winding passageways beneath the castle, the air cool and slightly damp. You had no idea where they were taking you, but you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

After what felt like ages of walking, Ni-ki and Jungwon came to a stop in front of a narrow staircase that spiraled upward.

"Here we are," Ni-ki announced, gesturing grandly.

You frowned, looking up the staircase. "Where exactly is here?"

"You’ll see," Jungwon said, his grin widening as he nudged you toward the stairs.

With an annoyed sigh, you reluctantly began to climb, Jungwon following close behind while Ni-ki took the lead. When you finally reached the top, Ni-ki pushed open a small wooden door, and you stepped out into the cool night air.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you. You were on a secluded rooftop of the castle, the view stretching out over the Hogwarts grounds. The Forbidden Forest loomed dark and mysterious in the distance, and the Black Lake shimmered faintly under the light of the moon.

"Whoa," you breathed, momentarily forgetting your irritation.

"Told you it was worth it," Jungwon said, his tone softer now as he stepped up beside you.

Ni-ki plopped down on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as he leaned back on his hands. "We found this spot last year. Nobody ever comes up here. It’s kind of... ours."

"Well, now it’s ours," Jungwon corrected, shooting you a smile.

You glanced between the two of them, your heart softening despite yourself. For all their chaos and mischief, they had a knack for moments like this—moments that made you glad you were friends with them.å

"So," Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, "what do you think? Worth the trek?"

You gave him a small smile, finally letting your guard down. "Yeah... it’s pretty amazing."

Jungwon leaned back against the wall, a satisfied grin on his face. "Knew you’d like it."

The three of you sat there for a while, just sharing a quiet night under the stars.

--

Well, you would love to say that the month waiting for the Polyjuice Potion to set was peaceful.

But that would be a lie.

No, the so-called "peaceful waiting period" turned into absolute chaos. Since Ni-ki and Jungwon couldn't carry out their grand plan just yet—one they still refused to tell you about, claiming it was a "surprise"—they apparently decided to channel their boredom into wreaking havoc around the castle.

The professors were on edge, constantly looking over their shoulders for the next disaster. Filch was more paranoid than ever, skulking through the hallways with his lantern, muttering about "those blasted kids." Even the ghosts seemed jumpier than usual, drifting through walls with wary expressions, as though they'd had enough of the two troublemakers.

And somehow, no matter what you were doing, you always managed to get roped into their schemes.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d accidentally stumbled upon them in the middle of one of their rule-breaking escapades. It was like you had some sort of invisible string tying you to their chaos. You’d walk into a corridor or step into an empty classroom, minding your own business, only to find them hunched over a suspicious-looking contraption or whispering excitedly about their next prank.

The moment they spotted you, it was over.

"Perfect timing!" Ni-ki would exclaim, as if you’d planned to walk in on them.

"Don’t just stand there—help us!" Jungwon would add, usually while pushing something heavy or fumbling with something clearly not meant to be in a student’s hands.

And no matter how much you protested, no matter how loudly you declared that you wanted nothing to do with their shenanigans, you’d inevitably end up being dragged into it.

One time, you’d walked into the library, thinking you’d finally get a peaceful moment to study. Instead, you found them standing in the Restricted Section, both of them holding an armful of books they definitely weren’t supposed to have.

“What are you doing?!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure Madam Pince wasn’t nearby.

“Research,” Ni-ki said simply, dropping the books onto a nearby table with a loud thud.

“For what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned. “Class stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jungwon, on the other hand, looked at you with a completely straight face. “He’s lying. We’re looking up forbidden spells.”

You groaned. “Why do I even bother?”

Another time, you were walking back to your dorm after dinner, only to see Filch sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction, his face red with fury. Moments later, Ni-ki and Jungwon rounded the corner, both breathless and laughing, carrying what looked like an entire box of dungbombs.

You froze. “Nope. Not happening. I don’t even want to know—”

But before you could finish, they grabbed you by the arms and dragged you into an alcove, whispering something about "keeping watch" while they set up their latest prank.

“Do I look like I want detention?” you hissed, glaring at them.

Ni-ki just grinned. “Come on, you’re part of the team now. This is bonding.”

“This is stupidity,” you shot back, though you reluctantly stood guard while they did whatever it was they were doing.

And then there was the time in the Great Hall. You were just trying to enjoy breakfast, eating your toast in peace, when suddenly a flock of enchanted paper cranes came swooping down from the ceiling, diving and swirling around the students. The Hall erupted into chaos as people swatted at the cranes, which were apparently charmed to sing obnoxiously off-key.

You didn’t need to look far to figure out who was responsible. Sure enough, Ni-ki and Jungwon were sitting a few seats away, barely holding back their laughter as they watched the scene unfold.

“You two are going to get expelled,” you muttered as you sat down next to them, shooting them both a glare.

“Worth it,” Ni-ki said, grinning as a crane landed on his shoulder.

“Totally worth it,” Jungwon agreed, taking a bite of his toast as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Did you gravitate toward them or something? Because no matter how hard you tried to stay out of their messes, you always seemed to end up right in the middle of them.

And yet, despite the chaos, despite the rule-breaking, and despite the constant time spent in detention... you couldn’t help but laugh. They made it impossible not to.

--

You were generally just trying to mind your own business, walking through the dimly lit hallway near Filch’s office, when you spotted them.

Ni-ki and Jungwon stood just a few feet away, both leaning casually against the wall like they didn’t have a care in the world. Which would’ve been believable—if not for the way their eyes darted around like they were scanning for witnesses. They somehow looked both innocent and highly suspicious at the same time, a combination that never boded well.

Your instincts immediately kicked in: Turn around. Walk away. Pretend you didn’t see anything.

But, of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

Ni-ki’s head shot up, his sharp eyes catching you before you could even take a single step back. “Hey! You!” he called out, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

You groaned audibly, muttering, “Why me?”

Before you could say anything else, Ni-ki was already jogging over to you, his excitement practically radiating off him. “Come on, come on,” he said eagerly, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward Jungwon.

“Do I have to come?” you asked weakly, already knowing the answer.

Ni-ki didn’t even bother responding. He just pulled you along as you let out a resigned sigh, casting one last glance at the exit you’d never make it to.

When you finally reached Jungwon, you gave them both a pointed look. “Alright, what are you two planning this time?”

Jungwon didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, his grin spreading mischievously. Holding it in one hand, he drew his wand with the other.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said softly, his voice practically dripping with mischief as he tapped the parchment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as the blank parchment shimmered and began to transform, intricate lines and scribbles spreading across it like ink soaking into paper. A moment later, you realized it was a map—an incredibly detailed map of Hogwarts.

Your jaw dropped as you leaned closer, watching names begin to pop up across the surface, tiny dots moving around the corridors and rooms. Students, professors... even Filch and Mrs. Norris were labeled as they wandered the castle.

“What the—?!” you gasped, utterly shocked. “Where did you get this?”

Ni-ki leaned in close, his chin practically resting on your head. You felt his full weight press on your back as he grinned. “A trickster never reveals their secrets,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You grumbled in annoyance, trying to shove him off. “Will you get off me?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation, and stayed exactly where he was. Curse his height—and the fact that he was impossible to move when he didn’t want to be moved. With a resigned sigh, you let him rest there, shooting him a glare he just ignored.

Meanwhile, Jungwon pointed at the map, his grin taking on a distinctly cat-like quality. “Look,” he said, his finger tracing a path on the parchment.

You followed his gaze and froze. There, on the map, was Filch. He was several hallways away, but he was moving steadily in your general direction.

“Perfect,” Jungwon murmured, his grin widening as his eyes sparkled with mischief.

You gave him a wary look. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret being here?”

“You’ll be fine,” Ni-ki said breezily, still leaning on you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re one of us now, remember?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes flicking back to the map as the ominous dot labeled Filch continued to move closer.

Whatever they were planning, you had a sinking feeling it was going to end with you all running for your lives. Again.

So you stood there in stunned silence, half-expecting to wake up from a bizarre dream, as Jungwon and Ni-ki expertly worked together like they had done this a thousand times before.

Jungwon was the distraction. With a flick of his wand, he whispered a Muffliato charm, ensuring Filch wouldn’t hear the chaos unfolding in his own office. Meanwhile, Ni-ki was crouched by the lock, muttering a soft Alohomora under his breath. The click of the door unlocking sent a pang of dread straight to your stomach.

"Are we seriously doing this?" you hissed, still frozen outside the office door.

Ni-ki smirked as he pushed it open. "Oh, we’re way past asking that question."

Before you could argue, Jungwon grabbed your arm and pulled you in, shutting the door behind you with a silent wave of his wand. You stared at them as they got to work.

Jungwon headed straight for Filch’s desk, pulling out drawers and rifling through papers like he was on a scavenger hunt. Meanwhile, Ni-ki found the confiscated items cabinet, letting out an impressed whistle as he examined its contents. “Wow, Filch really doesn’t like fun, huh? Half of this stuff is just Zonko’s products.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You’re going to get us all expelled.”

“Correction,” Jungwon said without looking up. “We’ll only get expelled if we get caught.”

“Helpful,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you watched him pull out a particularly nasty-looking parchment.

“Ah-ha!” Jungwon exclaimed, holding up the paper triumphantly. “The list of confiscated items! This is gold. Imagine what we can do with this.”

You opened your mouth to ask what exactly he planned to do with it, but Ni-ki interrupted by shoving a colorful box in your hands. “Look at this! It’s one of those fireworks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Filch had no business taking this away.”

Before you could respond, Ni-ki grabbed another handful of glittery objects from the cabinet and threw them into a sack he’d conjured from thin air. You groaned.

“And what are we going to do with all this stuff?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

Ni-ki gave you a mischievous grin, holding up a handful of confetti. “Oh, we have plans.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of pure chaos.

Jungwon enchanted the ceiling to rain confetti every time someone entered the office. Ni-ki, on the other hand, seemed to have a vendetta against Filch’s desk, which was now buried under a mountain of glitter, enchanted to sparkle like a thousand stars under torchlight. You tried—really, you did—to stop them, but they ignored you completely, too caught up in their gleeful destruction.

“Oh, and this will be the pièce de résistance,” Ni-ki said, holding up a firework and sticking it in the middle of Filch’s desk like a centerpiece. “Timed to go off the moment he sits down.”

“Brilliant,” Jungwon agreed, stepping back to admire their handiwork with a proud smile.

You stared at the chaos surrounding you. Filch’s office looked like a carnival had exploded in it. Glitter covered every surface, the confetti charm was in full effect, and there were at least three forbidden spells buzzing quietly in the air.

“This is... insane,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Insanely fun, you mean,” Ni-ki corrected, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, admit it. You’re impressed.”

“I’m horrified,” you shot back.

Jungwon checked the Marauder’s Map, his grin turning slightly panicked. “Uh, we should probably go. Filch is coming back.”

At that, Ni-ki straightened, grabbing the sack of confiscated items. “Alright, let’s move. You coming, partner-in-crime?” he asked, looking down at you with that maddening grin of his.

You groaned but followed as they bolted for the door, the three of you slipping out just in time. You could hear Filch’s grumbling in the distance as you sprinted down the hall.

When you finally stopped running, out of breath and covered in a faint layer of glitter, Ni-ki turned to you with a triumphant grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Jungwon snorted. “Speak for yourself. Y/N was ready to disown us back there.”

You glared at them, pointing at the faint trail of glitter that followed you like a beacon. “We’re all getting detention if this doesn’t wash off.”

Ni-ki just shrugged, still grinning. “Worth it.”

You sighed, already preparing yourself for the next disaster they’d drag you into.

You never really expected to stay friends with them. Honestly, you didn’t even know when you had officially crossed the line into friendship—it just kind of happened. Despite being dragged into their mischief constantly, despite the headaches and the near-expulsions, they had somehow managed to carve a space in your life that you hadn’t realized.

And while they were an absolute menace most of the time, there were moments where they surprised you.

Like when you were stuck in the hospital wing after a particularly nasty Quidditch accident, and Ni-ki had snuck in late at night to bring you sweets he’d smuggled from the kitchens. “Thought you could use a little sugar rush,” he’d said with a grin, settling down at the edge of your bed like he planned to stay there all night.

Or the time you got a nasty grade on an essay in Transfiguration, and Jungwon, who had perfected the subject, had sat with you for hours helping you revise until you finally understood it. He’d teased you endlessly, of course, but he still patiently explained things, as though he believed in you even when you didn’t.

These small moments added up, painting a picture of your friendship that was as genuine as it was chaotic.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that their feelings for you ran deeper than friendship.

The way Ni-ki’s teasing became just a little softer when it was directed at you. The way he always found an excuse to stand close, to brush against your shoulder or nudge you playfully, his gaze lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Or the way Jungwon seemed to falter around you in small ways. The way his eyes softened whenever you laughed, or the way his voice always lost a bit of its sharpness when he said your name.

Neither of them had admitted it—maybe not even to themselves—but it was there.

And you, completely unaware, continued to treat them like the troublemaking friends you’d grown so used to, never realizing the turmoil you were unknowingly causing in their hearts.

Eventually, the month was up, and the Polyjuice Potion had finally set.

Jungwon and Ni-ki, as eager as ever, wasted no time dragging you back into the secret passageway where they’d first revealed their ridiculous plan. You’d been half-hoping they’d forgotten about it, or maybe come to their senses, but judging by the gleam in their eyes, you knew better.

Jungwon carefully ladled some of the potion into a glass, the thick, murky liquid swirling ominously. The smell was awful—like burnt cabbage and old socks—and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose in disgust.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked, eyeing the potion warily.

"Positive," Jungwon said, far too confidently for someone about to drink something that could very well land him in the hospital wing—or worse.

Ni-ki leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had all year. "Go on, Jungwon. Bottoms up."

With a deep breath and a glance at the both of you, Jungwon tipped the glass back and downed the potion in one swift gulp. Almost immediately, he doubled over, clutching his stomach as his body began to shift and change.

You and Ni-ki stepped back instinctively, watching in both awe and horror as Jungwon’s dark hair lightened to a sandy brown, his frame stretched slightly taller, and his features rearranged themselves into something alarmingly familiar.

When he straightened up, you found yourself face-to-face with the Gryffindor prefect.

"What," you said flatly, blinking at him as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Jungwon—now looking and sounding exactly like the Gryffindor prefect—grinned. "What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh?"

You stared at him, dumbfounded. "You’re him. You’re literally him."

Ni-ki let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. "This is incredible. You even nailed his ‘holier-than-thou’ smirk." He clapped his hands together, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. "Absolutely flawless. Ten out of ten. You could fool anyone."

Still reeling, you turned to Ni-ki, your voice rising. "What is this plan, exactly? What are you two planning to do now that Jungwon looks like the Gryffindor prefect?"

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, right. About that…" He stepped closer, lowering his voice as though he were about to share the world’s best-kept secret.

You crossed your arms, waiting impatiently.

"We," he began, drawing out the word dramatically, "are going to change the Gryffindor common room password."

You blinked. "You made me brew a highly risky potion—risked detention and possible expulsion just to change the password to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Exactly!" Ni-ki exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if to emphasize his point. "Gryffindor’s been unbearable ever since they won the last Quidditch match. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces, strutting around like they’re the kings of the castle—"

Jungwon, now examining his new appearance in a nearby reflective surface, chimed in, "Which they’re not, by the way."

Ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "It’s payback. Justice if you would say."

Jungwon, nodded solemnly. "It’s about the principle."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "You two are insane. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ll be in if you get caught?"

Ni-ki leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That’s why we won’t get caught."

"Uh-huh," you deadpanned, entirely unconvinced. "And if the real Gryffindor prefect shows up?"

Ni-ki waved you off. "That’s why we’ve got a lookout."

"Who’s the lookout?" you asked warily.

Ni-ki gave you a pointed look, his grin widening mischievously.

"No," you said immediately, stepping back. "Absolutely not. I am not going to be the lookout for this ridiculous plan."

"Come on," Ni-ki whined, grabbing your arm and giving you a pleading look. "You’re the only one we trust for the job. Plus, you’re great at pretending you don’t know us if things go south."

"That’s not a compliment," you snapped, but Ni-ki just laughed.

"Please!!!" Jungwon said, and despite the fact that his face wasn’t his own, his tone was still undeniably his. "We need you."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. They were absolutely impossible. Still, as much as you wanted to walk away and leave them to their ridiculous plan, you knew you wouldn’t. "I can’t believe I’m even here for this."

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Come on, Y/N. Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"Buried under my sense of self-preservation," you muttered, but neither of them seemed to care.

"Boooring!" Ni-ki said immediately, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the entrance of the secret passage. "Now, let’s go. We’ve got a password to change."

You groaned, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

You all snuck out of the astronomy tower heading toward the Gryffindor Tower with hushed footsteps and quick glances over your shoulders. Jungwon—still posing as the Gryffindor prefect—was striding ahead with a perfect air of authority, his shoulders squared, and his expression sharp.

You and Ni-ki, on the other hand, trailed behind him with exaggeratedly guilty faces.

"Slouch more," Jungwon hissed over his shoulder, his voice clipped and stern. "You’re supposed to look like you’ve been caught red-handed."

"I am slouching!" Ni-ki shot back in a loud whisper, looking offended. "I’m a professional at looking guilty, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, muttering, "Not exactly something to be proud of, Ni-ki."

Ni-ki ignored you, but when a group of Gryffindor students turned the corner, his whole demeanor changed in an instant. He widened his eyes, hung his head, and even dragged his feet slightly, looking every bit the part of a student who’d just been caught in the act of breaking the rules.

Jungwon glared at you both, his performance flawless. "I can’t believe the two of you thought stealing sweets from the kitchens was a good idea," he said in a loud, scolding tone that echoed through the corridor.

You couldn’t help but cringe at his words. The act was working. The group of Gryffindor students didn’t even give you a second glance as they walked by, probably assuming you were just another pair of troublemakers getting told off by a prefect.

As soon as the students disappeared around the corner, Ni-ki snickered, nudging you with his elbow. "See? We’re naturals."

"Or completely insane," you shot back, still uneasy about the whole plan.

Jungwon, still fully in character, glanced back at you both with a dramatic sigh. "Would you two focus? We’re almost there."

You tried to steady your nerves as you approached the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Jungwon cleared his throat, adjusted his posture, and stepped forward, looking every bit the part of the Gryffindor prefect he was impersonating.

The Fat Lady’s eyes opened, and she squinted down at him. "Oh, it’s you. Back already?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Yes," Jungwon replied smoothly, his voice mimicking the prefect’s perfectly. "I need to update the password."

You blinked, silently impressed at how calm and composed he sounded.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow. "Password? I wasn’t informed about any changes."

"It was a last-minute decision," Jungwon said with an air of authority. "The headmaster’s orders. You know how these things go."

The Fat Lady hummed, clearly hesitant but not suspicious enough to question him further. "All right, then. What’s the new password?"

Jungwon hesitated for the briefest moment before glancing back at Ni-ki, who grinned like the Cheshire Cat and mouthed, Quidditch losers.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement before he turned back to the Fat Lady, his expression serious. "The new password is... Quidditch glory."

You bit back a snort, realizing Jungwon had changed Ni-ki’s suggestion at the last second to make it less obvious.

The Fat Lady sighed dramatically, as if she had better things to do, and said, "Fine. Password updated. You may enter."

"Thank you," Jungwon said politely, though he made no move to actually enter the common room.

As soon as the portrait swung open, revealing the cozy Gryffindor common room beyond, Jungwon turned to the both of you, a victorious grin spreading across his borrowed face.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered.

"That was way too easy," Ni-ki muttered, his grin matching Jungwon’s.

You crossed your arms, glaring at them both. "You’re absolutely ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"Maybe," Jungwon said with a shrug, still grinning as he gestured for you both to follow him back down the corridor. "But you can’t deny it was brilliant."

While the three of you hurried away from the Gryffindor Tower, you couldn’t help but feel reluctant admiration. They’d actually pulled it off.

--

The three of you had just barely made it to the dungeon when Ni-ki abruptly stopped in his tracks, throwing his arms out dramatically. Unfortunately, you and Jungwon were too close behind him to react in time, and the result was a chaotic collision that sent all three of you toppling to the floor in a heap of limbs and groans.

"Ni-ki, what the hell?!" Jungwon hissed, his voice low but seething as he tried to untangle himself from the mess. "Why did you stop—"

Ni-ki clamped a hand over Jungwon’s mouth, his eyes wide with panic. "Shh!" he whispered harshly, pointing down the corridor.

You followed his gaze and felt your stomach drop. There, standing just ahead, were the Gryffindor prefect and Snape. Talking together.

Oops.

Jungwon immediately shut up, his annoyance replaced by alarm. The three of you scrambled to your feet in a flurry of panic, trying not to make a sound. Without wasting a moment, Ni-ki and Jungwon each grabbed one of your arms and dragged you into the shadows, finding a small alcove to hide in.

Before you could even catch your breath, you were being pressed up against the cold stone wall, Ni-ki and Jungwon on either side of you, their bodies shielding you from view.

"Could you two not squish me?" you muttered under your breath, glaring up at them.

"Would you rather get caught by Snape?" Ni-ki shot back, not taking his eyes off the corridor as he peeked out nervously. "No? Then shut it."

You huffed but stayed quiet, noticing how tense Ni-ki’s shoulders were. He was keeping a sharp eye on Snape and the prefect, ready to make a run for it if needed.

Meanwhile, Jungwon, who was on your other side, was shifting uncomfortably. You glanced up at him and froze when you noticed his face. His features were no longer those of the Gryffindor prefect—they were morphing back into his own, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion clearly wearing off.

Jungwon groaned softly, clutching his stomach as he leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of your neck for support. You stiffened at the sudden closeness, your hand instinctively patting his back in a futile attempt to comfort him.

"Jungwon," you whispered, worried. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he mumbled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Just... feels weird."

"Ugh, you’re so dramatic," Ni-ki muttered, glancing back at you two briefly before turning his attention back to the corridor. "You’ll be fine in like two seconds. Just don’t throw up on—"

"Ni-ki, shut up," Jungwon snapped, though his voice was muffled against your neck.

You sighed, your free hand still awkwardly patting his back. "This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath.

"I hereby declare that is your everyday quote," Ni-ki quipped with a smirk, though his expression quickly turned serious as he peeked out again. "They’re still there. Snape looks like he’s about to murder someone—wait, no that’s just his normal face expression."

Jungwon groaned again, and you felt him lean more of his weight against you. Curse his height. He wasn’t heavy, but having him this close was flustering you more than you wanted to admit.

"Okay, seriously," you hissed, glaring at Ni-ki, "can we not just stay here forever? Do something!"

"Oh sure," Ni-ki whispered sarcastically, glancing back at you with an incredulous look. "Why don’t I just go up to Snape and ask him how his day was? Brilliant plan."

"Ni-ki, I swear—"

"Guys," Jungwon interrupted, his voice steadier now. He finally pulled back from your neck, his features fully his own again. He stood up straight, though he still looked a little pale. "I think they’re leaving."

All three of you froze, holding your breaths as you listened. Sure enough, the sound of Snape’s low voice and the prefect’s murmured responses grew fainter, followed by the faint echo of footsteps retreating down the corridor.

Ni-ki let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Finally. I thought we were done for."

Jungwon rubbed his face, still looking a little worse for wear. "That was way too close."

"You think?" you said, glaring at them both. "If we’d been caught, I would’ve been the one blamed, thanks to you two dragging me into this mess."

"Aw, but you love us," Ni-ki said with a cheeky grin, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. "I’m seriously reconsidering that."

Jungwon smirked, finally looking a bit more like himself again. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone else shows up."

And just as Jungwon finished speaking, the grating, maniacal laughter of Peeves echoed through the corridor. The sound made all three of you freeze, and before you could react, the troublemaking poltergeist popped out of the stone floor with a giggle, his mischievous eyes gleaming.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Peeves crooned, eyeing the three of you with a grin. His voice echoed off the walls, and you couldn't help but feel a slight chill. "My favorite students, looking so cozy together. What’s the occasion?"

You all exchanged a glance, not sure whether to run or stay. Jungwon narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to look unbothered, while Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. "What do you want, Peeves?" he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Peeves floated around you, his presence more annoying than anything. "Oh, nothing much," he said, his voice high-pitched with glee. "Just wondered if you’ve got any new pranks up your sleeves, eh? Or is it something more... personal going on here?" He wiggled his eyebrows, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Ni-ki glanced at Jungwon and then shrugged. "We’ll tell you when the time comes," he said, clearly uninterested in revealing too much to the troublesome ghost.

But Peeves wasn't done yet. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he started to circle the three of you like a hawk. "Oh, I see!" he giggled, pointing a bony finger at each of you in turn. "Someone's got tension!" He practically cackled with delight, floating in a circle around you as he grinned widely. "Little love triangle, eh? How exciting! You two," he pointed at Jungwon and Ni-ki, "are practically glued to her, and they can’t get enough of you! Is this the new prank? Get caught up in a web of romantic mischief? Oh, I can’t wait to see how this plays out!"

You groaned, your face burning as both Jungwon and Ni-ki tensed up, eyes widening in response.

Peeves continued to cackle as he floated higher, his laughter echoing down the hall. "I’ll be keeping an eye on you, my favorite troublemakers! I’ll be back for the show!" With a final teasing wink, Peeves disappeared through the stone wall with a loud, echoing "Whee!"

You let out a deep sigh, your embarrassment palpable. Jungwon was rubbing his forehead in frustration, and Ni-ki simply looked amused, though there was a hint of irritation in his eyes.

"I swear, Peeves will be the death of us," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, despite everything.

And with that, the three of you slipped out of the alcove and hurried back toward the Slytherin common room, your heart still pounding from the close call.

The prank ended exactly how you’d expected—utter chaos.

A horde of Gryffindors had been locked out of their common room for hours, their frustration echoing down the corridors. The Fat Lady was flustered beyond belief, huffing indignantly about how her painting had been “tampered with,” and the Gryffindor prefect was storming through the castle, barking out accusations with a vengeance.

McGonagall’s sharp eyes had swept through the Great Hall during dinner, suspicion evident in her expression as she tried to pinpoint the culprits. Somehow, though, by some miracle, you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki had remained completely unnoticed.

The three of you had kept your heads down and your poker faces on, acting as if you didn’t have a single clue what had happened. You couldn’t believe you’d gotten away with it. Again.

Which is exactly what you were currently discussing as you stood in Zonko’s Joke Shop, watching Jungwon and Ni-ki carefully examine the shelves for their next batch of mischief supplies.

"I still don’t understand how we weren’t caught," you said, leaning casually against the display of dungbombs as you crossed your arms. "McGonagall knew something was up."

"That’s because we’re geniuses," Ni-ki said without looking up from the Extendable Ears he was inspecting. "Obviously."

You snorted. "Right, because geniuses trip over their own feet and nearly get us caught in the process."

"Hey!" Ni-ki turned to you with an exaggerated look of offense. "I saved us. My quick thinking is the only reason we got out of there alive."

"Your quick thinking?" Jungwon interjected, holding up a Puking Pastille for inspection. "I’m pretty sure my plan got us through the whole thing. You just stood there looking like a lost Kneazle."

Ni-ki huffed and turned his attention back to the shelf. "You’re both ungrateful. I should stop sharing my brilliance with you."

"Brilliance, huh?" you teased, smirking as you reached over to nudge him. "That’s what we’re calling it now?"

Ni-ki shot you a mock glare but didn’t move away. In fact, he leaned into you more, resting his elbow lazily on your shoulder as if you were his personal armrest.

You tried to shrug him off. "Ni-ki, get off me. I’m not furniture."

He grinned, leaning his weight on you even more. "But you’re so sturdy and reliable."

"Sturdy and reliable," you repeated flatly. "That’s it. You’re banned from using me as a leaning post."

"You love it," he teased, winking at you.

Meanwhile, Jungwon was completely unbothered, now inspecting a box of Screaming Yo-yos. "You’re letting him get away with that?" he said without looking up.

"I’ve given up," you replied, sighing dramatically.

"You should’ve given up a long time ago," Jungwon said with a chuckle. Then, as if on cue, he reached over and started playing with a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.

"Seriously?" you muttered, glancing between them.

Jungwon just smirked, not stopping as he held your gaze. "What? I’m bored."

"You two are impossible," you grumbled, though you didn’t actually make any effort to stop either of them. This was normal. It was just how things were.

As you scanned the shelves, you spotted a few products that caught your eye. Grinning mischievously, you a few different materials like a pack of Decoy Detonators.

"That’s what you’re going with?" Ni-ki asked, glancing at your choices.

"At least I’m not taking twenty minutes to pick a single product," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

"Hey, these decisions are important," Jungwon said, tossing the Screaming Yo-yos into his own pile.

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes. "Because you totally need three different kinds of itching powder."

"You’ll thank us later," Ni-ki said confidently.

"Oh, I’m sure," you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Y/N," Ni-ki called dramatically, spinning toward you with a packet of Nose-Biting Teacups in his hand. "Do you think I should get this? Imagine serving tea to Professor Snape. A little nibble on the nose might do him some good."

You snorted. "Yeah, if you want to end up scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year. I’m not covering for you if you actually go through with that."

"Don’t lie. You’d do it," he said, grinning as he nudged your side with his elbow.

"You’d fold in two seconds if he gave you the look," Jungwon added, smirking as he placed a jar of Self-Inking Quills into his growing pile of products.

"Excuse me," you shot back, crossing your arms. "I’ve never folded. Unlike you two. Don’t think I forgot about the time Snape caught you both in the Potions classroom after hours, and you blamed it on Peeves."

"That was a solid plan," Ni-ki argued, placing a hand on his chest like he was offended.

Jungwon snorted. "It wasn’t a plan at all. You just blurted the first thing that came to your mind."

"And it worked," Ni-ki shot back defensively. "He didn’t question it, did he?"

"That’s because Peeves actually caused a ruckus ten minutes later," you said, shaking your head.

Ni-ki grinned mischievously. "What can I say? I’m lucky like that."

"Lucky, my foot," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned to you. "Be honest—who’s the bigger liability between the two of us?"

You paused, tilting your head as if you were seriously considering the question. "Do I have to pick just one? Because you’re both pretty equally—"

"Oi!" Ni-ki interrupted, poking your arm. "Traitor!"

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying your response. "I knew it. We’re a team of liabilities. Perfect."

"Speak for yourselves," you retorted, pretending to brush off your clothes in mock pride. "I’m the only one who’s remotely responsible here."

"Responsible? You?" Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. "Let’s rewind to the time you accidentally lit a cauldron on fire in Charms class."

"That was one time," you argued, glaring at him. "And it wasn’t my fault! You’re the one who—"

"See?" Jungwon cut in, smirking as he held up a hand to stop you. "The cauldron was calling you a black sheep."

"More like the cauldron was calling me innocent," you quipped back, earning laughs from both of them.

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning widely. "You’re hilarious when you’re trying to defend yourself, you know that?"

You rolled your eyes but didn’t shrug him off. "And you’re insufferable, but here we are."

"See? That’s why we like you," Jungwon said, giving you a small, playful smile as he tapped your forehead lightly with the end of a Decoy Detonator box.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reaching up to swat his hand away. "I feel so honored. Truly."

The three of you dissolved into laughter again, the teasing bouncing between you like a well-practiced routine.

"Alright, mischief-makers," you said finally, glancing at their overflowing piles of joke products. "Are we done here? Or are you planning to bankrupt yourselves buying the entire shop?"

Ni-ki grinned, holding up a box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. "This? Totally worth going broke for."

"And this," Jungwon added, lifting a set of Decoy Detonators, "is going to make next week very interesting."

You did not doubt it.

That week was very interesting indeed. Not only did Ni-ki and Jungwon set up prank after prank, but they also enlisted Peeves in some of them, which turned everything more chaotic.

One day, they filled the Great Hall with floating soap bubbles that burst into confetti whenever they popped, sending the entire school into fits of laughter (or groans, depending on the person).

However, amidst the chaos, Ni-ki and Jungwon had forgotten a major thing: studying.

By the time they realized it, they were behind on a lot of assignments and homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic. The weight of their neglected schoolwork loomed over them, and the urgency to catch up finally hit.

So, what did they do to catch up? Well, they obviously asked you for help! You, who were currently in the library, reading up on Arithmancy.

You were deeply engrossed in your book when you heard footsteps approaching. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki and Jungwon, looking sheepish and a bit desperate.

“y/n! Our sweet little genius prodigy,” Ni-ki started, sliding into the seat across from you. Jungwon took the seat next to him, both of them looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Yes?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“We need your help,” Jungwon admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re really behind on our assignments. Like, really behind.”

You sighed, closing your book and giving them both a stern look. “You know, if you spent half as much time studying as you do planning pranks, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ni-ki pouted. “But studying isn’t nearly as fun.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “but it’s kind of necessary if you don’t want to fail.”

“We know,” Jungwon said quickly. “That’s why we’re here. You’re the best at all of this stuff, and we need your help to catch up. Please?”

You looked between the two of them, their eyes wide with genuine desperation.

“Alright,” you said finally after a moment, earning relieved smiles from both of them. “I’ll help you. But this means no more pranks for a while. Deal?”

“Deal,” they chorused eagerly.

“Okay then,” you said, pulling out your notes and books. “Let’s get to work.”

For the next several hours, you worked with Ni-ki and Jungwon, helping them catch up on their assignments. You explained concepts, went over notes, and even quizzed them to make sure they understood the material. It was a long process, but by the end of the day, they had made significant progress.

"You’re a miracle worker, honeydrop. We’d probably be in detention without you." Jungwon chuckled, shoving his parchment into his bag.

"Probably?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, definitely," he corrected with a sheepish grin.

"Just don’t expect me to do this every time," you warned, standing up and gathering your things. "Next time, you’re on your own."

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the library together. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, doll."

You rolled your eyes at the casual nickname, though you didn’t bother shrugging his arm off—it was just his way of being overly familiar. “I’m serious. If I catch you two sneaking off to pull another prank before you’ve finished at least one essay, I’m not helping you anymore.”

“Duly noted,” Ni-ki replied smoothly, though his grin said otherwise. He squeezed your shoulder playfully. “But you have to admit, life would be so boring without us.”

“Boring?” you shot back, looking up at him incredulously. “I’d actually have time to focus on my own work without you two dragging me into whatever chaos you’ve cooked up.”

Jungwon laughed softly from your other side. “Oh, come on. You love it. Admit it. Deep down, you’d miss us if we left you alone for more than a day.”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead giving them a sidelong glance. “Maybe I’d miss the pranks more,” you teased, earning matching gasps of mock offense from both boys.

Ni-ki stopped in his tracks, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the heart, doll.”

Jungwon smirked, tilting his head. “She’s lying. Look at her—she’s smiling. That’s the face of someone who couldn’t survive without us.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at your lips. “If you’re trying to flatter yourselves, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Ni-ki leaned closer, his face just a little too smug. “We don’t need to flatter ourselves, doll. We know we’re your favorite people in the world.”

“Favorite headaches, maybe,” you retorted, shoving his arm off your shoulders. He stumbled back, laughing, while Jungwon gave you an approving nod.

“She’s catching on,” Jungwon said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Soon enough, she’ll be the one dragging us into trouble.”

You snorted. “Not likely. I’ve already got my hands full with you two.”

The next few days were oddly peaceful, given the usual chaos that surrounded Ni-ki and Jungwon. You found yourself spending more time in the library with them, helping them catch up on homework, and surprisingly, they actually stayed focused—most of the time. Though, that didn’t stop them from sneaking in their usual brand of teasing. Because they kept finding ways to distract you. Ni-ki, as usual, was the first to break the silence.

"You're pretty good at this stuff, huh?" he murmured, stretching lazily beside you. His hand casually brushed against your thigh, and he rested his arm there like it was the most normal thing in the world. "How come you're so smart and yet still hang out with us? Makes no sense."

You glanced at him, trying to keep your cool. "I don't mind," you answered, your voice surprisingly steady despite how flustered his touch was making you. "Besides, someone has to keep you two in check."

Jungwon, who had been silently working on his own homework beside you, suddenly lifted his head. His soft exhale brushed against your neck as he settled his face there, huffing dramatically. "Ugh, Herbology is impossible. How do you even remember all these plants and their properties? It’s like a nightmare." He whined, his voice muffled against your skin.

You stiffened at his proximity, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I don't know," you muttered, trying to ignore the way his body pressed against yours. "I just study."

"Yeah, but you’re really good at it," Jungwon murmured, not moving away. He let his lips brush against your neck for a moment, and you could feel your face heat up instantly.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki hadn't missed the opportunity. He leaned even closer, his hand subtly shifting on your thigh as he whispered, "We should study more with you. You make it so fun."

You shot him a warning glance, but he just grinned back, unbothered. "You’re making me sound like a distraction, you know," you said, trying to focus on your notes again, though your concentration was rapidly slipping away.

Jungwon grinned against your neck. "Oh, you are a distraction. But you're a good kind of distraction."

Before you could protest, Ni-ki leaned in closer, resting his head on your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "We’re your favorite chaos, right?" he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

Despite the flurry of butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t help but smile. "You two are definitely something," you said, trying to sound unaffected even as your heart raced. "But I really need to get this done."

You really tried to ignore the two heads resting against your shoulders, but that was an impossible task. Ni-ki’s breath was warm against your skin, and his hand was still resting on your thigh, now with an almost casual possessiveness. Jungwon, on the other hand, was so close his soft exhalations tickled the nape of your neck, and his cheek was pressed lightly against yours as he hummed in contentment.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your work, it was becoming increasingly difficult. The pages in front of you blurred as your heart rate picked up. The library now felt suffocating, and you realized that it wasn’t just the assignment that had your attention—it was the way they were both so close, almost invading your space in a way that made it impossible to concentrate.

"Are you actually going to study?" Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more in it. His fingers shifted slightly, brushing your leg in a way that made you stiffen, but you didn’t pull away. You were almost too aware of how your body reacted to them.

Jungwon, seemingly oblivious to your internal turmoil, nuzzled closer against your neck, his soft, slow breaths doing nothing to help you stay calm. “I think I’m helping you study,” he said in that playful tone of his, making you shiver. “Us being this close will help you focus, right?”

Your pulse quickened at the thought. You hadn’t been aware of the shifting dynamic until now—of how their subtle touches, the way they leaned into you, seemed to be becoming more than just playful teasing. Every little move felt like an invitation for more, and you were quickly losing the battle to stay composed.

"Guys," you said, attempting to sound stern, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "You’re making it impossible to study like this."

They didn’t move. They didn’t even respond with words, but you could feel the weight of their attention on you. Ni-ki’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly, and Jungwon pressed his nose gently against your underjaw, both of them silently daring you to pull away.

But you didn’t. And that was what surprised you the most—how you didn’t mind the closeness, how you didn’t want to push them away.

"Maybe we can help you concentrate in other ways," Ni-ki whispered, his voice lowering with an edge of amusement, and you could feel him grinning against your skin.

You let out a shaky breath, knowing that with them, studying was the last thing you were going to accomplish today.

They were like two koalas clinging to you, making it so hard to think clearly. Every time you shifted, Ni-ki would let out a soft sigh, his fingers grazing your thigh, and Jungwon would press his face more firmly into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your handwriting became more erratic as you tried to force yourself to write, but your focus kept drifting back to them, they were distracting in the best and worst way. You tried to shift slightly, attempting to get some space, but instead, they just adjusted and got even closer.

"You’re really not gonna study, are you?" Ni-ki's voice was a low tease, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he looked at your textbook with a mock frown. His fingers tracing little patterns against your thigh.

Jungwon, still in his spot on your neck, let out a small hum of agreement. "I think we’re doing more for your concentration than you give us credit for."

You were about to protest, but then Jungwon shifted slightly, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmured, "You’re so tense. Are we making you nervous?" His voice was soft, but the way he said it made your pulse quicken. You could practically feel the smirk on his lips.

Ni-ki chuckled at your reaction, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You’re cute when you try to act unaffected." His hand squeezed your thigh gently, adding more heat to the already overwhelming situation.

It was getting hard to think, let alone focus on your homework. You couldn’t deny how their touches made your heart race, how the closeness felt different than it ever had before. You were surrounded by them—so close, so intimate in a way that felt almost too personal, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move them off.

Instead, you sighed, giving up on trying to study. "You two are unbelivable," you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words. They were both too close, too comfortable, and the way they looked at you, the way they made you feel, left you unsure if you wanted them to stop.

Ni-ki grinned at your words, his hand moving slowly up your leg. "Good, we’re making progress," he teased, leaning in close. "You needed a break anyway."

Jungwon, now pulling away just enough to meet your gaze, smiled warmly. "We’ll help you out. Maybe not with homework, but definitely with...other things."

As they both made themselves even more comfortable, you were stuck between wanting to push them away and wanting to stay right where you were.

You had no idea what had gotten into them, but you also weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you. They had always been the ones to tease and be touchy, but now, as they both clung to you, you realized you could play along—maybe even enjoy it. Without thinking too much, you let the playful side of you take over.

You moved just slightly, letting your fingers brush against Ni-ki’s arm as you leaned back into him, and before he could respond, you slid your hand down to his wrist, just enough to make him pause. He looked at you, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in dynamics. His usual confident smirk faltered for just a second before he recovered, but you could tell he wasn’t expecting it.

You smiled innocently back, leaning into Jungwon next, letting your fingers trace along his jawline with a teasing touch. His breath hitched ever so slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you saw the flustered warmth creeping up his neck. He leaned into your touch, just like he had done with you so many times before, but now you could feel him melt under your fingertips.

"Guess we’re not the only ones getting touchy, huh?" Ni-ki teased, his voice light, but there was a nervous edge to it now as his breath caught when you moved your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

Jungwon, still resting against you, let out a shaky laugh, but his voice was softer, almost breathless. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your hand on his chest for a moment, letting your fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. "You’re the ones who started it," you said, your voice low and playful, but with an underlying challenge in it.

You felt their reactions before you even saw them clearly—the way their breaths became more shallow, the way their eyes widened with surprise and something else.

Ni-ki’s lips parted as you moved your hand lower, and you noticed his usual teasing grin soften into something more real. He didn’t know how to respond to this change in the atmosphere, and for a moment, you reveled in the power of it. Jungwon, too, was a little quieter now, his hand moving to rest on your other thigh, fingers just brushing lightly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act but didn’t want to pull away either.

They were both flustered, unsure of how to navigate the space you’d suddenly put them in. You could feel them melt under your touch, their usual confidence slipping away with each movement you made. You had the power now, and it was a strange feeling—seeing them both so lost in this little game you were playing.

"Well?" you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back into them. "Aren’t you two gonna study? Or am i too distracting?"

Ni-ki chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual charm faltering just slightly. "Guess we’ve got some competition now."

Jungwon, on the other hand, gave a soft sigh, his face flushed. "I think we might be in over our heads."

You had the upper hand now.

And you took full advantage of it.

After that day in the library, you couldn’t help but notice how completely Jungwon and Ni-ki would fall into your rhythm. They were practically putty in your hands. Every touch, no matter how small, sent them into a flurry of reactions—flushed cheeks, quiet sighs, soft whines when you weren’t paying attention to them. They’d melt at even the smallest gesture from you. Whether it was brushing their arm casually or stealing a glance, it was as if they couldn’t get enough. Every ounce of attention you gave them, they greedily soaked it up, and you relished in that power, in knowing you could make them act this way. Knowing you were the only person that could make them act this way.

They were so used to being the ones in control, but now it seemed they couldn’t stop themselves from doing whatever you wanted. It was almost comical how quickly they fell into line, but also a little thrilling. You were the one holding the strings now, and they seemed perfectly content to follow wherever you led.

And of course, your friends had noticed. You weren't sure how you didn't see it earlier, but Yuna, Hannie, Karina, Yujin, and Leeseo had all caught on. They’d managed to sneak you away from Jungwon and Ni-ki one afternoon, a tactic you recognized as them giving you a moment of peace away from them.

You sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard with them, all of them looking at you with knowing grins, their eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity.

“So,” Yuna began, leaning forward with an exaggerated whisper, “spill. What’s going on between you and those two?”

Hannie smirked, arms crossed, “Yeah, you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s so obvious.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your heart skipped a beat. Were they really so obvious?

Leeseo leaned in, her voice playful. “Come on, don’t pretend. Jungwon and Ni-ki have been practically following you around like lost pets. It’s cute, but we’re curious. What’s going on?”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly. Those two are impossible to keep up with. But somehow, you’ve got them so... docile.”

You let out a breath, finally breaking into a sheepish smile. “It just kind of... happened. They started getting clingy, and I just played along. And now? I don’t know. They’re just... there.”

Yujin grinned, tapping her fingers on the table. “You know, they’ve been doing everything you say. I saw Ni-ki nearly burn his potions notes because you told him to stop distracting you. It’s like watching a puppy trying to be obedient.”

Hannie chuckled. “So, they’re melting under your touch, huh?”

You couldn’t help the blush creeping onto your face as the realization hit you. “Maybe,” you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed, but also a little proud.

“Are you sure it’s just them being clingy?” Yuna asked, her tone teasing. “I mean, they’ve been following you around for years.”

You sighed, looking around at your friends’ grinning faces, knowing you couldn’t get away with playing innocent anymore. “I guess... maybe I do. But it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. They just—"

“They just can’t resist you,” Karina finished for you, smirking. “Come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

It was clear your friends were having way too much fun with this, but honestly, you weren’t sure if you could deny it any longer. You’d noticed how they seemed to change when they were around you. Jungwon would act like he couldn’t wait to do anything you asked, and Ni-ki? He’d become all soft and affectionate, which was unlike him.

“It’s okay, though,” Yujin said, her voice light. “We’re not judging you. We just want to know when you’re finally going to admit it.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Maybe I have a little bit of power over them. But I’m not making a big deal out of it.”

They all laughed, clearly not believing you. You were probably just as entertained as they were by how much you could get away with. But as you looked at the amused faces around you, you also felt a little something stir in your chest. A strange mix of pride and something else.

You were, without a doubt, in control of the situation now. But what you didn’t know was just how much longer that power would last before things got a little... more complicated.

And it did get complicated.

Before, they had been clingy, constantly around you, leaning on you, making their presence known. But now? Now, they were acting possessive. They’d follow you everywhere, make sure they were always by your side, and the glares they shot at any male student who got too close to you? Intense. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore. It was like they were marking their territory without saying a word.

And that’s when it hit you.

All of this? It wasn’t just the usual chaos and fun. They liked you. They had to. No one acts like this unless they do.

But you weren’t sure. Not completely. You needed confirmation. And the best way to confirm a suspicion like this? You’d seen it done before in the most dramatic ways—jealousy. If they were really into you, you were certain they wouldn’t just sit back and let you spend time with someone else. They'd react, and you’d get your answer.

So, with that thought in mind, you decided to test this theory. What better way to do that than to make them confess in a fit of jealousy?

You didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course, but it was the only way to make sure. And you wouldn’t have to do it alone, which is where your two male friends, Jeongin and Jaehyun, came in. You trusted them, and they owed you a favor or two after all the times you’d helped them in the past.

The plan was simple—at least, in theory. You'd spend some time with Jeongin and Jaehyun, just enough to make Jungwon and Ni-ki notice. You knew they’d be watching. They always were, especially since the two of them had started acting this way. And once they did? Well, that would be when the fireworks started.

You carefully explained everything to Jeongin and Jaehyun, who both agreed to help you. They were on board, teasing you about how entertaining it would be to see how Jungwon and Ni-ki would react. Jeongin even joked that he could make them both "lose their minds." You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but you were counting on him to keep it lighthearted.

The next day, the plan was set into motion. You’d intentionally sit next to Jeongin and Jaehyun in the grandhall, laughing at their jokes and engaging in casual conversation. You knew Jungwon and Ni-ki would be nearby, watching closely, their eyes following your every move. And, sure enough, the second you laughed too loud or shared a casual touch with Jeongin, you saw the shift.

Ni-ki's smirk faltered for a second before he looked away, crossing his arms tightly, his eyes narrowing. Jungwon was no better—his gaze had turned blank, his usually demeanor replaced by something else. The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you had to fight to keep a straight face.

As the evening wore on, the moments between you and Jeongin and Jaehyun became more exaggerated. You laughed louder, leaned closer, and gave Jeongin a playful push when he made a joke. Your heart raced with anticipation.

Sure enough, when you glanced over at Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them were practically burning holes into you with their eyes. Jungwon was glaring at Jeongin, his jaw clenched, while Ni-ki was burning a hole in the wall in front of him.

The more you pushed, the more you noticed them getting restless. Ni-ki shifted in his seat, throwing a glance at Jungwon as if silently confirming that neither of them was happy with the situation. It was working.

But now, the hardest part—waiting.

You watched as they tried to play it cool, but every time you’d interact with Jeongin or Jaehyun, you could feel their eyes on you, and it became harder to pretend you weren’t aware of how they were watching.

Finally, when they were getting up to leave, Jeongin bumped into Ni-ki, giving him a playful smile and a casual, “Excuse me, mate,” before turning and walking away with Jaehyun.

That was when it all came to a head. You had just turned to leave the Grandhall when you felt two hands grip your wrist, pulling you back.

You turned to find Jungwon standing in front of you, his expression no longer calm. It was frustrated, a little wild, and it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“Did you have to do that?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, like he was trying to keep his cool but was failing miserably.

Ni-ki was right behind him, arms crossed, his eyes flicking from you to Jungwon and back. “Yeah,” he added, his voice tight. “What’s with you and them?”

You swallowed, keeping your composure. “What do you mean?”

“Cut the act,” Jungwon shot back, stepping a little closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “We both know what you’re doing.”

Your heart raced. There it was. You wanted them to say it. You wanted them to admit it, to confess how they felt.

“You two... are acting like children,” you said lightly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the whirlwind in your chest. “You know that, right?”

Ni-ki’s face twitched as he stepped forward. “We’re not the ones acting like that,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t place. “You’re the one making us jealous.”

You smiled to yourself, the satisfaction bubbling up. The tension was finally broken, and now... all you had to do was wait for them to confess.

“Okay, what’s the big problem?” you asked, your voice calm but firm. “Why are you two acting like this?”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They exchanged a quick, sharp glance, almost as if they were having a silent conversation.

Finally, Jungwon let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He glared at the ground for a moment before looking up at you, his usual dimpled smile nowhere to be found.

“We’re not acting like this for no reason,” he started, his voice tense. “You think we’re just jealous for no reason?”

Ni-ki stepped forward then, his eyes searching yours. “We’re jealous,” he muttered, a bit of anger still lingering in his tone. “But it’s not just about Jaehyun, or you hanging out with Jeongin. It’s... you.”

You blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Jungwon shot him a look but then quickly turned back to you, his voice lowering, barely above a whisper. "We like you. We both do. And yeah, it’s frustrating seeing you with other people when we... we’ve been wanting to say something for a while now."

Ni-ki nodded, his usual smirk replaced by a more earnest expression. “We’re... we’re seriously into you, and it’s driving us crazy watching you get close to anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the realization settling in as you stared at them. It wasn’t just a theory anymore. They really did like you.

“You two... really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your mind racing as everything clicked into place.

Jungwon sighed, a small, frustrated laugh escaping him. "Yeah, really. You’re smart, you’re fun, and you make everything less... boring. But we didn’t know how to say it, okay? We’re not used to this kind of thing."

Ni-ki grinned nervously, his usual confidence returning in small doses. "And I guess we were trying to make you notice. Not the best way, but it worked, didn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a little overwhelmed by the admission. The teasing and the possessiveness—it was all a roundabout way of showing how they felt, even if it was a bit chaotic.

“I... didn’t expect this,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I thought it was just you guys being, well, you.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "And you didn’t think we could actually be serious? We’ve been serious this whole time, just... not very good at showing it."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension lifting as the realization hit you fully. “So, what now?”

Ni-ki stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours as he looked at you with hope and uncertainty. “Well, we could start by not acting like children, and maybe... go on a real date sometime?”

Jungwon’s eyes softened, as he glanced at Ni-ki and then back at you. "Yeah, what he said. We’d like to take you out, properly. No pranks or anything."

You nodded, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t before. “I think that sounds good.”

--

The next day, you found yourself sitting in the Slytherin common room, the warmth of the fire crackling. The scent of hot chocolate in the air, the creamy drink topped with fluffy marshmallows—just the perfect comfort on a chilly evening. You were nestled between Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them flanking you with matching sly smirks, looking too cute in their comfy clothes and the trio socks that you all had somehow decided to get together during one of your Hogsmeade visits.

Ni-ki was playfully nudging you, trying to steal the last marshmallow, and Jungwon had his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, but his focus was clearly on you.

“Seriously, you’re hogging the sweets,” Ni-ki teased, leaning in close to you, his breath warm against your cheek. “We should get more—”

“Only if you share them,” Jungwon interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m not letting you eat them all.”

The two of them went back and forth in their usual playful manner, but this time it felt different. You were caught between them, nestled comfortably in the middle as they leaned closer to you.

Then, as if in sync, they both paused, their teasing grins melting into something softer. Ni-ki’s eyes were unusually warm, and Jungwon’s expression was full of affection.

“You know,” Ni-ki whispered, his voice low but sincere, “we love you.”

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his hand gently brushing against yours as he leaned in. “Yeah. We love you,” he repeated, his voice just above a murmur.

Before you could even respond, they both kissed your cheeks—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and you froze for a moment, the gentle pressure of their lips leaving you breathless.

Your heart raced in your chest, and for a moment, you felt like you were floating. Their love made you feel safe, cherished, and incredibly happy.

You looked between the two of them, a smile tugging at your lips as you met their gazes. “I love you both, too,” you whispered.

You could see the light in both Jungwon and Ni-ki’s eyes flicker with pure happiness at your confession. They were both too stunned for a moment, leaving you the perfect opportunity to tease them.

Smiling mischievously, you shifted slightly so that you were closer to both of them. "Well," you began, resting your chin on Jungwon's shoulder while your hand found Ni-ki’s arm, "I guess that means you're both officially stuck with me now." You smirked, letting the words sink in, and watched as both of their faces softened.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes but grinned, leaning into you. “You make it sound like we’re not already stuck with you,” he teased, but you could feel his breath hitch slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jungwon, who had been staring at you, blinked before leaning in as well. “Yeah, like there’s any way we’d want to get rid of you,” he said with a playful huff.

You took advantage of their playful words and pulled them both into a tight cuddle, which caused them both let out small, surprised noises as you enveloped them in your grip, holding them firmly.

“Now, now,” you teased, “you two are so easy to fold, aren’t you?” You could feel their shoulders relax as they practically molded to your side.

Ni-ki groaned, but there was no real protest in his voice. “You’re too comfy, stop making us weak,” he muttered, and you could practically feel him sinking into your embrace as if he couldn’t escape even if he tried. His body was warm against yours, and you could tell that he didn’t mind at all.

Jungwon’s head tipped slightly back to rest against yours, his face softening. “You’re not gonna let us go, are you?” he asked with a half-smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Nope,” you answered firmly, enjoying the way their defenses crumbled under your touch. “You two are officially my cuddle buddies. And I think you both secretly love it.”

They both huffed, but there was no denying the way they leaned even further into you, practially melting into the cuddle. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt their breathing slow.

But the peace didn`t last when you suddenly felt a soft breath against your neck. It was Jungwon, his lips barely grazing your skin. Before you could react, Ni-ki’s lips followed suit, brushing against the opposite side of your neck.

A shiver ran through you at the unexpected warmth, and you gasped, your body tensing for just a moment before you settled back into their hold. They both hummed in response, clearly enjoying the effect they were having on you.

Jungwon’s kiss was gentle, his lips lingering a little longer, sending a spark of warmth straight to your chest. Ni-ki, on the other hand, kissed your neck with a more playful edge, his lips trailing soft, teasing touches as he moved closer to you.

“Relax,” Jungwon whispered against your skin, his breath sending a wave of goosebumps across your body. His hand gently brushed your hair back, before his lips returned to the delicate spot just under your ear.

Ni-ki, still clinging to you, pressed his lips closer to your neck, his touch light yet insistent. “You’re making this too easy,” he murmured, his voice full of teasing affection.

You could barely suppress the shiver that ran through you, as you felt their kisses deepen, both of them so close, almost impossibly close.

“Stop,” you gasped between breaths, though you couldn’t bring yourself to push them away. “You’re going to—”

“Going to what?” Ni-ki interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Make you melt into our arms? Too late for that.”

Jungwon’s laugh was a soft, comforting sound, his lips now trailing further down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in their wake. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his smile against your skin as he pulled you even closer.

Both of them were still so clingy, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed how they both seemed to seek you out.

“You two really know how to make a girl weak,” you muttered with a soft laugh.

“And we’ll keep doing it,” Jungwon replied. “As long as you let us.”

You were completely okay with that.

Just then, from the stone wall, Peeves' head popped out. His grin was even wider this time, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hovered before the three of you.

"I knew it!" Peeves cackled, his voice echoing through the common room. "I knew you three would end up together! It was just too perfect not to work out! Look at you, all tangled up in each other, the chaos—it’s meant to be!" He floated closer, eyes twinkling with glee as he looked at you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki. "Oh, you can’t fool me. You all make such a lovely little trio!"

You all paused, exchanging a glance. There was no point in arguing with Peeves—he was insufferable but often right in his own ridiculous way. With a collective sigh, you all decided to just humor him.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, sure, Peeves. You figured us out," he said dryly, trying not to let Peeves get the best of him.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his hand holding yours tightly. "Guess you’re not wrong," he said with a teasing grin. "But, really, did you have to show up like this? You're making it harder to pretend we don’t get along."

Peeves just giggled, enjoying every second of this. "Oh, but it’s too much fun to watch! You three are like a puzzle that finally clicked into place. And I knew I'd be the one to see it first!" He floated around you in a circle, his laughter loud and echoing. "Don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for you—yet. But I’ll be watching. Oh yes, I’ll be watching!"

With one final, exaggerated wink, Peeves disappeared back into the stone wall, his laughter still lingering in the air. You sighed and turned back to Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were both looking at you with affectionate smiles.

"Well, that was... something," you said, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Jungwon nodded. "Yeah, but Peeves is right about one thing. We’re not going anywhere."

Ni-ki squeezed your hand. "Not ever."

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[lostinlovingrevery]

Crumbling Desperation

70s Logan X F! Reader

Logan wants you pliant for him

A/N: Based off some feral conversations between me and @cruel-as-sin today. DOFP has my heart and my pussy. Also this maybe a lil rough as I get back into fic writing after being sick for a week!

Warning: SMUT MDNI, mean! Logan, rough sex, unprotected PiV, multi creampies, teasing, fingering, blowjob, very very rough, some light pussy and thigh smacking lol, a little degradation (but not super mean), taunting, begging, uuuuuuh this is just a nasty fic in general

The only light that filled the darkness of the apartment bedroom was the street lamps.

Light pouring through the windows. Shadowing two figures that were rocking softly in the dark. 

Logan's arms kept you pressed against his body. His broad chest against you, his hips rocked with yours. He rested his chin atop your head, his hands resting on your hips, slowly brushing up and down your curves. 

Your eyes closed, as you leaned into him. A faint smile on your face as you felt his hands squeeze you a little tighter. He tipped his head lazily, his lips brushing over your ear, along your jawline. You hummed happily, tipping your head back, giving him purchase to kiss your neck. 

His arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand sliding up, gently cupping one of your breasts, before tracing along the collar of your dress, his fingers tucking underneath the sleeve and pulling it down your shoulder. He leaned down, pressing several kisses to your neck and shoulder. You exhaled softly, eyes fluttering open as Logan sucked and nipped at your skin.

“You looked good tonight baby.” He hums, his lips brushing over your jawline. “Luckiest guy in the world to have a pretty girl like you by my side.”

You giggle, biting your lip as his hand continues brushing over your curves. “I’m the lucky one.” 

“Mmm.” His hand brushed down your body, finding the slit of your dress that exposed your thighs. His hand dipped underneath the satin cloth, brushing over the lace panties you put on for him. “Feeling needy darling?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded, a subtle movement of your hips into his touch. “You were playing with me all night Lo.” Your hand stretched up, curling into his hair. “I need you.” 

“You got me.” He says with a lighthearted tone- but the way he touched you, told you had had ulterior motives. His hand moving to tracing along your inner thigh instead, not touching you where you really needed him. Your bodies still rocking back and forth together.

“I need more.” You brought your other hand to where he was touching your thighs, grabbing his wrist to move him towards your needy cunt. 

You were soaked, and it was almost painful how badly you needed his touch. He kept messing with you all night. Stroking your thighs, cupping your ass everywhere you walked, his fingers tracing up and down your arm. He’d lean in and press kisses to the back of your neck and ear- his breath hot on your skin and sending you goosebumps. He kept teasing you, working you up so much you asked him multiple times to take you home, or even go into the bathroom just for him to give you some relief. 

Then he’d give you that cocky smile, and ask you what the rush was for. He was enjoying the night out, he didn’t want to go home yet. 

“More?” He asks, not doing anything to stimulate you, only allowing you to move his hand as you attempt to get stimulation from him. He suddenly ripped it away from you, turning you around and shoving you onto the bed. You gasped, shuffling to push yourself up.

He walked over, shoving your legs open and pushing himself between them. “More what?”

“Lo…” You whined, a small pout of your lip. “I want more of you.” 

He raised a brow. “I’m right here sweetheart. All of me.” He shrugged. He brought his hands down over your hips, adjusting you on the bed, pulling your closer to him- so the tent in his pants pressed teasingly against your panties. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Heat bloomed in your face as you considered what he was implying. 

“I…” You stammered. 

“What? Cat got your tongue now?” He leaned down over you. “Can’t talk? You were quick to ask me to take care of you earlier when we were having a good time. ” His tone became annoyed.

“Logan-” You pouted. He slid a hand over your belly, the valley of your breasts, coming over to squeeze your neck. He tipped his chin up, looking down at you with an unamused expression. 

“What do you want?” He asks. 

“I…I want you to touch me. To take off my dress.” You reply, your voice barely a whisper. He smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to your nose before he brought his hands to the collar of your dress.

You gasped as he ripped it apart from the middle. The tear sounded through the room. 

I actually liked that dress….

You thought to yourself but didn’t voice it. That would only mean he’d stop playing with you.

Logan's hand came up to cup your breasts, his thumbs rubbing circles over your peaked nipples. You arched your back, lifting towards his touch, his calloused thumb stimulating your breasts and creating a warm honey feeling that pooled in your lacey lingerie. 

A soft moan escaped you, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, amused by your reaction. You tipped your head to the side. 

“Getting off just from me playing with your tits?” 

“Mm…” You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets. He leaned down, swirling his tongue over a nipple and you gasped. “Oh-” You bit your bottom lip. His tongue continued playing with your peaked buds, as he nipped and sucked on your tits. “Logan- I need you- down there.” You gasped.

He parted from your nipple with a pop. “Down where sweetheart? Australia?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head. He grinned, pressing a kiss to the valley of your breasts, but then bit at your skin and you yelped.  He chuckled. 

“That hurt?” He asks, you shake your head, and lowers himself down to your belly, biting you again, making you flinch. “Knock it off.” He says with fake annoyance, pressing kisses over your belly, before biting the fat of your hip, once again making you jump. He sat up harshly, scowling down at you. “What did I say?”

“Sorry I-” 

He delivered a smack to your thigh, making you yelp. “You want me to make you feel good sweetheart?”

You nodded, pressing your lips together. 

“Then stop fucking moving.” He growls. You sighed in frustration, wanting to wiggle and get him to move on with it- he was going purposely slow, doing everything he could to avoid giving you what you wanted from him. The same thing he’d been doing all night.

“Can you just… Touch me?” You ask desperately. He raised a brow.

“Touch you?” He says. “What’s the magic word?” 

Your eyes filled with tears. “Please, Logan, please touch me!” 

His eyes turned dark, a quirk of his lips as he leaned down over you. His hand swiped up over your panties, making your legs twitch from his touch, he slid his back down underneath your panties. “Touch you?” He tilts his head, a click of his tongue. “How? Like this?” 

His fingers found your swollen clit, and he flicked it with two fingers. You gasped, nodding. He smirked, flicking it again. You tilted your head to the side, spreading your legs farther open. Other than flicking occasionally though, he didn’t touch you, didn’t stroke or rub circles. 

“I need more…” You whined, lifting your hips up to him. He chuckled. He pulled his hand away. 

“Can’t do much with this thing in the way.” He mumbles, pointing to the panties before glancing back up at you. Then he delivers a smack to your cunt. You yelped, tears stinging your eyes. “Take em off.” He orders. 

You took a deep breath, sitting up, pulling off the rest of your torn dress, he stepped back from you. Watching as you slid off your panties, pushing them past your ankles. He walked back over- snatching them from your hand- stuffing them into his back pocket. 

You leaned back onto the bed, spreading your legs open again, giving him a view of your weeping pussy, soaked, and swollen from no relief. He smirked.

“You opened your legs for me without even asking. Good girl.” He mumbles stepping forward. “You that desperate?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, pouting. “Can you touch me again?” 

His hand came down, brushing over your folds, and you could barely feel him. You whined, lifting your hips up again. He pressed one finger against your burd. “How about that?” He asks.

You shook your head, so he removed it- making you nod desperately. “No- Keep it there!” You looked up at him begging. “Just move! Please?”

He placed his finger over your bud again, slowly swirling your clit in circles. It provided relief- but not enough. Your entire cunt felt like it was throbbing, your hole clenching over nothing over and over again. 

“Another-” You begged. “More?” 

He added another finger, still rubbing you slowly, becoming torturous as your pussy leaked arousal, begging to be stimulated. 

“Logan-”

He smacked your cunt, making you yelp.

“Logan-” He mocked your voice. “You’re so whiny.” He taunts. Your lip quivered as frustration bubbled in you, a tightness in your chest for some relief in your body. Logan was playing with you, and he was drawing it out as long as possible. What his game was with you, you didn’t know- but you could barely take it anymore. 

He stepped back from you and you let out a small sob. “Quiet down.” He orders, and you opened your eyes to see him unbuttoning his shirt, staring down at you with that cocky smile. You tipped your head back and sighed, your hands gripping the sheets so tight you thought they would rip.

His clothes were abandoned to the floor and you looked back up at him.

The sight of him could have made you cum right then.

He towered over you. You admired his broad frame, the veins that popped out through his arms and belly. The tone muscles of his abs, his biceps, and his thighs. Your eyes landed on his thick girth, erected, with a red swollen tip and pre-cum beading out of his slip. 

At least I’m not the only one feeling this way…

You bit your lip, looking up at him with a pleading look in your eyes. He smirked, walking over to you, his cock bouncing with every step making you part your lips as you watched it. You thought he’d climb between your legs- give you the relief you so badly needed, and fuck you within an inch of your life. 

Instead he pushed your legs shut, reaching over to grab your arm and pull you up, pulling you to the ground on your knees. 

“You think you’re the only one needing some relief sweetheart?” He looks down at you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. You swallowed. “Open up.” 

You obliged, and he slipped his tip between your lips. You moaned at his heady taste, dripping onto your tongue. His hand slipped from your jaw into your hair- a tight grip on it, as he pulled you farther down over him. 

A small gag escaped you and you heard him chuckle. “Can’t take it? Too much for you baby?”

You moaned, and he pushed himself farther down your throat, choking you. Tears finally broke through, rolling down your cheek. He looked down at you, arrogance across his face. 

“Crybaby.” 

He smirks, and you shut your eyes. Your hand slipping down between your legs, attempting to give yourself much-needed relief as his cock filled your mouth. 

“Uh uh-” He kicked your hand away, his cock choking your further. “No touching. You take care of me first, sweetheart.” 

A small sob escaped you, but you kept your hands off yourself, bringing them up to his thighs. You looked back up at him, pleading eyes for him to hurry up and use you, so that he’ll finally give you your reward. The throbbing between your legs was begging for your attention, and you couldn’t ignore it even with Logan choking you with his cock. 

His hand curled in your hair kept you in place, as he began slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Spit and drool rolled down your chin, and his cock reached the back of your throat over and over- so much your gag relax disappeared, becoming used to his intrusion. 

He tipped his head back, a moan escaping him as he thrusts faster. 

“Fuck, you got a sweet mouth baby.” He moaned. He looked down at you, mouth parted, his ears and cheeks flushed. “You like this?”

You closed your eyes, nodding as best as you could as he face-fucked you. He let out a weak chuckle. He brought his other hand into your hair, holding you tight as he went faster. Tears continued streaming down your face. Logan's jaw tightened, pushing your head onto his cock, bending over as he came to his finish- his cum shooting down your throat, filling your mouth. He planted his face into the mattress behind you, grunting and groaning like an animal as he rode out his seemingly neverending coitus. 

He straightened back up, pulling out of you and stepping back. You gasped, panting for air as his cum, your spit, and your tears stained your face. He reached down cupping your jaw, making you look up at him- with your dazed eyes. 

“You look real pretty like this.” He taunts, his thumb catching a dribble of cum, sticking it back onto your tongue. You wrapped your lips around him, sucking on it and closing your eyes- as if you hadn’t gotten enough of him already. “C’mon. Up.” He ordered pulling his thumb from your lips, before he became hypnotized by you.

You stood up and he shoved you onto the bed, spreading your thighs. “Think you deserve this?” He asks, lowering his face over your pussy, noting how soaked your thighs were now. 

“I-” Your voice was raspy, “I don’t know.” 

He hummed. “Maybe you don’t then-” 

“Wait wait! Yes, I do, I deserve this.” You whimpered, your hands reaching out to cup his face. “Please Logan-” 

He smiled, lowering back down. He took a deep inhale, his eyes nearly rolling back as he let out a groan. “God you smell fucking incredible…”

His hands came up, spreading your folds open, examining your cunt, his thumb brushing over your pussy teasingly, making your thighs tremble. You were so worked up, that any stimulation felt like too much. You whined, shaking your head as another sob broke through you. 

“Quiet it down.” He says. “I got mine sweetheart, we can do this all fucking night.” 

You bit your lip, tears streaming down as he continued messing with you, but never fully giving in to your pleasure. Your body trembled, his touch, his breath blowing over you. 

You gave in, body relaxing, shutting your eyes as your breathing calmed. 

Logan looked up at your now weak and pliant figure. He grinned. 

“There we go.” He cooed, standing up as he climbed between your legs. He pressed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on you. “Good girl.” He purred, pressing more kisses along your jawline. You opened your eyes, looking up at him dreamily. 

He pushed his cock through your folds, hard again already. A small breath escaped you as your eyes rolled back. He rutted gently into you, leaning down to capture your lips again. You kissed him back weakly. 

“You still want me sweetheart?” He mumbles against your lips. “Or are you too tired now?”

You nodded. 

“Use your words. Too tired?” He grinned lifting himself off of you.

“No- No I want you.” You spoke up, your hands reaching to grab his shoulders and pull him back down. “Please.”

“Mm.” He angled himself at your clenching hole, pushing his tip inside. Your mouth flew open, head falling back. “Damn, just slid right in darling.” He groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Real needy aren’t ya?”

You nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck. He slowly pushed in and out of you, but never fully, only his tip.

“Lo…” You whined. 

“What darling, aren’t I giving you what you wanted?”

“I- Yes…” You nodded. “I want more.”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” 

You let out a small cry. “Please? Please baby?” You begged. “I want all of you.”

“I don’t know sweetheart, seemed like all of me was too much for you earlier.”

“It’s not, it's not! I can take it, please, please, please!” You began to sob, turning your head to the side. You wrapped your legs around his waist so he couldn’t pull out. He smirked, watching you beg for a moment.

Without warning he thrusts into you up to the hilt. You moaned, eyes shooting up to look up at him. 

“What? You wanted it.” He grins. His hand braced against your headboard, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He began thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, his hips slamming into yours. Your eyes rolled back, your pliant body fitting into him as he shook the whole bed fucking into you.

He sat up and grabbed your hips with both hands slamming into you with a fury. He watched your tits bounce with every thrust, the way your greedy cunt sucked him in eagerly, soaking his cock with you creamy arousal. Your arms fell to either side of your head, melting into the mattress as Logan finally gave you your reward.

You lost track of time as he fucked you, pushing you into different positions, and making you cum over and over. You turned into a ragdoll that he used at will- and you loved it. Even in your semi-conscious state. 

Your legs on his shoulders, pushed down to your chest as he buried himself balls-deep, spilling himself inside you for the second time, his cum overflowing around his cock and leaking out of you, ruining your sheets more than they already were.

He had you on your side, mouth hung open and eyes rolled back as he thrusts into and out, arm wrapped around your chest, a handful of your tit, his other hand supporting your thigh, the bedframe shaking and creaking- threatening to break underneath you both. 

His hand buried into your hair, forcing your face into the mattress while he slammed into you from behind. Your ass up, your legs trembling while his, and your fluids mixed streamed down your thighs. Your throat is hoarse, and you stopped crying a long time ago- no more tears left to shed;

But there was much more pleasure to revel in.

[delirious-donna]

Hiromi is not one to back down from an argument. It’s the lawyer in him plus his inherent desire to always be right, even when he isn’t. He doesn’t necessarily get angry, he isn’t going to raise his voice or swear at you, but he is going to lay out his argument in excruciating detail and expect you to listen. It could be the simplest of little disagreements and Hiromi will treat it like his entire professional reputation is on the line, an imaginary jury of your peers fills the courtroom in his head and what started as a playful butting of heads grows arms and legs, maybe even a second head.

However… there is one surefire way to shut him up mid-flow, and that is to approach carefully and forcibly shove your hand across his mouth. You have to maintain eye contact to ensure it’s working, but it has never failed yet. His intelligent darkly lit eyes mellow, his breathing turns reedy and he mumbles out a moan behind the meat of your palm. Heat rushes to fill his cheeks, the warmth of his breath tickling your fingertips as you arch an eyebrow and lean in closer.

The scratch of his five o’clock shadow grazes at your palm, his eyes bouncing erratically between yours as he lets you walk him backwards toward the bedroom door. You can feel him thickening behind his trousers, his hands antsy to reach out and touch you whilst all those pesky little points he had yet to voice spill quietly out his ears… never to be heard.

The bed creaks under the intensity of your movements, bouncing on his leaking cock with such fervour that you worry you might break either the frame or Hiromi. The man in question huffs into the pillows, sweat rolling freely over his temples as you drape yourself across his chest. “What were you saying, Hiro? I can’t quite hear you now…”

He tries to speak, tries to make any noise at all that isn’t the pathetic whimpers filling the air but you’ve got him beat and the use of dirty underhanded tactics only makes him harder for you. Your teeth skim his nipples, tongue poised to flick them in turn before you return to bearing your weight forward with your hands on his shoulders. The wet ‘pap pap pap’ of your pussy greedily swallowing him down turns those keen whimpers into something only dogs would hear and all he has for you are heart eyes out on stalks and the ability to gulp like a fish out of water.

“That’s what I thought. Listen here, Mr Lawyer man, you are a fantastic attorney but when you’re at home… remember that I’m not your adversary.”

Hiromi moans diligently, nodding his head fervently and gripping at the plush of your hips hard enough that you feel bruises bloom. He’s right at the precipice, you can feel it swelling… his balls drawing tight to his dick. He needs to cum and he’ll do anything to make it happen. Your hand reaches backward, fondling those heavy balls in your palm whilst you roll your hips aggressively back and forth. He cums with a bark, the tendons on his neck taut and straining before he crumples back to the sheets.

“I rest my case…”

an: this came about from a conversation with @pseudowho (yes, this is the calibre of our chats 😂) who I love very dearly.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (piv, biting, marking, mild choking) DD:DNE, violence/death, panic/anxiety attacks, mentions of pregnancy/labor, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ayo my high valyrian is probably wrong so if you know it is just roll with it. girl this fic doesnt want to end wtf i- if you like my work, please consider leaving a comment or reblog as I really look forward to them | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

You fall asleep in Daemon's arms as he walks back to the Keep. He cannot help himself. His lilac eyes go back and forth between your face and where he was going. There seemed to be nothing else. It was just him, the moon, and your breathing against his neck.

When he reached the door to his marriage chambers, he was taken aback by the sudden galloping of a Cargyll twin. The knight opens the door then makes way. Daemon turns over his shoulder and realizes both brothers had been following him.

There is an angry annoyance that forces up his throat, but when you release an audible sigh, and he remembers it was he who had instructed them to retrieve you. He says two words before entering the room and kicking the door closed, "thank you."

Daemon lays you down and gulps at the sight of your body. Your brown hair falls over your face as you shuffle and reach out for nothing. He realizes then, as the urge to push your tresses away intensifies, that he's never witnessed you sleep before.

He removes your shoes, placing them at the foot of your bed.

And he never will.

Daemon walks off. He's five steps from making an exit when he hears the noise you make. He stills and waits a few seconds. You make the noise again.

With a line between his brows, he returns to you, peering over your body. Indeed, you were still asleep, but from the way your lips and forehead curled, you were dreaming of something unpleasant. He sighs, clasping his hands, "amīvindigon sesīr isse ēdrugon." Tormented even in sleep.

There is a discomfort that spreads in his ribs as tears leave your closed eyes. He shakes his head "mundagon riña." Miserable girl.

He sits beside you, staring for a moment before finally brushing your hair back, doing the same with your tears. While caressing your soft skin, he finds his thumb itching to smoothen out the creases on your face that seem to only deepen. Under his breath, he speaks to you the way he would Caraxes when he's overcome with emotion. He forfeits the commanding tone however and whispers each word.

At some point, both his hands find your cheeks. He is so caught up in tracing your lips, he doesn't even realize you were no longer in distress, nor does he know of your consciousness until you lean into his touch.

He is frozen when his eyes meet yours. He starts slightly when you sit up, heart racing when you embrace him. His pulse thunders so loud that you pull away and examine his face in worry. Daemon's breath hitches when your hands clutch his cheeks. Your eyes rove across his face and again, your forehead curls. You speak in the softest of voices, "what's wrong?"

He thinks for a moment. He stares at you. You just had a nightmare, yet you ask him what is wrong? He shifts and rests his hand at the small of your back. He shakes his head as his expression falls. He whispers, "mirre iksis sȳrī, jorrāeliarza." All is well, beloved.

You do not understand him.

He repeats, "all is well."

Your features slowly relax.

His face hardens as he tests the word he omitted in translation, "beloved."

His belly flutters at the faint chuckle you release. His eyes begin to widen when you slowly lean closer.

Daemon pulls his head back, intent on watching you, but he freezes when you kiss his cheek, again and again. You kiss his jaw, his jowl, his lips. Suddenly, he can smell you so clearly. Suddenly, he pulls you in.

You gather your skirts as you climb onto his lap. You sigh as you deepen your kiss. He makes a strangled sound against your mouth when you grind on his crotch. He digs his fingers into your hips before pushing your dress out of the way to claw at your thighs.

He sighs when your hands brush his chest. His breathing grows heavy at your attempt to free him of his top. He helps you get him out of his garbs, and soon he is getting you out of yours. Once you're both naked, he pulls you in, pressing his skin against yours, unwilling to part from your body. Simultaneously, he has a strong urge to examine you, to commit to memory the hue of your skin and the curves of your flesh. Daemon, in all his greed, tries to do both at once.

With you still sitting on him, he squeezes your bum, securing you on his lap as he drinks in your visage. He shamelessly moans and pants as you continue to grind on him, and now he can feel your wetness on his hardening member. As you undo the tie of his hair and comb the silver strands back, he remembers the first time you'd ever fucked.

He is hypnotized by your confidence, by how unbridled and overt your desire for him is. Nothing remains of the timid little girl he claimed on the beach. You were lust incarnate, the goddess of sex. You scratch your nails up his nape and besiege him with open mouthed kiss. He returns your fervor, scratching his nails down back, garnering out a shaky moan from your lips

He breaks away only to ogle at your breasts and he kneads them. His breath grows heavier at your continued grinding and hitches upon catching your dazed reaction. He spews out a string of High Valyrian curses before capturing your ribcage. He sinks his face into your chest and you mewl at the feel of his hot mouth on your breast, feeling restless and needy.

"Daemon," you tug at the roots of his hair, "I need you."

You are uninclined to wait for him as you lean into his shoulder while your other hand grabs his cock. Your breast in his mouth muffles the noise that leaves him as you sink down on him. You yelp when he nips your sternum, but it does not deter you from beginning to maneuver your hips up and down.

"Fuck, fuck," Daemon huffs against your chest. He looks up at you, going mad at the sight of your closed-eyed concentration. He licks a stripe of sweat building on the side of your neck and thrusts up in sync to your movements.

"N-ñuha dārilaros," my prince falls from your lips.

He moans at that. He straightens and traps you tightly in both his arms, "where did you fucking learn that?"

You squeak as his thrusts grow more vigorous, "I- mmm- in- uh- book."

Daemon licks your lower lip before biting it, "desperate hussy," he moans against your mouth, "iksan jāre naejot pryjagon ao." I am going to destroy you.

You gasp as he pushes you back like you were nothing. Your legs immediately lock around his hips as he comes atop you and your voice trembles when his hips thrust slower but deeper as he adjusts you to the center of the bed. He nuzzles into your neck, licking your jaw. He then pushes himself up and rubs your the curve of your ass.

You yield to him as he pushes your thighs back, bringing your legs over his shoulders. Using his weight to keep you down, he takes your wrists and pins them above you while the other tightens around your throat.

He fucks you thoroughly in this position and you can do nothing but whimper, arch your back, and feel your arousal drip onto the bed.

His hand brushes up your neck and soon he's tracing your parted lips with his thumb. You take him in and bite his finger. It stokes a flame in his belly, thus why he pulls away to push a hand on the back of your knees.

You are helpless as he plows into you. Daemon, in his delirium, reverts back into his mother tongue. He sings your body praises in High Valyrian. He calls you dirty names as he slaps his hips into yours with a wet squelch. Your fucked-out expression pulls out an honest confession of how pretty he think you'd look stuffed with his seed.

Of course, you cannot understand a word he's saying, nor do you know how much calling him name is egging him on.

He watches you, his darling doe. The dragon in him relishes your screwed eyes and opened mouth. You throw your head back as you chase your building pleasure, meanwhile Daemon feels his stomach tighten as his own nears.

Fuck, you were beautiful. It would be a shame to waste his seed.

A deep line forms between his brows as he imagines the child you would bear him. Fuck. He does not want it.

He grabs your jaw and pushes your head to the side. It's enough to push you over the edge. He curses as he feels you tighten around him. You're so hot and wet and divine, he grits his teeth to build his resolve. Quickly, he quickly pulls out, gliding his cock back and forth your slick folds, sequentially finishing on your pulsing cunt and belly, just as he always does.

The image is nothing new, but it drives him no less wild. Behold, the Lord Hand's dearest daughter, all dirty with his molten come. It's a wicked, wet dream made reality. It was all his.

But there was something different. Daemon doesn't just pull away and roll over. He stares at you for a while, watching you catch your breath as he does the same. He stares at the mess he's made of you, and yes, you were filthy but you were also glimmering. He gulps, before grabbing his discarded clothes to clean you up.

He wets his dress shirt with water then wipes you down. He does the same to himself and catches you staring.

His instinct is to ruin the moment, to berate you for looking so dumbstruck and to praise the prowess of his cock, but he cannot find it in him to do so with how utterly enchanting you look in the afterglow of your love m— fucking.

You reach out to him.

His heart races.

"Stay," you whisper.

If there's one thing he hates, it's people telling him what to do.

... why then was such a simple word so compelling?

You fix the pillows on the bed as your husband crawls beside you. Daemon feels his throat constrict as you throw yourself on him. He is unable to move as you press your chests together and snake your leg over his hips. He does not know why he's become petrified by your touch. You trace your thumb across his face, "you're so beautiful."

Daemon does not reply. He cannot.

His brows furrow when he thinks he notices your eyes water. They furrow deeper when you smile and laugh out, "I wish you were real."

You feel sick after saying that.

He feels sick after hearing that.

Your prince shakes his hand and takes the hand you had on his face, "I am real."

You nod and laugh again. "I believe you."

Why then do your tears fall?

Daemon lets you curl into him. You latch onto him so tightly, he feels you would not be able to push you away even if he wanted. He doesn't want to though.

You fall asleep in his arms.

You wake up all alone.

You groan at the sound your servants telling you to rise. You brush your brown hair off your shoulder and knit your brows at the feel of your night gown. A pit instantly forms in your belly. Of course it had been a dream.

Hot tears that instantly rush down your cheeks. You hide underneath your blankets and manage to croak, "leave me alone."

You weep into your pillows for you did not know any better. You did not know Daemon had slept with you. You did not know when he awoke, he watched you sleep until the last minute. You did not know he put you into the clothes you wore because you shivered without his heat.

You hear your servants fuss over you. They ask if you're ill and in need of a maester. The only response you give are sniffles and groans. They ask if you will be able to attend today's tourney.

You moan, "what?"

"It will be starting soon, milady," one of the servants say, "do you not want to see your husband joust? He is quite good."

You know she says it to entice you, but it only makes you feel sick. After all, you did not know Daemon roused early, only because he needed to prepare for the tourney. You never will.

The same servant says, "and your brother? Isn't it his last day in King's Landing?"

You push your blankets down and stare at your two servants.

"Milady," the other says softly, "it would be good to attend."

"I do not want to behold my brother in such violence," you snuggle into bed.

The servants turn to each other, and one offers, "you can close your eyes upon collision, princess."

You sigh and shake your head. You think of Daemon. You think of how he'll surely hurt Gwayne if they face each other. Your think of how he'd done so in a tourney once before. You shake your head, "I do not want to go."

So you do not.

When the tourney commences, Daemon is most eager to make his entrance. One by one, the players are called, and upon his turn, he trots on his horse with a look of pride. He basks in the cheers as his eyes fall to the main balcony, where he quickly spots the king. His expression further brightens at the sight of his brother's smile and his niece's grin. When he spots your sister and your ugly father, he looks the crowd once over, looking for you. His lips flatten when he realizes you're not there. He awaits your arrival, forfeiting the first pick to witness your entrance, then he realizes, you wouldn't be coming. Suddenly, it was as though he never woke up in a good mood.

Meanwhile, you were aimlessly roaming the castle with one Cargyll twin trailing behind you. You do not know who it is, as you cannot find it in you to speak to him. You knew if you did, you'd end up asking him what happened after him and his brother found you in the temple. You did not want to be disappointed by the reality you'd dreamed up Daemon, so you hold your tongue.

You are torn from your lonesome trance when you hear wailing across the hall. You find yourself drawing near to the source, and you realize it was coming from Queen's chambers. Your feet falter when it dawns on you she was now in labor.

One of the servants spots you and curtsies, "princess. Have you come to visit the queen?"

You release a shaky breath, "I-"

"Who is it?!" Aemma snaps loudly then sighs.

You step back, heart racing. You gasp when you knock into Cargyll's chest plate. Another gasp comes when you turn forward and find the face of the queen. She looks distraught and yet she laughs, "your husband visited me just this morning."

You watch as she groans and rubs her belly, "he requires your attention more th-" she winces, "than I."

You cannot help but take her arm, "s-should you not be in bed, my queen?"

Aemma sighs, squeezing your arm in return, "walking can help speed-" she does not continue as her face curls in discomfort.

You feel your breath hitch as she squeezes you tighter, "sh-shall we walk to-together?"

She looks at you, a deep line between her brows, "Daemon was very excited for today's tourney. You should be there cheering for him."

"But-"

Aemma lurches forward as a particularly painful contraction hits her.

She is taken by the midwives and lead back into her chambers. You are so stunned by the encounter, your ward has to reel you back and shake you.

"My princess," he takes your shoulders.

You look at him, unable to speak. Your eyes become glassy but you manage to take deep breaths to calm yourself.

"Do not distress," he says, rubbing your arms, "the queen has everyone she needs at her disposal."

Your lips wobble, "her p-pain must be unbearable."

He cannot help the twist of his face nor how his face reaches out for your cheek, "you need not think about anyone else's pain. You have far too much of your own."

You do not respond to him until you find yourself in the gardens. You are grateful he did not think to lead you into the maester's ward, and guilty that you still do not know who it was accompanying you.

"Erryk?"

"Yes, my princess?"

You turn from the flower bushes to him, "did I get it right?"

He knits his brows and nods, "yes, my princess."

"Apologies for not speaking to you earlier. I... was not in good spirits."

"You needn't apologize for doing what is best for you."

You lower your head, "you are too kind to me."

"I really ought to be kinder," he says, taking your hand in both of his.

You look at him as he rubs your knuckles. You smile and cover his hands with yours.

"I would tell you to watch the tourney if I were kinder," Erryk says.

You laugh, "it is precisely because you are kind that you do not tell me to do such things."

Erryk thinks how inappropriate it was of him to act this way, to hold your hand, to impose his opinions upon you. If he was kinder, he would not be so apparent with his fondness. He mutters, "I am dutiful, my princess, but I am not kind."

You knit your brows at that.

He does not clarify and pulls away, "perhaps you would like to go out and pick flowers again?"

You smile at the thought, but remember your brother, "I do not want to miss my brother. He will leave today before sunset no matter what."

He nods. If he were kinder, he'd offer to take you to the tourney to see your brother while he is still here, but he also does not want to bring you to your husband.

You think of the tourney nonetheless, as well as the queen's words. You sigh and shake your head, "would it be inappropriate to watch the games at this hour?"

Erryk is surprised by your question.

"I do not want to appear as though I meant to make an entrance."

"I assure you," he shakes his head, "no one would think it. It is not your nature."

You chuckle to yourself, turning to your feet, "you're right. They'd probably assume I was subject to the horrors. As it is my nature."

"That is not what I mean-"

"A jest," you smile, "a mere jest."

When you arrive at the tourney, your father immediately assumes exactly what you said, and looks you over in concern. You simply agree with what he assumes to save yourself the trouble but reassure him you were better. You then assume the seat beside Alicent.

It's harder to reassure her, as her worry is more frantic than your father's. She secures her hand in yours throughout the event, and tells you which players she thinks will do poorly so you are not so shocked if they end up on the ground.

You are glad of it, but in truth you pay little attention to the violence. You let your mind wander, counting how many birds fly overhead. You daydream about flying on Caraxes. You daydream about embracing Daemon from behind.

You are only pulled back into reality when you hear your brother's name announced.

Alternatively, Daemon rolls his eyes as he dawdles around his tent, waiting for his turn to bash someone in with his lance.

You perk from your seat, watching the man with the Hightower sigil gallop across the stadium, all the way to you. Gwayne removes his helmet and smiles. He calls out, "I am glad to see you, sister. I was concerned you would not come."

Daemon stills when he hears this and looks out his tent.

"Cast away your concerns. Focus on staying on your horse," you call back.

Gwayne offers his lance, "perhaps your favor will keep me upright, princess."

You roll your eyes at your brother's teasing regard. Still, you stand and throw him a wreath, "do not dare fall off your horse, ser."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he puts his helmet back on.

As the Hightower twins were speaking, Daemon exited his tent and mounted his horse. Without even looking at the man who meant to go against Gwayne, the prince announces he will have his turn and gallops off, leaving everyone nothing else to do but follow.

Daemon replaces your brother, huffing as he halts before you. He looks up at you and your parted lips, your braided brown hair, your terribly modest dress. Suddenly, his chipper mood returns to him. He licks his lips and grins, calling out your name.

Alicent turns to you, gripping your hand. Rhaenyra turns to you, chuckling under her breath. Otto turns to you, clenching his jaw. Viserys turns to you, smiling softly. You turn to Daemon, voice breaking, "husb-and."

Your husband releases a breathy laugh. His stomach feels fuzzy, "I am gladdened by your appearance."

Your throat tightens yet your jaw slacks. He is?

Daemon watches you. He waits for your response but receives none. It makes his brows furrow, but his smile remains. He points his lance, "give me your favor."

"I-"

"He's already given her favor, uncle," Rhaenyra says, leaning forward.

Daemon's eyes remain on you, "then she'll give another."

The princess laughs, "she cannot favor two knights. Especially not two knights jousting against each other."

Daemon finally turns to his niece. She smiles at him as he huffs, "fine," but the prince turns to Alicent, "if I cannot have my wife's favor, her sister's suffice."

Rhaenyra turns to Alicent. Alicent turns to you. Your eyes do not leave Daemon. Your sister pulls away and takes the wreath, dropping it on his lance, "I do hope fortune finds you, my prince."

Daemon nods at her.

Alicent sits back down, turning between her friend and her sister. The former looks sulky while the latter looks agitated. Your heart pounds as Daemon smiles at you once he is positioned opposite Gwayne. You misinterpret his expression. Alicent takes your hand, and this time you squeeze her tightly as you turn to your twin, "he will hurt Gwayne."

Your sister watches you gulp and rubs your hand, "it's a tourney."

You turn to Alicent with wide eyes, "precisely," you rapidly shake your head, "I should not have come."

Alicent lowers her head to offer you a solemn expression, "our brother is not made of glass. He is knight and a formidable player in his own regard."

You smile at your sister and nod, trying to find comfort in her words. You look back at Daemon, finding him already looking at you. His grin is renewed and you feel your stomach churn. You shift on your chair and avert your gaze to your brother. Gwayne is already faced forward with his helmet on. You mutter a prayer of protection under your breath.

Daemon's brows knit when you do not turn back to him. He tries to will you to look with his mind, but you do not, not even when the horses begin to run.

Gwayne manages to hit him, the cunt's lance colliding with his chest where his own misses. A point is called and the crowds cheer. Daemon turns to you and finds a look of relief on your face. It causes his lips to tighten. He barks as he charges the second time.

Gwayne hits him again, this time, nearly dismounting him. Daemon skids on the railing but manages to get himself upright.

The prince huffs, eyeing his opponent darkly. His eyes trail back to you, finding you looking out to him in concern. Part of his anger dissipates, but then you turn to your brother, gesturing vaguely. Your twin gestures back and you roll your eyes at him. Daemon doesn't understand what it means, but it irritates him all the same.

He huffs and decides to be done with this bother. The prince is silent until the horses start running again. His lance expertly makes the hit, causing the horse to topple forward, effectively sending the ginger cunt flying off. The heavy crashing and loud gasps are music to his ears. Daemon looks back at his opponent and laughs. He chucks his splintered weapon to the side and entices cheers with his victory scream.

The only reason his celebration stops is because he hears shrill scream from the balcony. He turns and finds you standing by the railing, calling out to your brother. Your father and sister are stood behind you, trying to calm you down. You thrash against them and manage to slip away. Daemon watches you leave the balcony and the Cunt Hand gives an apologetic look to the king.

Erryk follows you as you make your way down the arena to Gwayne's tent. He is uneasy by how distressed you were, and though he knew your distress would not wane until you see the condition of your twin, he did not like the idea of you coming to him, lest it inspire the rage of your husband, who was rather happy to watch your brother crumple to the ground.

You find Gwayne laid on a cot, attended by some squires. His helmet is removed and his pained expression makes you run to him.

"Brother," you come to his side, finding relief in the maester that enters his tent.

You tense when your brother calls your name and you worriedly wipe the blood that trickled down his philtrum with a towel.

He groans and you pull away, allowing the maester to inspect him. His bent breastplate is removed and you see bruises on his pale chest. The measter presses his ear against his chest and turns to you, "Lord Gwayne is strong. He will be fine."

You breathe a sigh of relief and nod, "thank you. Thank the gods."

"You should not be here," Gwayne groans as he sits up.

You glare at him, gripping your skirt.

"Get her out of here, Carygll," he motions vaguely. Erryk comes to your side on cue.

You scoff, "hypocrite. If you were in my place, would you leave if I asked you?"

"Please," he looks up at you with tired blue eyes, "I do not wish to quarrel."

"Then do not wish me away!" you shake your head, "I-"

Your attention is stolen when your name is called again. You, as does everyone else, turn to the man who walks into the tent. Daemon knits his brows, gaze lingering on your twin before turning to you. He brings his hands behind him and sighs, "See. I did not kill him. You needn't be so worried, darling."

The pet name makes you feel sick. Erryk clenches his jaw.

"Come," he reaches a hand out to you, "your heart will only heavy with worry if you stay here. There's plenty of space in my tent."

Anger builds in you at his callousness. Gwayne recognizes it and curses under his breath. He watches you intently, noticing the twitch of your face twitches and the very moment you resign yourself to your husband's whim. He stares at his lap, unwilling to witness the bitter tears he knew would come after you take his hand.

Daemon shoots Gwayne a shit-eating grin as he walks out of the tent, but the cunt does not even see it. Still, he is pleased as he brings you to his tent and immediately pours you a cup of wine. The prince freezes when he realizes you had been silently sobbing. You stand there aloof as tears wet your face.

The prince drops the cup he meant to offer you and captures your cheeks. He gazes at you in concern and repeats what he had already said, "I did not kill him."

Your eyes focus as he swipes your cheeks. The coldness in your gaze unnerves him, "you did not have to be so cruel."

He pulls his head back, "cruel?"

You say nothing.

Daemon chuckles dryly, releasing you, "we were both in a tourney," he chuckles again, "girl."

You flinch when he calls you that. Your father's face appears in your head.

The prince is riled up by your silence. His stomach is uneasy by the steady flow of your tears. He scoffs, "your brother lost, but your husband-" he enunciates, "won."

You sniffle and wipe your cheeks, "yes," you offer him a smile, "apologies. Congratulations, my prince."

He stills at your words. He finds no satisfaction in it. His jaw feathers and he scoffs again, "do not congratulate me. I've still others to defeat."

You nod and step forward, "yes," you place your hand on his shoulders, "you are not injured at all, are you?"

It's as though your hands were heating his armour. He flinches when you touch his face. You pull your hands away ready to apologize for the intrusion but then he barks, "I am not feeble like you and your twin."

His anger is familiar. It is no worse than that of your father's, thus how you sustain your stillness.

Somehow it is worse that you do not react.

Daemon clenches his fists at your blankness, "say something, damn it."

You are taken off-guard by the desperation you discern, "w-what do you want me to say?"

"..."

"..."

"Do you have nothing more to tell me than I am cruel?"

The softness of his voice strikes a fear in you that you have not yet known. Your hands begin to tremble.

In a second, his softness is gone, and he snaps, "if you love that cunt so dearly, you should have married him instead."

You are stoic as Daemon storms off. The prince glares at Erryk, who had been waiting outside his tent the whole time, "get that bitch out of here."

Your ward's face contorts in contempt as your husband walks away. When Erryk makes his way towards you, he is unnerved by your stillness. He reaches for your arm, "princess?"

You turn to him and suddenly, you're laughing.

Goosebumps form underneath Erryk's armor.

"He said I should have married Gwayne instead," you turn to him.

He is tense at your eerily jovial expression. He mutters, "I heard."

"I do not ascribe to the unorthodox ways of his house," you shake your head. You laugh again but tears begin to flow after, "he thinks I'm stupid, doesn't he?"

The man gulps at your words and frowns, "even if he thought your skin was green, it would not make it so."

You laugh, but it is not so unsettling this time.

Erryk leads you out of the tent, "where to, my princess?"

"I... would like to go for a swim."

He takes a moment to think but then nods, "there is a stream that not many know of. We could go there. It is no very far."

As the tourney progresses, Daemon takes out his anger on his opponents. The is no satisfaction in any of his wins however, as each time, the looks over his shoulder to search for your face, and each time he is reminded you are not there.

At some point, he's so distracted that one vermin opponent manages to dismount him. He rages and screams for his sword. His foe grabs a flail. In the end, the prince is overpowered and forced to yield. It takes everything in him not to lunge at the stupid fuck as he walks towards the princess and her friend.

He storms to his tent, unwilling to be attended by anyone. He barks as a trembling squire, "I want my wife."

"S-she left with ser Car-"

Daemon kicks his table down.

"I-I— I will go call for her-"

He groans in pure vexation as he removes his armor. He looks down at himself, finding dirt, bruises, and small cuts on his body. His eyes water, but not in pain. You would clearly spare him no sympathy for his injuries. He did not even win. His breathing grows heavy in anger. It doesn't take long until he is overcome with emotion. Instead of drinking the cup of wine he poured himself, he slams it to the ground then proceeds to raze the other furniture in his tent.

[filmsbyun]

Just a Game? || Choi Beomgyu

Beomgyu wasn’t one to be caught off guard, wasn’t one to lose control of the game.

But you? You’d rewritten the rules entirely.

Choi Beomgyu x afab!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ 11k

[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, kissing [lots of it lol], sexual tension, enemies/rivals to lovers type shit, slight body worship, kinda switch!beomgyu, kinda switch!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, multiple sex positions, unprotected sex (not huzzah!), pull out method [probably missed some]

RE-WRITTEN VERSION. This is a continuation of Beomgyu's part from my Seven Minutes In Heaven fic! So I suggest reading it for better understanding of some of the context of this fic. A BIIIIIIIIIIIG THANK YOU TO THE LOML @dawngyu for beta reading this fic and also hyping me up through over 40 comments <3 Reblogging/feedbacks will be much appreciated!

© filmsbyun ── please do not copy, translate, or repost my work without permission.

The moment you walked out of that closet, you disappeared like smoke.

Beomgyu spent the next ten minutes searching for you. He wove through the party, scanning every corner, every group of people, every possible place you would have slipped away to. But you were gone. Completely vanished into the crowd, leaving him restless, his pulse still erratic from what had just happened.

Beomgyu tried to play it off—he really did. He kept up his flawless cocky attitude with his friends and strangers alike. He laughed too loud, flirted shamelessly, tossed casual remarks like he hadn’t just been wrecked in a way he never saw coming.

But he was failing miserably.

Because every time he licked his lips, he swore he could still taste you.

And every time he closed his eyes, he could still feel the way your fingers had tangled in his hair, the way your lips had moved against his—languidly yet so achingly dominating, so different from anything he’d ever experienced before.

Then what did you do? You’d left him in there, standing like an idiot, and he hated—no, loathed—that you’d managed to slip away before he could say or do anything.

Despite his tremendous effort trying to act normal, anyone paying attention would’ve noticed how his gaze flickered to the door every few minutes. How his fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh. How the phantom feeling of your lips against his refused to leave him alone, haunting him like a ghost. His mind replayed it in loops like a broken cassette player, and he kept dissociating more than once throughout the rest of the night. All he could think of was the way you had pushed him, the way your mouth had claimed his, the way you had left him breathless and pathetically undone.

Beomgyu wasn’t one to be caught off guard, wasn’t one to lose control of the game.

But you? You’d rewritten the rules entirely.

It wasn’t until the next day at practice that he saw you again.

The scent of gunpowder greeted him the moment he stepped into the arena. Muffled voices murmured from the observation area, barely audible beneath the rhythmic crack of gunfire. Targets flipped back and forth, fresh paper replacing the perforated ones, scores lighting up on the monitors. Beomgyu couldn't give a damn about all that today.

Because right in the middle of it all, you stood with your flawless stance of a shooter, arm extended, trigger steady. Your aura alone was completely indecipherable, just like last night. He was sure if he got closer, your expression would be too.

Beomgyu exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw ticking with the effort to keep his composure. There was no universe where he was letting this go. Not after the way you had walked out of that closet like you hadn’t just scrambled his entire nervous system with a kiss that still burned behind his eyes.

He took his time to close the space between you. He knew you felt him and it filled him with a twisted kind of thrill. You were giving him exactly what he wanted; he wanted you to sense him approaching before he even spoke, even if you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around.

"Didn’t know ghosts practiced here," he said, voice pitched just above the noise of the shooting range.

You didn’t so much as even pretend to acknowledge him beyond the next squeeze of your trigger. "Didn’t know sore losers did either."

His lips curled. There it was—that fire, that grit, that spark you always threw back at him like a glove to the face. He lived for this. For you. For the way you gave as good as you got. He craved that bite from you like a shameless man.

"So," he drawled as he took position in the station next to you, tone light like he wasn’t trying to crawl under your skin and twist, "was last night just an experiment? Or were you trying to teach me a lesson?"

You finally turned to face him, expression perfectly composed, except for the ghost of a smirk at the corner of your lips. “Does it matter?”

It mattered more than he could say without ruining the game. 

Oh, you enjoyed this. It drove him insane. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your lips—wanted to see just how far he had to push before you cracked.

Beomgyu clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Let’s make a bet.”

He lifted his pistol, the barrel pointing straight at the target ahead. From his peripheral he could see the slight tilt of your head as if you couldn’t catch up to his implications. Seriously, you knew how to drive him insane, didn’t you? Was it on purpose to piss him off or not, Beomgyu unfortunately could never decipher you.

You turned back to face your own lane. “I don’t take bets I can’t win.”

“That’s funny,” he shot back, tilting his head, “neither do I.”

Your fingers flexed around your gun. The challenge was bait, and you’d both taken it before. He knew you wouldn't resist. Not when there was a challenge in front of you. Especially not when it was him offering it.

“Alright,” you said finally, shifting your grip. “What’s at stake?”

He stepped in, closer now, until he was just inside your periphery. "If I win," he said, his voice dipping low, almost coaxing, "you owe me a redo."

The slightest hitch of your breath and Beomgyu swore he caught it. He saw the way your lips parted slightly, the way your shoulders tensed for a split second before you masked it just as quickly, expression back to obscure.

“And if I win?” You shot back coolly.

Beomgyu leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, just enough to set your pulse alight. “Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

Your eyes locked onto his. You’ll let him have his fun. The corners of your mouth twitched before you nodded lazily. “Deal.”

Beomgyu's smirk deepened, pulling tight across his face, brimming with anticipation. His fingers curled around his pistol, knuckles flexing as he straightened to his full height. "Try to keep up, then."

The crack of his first shot split the air. It took you a heartbeat to answer. Sly bastard didn’t even bother to give a head start. Shot for shot, neither of you faltering. Beomgyu heard the murmurs of onlookers, the suffocating tension as the scoreboard lit up after each round. The room may as well have disappeared—it was just you and him, locked in a battle of ego and thirst for control.

“You’re good,” Beomgyu admitted, lining up his next shot. “But not that good.”

You barely blinked as you fired again, your bullet slicing through dead center. “You sure about that?”

His eyes flicked to the scoreboard. His jaw clenched. The scores were neck and neck and neither of you were willing to give ground. Heat prickled down his spine, each round sharpening the tension until it coiled in his chest like a loaded spring. He adjusted his grip, rolled his shoulders, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, and inhaled through flared nostrils. 

You were good. No—you were better than good. And worse? You were absolutely certain of it.

Final round.

Beomgyu inhaled slowly, steadying himself. His shot landed just shy of the perfect mark. He exhaled through his nose, rolling his wrists. One last chance for you to slip up.

Then you took your shot.

Bullseye.

The scoreboard flashed. Your score eclipsed his.

Beomgyu’s grin faltered for just a second before he let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long hair, pushed it back as he looked at you. "Well, damn."

You turned toward him, your smirk a mirror of the one he’d worn earlier, only more taunting. "Guess I won."

His gaze raked over your face, trying and failing to school the chaos flickering behind his eyes. There was heat there, and frustration, along with admiration that twisted low in his stomach. He swallowed it all with another shake of his head. "Guess you did."

You stepped in close, voice dropping just enough to make his stomach tighten. “Looks like you owe me now.”

With that you turned away, leaving him behind with the echoes of the match still ringing in his ears. He stayed there, gun slack in his grip, breath caught between a laugh and a curse, staring after you like he was utterly at your mercy.

He let out a breathless laugh, hands settling on his hips. His heart was still pounding. His pride was bruised. And his grin—God, his grin stretched wide now, teeth flashing as he watched you disappear behind the doors of the arena.

He was so, so screwed.

And he wanted nothing more than to chase you down and lose again.

The locker room was nearly silent, save for the occasional rustling of curtains and the distant mechanical hum of ventilation overhead. You were alone, until the door creaked open behind you slowly, the sound dragging like a fingernail against concrete.

“You really think you can just walk away after that?”

His voice licked a ripple down your spine. You didn’t turn to face him. Instead, you adjusted the strap of your bag, letting the silence stretch just a second longer before responding.

“You seemed fine last night,” you remarked, tone as cool as ever. Since you’ve already had the upper hand from winning the match, why shouldn’t you twist the knife a little deeper? “Figured you moved on.”

Beomgyu scoffed, the sound punctuated by the definitive click of the door closing behind him. “Not even close.”

Your lips curled slightly. “That’s a shame.”

Beomgyu stayed where he was. His gaze burned with a fire so intense that it engulfed the space between you before he even reached you. It didn’t matter if he was a few paces away—he was already in your orbit, drawing you in whether you wanted it or not.

“You really don’t care, do you?”

You hummed, pretending to consider. “Should I?”

Oh, you were enjoying this.

He could see it now—the nasty flicker of amusement in your eyes when you finally glanced over your shoulder. You weren’t avoiding him.  You were waiting to see what he’d do next.

Beomgyu let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You caught me off guard,” he admitted, voice quieter now. “I’ll give you that.”

Your head tilted, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction as you turned to face him fully, your expression unreadable except for the faint uptick of one brow. “I do enjoy a challenge.”

His gaze darkened. He took another step, the last bit of distance between you almost closing. “Then you won’t mind when I return the favor.”

You had no time to react. With a single long stride Beomgyu caged you between him and the locker. The cool metal of the lockers pressed against your back, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint trace of sweat from practice invaded your lungs like smoke from a fire you’d set yourself.

His hand came up, fingers splayed against the locker beside your head. He wasn’t even touching you but you felt his body heat radiating in yours easily through this silver of distance. His other hand rested on his hip, posture casual, but his eyes darkened and locked onto yours told a different story.

“You talk big,” he murmured, voice dipping just enough to send a slow, curling heat through your stomach. “Wonder if you’ll hold up when the tables turn.”

Your smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened by the adrenaline now beginning to burn beneath your skin. “That depends,” you mused. “Are you actually going to do something this time, or are we playing the same game again?”

His jaw flexed, and for a moment he seemed to chew on the edge of his irritation, a wry expression tugging at the corner of his mouth as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. It was almost as if he dared you to cross a line while making it clear he’d already redrawn it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You merely shrugged in response, refusing to look away. Neither of you were yielding. The eye contact between you was a challenge all its own—steel against steel, neither one of you willing to be the first to look away. The tension was hot and volatile, ready to combust any moment.

Your smirk however threatened to falter when he lifted his fingers, his knuckle grazing the edge of your jaw. It wasn't even a proper skin to skin contact, but enough to make you crave for his touch.

“What you did.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, meant just for you. His gaze drifted, almost dazed, like he was following a phantom memory. “Did you enjoy it?”

Your pulse leapt, but your face remained impassive. “Enjoy what?”

Beomgyu clicked his tongue, tilting his head like he was debating his next move. He dragged his knuckle just a fraction lower, tracing the column of your neck, his gaze locked onto yours. There were goosebumps on your skin.

“You know what,” he said simply.

The memory of your last encounter flickered between you like a live wire.

You could taste the sweetness of his mouth whenever you closed your eyes. The sounds that escaped him when you touched him. His dumbfounded, dazed face when you pulled away just before he could regain control.

Your eyes dropped to his lips. He was biting the lower one again, smiling that smug, ruined smile. And when your gaze snapped back to his, it was already too late to pretend otherwise. You could easily take advantage of this distance and grab him by the collar. You could easily crash your lips against his again, taste him again, drink him in to quench your dry throat now.

But the faint sound of voices echoed from the hallway outside snapped you out of your trance.

Beomgyu exhaled sharply, as he stepped back at the last possible second, his frustration evident in the slow drag of his tongue across his lower lip. You wanted to do that for him, drag your tongue over them and over every inch inside his mouth until nothing of him would be left unexplored.

His gaze swept over you one last time, orbs dark with something illegible in them. You were sure your gaze matched his intensity too.Then, with a low chuckle, he turned and walked away, tossing his voice over his shoulder like a loaded promise.

“Guess we’ll have to continue this later.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you there against the lockers, heart pounding like a fist against bone.

Damn him.

Because this time, he knew he’d gotten to you.

It had been a week. A full week since you’d left him standing in that dark closet. You hadn’t expected the moment to shake him so much. It was just a game, right? A well-placed tease. But something in the way Beomgyu had looked at you, wide-eyed and speechless, made you realize you’d done more than just fluster him.

You’d challenged him.

And Beomgyu? He wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge.

He played his part pretty well. Most of the time around people, he was the same as always; loud and testing, pushing your buttons whenever he could. During lunch hours he showed up at your table and stole your fries, still challenged you to one-on-one matches during practise, and still threw his arm around your shoulders in front of your friends as if you were just a friendly rival to him.

But you knew better.

It was in the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long. The way his hand accidentally left a touch on your skin before pulling away during every conversation. The way his voice dipped just a little lower when he said your name.

Choi Beomgyu was waiting.

And, maybe—just maybe—you found that endearing.

"Alright, guys!"

The warm voice of your team manager drew your attention. You, Beomgyu, and two other elite shooters from your club sat around the table of the meeting room.

He set down four sleek black envelopes in the center. "I have exciting news!" His eyes glimmered with enthusiasm as he slid the envelopes toward the group. "You four have been invited to a high-profile dinner event. It’s an exclusive gathering for the top shooters in the country! Big names, big opportunities."

Your fingers brushed the cool envelope as you picked it up, reading the elegant gold lettering embossed on the front. The bubble of excitement was beginning to form in your chest. It was indeed a big opportunity.

"It’s a formal thing, of course, so be on your best behavior. Not that I’m worried." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re all professionals. Just go, enjoy yourselves, and make a good impression."

Beomgyu hummed beside you, tapping the edge of his invitation against the table. "A fancy dinner, huh? You think they’ll have steak?"

The other two snorted, and even the manager laughed. Your gaze flickered toward Beomgyu. The light from the window caught in his hair. The soft glow making him look almost golden. Ror a moment, you wondered how could someone so insufferable also be so… maddeningly charming?

You shook the thought away before it could settle.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, turned to you with that knowing grin. While the rest got engaged in a conversation, he leaned toward you. "What do you say? Think you can handle a night of keeping your hands off me?" he lowered his voice just enough for you to only hear.

You sighed, slipping the envelope into your bag. "I don’t think that’s the real question here."

Beomgyu only laughed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head lazily. But when he turned to leave, he tossed one last glance at you over his shoulder. One that lingered just a second too long, before his eyes narrowed.

Game on.

The evening of the event was the epitome of sophistication. Golden chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceiling, their light pouring down in syrupy amber hues that bathed the grand ballroom in a warm, resplendent glow. The murmur of polite conversation blended around seamlessly with the delicate notes of a live string quartet. A high-profile dinner for elite shooters, a gathering of class and discipline, where everyone carried themselves with courtesy.

You and Beomgyu were no exception.

From the moment you arrived, you slipped flawlessly into the roles expected of you. You exchanged nothing more than formal nods, casual acknowledgments and comments in passing. To the outside world, you were simply two competitors; colleagues bound by skill and reputation, neither particularly concerned with the other beyond professional courtesy.

There was no reason to assume there was anything beyond that. And yet, every glance, every sidelong look, every calculated brush of proximity was executed with the care of a sniper setting their sights.

At the dinner table, you sat across from each other; engaged in separate conversations with your tablemates. Not once did your gazes lock for too long; never more than a passing glance, never more than coincidence. But you didn’t miss it when his eyes stuck to you when you lifted your wine glass, the minute tug at the corner of his lips when your sharp tongue laced through a particularly bland comment made by someone beside you.

Then there were the fleeting touches. Fingers that brushed against each other as you reached for the same silver tray. A fleeting press of his foot beneath the table, one that made contact and then vanished as if it had never been there. When you finally rose from your seat to excuse yourself, murmuring something inconsequential about fresh air, Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against his glass, eyes never once leaving your disappearing body in the crowd.

Not once did either of you slip. No one suspected a thing.

The dinner transitioned into an afterparty. It was a more relaxed affair, where the guests mingled freely, laughter breaking through the previously restrained atmosphere. People gathered in small clusters, drinks in hand, the tension of formalities dissolving into lighthearted chatters among peer groups and acquaintances.

You saw Beomgyu before he saw you. He was by the bar, speaking with a few others, one hand in his pocket. But you could tell his attention was elsewhere.

He was searching for you.

A slow smile tugged at your lips as you made your move, slipping between guests, weaving through the crowd. You took your time doing so and didn’t so much as glance back. Just like before—just like that night in the closet—you vanished before he could catch you.

Only this time, Beomgyu wasn’t about to let it slide.

The moment he realized you were gone, his jaw twitched.  His drink was long forgotten on the counter. He was on his feet, already moving in between the guests.

Enough of this.

He wasn’t going to lose sight of you again. It had always been like this. It always felt like you were one step ahead of him. What sort of satisfaction did you get from playing with him like this? You were being so cruel, yet Beomgyu desperately craved this.

The truth was, you’d always driven him insane.

From the moment you stepped into the club a year ago, he hadn’t been able to look away. Not because of the way you looked, though that had certainly caught his eye—a composed figure standing tall among the newest recruits. No, it was the control. Back then, he had only looked, only watched. Maybe he hadn’t realized it at first—how his gaze always found you, how your name always lingered somewhere in the back of his mind but it had been there. It was really simply curiosity at best in the beginning.

And then, you weren’t just a presence. You became a contender.

You started rising through the ranks. One by one you surpassed the ones he thought wore the crown with a relentless determination that awed him, that thrilled him. You chased mastery like it owed you something. You always made sure to challenge your own limit, always making yourself your biggest opponent.

But what drove him insane was that you weren’t just good. You were the one who became untouchable.

And now, tonight, you were testing him again. Always pulling just out of reach like you were always one step ahead. Like the world moved at your pace, like you were always in control. Even now, as you slipped away into the crowd, it wasn’t in retreat.

Beomgyu had no intention of letting this become a pattern.

His pace quickened as he pushed through the guests, his eyes sweeping corners and alcoves and literally everywhere. He was going to make sure he matched your pace. He wanted to shatter your unbreakable image.

He wasn’t going to let you win.

You slipped away meticulously, the soft chime of the elevator signaling your quiet escape. You stepped out as the doors opened on the eighth floor. It was where the suites were reserved for the elites. The sound of your high-heeled boots clicking against the polished marble echoed in the empty corridor. The only other presence there was a lone floor butler who passed you whom you acknowledged with a polite nod before making your way to the restroom.

Inside the restroom, beneath the low glow of the wall scones, you looked at the woman staring back at you. You took a moment to really look at yourself. The evening had demanded your best, and you had delivered. Your eyeliner adorned eyes, the sleek lines of your outfit, and the careful touch of color on your lips; you looked good. Of course you did. 

People noticed. The lingering stares that kept returning, the thinly veiled advances from men who thought they stood a chance. You should’ve felt satisfaction but none of it mattered. None of them mattered. Because in the end, only one gaze had truly mattered to you tonight.

A quiet laugh escaped you, almost self-deprecating.

Beomgyu.

A tsk nearly followed the name in your mind. He was pretty, no doubt about it. His prettiness was at odds with the bastardized side of him which clearly pissed you off. Yet here you were, washing your hands as if that could cleanse the memory of the way his lips had tasted when you kissed him first.

You shook your hands free of water and reached for a paper towel, and as you did, you wondered—just how long could he play this game? How long could you?

You hadn’t meant to entertain him that night. When the bottle pointed, and the room went still with the thick anticipation that people dressed up as fun, you weren’t thinking about games. You hadn’t even considered closing that distance and letting the moment happen.

But he was so close that even in the dark, you could see him properly. You stared at him as if you were seeing him again for the first time.

In that split second—just one look at his face up close—something in you wavered, and you gave in.

Even now, the image returned too vividly. It stirred something warm and unwelcoming in your chest, creeping lower to your stomach. You exhaled sharply, as if the motion alone could dispel the feeling, almost scoffing at yourself. You wiped your hands clean and tossed the paper towel into the bin without looking.

This was a game. That’s all it was. That’s all it would ever be.

To him, and to you as well.

With that thought settling like a quiet resolve, you turned on your heel. You pushed the door open and stepped out, ready to return to the afterparty.

The moment you turned the corner, Beomgyu was there, leaning against the wall like he’d been expecting you. Like he knew exactly where you’d be.

Your steps faltered. Heart catapulted to your throat as you took a step back. The look in his eyes was different this time. There were no traces of the mischievous mask he wore when he played the back-and-forth game with you. No, it was like he was savoring something before taking his first bite.

You didn’t get a chance to speak.

One stride, that’s all it took. Beomgyu was in front of you, and in the next breath your back hit the wall with a thud softened only by the fabric at your shoulders. Your hands twitched, not in surprise but in instinct, caught in a dilemma between pushing him away and pulling him in.

The golden lighting caught the sharp lines of his suit, the deep black fabric sculpting his frame in a way that felt almost unfair. You wished it was how well he wore his suit that froze your senses but no it was the look in his eyes. They looked empty but brimmed with emotions at the same time.

He lifted a hand and let it settle against the wall near your head, fingers grazing the cold surface of the wall. His other hovered close to your hip, a mere touch away, purposely letting you feel the absence. He was doing everything to make you break first.

"Caught you," he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

You tilted your head, arms at your sides though your hands had curled into fists without you realizing. “Is this payback?” you managed, though your voice lacked the steady confidence you wished it had.

“Aww, I don’t know.” Beomgyu tilted his head, a slow smirk curling his lips. You couldn’t recognize this man in front of you. He didn’t look like the Beomgyu who’d piss you off over trivial matters. He looked like a man far more patient. “What do you think?”

The hallway felt too narrow. Every little sound seemed to amplify; the faint rustle of his jacket as he shifted, the soft thud of your heartbeat against your ribs, the near-silent pull of breath between his lips. You realized soon what he was doing. Beomgyu was playing the game using your tactics. He didn’t look like he was going to rush. He was going to make you beg.

Your pulse pounded. “You took your time,” you said, forcing your voice to sound nonchalant.

His gaze dipped to your mouth for the briefest second, but that was all it took to make your stomach flip. “Had to make sure you’d feel it.”

Feel what? The tension? The heat curling in the space between you? The way your chest tightened every time he breathed a little closer?

His fingers dragged along the wall beside you before they stopped just near your shoulder. He leaned in achingly slowly until his lips were just at the shell of your ear. His breath ghosted over close enough to draw a shiver from the base of your spine.

“You had your fun,” he whispered, “won’t you let me have some of it too?”

You swallowed, a shaky breath threatened to spill past your lips. 

The worst part? He hadn’t even touched you yet. Not really. And still, you felt scorched by the space he took up.

Beomgyu exhaled a soft chuckle and then, just as easily as he had cornered you, he stepped back. Stepping away like he was already done with you; like he’d gotten what he wanted. The absence of his warmth sent a sharp contrast through your senses, but the moment felt almost comical—like he thought he could just walk away after that. Oh. He was taking revenge.

Well, Beomgyu has always been a fast learner. 

Your lips parted in disbelief, a breathless laugh slipping past before you could stop it. Was that it?

Just as he turned, you spoke in a low, taunting voice. "Is that all you've got?"

That stopped him dead in his tracks.

You leaned back against the wall, arms folding across your chest in mock nonchalance. A lazy smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head. "Sorry to say, you're growing to be a bit predictable."

For a second, he didn't react. He stood with his back turned to you in complete stillness and silence. When he turned to face you again, there was no trace of that earlier grin. It seemed as his eyes glowed for the briefest second. His lips parted slightly, only to curl languidly into something far more dangerous than his usual smirk.

Predictable?

In a blink, his fingers curled into your hair, gripping at the back of your head as he yanked you forward. A startled gasp barely left your lips before they were swallowed by his own.

It was all heat and hunger, all months of games and tension and near misses snapping at once, and your mind went blank with the sheer intensity of it all.

The force of it sent you stumbling, your balance thrown completely off. His grip tightened, steadying you, but not gently—he was pulling you closer, demanding all of you. Your feet barely found their place before you realized you had to rise—had to step onto your toes just to meet him.

He held you there, both hands cupping your jaw, thumbs pressing into your skin like he needed to feel you under him. Like he couldn’t get close enough. The downright intensity of it sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could so much as breathe, he pushed you against the wall.

A sharp gasp escaped into his mouth from you and he greedily devoured that sound. He only pressed deeper, trapping you between the wall and the solid heat of him. The absolute urgency of it had your footing slipping again, your fingers finding his waist, gripping onto him as if he was the only thing keeping you standing. Maybe he was.

This wasn’t careful. This was reckless. Like he’d been holding back for far too long and finally let himself break.

It was beginning to feel like you weren’t just a game to him anymore.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was really him, or if this still was just another game. Either way, you didn’t care. You couldn’t bring your mind to weave together sane thoughts right now. Not when his kiss felt like fire.

“Look at you,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough and teasing.

A shiver ran through you, but you refused to let it show. It felt like he caught it anyway because he was already so impossibly close. He was holding you like he had no plans of letting go. You tried to bite back because you never let him have the last word but the moment your kiss-bruised lips parted, he stole the breath right from you.

His hands no longer cradled your jaw. They slipped lower, fingertips skimming down your neck, tracing the curve of your waist before pressing firmly against your hips. You fought against the broken whimper that threatened to leave you when you felt him pressing against you, drawing you in like he was savoring every reaction you gave him.

And that was the worst part because he knew. You could feel it in the way his lips curved against yours, the slow drag of his mouth against yours, the way his hands travelled back to the sensitive parts of your skins whenever your breath stuttered.

He pulled back only for a moment, and you took that chance to gasp in a much needed breath to stabilize your heart. He didn’t even have the decency to give you space, his lips trailed the line of your jaw then lower until they hovered just over the pulse hammering at your neck.

That’s when he smirked, his voice rich with satisfaction. "That felt pretty real to me."

His teeth grazed over the pulse, followed by a feathery brush of his tongue before he latched his lips there. You flinched at the sensation and grabbed his shoulder, palms pushing him away but he didn’t budge. He caught your wrists instead, fingers pressing just enough to remind you he wasn’t done yet.

But neither were you.

You tilted your head, just enough to shift him back, just enough to meet his eyes—those eyes, darker now, glinting with an intensity that seemed to pulse with heat. It was there, written plainly across his features that whatever this was—this pull, this provocation—you weren’t the only one caught in it.

Your mouth curved into a smirk, voice laced with a teasing edge. “I think I’ve hit a nerve.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. "You think so?"

The space between you vanished again in a second. One moment he was looking at you like he could devour you whole, and the next he proved it exactly right; his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, rougher, like he couldn’t bear another second of restraint. Your back hit the wall with the unrelenting pressure of his body closing the last of the distance, his knee shifting between your legs locking you in place. His hands—one cradling the back of your head with a possessive urgency, the other clutching your hip like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull you closer or pin you exactly where you were.

He was chasing your words back into your throat. Your defiance had only lit him up further, like whatever control he’d tried to hold onto had just been shattered and scattered beneath your feet. The drag of his mouth against yours was relentless, his teeth catching your lower lip just hard enough to make you squirm in his hold.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, feral and satisfied. His hand slid from your waist to your arm. "We should take this somewhere else, yeah?"

The words barely had time to settle before he was already moving, his grip firm as he guided you through the dimly lit lobby lined with doors reserved for only a select few. The golden numbers on each one glowed under the dim lighting, but your focus narrowed when he stopped in front of the one meant for you.

"Card?"

The single word sent a slow shiver down your spine, not because of what he asked, but because of how he asked it. Expectantly, like he already knew you’d hand it over.

You sighed, fingers dipping into your pocket. The second you pulled out the card, he took it from you, slipping it into the scanner with a swift motion that sent another rush of heat through you.

The scanner beeped. The green light showed as the door unlocked.

Before you could so much as step inside, he did it for you. One hand at your waist as he walked you backward into the darkened suite. His other hand caught the frame behind you, arm caging you in as the door shut behind with a muted thud.

Just as Beomgyu leaned in to claim the space again, you stopped him. You pushed him back, palm resting flat against his chest. 

Beomgyu halted instantly, dark eyes flicking down to where your hand rested against him. His heartbeat was erratic beneath your touch. The way his jaw tensed just slightly told you he hadn’t expected the pushback.

Your fingers splayed just a little wider, the silk of his dress shirt smooth beneath your palm. Slowly, you met his gaze, tilting your chin ever so slightly. Your eyes steady like his touch hadn’t just unraveled you moments ago; while his had a flicker of intrigue beneath the hunger, his lips parting slightly before curling at the corners.

Beomgyu’s hands fell back to his sides as he watched you step past him, your black boots clicking softly against the floor. You didn’t spare him another glance as you just shrugged off your light coat along the way, letting it slip from your fingers and pool onto the chair beside you.

His gaze burned into your back as you walked.

A black turtleneck, tucked into tailored formal pants that hugged your frame just right. Boots that gave you an air of cool detachment. You looked like you belonged in a painting.

And Beomgyu loved it.

You sat on the edge of the bed crossing your legs in an elegant motion, hands resting on your knee. You finally met his gaze again.

With a languid smirk, you said, “You seem tense.” You let him have his fun. It was about time you took back control.

Beomgyu exhaled a breathy chuckle, pushing back his hair with his hand. His fingers briefly rested at the nape of his neck. His head tilted, gaze narrowing as though trying to decipher you all over again, before the sound of a scoff broke the silence between you. “You love pissing me off, don’t you?”

Your smile didn’t waver. “I love winning.”

He blinked. Then realization flickered in his eyes, followed by a groan. It only deepened your smirk.

“The bet.”

“The bet,” you echoed, tilting your head.

You had beaten him fair and square in that game, outmaneuvering him at his own strategy, and he knew it. The terms were clear—whoever won had carte blanche. And you walked away with the game winning.

Beomgyu ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling a laugh before shifting his gaze back on you. There was a trace of something delighted in his gaze.

“Okay,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m a man of my word.”

Your fingers drummed lightly against your knee as you regarded him, gaze dark. 

“Satisfy me.”

He stopped mid-step, lips parting soundlessly at your demand. You watched him absorb it, watched every flicker of thought pass over his face. Huh, whatever this game was, you were beginning to truly enjoy it. You found yourself thriving off of the reactions he gave you to feast on. Then oh so devastatingly slowly, Beomgyu grinned.

What a good boy.

A low hum left his lips as he dropped to one knee before you, his hands trailing up your calf. His fingers found the hem of your pants, slipping just beneath, teasing against your warm skin. His eyes flicked up to yours, ravenous.

“Why, of course,” he smiled, like molten molasses. “I’m a gentleman.”

Your lips curled, mirroring his game. “How charming.”

Beomgyu held your gaze, fingers brushing along the boot. His hand slid higher, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly against the leather of your boot before curling just beneath it. You didn’t rush him. You merely watched, one leg still crossed over the other as he slowly—agonizingly slowly—reached for the zipper along your ankle. A hum left you as he pulled it down, the sound barely audible over the sharp click of the metal teeth separating. He slid the boot off your foot with care, as if savoring the motion.

His fingers trailed back up, this time under the hem of your pants, warm against your skin. And yet, you didn’t react—not the way he wanted. Beomgyu hated how much you got to him. The control was yours, and you held it with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much power there was in patience. The way you sat there, perfectly composed, lips quirked in something between amusement and indulgence, it was like you already knew how much he wanted to ruin you, and you loved making him wait.

You tilted your head, eyebrows raising in mock concern. “Something wrong?”

His eyes snapped up to yours, and the laugh that spilled from him then sounded rawer. “Oh, you’re cruel.”

Beomgyu dipped his head forward with a slowness that felt almost sinful. The first kiss was barely there, a tender touch of warmth against the arch of your foot. A touch that shouldn’t have felt as reverent as it did.

It wasn’t just a touch. It was a declaration.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your calf, as if memorizing the shape of you, as if grounding himself before his lips found you again; this time at the inside of your ankle. His breath lingered against your skin before he pressed another kiss there; slower, deeper. Worshipful. He wanted you to feel every second of it the way he felt it.

You inhaled, just the faintest hitch of breath, and Beomgyu caught it. His senses were hyper aware of you; just you and only you. His lips curled against your skin, the ghost of a smirk before he trailed another kiss even higher. Your body shuddered at the feeling.

“You like this, don’t you?” he rasped. Dark eyes looked up at you through pretty lashes. 

His hands smoothed over your calf, fingers dragging slow and firm, pressing just enough to leave a lingering fire in their wake. His lips followed, ghosting over your skin with the kind of patience that wasn’t restraint but was indulgence.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, the only betrayal of what simmered beneath your skin. Then, in a motion so swift he barely registered it, you uncrossed your legs, lifting the pointed toe of your remaining boot and tilted his chin up with it.

Beomgyu froze. His breath caught, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

Your foot pressed just enough to tilt his head back in a clean swift motion. Beomgyu’s lashes fluttered, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His lips were parted, breath coming quick and shallow. A flush crept up his neck, his skin glowing under the dim light, a bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. He looked wrecked.

Despite that, that bastard had the audacity and gall to smirk. 

"Careful," he rasped, voice wrecked in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion. "I might start thinking you like having me on my knees."

You exhaled, soft and languid. You felt a swirl of pride having him like this infront you, watching the way his chest rose and fell like he was barely holding himself together.

"Who says I don’t?"

Beomgyu’s smirk twitched, faltering just slightly, but his eyes—his eyes maniacally darkened, pupils blown wide, heat simmering beneath the surface like a storm about to break. His fingers flexed against your calf before tightening in an unforgiving grip. Then before you could process the shift—his hand wrapped around your ankle, heat searing into your skin, and he yanked you forward.

A startled gasp left you as you slid closer to the edge of the bed, legs spreading as Beomgyu placed a hand on your thigh. His grip on you was controlling, but not overbearing.

You could stop him if you wanted to, but you didn’t.

Your breath came out a little heavier as you stared down at him, still on his knees before you, still holding your leg like he was deciding just how much he wanted to ruin you. It was getting excruciatingly hard to ignore the ache between your thighs.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

Beomgyu’s grip tightened just slightly, just enough to make you aware of his strength. “That you like having me on my knees,” he rasped, eyes narrowing as if daring you to agree with him. Oh you were getting the thrill back. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and it itched you to piss him off even more.

“Why?” You let your voice drop, teasing. “Do you want to hear it that badly?”

Beomgyu huffed out a laugh, the sound short and strained, like it cost him. His hands slid higher, fingers brushing the backs of your knees, the warmth of his skin burning even through the fine fabric of your slacks. He was breathing harder now, and you could see the tremble in his restraint, the twitch of his jaw, and in the way his tongue darted over his lower lip.

“I must warn you,” he muttered, almost too low to hear. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

He looked so desperate and so, so pretty, kneeling before you. Your gaze wandered, drinking him in. The slope of his nose, the way his lips—plush and kiss-bruised—parted ever so slightly with each uneven breath. The faint sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, trailing down the curve of his throat, catching at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

Beomgyu was a pretty man.

You reached out, your hand brushing his forehead, sweeping the damp strands from his brow. His lashes trembled with the contact and as your fingers dipped further, threading through his hair, his whole body seemed to shift like he couldn’t help himself. He leaned into your touch, eyes slipping closed as if savoring the warmth of your palm.

Your nails scraped lightly across his scalp, drawing a low breath from deep in his chest, and that was the moment you felt the balance tip again. He was unraveling right there at your feet.

"Well," you whispered, leaning in a little. "I'm still not satisfied."

His eyes snapped open, and you caught the flash of surprise just before it melted into hunger. He had expected a drawn-out game, a slow torment; something that mirrored the way you always liked to push him to his limits, to take your time drawing out every reaction until he was barely holding himself together.

You gave him none of it. Instead slowly, you sank back into the mattress, legs uncrossing with elegance that bordered on cruel. Beomgyu didn’t breathe for a full second, as though the air had caught in his throat the moment he saw you recline before him like that with every intention written across your body.

You had given him permission. Beomgyu never wasted an opportunity.

Two deft fingers worked their way with the button of your pants, pulling down the article of clothing in one swift motion down your legs, the remaining boot getting tossed aside along with it. His hands slipped up to your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

A quiet curse left his mouth at the sight of your dampened panties, translucent from the slick pooling in between your thighs. His eyes briefly flitted to your face—you were looking down at him with steel eyes yet they brimmed with anticipation behind them. It drove him insane how little reaction you showed despite the sight of your arousal in front him.

Beomgyu placed a soft kiss over your clothed clit. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you had to bite your lips from making any sound. He continued to pepper kisses all over you before finally hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling your panties down. 

Your head spun when you felt his hot breath over your sopping core, shaky fingers finding residence into his hair again. The first lick over your clit was slow, torturous—as if he was deliberately waiting to see you fall apart. You hissed, tugging on his hair and it made him chuckle.

He gazed up at you through his lashes. “Patience, darling.”

Then without wasting another minute, he dived back into you, his tongue licking a long stripe along your folds, lapping up your arousal with a low, deep hum. “Fuck… you taste divine.” His voice muffled against your skin as his lips latched themselves around your clit and sucked harshly.

Your eyes rolled back almost instantly, breath stuttering, slipping further into the ecstatic sensation of his tongue gliding back and forth over your folds. One of his hands slid under your left thigh, putting it over his shoulder while he held the other open. The angle gave him all the access he wanted. He was good—way too good with his tongue as he continued to send you over the edge. 

Your grip in his hair tightened when Beomgyu brought two fingers, nimbly sliding against your folds, rubbing up and down while his teeth caught torturously on your clit. Your legs trembled with pleasure as he dipped his fingers inside you with humiliating ease. 

“Oh god…” you breathed out before harshly biting down on your bottom lip, your head tipped back as he pumped his digits in and out of your core, curling them at the right spot. The heel of your foot dug into his back as you fought to keep your sanity from losing. 

The room resonated with the sound of depraved squelches, the only sound of his plump lips sinfully eating you out, and it didn’t sit right with Beomgyu. Dazed eyes swirling with desire and lips glistening with your juices, he looked up at you—your chest heaving with every deep breath you took, your lips in between your teeth as you refused to make any sounds. 

He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. “Don’t do that,” he pleaded, his thumb caressing your lip. “Let me hear you… please.”

Your resolve shook at the way he sounded. You wanted to bite out a provoking remark about how he should earn it but before you could do anything, Beomgyu took your words away as he connected his lips onto yours.

He lifted himself from kneeling, hovering above you as he gently pushed you against the mattress. His tongue pushed past your lips, your restraints—it was hot and messy, your juices mixing with your saliva as your walls fluttered around his fingers. The odd sensation of being able to taste yourself made you groan against his mouth. 

The familiar sensation of heat coiling in your lower stomach began to embrace you, however, before it could fully take over your senses, Beomgyu removed his fingers from you. The glaring emptiness almost made you choke out a moan, eyes peering at him with disbelief. But whatever annoyance took over you melted away in an instance as Beomgyu wrapped his lips around his fingers, licking and sucking off your arousal from them. You swallowed, throat humiliatingly dry at the sight. 

And he knew, because the way his lips curled up into the most devilish smirk as he continued to lick his fingers clean, you know he knew.

You eyed the bulge in his pants before using one foot to apply just the right amount of pressure on it. You watched in pure awe as Beomgyu’s cocky demeanor faltered. A strangled moan fell from his lips as his body twitched and shivered from that simple touch from you. His hands found your ankle, stopping you and eyes locked onto yours in a look that screamed nothing short of begging.

“Take it off,” you commanded lowly, sitting up. Beomgyu complied wordlessly, hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt. His garments joined the rest on the floor one by one. His hands stilled from unbuttoning his shirt when you climb onto his lap, straddling him. His breath hitching as you took your turtleneck off, hair falling breathtakingly around your face as you were presented with nothing but your black bra in front of him. 

Shirt left halfway unbuttoned, forgotten, his hands found themselves on the curve of your waist. His touch sent sparks of heat through you as you cupped his erection through his boxers. His head fell into the crook of your shoulder with a moan. You guided him out gently, his cock springing back against his belly, precum pooling at the tip.

For a beat, you didn't move, eyes going slightly wide at his size. He was big, bigger than you thought he would be, bigger than anything you’ve taken before and your senses clouded with lust at the realization. 

You were broken from your trance when Beomgyu wrapped his hand on yours, guiding you to his shaft. The heated weight of him in your palm shot another spasm straight to your core. You pumped him gently, feeling your senses dizzying by the pants and groans spilling from him. You let out a shuddering breath, trailing your fingers up to his weeping slit, collecting the oozing pre cum there and smearing it across his tip.

Beomgyu panted against your neck, lips trailing open mouthed kisses on your skin, nipping and sucking on the supple flesh. You take that opportunity to take him by the base of his cock, rubbing the tip against your sopping slit, his arousal mixing with your own. The sudden warmth of your core snapped Beomgyu’s head up, eyes locking with yours.

“Do you really want this?” he asked, voice low, but desperate.

His question made you pause, his tip sliding against your core and resting on your abdomen instead. You looked at him, eyebrows furrowing and you felt your chest tighten because why was he looking at you like that? Like he genuinely wanted this as much as you did? You couldn’t dare yourself to hope. Wasn't this only a game?

“Isn’t it too late to ask that?” you couldn’t look at him anymore, gaze faltering under his intense stare. 

There was a pause. The only sound filled between you was your mixed breathing and erratic heartbeats. Then, Beomgyu moved his hands to your hips as he pulled you closer, his tip brushed against your sensitive cunt, causing you to whimper softly. Your hands found refuge on his shoulders, your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage and in your ears. 

“If it’s okay, then,” his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “I've wanted you for too long to be satisfied with just once. I need you.”

The depth of his words didn't have the time to settle in your senses when his tip slided inside you, stretching you deliciously. His lips devoured your strangled moan, his hand slipping in the back of your head holding you close to him. You gasped into his mouth at the way he brushed up against every sensitive nerves, slowly bottoming out to the very base. 

“You okay?” he pulled away just a fraction, his hand massaging the soft flesh of your hips, a gesture of encouragement that made your chest swell with warmth. He let you adjust to his girth, muttering praises into your ear and it only made your head spin more. You hated the way he was making you feel. 

You attached your lips to his in a feverish kiss as you lifted yourself up to his tip, then swivelled your hip downward on his length. Beomgyu’s eyes rolled back as his nails dug deeper into your hips, choked gasps and grunts escaping him. 

This position let you take him as deeply as possible. Your senses clouded with pleasure at how his cock pressed into your deepest parts, the drag of his tip making you want to slouch over and succumb to the blinding pleasure. It didn't take you long to set a steady rhythm, your synchronous moans mingled in the small space between your bodies, overlapping with the lewd sound of skin slapping.

"You're doing so good," he murmured against your neck, moaning when your walls clenched around him at the praise. "So, so good, oh my god."

Your breath came out in hot puffs, your thighs aching from riding him, as your movements began to become sloppy. Beomgyu pressed one chaste kiss to your lips and brushed your hair out from in front of your face, then your world spun as you were flipped with impressive speed onto your back, your head hitting the soft pillow with a yelp.

He hovered above you, his thrusts hitting deeper inside you in the new position. Strings of broken whimpers left you with each of his thrusts. All it took was one look at his expression for you to choke on your breath.

He was peering down at you with glazed eyes—eyes full of softness that spilled something like adoration. You swallowed hard, refusing to let yourself believe. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you begged, voice coming out barely as a whisper. 

Beomgyu slowed down his pace, the sensation making you squirm under him, his breath hitched, his brows drawing together like your words had physically struck him. But he didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off or mask it with some teasing remark. He exhaled shakily, and let his fingers trail up, the touch was so light and full of devotion, until they cradled your face.

“How else do you want me to look at you?” he murmured, voice raw, almost pleading. “Because I don’t know how to look at you any other way.”

You barely got the first syllable out—“Please”—before the word withered on your tongue. Beomgyu leaned down, tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead. That was it. The last string holding you together snapped.

Maybe you had it wrong all along—maybe Beomgyu’s infuriating arrogance, the way he always pushed and provoked, wasn’t indifference at all. Maybe it was a pull, just as relentless as the one that had kept you shackled to him for so long. And now, here you were, drawn together like Icarus was to the sun, aching to take, to burn, to make this moment last before it slipped through your fingers.

Your breath trembled, your fingers curled into his back, and this time—you didn’t hold your sounds. You sank further, letting the warmth of him consume you whole.

“Beomgyu.”

It was the first time you moaned his name that night. It slipped past your lips as if torn free from the core of you, soft and breathless, laced with a wrecked kind of desperation that carved into him like flame. The sound of his name in your voice shaped by want, by surrender, by the kind of hunger neither of you had spoken aloud until now seared through him devastatingly.

That was all it took. Beomgyu faltered, his hands reacted before he could think, fingers flexing hard enough against your skin to leave reminders behind, clutching at you like he was trying to hold on to something slipping through his grasp. But there was no grip strong enough to keep him grounded now—not when you moaned his name like that; not when you were looking at him like he was the only thing in your world worth falling apart for. You had him. Completely.

A curse left his lips, ragged and desperate, and he surged forward—kissing you like he was chasing the sound, like he needed to hear it again, needed to feel it vibrate against his skin. His hand slipped under your bra and kneaded your soft breast, no patience left, his control unraveling at the seams. His hips spearing into you with newfound energy.

And when you moaned his name a second time—oh, he was gone.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he gasped. His fingers push your palm flat against the bed next to you, and then gently intertwine with yours, a jarring contrast to the way his pelvis slammed into you so fervently. 

“You feel so–mngh, good,” you slurred, the haze of ecstasy starting to cloud your consciousness. His thrusts went harder, deeper, at your praises, hitting your g-spot over and over again. The familiar rush of warmth pooling into your abdomen caused you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to you. “I’m close–please,” you screw your eyes shut. “I’m so close.”

His Adam's apple bobbed thickly at the saccharine sound of your pleas. “You’re so beautiful like this–fuck, come for me.”

He thrusted once, twice, and with a final thrust, your walls spasmed around his cock, your back arched into him, his name falling from your lips as a whimper. Beomgyu buried his face into your neck as he sloppily thrusted in your leaking cunt, chasing his own climax. He swiftly pulled out and gave his cock a few pumps before hot ropes of thick, white semen coated your lower stomach and thighs. 

Your bodies heaved in unison. The room was quiet now. The silence wasn’t awkward or empty, but the kind that settled between two people who had nothing left to prove—nothing left to fight.

Beomgyu was the first to move, slipping into the bathroom and returning with a damp towel. He helped you sit up, his touch careful, gentle, as he cleaned you up with a tenderness that felt almost foreign.

You watched him closely. He was too gentle—far too gentle, in fact—and the sharpness in his eyes had dulled into a softer haze.

“You’re being nice,” you deadpanned. “It’s freaking me out.”

You expected a snarky retort, a teasing jab, anything to break the shift in atmosphere. But instead, he just laughed. The sound was warm. And somehow, that laugh only made the fire in your chest burn hotter.

You got dressed in silence. You pulled your coat back on, smoothing out the creases in the fabric, and when you glanced up, Beomgyu was watching you. There was that same look in his eyes from earlier. 

He reached for you before he could stop himself, fingers brushing over your hair, fixing the stray strands with an almost careful kind of touch. His brows furrowed like he was concentrating. The gesture was tender, yes, but it was also searching. Prolonged. It felt as if his hand didn’t quite know how to let go.

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

His hand stilled against your temple. There was hesitation in the line of his mouth, a flicker of indecision you weren't meant to see. He raked the other through his hair, messing it up more than fixing it, a nervous gesture that you’ve come to recognise which betrayed the calm mask he tried to hold. He exhaled a quiet laugh, dropping his hand to his side.

“If I’m being honest," he murmured, voice lower than before, "it was a disturbingly short amount of time between meeting you and wanting to say ‘I love you’.”

Your brows lifted, taken aback not because you were surprised, but because of how unpracticed it sounded. This wasn’t some well-timed confession, something he’d calculated to fluster you. It was an admission that had slipped past his guard before he could stop it.

Beomgyu wasn’t waiting for an answer. He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just kept running a hand through his hair like he couldn’t believe he’d actually said that out loud.

But you had an answer.

You stepped closer, the space between you vanishing in an instant, and Beomgyu froze when you reached for him. With a touch far lighter than he deserved, you straightened the collar of his shirt, smoothing over the fabric the way he had done to your hair.

"We can work on that," you said softly, glancing away. 

Beomgyu gaped at you. For a heartbeat, he looked as though you had spoken a foreign language, and he was trying to translate the meaning behind every syllable. He barely restrained the smile that followed. You saw the way he bit down on it, the way the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.

And then he echoed your words, breath warm and disbelieving. “We can work on that.”

He repeated it like he needed to hear it again to believe it. He tested the words on his tongue a few times. Seeing him do that almost made you scoff a fond laugh, but you held yourself back from doing it by biting the inside of your cheek.

His gaze flickered down to your hand resting at your side. His fingers brushed against yours, he hesitated for half a second, as if giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t. So he threaded his fingers through yours, his hand folding into yours.

Your heart stuttered.

It was such a simple thing. The way he held your hand—his thumb tracing a small arc across your knuckles, it was really simple, but it didn’t feel so at that moment. His touch felt different. His touch felt like he was worshipping you.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers tightened around yours. “I think I’d like that.”

And this time, when you turned toward the door, you didn’t walk out alone.

You didn’t slip away. You didn’t vanish with a parting glance and leave him behind in the silence.

This time, you held his hand.

THE END.

Taglist; @dawngyu @saejinniestar @xylatox @hoefororeo @caratcakemoa @90steele

[gladiatorcunt]

- EASTER EGG BASKET | VII.

together, intertwined, mouths bruised with love and souls bitten

cw: kinktober prompt (spit roasting), fem reader, age gap (reader in their 20s & cherik in their 40s), set during first class but they’re older and the school’s already established more, unprotected sex, teacher’s pet!reader, eventual teacher-student relationship, background established cherik and a mention of alex x hank, power imbalance, dubcon, lowkey coercion, “slut” used one time by you @ you, southern!reader, controlling older men :3

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“And what do we have here?”

You stop your mindless floating in the pool, freezing at the sound of a deep male voice. You knew exactly who it was from the very first disappointed breath.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, um, fancy seeing you here.” You bite your lip, awkwardly kicking your legs back and forth since your mutant ability unfortunately isn’t catapulting your body out of water.

“Yes, in the manor’s off limits after hours pool, how funny.” Erik says flatly, unamused. “Lights out was five minutes ago, my dear, care to tell me why exactly you aren’t in bed?”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck, “I just wanted to come cool off, I was going right back to bed da- sir, I swear.”

Great. Now your cheeks are hot at your near slip up, something that your teacher seems to catch. His lips quirk up on a barely there smile, and you suddenly wished you had the strong will to drown yourself right here right now.

“Oh, I wish I could believe you.” He tuts, not as willing to let you get away with shit like Charles, but Erik has his own soft spot for you. “And what are you wearing? Because I know that isn’t one of the school’s swimsuits.”

The piece in question being a skimpy pink two piece, the bikini top covers only the upper half of your breasts and ends just under your nipples. The bottoms of your tits hang out through a cut out and the straps of the bottom rest high on your hips. The strings are held together by a little studded heart.

“It’s something from home, southern summers are hot, sir.” You don’t hide yourself away in newfound shame despite that being what you’re feeling.

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing the ample mounds up and squishing them together. Erik’s cold eyes follow the movement and he swallows, but the same unimpressed look is still plastered all over his face. You want to pout and stomp your foot, but you’re lucky he hasn’t turned your ass in to Charles yet, maybe there’s a way for you to get out of this without a punishment of any kind.

“Yes, well.” His voice is gruff as he clears his throat, “Charles sent me to find you. He gets worried when you’re not where he expects you to be, where we both expect you to be, am I clear?”

Your guilt isn’t as believable when your ass cheeks are out for one of the teachers you’re insane over to leer at, but you do drown in it. You’re miles away from any family, and when your ultra religious southern family found out about you being a mutant, they called you a demon and promptly kicked you out. You’re lucky that Charles found you when he did, and the things he and later Erik learned that you had been through made them feel quite protective of you.

You know perfectly well that it feels good to be a teacher's pet at the top of the class who never does anything wrong in their eyes. To get male validation just for breathing in their general direction, especially when there are so many students here with similar if not worse sob stories. For you at least, it was love at first sight.

You just really needed this one little instance of rebellion, to do laps back and forth in the perfectly cool blue water until the thoughts of being stuck between teachers who are twice your age were washed away. And that was after you had played with your clit only to scream into your pillow because you couldn’t get over that peak.

“I know, I'm sorry it was just this one time. I’ll use the pool when it’s open during the day next time, I promise.” You nod, willing to just take the loss and say whatever Erik wants to hear so you go back to your dorm without this ever getting back to Charles’s ears.

With Erik, disappointing him is kind of sexy because he scowls and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms before he scolds you. He has rough hands that you can so easily imagine smacking the shit out of you, and you don’t just imagine him hitting your ass either.

Plus, his comfort hit so much deeper when he would cup your face and stroke a thumb over your hair, letting you the softness seep into his gaze when you promise to be good.

With Charles, disappointing him is still sexy, but you feel awful much quicker. He’s a real “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” kind of man, and seeing the way his mouth twists and he refuses to even look you in the eye has you shrinking like a violet. It takes a lot more begging to get his attention and even more sincere promises to do better to get him to smile again, chuckling and fondly exasperated as he instructs you to run along.

Erik is still in the bulging biceps phase, glaring down at you at the edge of the pool until something unreadable flashes across his vision. “You know what? You’re right, you are sorry, why don’t I keep you company in the pool if you’re so stressed? Since you can’t be trusted to not wander off on your own right now.”

Your eyes widen to the size of marbles as you watch your teacher strip off his hoodie and shorts, down to only his bare body, and jump in the pool beside you. You sputter and hurriedly wipe away the water that splashes your face. Erik chuckles and swims to brush up against your front, immediately grabbing your waist and digging his fingers into your flesh.

His hands drift up to run along the sides of your breasts, groping you through the wet fabric. You trace his stubble and whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip. Your breath hitches, helplessly staring into his eyes, not fighting or pushing him away. He gets the answer that he wants to the question in his eyes and sweeps you into a kiss, the swolshing of the water moving around you is the only thing you can hear other than your thundering heartbeat.

The rest, as they say, is history. Because you’re making out with Erik in no time flat and humping his bare cock the best you can in the water when a familiar throat clearing sound goes off like a gun above you. The heavy clack of his oxfords pounding the wet tile surrounding the pool, the fancy french cologne that you’ve imagined stealing and spraying on your pillow.

There he is, you had to know in the back of your mind that once Erik had gotten there, it was only a matter of time before Charles followed. You lick away the string of spit connecting you and Erik and smile your most charming smile, still humping him even as Charles frowns.

“S-sir, we were just- I’m gonna go back to bed soon, honest.” It’s flimsy and a god awful apology but you’re too horny to care. You can make it up to him after somebody screws your brains out, not a second before.

And Charles knows already, you can feel him in your mind and while you’re definitely self conscious about what he sees, you can’t help but sigh in relief when he starts unbuckling his belt after rifling around in there for a minute. His blue eyes seem more vivid to you now, watered with color in the face of your wildly inappropriate feelings.

“Do not think I'm not still upset with you, young lady, we have curfews for a reason and if you can’t follow them, you’ll be confined to going to your classes and going straight to your dorm.” His melodic voice warns you, but you can only beam and nod so he sighs, resolving to tell you again when you don’t have a singular thought bubble with a picture of their cocks in your brain.

“Yes yes yes, I promise this won’t happen again, just please, sir.” You’re not above begging already, part of being a teacher’s pet means doing what you have to do to keep yourself on the pedestal they put you on.

Erik’s hands flex on your waist, “Now now, don’t be so eager, pet. Wouldn’t want you to get too cock hungry now would we?”

He says it like they obviously would but Charles shoots him a look and Erik laughs, going back to groping your tits through your bikini top. Charles soon slips into the water on your other side, and soon enough you’re sandwiched in between the both of them. Charles runs his hands down your back and settles them on your ass, sharply smacking the globes before telling Erik to sit on the edge of the pool.

“You’re going to give me more gray hairs than I already have, you know that?” Charles sighs, “It’s only fitting I take some of that stress out on this gorgeous body, hm, darling?”

“Uh huh, I’m so so sorry, sir.” You babble, pitching yourself forward to mouth at Erik’s bare length as Charles slides his hands around your hips and grinds against your ass.

Erik spreads his legs, “Greedy girl, come get it then.”

You suckle at the thick tip, flicking your tongue out to catch the drops of pre that leak out and take him down your throat as Charles pulls the strings of your bikini bottom loose. You squeal in pleasant surprise when he parts your ass cheeks to get a good look of your pussy underwater, running his thumbs over your folds and teasingly dipping into your hole.

You whine around Erik’s cock, already to the hilt, his balls resting on your chin. He chuckles and pats your cheek, goading Charles into giving the poor thing what she wants already, you might die of need on them.

“We’ve fantasized about this while we fucked on our own time, Charles, there’s no use in pretending any longer.”

You eagerly hum on Erik’s length, bobbing your head up and down, only faltering at the hint of Charles’s cockhead against your entrance. He teasingly swipes it through, slipping a few of his fingers in to stretch you enough while causing you too much pain. You have to face some kind of punishment after all, he and Erik will kiss it better later.

“Now, pet, keep your mouth where it is and relax your legs, let me in.” Charles pants, slowly sinking into your tight warmth as you suck Erik off.

Once you’ve adjusted enough, despite still reeling from the stretch and burn, his slow but deep thrusts push your head further into Erik’s lap. You look up at the latter with teary eyes, he laughs and brushes them away from your lower lash line, guiding you to bob your head more.

Charles hisses, fingernails scratching at your love handles as he picks up the pace. He loves the way you gag on Erik when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the way you can’t run away from either them or what they do to you or what you do to them. He knows that this moment was inevitable, always in motion and in the making since the day you met. You project your dirty little fantasies so loudly, Charles would have to lock the door to his classroom after every period so he could get himself off.

You gurgle around Erik, your nose buried in his trimmed pubes and inhaling his musk as you deepthroat him. Charles tightens his grip, moving to grope and play your ass from behind, his thrusts speed up even faster. Eventually the water is rippling around the three of you, the manor’s pool making mini waves as Charles’s girthier cock splits your pussy open.

You feel so full, your mind is so painted white that you can’t think about anything else but the long dick filling your mouth and the thick dick buried in your velvet grip.

“So good for us, if you were feeling restless you could’ve just sneaked into either one of our rooms. We wouldn’t have minded.” Someone says, maybe Charles, even though he would be the one who would protest too much before giving up the charade.

You give up on actively sucking Erik off and just let the force of Charles’s thrusts shoot you up and down to take his length into your mouth over and over and over. Blinking up at them in a daze as if you have no other thoughts in your puppy brain, just a bimbo slut for them to share and use between them. You drift in that sub space for ages, letting them direct your movements on their cocks like the most loved and well kept doll in the world.

“Fuck, darling!” Charles grunts, pounding your gummy walls and focusing on your choked up whines and moans.

Erik groans, his large hips jutting pistoning his aching dick into you, caught up in the embrace of your tongue and throat. The sight of your lips stretched obscenely wide around his meat. He wishes he took the time to slap his shaft against your face, demeaning you with the tip on the center of your lolled out tongue.

“Hottest little mouth I’ve ever fucked, be proud of that, dear.” Erik grits out, wrestling his pleasure from the depths of your gaping jaw.

Charles reverently kneads the fat of your globes and Erik lovingly caresses the apple shaped swell of your cheeks with his rough fingertips. Both of the cocks in you twitch as they spill inside, and your eyes flutter shut. You’re too busy drinking every drop of Erik’s salty seed to react to Charles finessing your clit until you're dirtying the pool water with your own orgasm. Your fluids float off to mix with the bits of Charles that leak out of you, and you’re almost genuinely sad at the thought.

They intertwine their fingers when they push in a cold metal buttplug back in Charles' room, which you come to find out is one they share. That sentiment is true about the room as well.

You and Alex avoid looking each other in the eye when he catches you coming out of their room on the way to class, and you see Hank passed out on the bed behind his opened door.

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience:~The Sun, the Sea, and the Host Club!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: what was meant to be a relaxing trip to the beach turns into the strangest interaction with Kyoya ➼ what to expect:  "You want to know what we are y/n? The truth is I don't even know the answer but what I do know is that you cannot do stuff like that" ➼ warnings: small amounts of angst ➼Part seven | Part Nine

You are hoping that after everything that went down at the jungle resort that you may finally get a truly relaxing break today. Although given who you are with you are unsure whether or not that will actually happen.

Yet still you try to finally get a tan, eyes closed as you sink further into the beach towel as the rest of the club talk around you.

“So… why’d we come to Okinawa?”

“Because Kyoya’s family has a private beach here.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“But why couldn’t we have gone-”

“- to the Caribbean?”

“Or even Fiji?”

“Do you think a commoner like Haruhi has a passport?”

You shoot up, opening your eyes “Kyoya!”

“Ah.”

“You do realize that I can hear what you’re saying, right?” Haruhi interjects.

Out on a protruding rock from the ocean, Tamaki is intimately situated with his arm around a patron’s shoulder.

“It’s so beautiful. Tamaki, being alone here with you and looking out at the sea, it’s like a dream.” She sighs dreamily.

“It’s no dream, it’s real, but if I could have my way, my princess. I’d be in your dreams every night.” Tamaki brings their faces to close proximity.

“Oh, Tamaki.” His guest swoons.

Utilizing the volleyball net, the twins and two guests play a game of two on two. Hikaru bumps the ball violently, and it goes flying over Kaoru and his guest’s head and rolling off behind them.

“Hey, take it easy, Hikaru!” Kaoru begs as he goes running off after the beach ball.

“I’m sorry! I’ll get it!” Hikaru calls, but it’s too late; Kaoru is already on his way.

It’s like a cheesy romance movie, where the two protagonists go prancing off along the shoreline in a beach montage, almost in slow-motion.

“Wait for me, Kaoru!” Hikaru calls after Kaoru as he continues along the sand.

“It’s not my fault! The ball is rolling away!” All you can hear from you position on a towel under an umbrella next to Haruhi are the giggles of two brothers who are fantastic actors. The pullover covers your nearly bare body nicely from the sun and keeps you warm in the shade.

Ah, yes, hosts working on location.

Beside you, Haruhi sits with her knees pulled up to her chest as a hermit crab scuttles by along the sand near the towel.

“Oh, Haruhi, look!” You carefully lift the crab by the shell and place it in your hand, shoving it near Haruhi.

You follow her line of sight to see Kyoya monitoring a line of girls in swimsuits, all waiting for a turn with the King in the VIP spot.

Haruhi groans, “Why?”

“Her alone time with Tamaki is up. Next lady, please proceed.” Kyoya ruins the facade of a moment with his announcement.

“This sucks. I thought going to the beach meant a day off.” Haruhi’s attention is drawn to Mori and Honey’s group stretching their limbs.

“Um, Haruhi?” A shadow casts over Haruhi’s back, and she turns to greet her caller. Well, rather three, this time.

“Aren’t you going to go swimming with us?” They urge, all three dressed in very flattering swimsuits.

“No, uh, I like looking at the sea from a safe distance.” Haruhi settles for.

“Well, if you’re not going to swim, would you mind if we sat here and talked with you?” the second patron inquires cautiously.

Now a natural facade, Haruhi charms the three guests effortlessly, “But why? You girls should go swim. You’ve got cute swimsuits on; why not show them off?”

Instead of rushing off to the ocean, the guests sigh in appreciation.

As your eyes dart back and forth between Haruhi and her infatuated guests, you take an obvious hint and haul yourself up from the ground, dusting off and waving a short goodbye to the ladies before joining the twins in their antics.

“I can’t believe he fooled us.” Hikaru opens with, picking up their lost beach ball and handing it to his brother.

“Who’d have thought he’d bring the ladies with us?” Kaoru shrugs, although not upset in the least. This is one of the rare schemes that Tamaki’s managed to fool them with.

“We certainly didn’t expect it.”

“You were invited on this all-expenses-paid vacation for a reason. And that is to keep our clients entertained.” Kyoya is seated under an outdoor table with an umbrella and two tropical drinks before him.

You hum in agreement, finally rejoining the land of the living as you reach for the second drink. "You guys want the photobooks to sell this is how we do it" You add.

The twins stand before the two of you in disbelief "Well don't you make quite the money hungry pair" hikaru muttered, you raise an eyebrow "Have you seen Tamaki's plans? someone has to find the budget for it"

The twins exchanged a glance as the two of them pondered it over, ultimately agreeing with the logic before running back to play volleyball.

"Are you not going to go off with them?" Kyoya asked, looking up over his glasses while still scribbling in his notebook. "Not yet, just taking it all in" you reply lightly, pulling your knees up to lean your book against.

"Taking what in?" He asks, he knows that you weren't exactly unfamiliar with beach trips, while it may be less common where you were from you still had gone on plenty of trips. "It is rare that we can get a moment where everything isn't...filtered"

The statement intrigues Kyoya, head tilting to the side "How so?" you sigh, closing the book as you stare out into the ocean, watching as the boys have a water fight and Haruhi goes rockpooling with the girls.

"While we do have clients here, most of us have still dropped our typical club persona's that we put up at school, there's no pressure to pretend to be something we're not"

Kyoya hums, following your gaze to watch the boys also. "Do you really think so?" he asks, placing his notebook down. "I know so. None of us are in the host club for the sake of being in the host club, we all put on persona's to ignore the persona's we have to put on for our families. When we can drop both of those...it's rare...but it is quite nice to see"

Kyoya pauses, staring back at you "You're quite insightful sometimes do you know that?" he asks, taking a sip of his drink" you shrug "It's my job to be"

"So what pretenses are you putting up then? you sounded as if you include yourself?" the question siezes in your chest as you question whether or not you should actually go there.

"I think it may be the same pretenses that you put up as well" you reply, not taking your eyes off of him as you analyse his reaction. Kyoya doesn't answer at first, having a mental war with himself as to how much information he should release to you.

You unintentionally hold your breath waiting for his answer, praying that he wouldn't shrug it off again, that he wouldn't shut off just this once. "And what is that?"

"That while we were in club hours, distracted by numbers and analytics, we can both ignore why we are always sat together and the future that is coming for us soon"

"Y/n-"

"It is fine Kyoya, I have always been aware of my place with you, you don't have to rush to protect my feelings" you place the book you were reading on the table between the two of you.

Silence falls between the two of you as you sigh. "Kyoya I am tired of this dance we do every time this comes up. We have known each other two years and we never talk about it. Not really"

"Could I get a word in please?" your slightly ajar mouth pulled itself shut at the question. "I thought when we spoke at the party that was us talking about it"

"I...we said at the party we would try...to make this work...and I am being patient but..." while you are too caught up trying to piece together the right words you didn't notice how Kyoya was hanging onto every one of those words.

"I never know...where I stand with you Kyoya...and the truth is I don't think you know either" Kyoya remains silent, debating whether it would be best to say something in defence or let you elaborate.

"I don't...I don't expect anything from you but just as i think i've figured out what we are something will happen and I'm back to square one." you look away, staring back out into the ocean not wanting to bear to see his reaction.

"We are engaged but we are not together, we hang out and as far as I'm aware I am the person you talk to the most but we aren't friends..." it is in this moment that Kyoya wishes that he was better at bringing himself to express any form of emotion.

"I didn't...know you felt that way" was what ends up coming out instead. "Please don't say it like that" you plead, regretting bringing this up in the first place, taking a sip of your drink.

Kyoya is stunned "Like what?"

"With pity, I am aware of my position, and you are aware of yours, we fulfill the agreement our fathers made only enough but it is strange because of that exact arrangement we have decided that it would be for the best that things are only one way or another"

"We have responsibilities"

"Yes we do, but you seem to forget that you can do more than just your responsibilities. Why do you think you are here?" you gesture out to the rest of the host club.

"Y/n if you are saying what I think you are you do not want to go there" You raise an eyebrow "Do I not? Because the truth is I don't know anything about you. I'd like to but I don't, not truly."

Kyoya's face falls, seemingly a flurry of realisations hitting him at once. "All I am saying is that we are going to be stuck together for a very long time, I just want to know what terms that time will be on"

"Help!" Haruhi's voice seemed to echo through the rocky outskirts of the bay. You shoot up, completely forgetting the conversation that was just occurring, running in what you hope to be the direction of the cry.

as you turn around the rocks, quickly realising that the other club members are following behind you, but that isn't what you are worried about, no you are worried by the group of guys who currently are cornering haruhi. "Get the hell away from her!" you yell out.

"Ah good another one" the guy whose hand was wrapped around Haruhi's wrist says at your presence, not seeming intimidated in the slightest. "Yeah, now get away from her" You yank his hand off of her, wrist, however in the process he grabs onto yours instead, in an instinctual response you knee him in the crotch, throwing him off you.

"Get away from them!" Honey's voice rings out, tackling them, Mori as well. they just about manage to get out enough to run away, you manage to dodge out of the way in time to miss the onslaught, accidentally stepping backwards into Kyoya.

"Are you okay?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to stabilise you. "Fine."

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

It's dark out, the host club have retired to Kyoya's family's beach house for the night. Kyoya is pacing the room as he is on the phone to his police force while you are sat on his bed watching him ramble on. He eventually sighs as he hangs up the phone.

"The girls are all safely at the hotel, they are tracking down what is left of those guys" You nod "Good"

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks for probably the third time since the incident. "Yes I am fine, I know the whole 'duty of care' bullshit and that you probably got asked about me over the phone but I am fine"

"Forgive me for checking on someone who is known to avoid doctors" He mutters, placing the phone on the desk. "What you did was risky"

"Haruhi was in trouble" You sat firm in your position, having no regrets on your decision despite the backlash you had received from the host club after the incident. "Yes however there were much safer ways to handle it than just throwing yourself into the situation, you're not martial arts trained like Honey or Mori"

"Haruhi was in trouble then, what did you expect me to do, wait? Kyoya she could have been seriously hurt if i did that"

"You could have been seriously hurt!"

The outburst came as a shock to you, jaw hanging open for a moment before slowly picking itself up. "I am fine"

"Yes but you could have very easily may not have been"

Kyoya has a certain intensity to him that you do not see often at all from him, your mouth hinges close in shock. "You want to know what we are y/n? The truth is I don't even know the answer but what I do know is that you cannot do stuff like that"

You could practically hear the heart palpitations in your chest, you and Kyoya stare at each other from across the room, part of you was frustrated with him. Not getting anywhere with him apparently.

On the other hand there was a familiar feeling that you recognise from a moment of closeness the two of you had in the classroom when investigating shiro.

In the wake of your silence Kyoya sighs. "I...You are right, I do have a 'persona' or whatever you want to call it, but I can't just...drop it, it has become second nature to me now...please just...be patient with me"

There's a level of vunerability in his words that is unlike anything you had ever heard from him before. You stand up, approaching him slowly while not taking your eyes off of him, sighing as you stand less than a foot away from him "I can be patient...I just need to know that I'm not the only one trying to make this work"

Thunder cracked in the background but the two of you didn't seem to take any mind. "I..." Kyoya was hesitant with his words "You aren't...the only one..." You nod, happy to finally get confirmation but now unsure of what to do or say next.

However you do not need to make that decision, as an almost electric, feather light touch brushes your hand, a finger wraps around yours, interlocking.

"Patience?"

"Patience."

Next time on patience 'A Challenge from Lobelia Girl's Academy'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28

[billieswh0r3]

✩︎ ’𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐲’

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : you thought you could do it this time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : semiswitch!billie x semiswitch! reader, denied orgasm, strap riding, billies strap is referred to as her cock, pet names, multiple orgasms, oral (r!receiving), mentions of impregnating.

𝐚/𝐧 : i love sub billie im sorry i had to include her…

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ’𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐲’

✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎✩︎

soft pants fill the room. but they’re not your pants like normal. they’re hers. and your not even touching her yet.

your face is stuffed into her neck kissing her softly. occasionally leaving a hickey and licking over it. but barely nothing. you can feel her shift under you getting restless.

‘please mamas..’ she says in a tone that leaves chills trailing down your spine. you hum quite frankly ignoring her. this is what she deserves. teasing you all day with her words, with touches that left your mind fuzzy for the rest of the day.

‘nah baby.. you know what you deserve mmh’ you say muffled into neck grinding yourself down onto the bulge in her pants where her strap is. you feel her hands move to my hips. you push them away leaning down to her ear. ‘you touch i stop..kay?’ you say leaning back up peeling your shirt up over your head unclasping your bra.

you let yourself begin to shift your hips on top of hers tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. you see billie put an arm over her eyes as a hand grips the sheets as she lets out pathetic soft whimpers. you smile softly at the sight letting your hands fall onto the headboard to steady yourself.

‘feels so good angel..’ you mumble moving your hips faster as you begin to let out soft whines. you stop before you can feel the knot in your tummy form. you quickly stand up off of her earning a whine from billie as you slip off your shorts and panties.

‘off sweetheart’ you say falling to your knees as you tug on her oversized shorts. immediately she gets to work undoing her belt and slipping off her shorts and boxers leaving her in her strap.

‘my favorite mmh?’ you say your hand reaching out to pump the large pink dildo as you look at her with innocent eyes. you hear her moan in satisfaction as you find her staring down at your hand on the strap.

‘like when i stroke your cock baby?’ you ask lowly looking at how her eyebrows are pinched together as she nods continuing to let out pathetic moans. ‘c’mon sweet girl use your words.’ you nod at her letting your hands leave her cock as you crawl towards her.

‘y-yea mamas..like it a lot’ she breathes out her head falling against the pillow. you smile down at her before pressing your lips to hers hungrily. you feel her hand slide to the back of your neck forcing your head to stay where it is. you hum softly into the kiss letting her have this one thing. after a few seconds you pull away panting— your lips swollen as you run your thumb across her bottom lip.

‘gonna ride your cock now kay baby?’ you ask even though you dont need to. she knows what your going to do and shes more than ready for it. she nods quickly her hands moving to grip the sheets as she sees you hover over her cock.

you let out soft pathetic whimpers as you slowly sink yourself down onto her strap. you moan loudly as you bottom out on top of her strap, staying still needing to get used to it.

‘god baby— each time.. you fill me so well’ you nod, your hands running up her neck and moving down to her shoulders as you begin to rock your hips back and forth slightly. she whines loudly feeling the strap rub onto her clit just right.

‘feels— mphh, fuck’ she trails off her hands tightening on the sheets her knuckles turning white as she slightly bucks her hips up into you wanting more.

‘stay still for me baby..yeah?’ i breathe as she gives you a pathetic submissive nod. her sharp short breaths as she gives you whines.

‘wanna touch me baby?’ you ask her beginning to bounce onto her cock, your tits bouncing in her sight perfectly. ‘p-please’ she nods her eyes rolling back into her head. you smirk as you drag her hands to her hips, her nails immediately digging into your hips. you find pleasure in the pain as you look down at her with desperation.

she looks so pretty. her hair is disheveled— sticking up in all kinds of directions. her cheeks are flushed due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure, eyebrows furrowed together as her lips part into a perfect ‘o’.

‘looks so pretty bils’ you coo your hands running into her hair as you continue to bounce your hips repeatedly— hearing the sounds of skin slapping together makes your eyes roll back into your head.

you begin to feel her help you bounce onto her. and you let her. cause this is what you want. as much as you love being in control— you cant help but get wetter at the thought of her man handling you.

its like the demeanor shifts in the room when you don’t stop her. she knew she won— she always does. you see her smirk slightly as she keeps a hand to guide your hips as her other hand finds your clit rubbing tight circles onto it.

you moan loudly letting your head loll forward. ‘feel good pretty girl?’ you hear her chuckle. you don’t respond just nodding your head slowly, you feel yourself begin to give out, your arms slowly relaxing as your legs shake a bit.

‘what happened mamas..? you were running your mouth five minutes ago’ she says in a teasing tone. you mewl out a noise as you collapse onto her. you feel her laugh under you as she continues to rut her strap into you.

within a blink of an eye your back is now flushed against the mattress. ‘was cute angel.. thought you could do it this time’ she snaps her hips into yours, your eyes roll back at her words and tone.

‘not so snippy now mmh?’ she says her hand moving down to continue to rub your clit as her other stays gripping onto your hip making sure you wont move or squirm.

‘billie’ you whine out your hands flying to your hair as you pant heavily your knees moving up against your chest feeling yourself begin to squirm.

you were close and you both knew it.

she immediately took her hand away and she stops the movements of her hips. you immediately whine as you try to push your hips down onto hers.

‘stay still or you dont cum at all’ she mumbles taking her cock out of you. you clench around nothing as you immediately feel empty without her inside of you.

you let out a sigh letting your head fall back seeing her drop onto her knees. you squirm slightly immediately knowing whats about to come.

she starts at your knees, leaving soft kisses as she makes her way up to your inner calves, she continues to make her way closer to where you needed her peppering kisses onto you in her trail.

‘please’ you whine loudly you feel her lips leave your skin as she looks up at you through her eyelashes— her look is darkening as she gives you a warning look.

‘this is what you get mamas…teased me…gonna take what you get’ she begins to kiss your inner thighs again. after a few minutes you finally feel her place a soft kiss to your clit. you jump slightly drawing out a whine from your throat— your hands flying to her hair as you grip onto it.

at your whine she finally gives in. licking long stripes onto you as you rub yourself onto her face. you can’t stop moaning. it feels so fucking good. you repeatedly moan her name as you tug on her hair roughly.

she smiles against your pussy feeling herself close at your moans knowing shes making you feel good. she’s the one making you moan, she’s the one who’s about to make you cum. and she fucking loves that thought.

‘gonna cum?’ you nod not finding your voice to answer her. you see her bring a hand up to tap your chin signaling you to talk. ‘yes- billie’ you squeak out your thighs clenching around her head feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more than before.

‘bils’ you whimper loudly. when she doesnt give you any reaction you call her name out again as your eyes blur slightly. ‘billie’ you whine out again. you hear her hum in acknowledgment never stopping her attack on your pussy.

‘gonna c-cum’ you stutter out before you actually do. and when you do all you see is white. your jaw slacks as your eyes roll back and your eyebrows knit together.

after a few minutes of pathetic whines and moans you finally calm down. your panting heavily as you look down. billie is smiling up at you her head laying against your thigh as she runs a finger through your folds.

‘gonna gimmie one more angel?’ she asks moving her strap probing your throbbing hole. you nod not wanting to talk as you continue to pant.

‘nuh uh— you know better baby, use those words, wanna hear that pretty fucked out voice.’ you moan inevitably at her words before you squeak out a soft ‘yes’ and with that she pushes her strap into you slowly.

she doesn’t give you any time before she begins to piston her strap in and out of you. your feet wrap around her as your heels dig into her lower back your hands gripping onto the sheets.

‘yeah baby— lemme see how good im making you feel’ she nods feeling herself close due to her not cuming once yet. she begins to let out pathetic whine as she looks down to see you swallowing her cock. you moan at the sight in front of you. her hair hiding her face as her hands grip onto your hips probably leaving bruises.

‘gonna fill you up baby, gonna have my babies.’ you immediately feel yourself give in again. your cuming all over her strap as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

and in sync with you she cums as well. ‘ngh..mphh— shitt.’ you hear her mummer out as she cums.

she continues to fuck you through both of your highs before slowly removing herself from you.

all you hear is a snap before you feel the bed sink next to you feeling her head fall into the crook of your neck. ‘gonna— clean you up okay?’ before she can lift herself off the bed you wrap your arms around her shoulders holding her into you.

‘n-no just..let me hold you.’ you feel her nod against your neck as she wraps her arms around you softly. ‘a’right mamas.’

you were dumb to think that you were ever going to be the one in control at the end.

you just weren’t allowed to.

[rebelliousstories]

Protector

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Ailments and Sickness

Word Count: 1,073

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Running a fever and having to deal with medical shenanigans is a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, a certain Cajun knows how to keep calm under pressure.

Consider Donating: Here

There was nothing fun about being sick, anyone will tell you that. What is worse is being sick in a home full of people with powers. And yet, no one can heal whatever ailment she had. It was ridiculous. She was not sick enough to go down into the infirmary, but just enough that she was staying hopped up on DayQuil and trying to rest as much as possible. But she still had tests to grade, and assignments to make, and none of this could be done from her bed. It had to be done at her desk so she actually got the work done.

“Ma cher, da Gambit is here. Where ya at?” Bumbling into their room with a card between his fingers and a new bottle of Jack Daniels, her boyfriend had come in. She tried to call out to him, but was cut off with a cough that revenged her throat.

“Oh, cher. Whatcha doin’ now, huh? You ain’t supposed to be up if you feelin’ like dis. Come on, to bed wicha.” He slid across the bedroom, and set down the objects in his hands in favor of helping his lover.

“No. I’m glad you’re back Gambit, but I’m fine, sweetie. I need to finish my work and then I can go to bed.” Remy leveled her with an unamused expression as she turned back to her work.

“How long you been workin’ at dat?” He questioned, coming over as he was still dressed in his suit. Taking off the long leather trench coat, the man ran a hand over her shoulder as she did not take her eyes off the pages.

“Ever since I finished my classes for today.”

“You did your classes today feelin’ like this? Mon amour, you must take care of yourself.” He pulled the fingers off of one hand and pressed it against her forehead. It was starting to feel clammy and hot; she had a fever coming on, and she was being too stubborn about accepting help for Remy’s liking.

“You’re burning up. Come now, cher. You go bed now.” But no matter how much he tried to move her, she remained stubborn and resolute.

“No Remy, I’ve gotta get my work done.” She protested.

“Yes. Come on.”

“No. I can’t take any time off.”

They went back and forth for a minute or two before the man releashed his touch on the woman and hung his head.

“Why won’t you just take some time to recover, cher? These can wait.” Remy, once again, tried to reason with her.

“No, they can’t!” She screamed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I’ve gotta-”trying to form the proper words to convey her frustration, her breath skipped. Once that skip happened, it was all over. Her heart began beating hard and fast. Her hands were shaking. She was hyperventilating. She was sending herself into an anxiety attack.

As soon as he recognized what was going on, Remy jumped into action. The other set of fingers came off, and soon he was wrapping her up in his arms. Pulling her into his chest, he began stroking her hair and trying to calm her down. Her tears continued to fall. They fatten with each passing second, and showed no signs of slowing. He showed no signs of letting her go, out of comfort. Which was the same reason she was clinging to him now.

But he just provided her the comfort that she needed in that moment. He slowed his breathing, and placed her head on his chest. Remy’s hand grasped one of hers, and rubbed soothing circles on her knuckles. She was starting to slow her breathing, following Gambit’s lead, and was letting out quiet sniffles as she was resting against his chest.

“There, there cher. You gon’ be alright,” Remy whispered, and pressed a kiss to her head. “Just let it out. You gon’ be just fine.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I’m just- I’m so overwhelmed. I hate being so sick. And I can’t think cause my head is all stuffy. I’m worried about getting droplets on my papers from coughing, but I’m more worried about coughing because I don’t want to spread this to the kids. But I need to finish these before tomorrow. I promised I would have these done by tomorrow.”

Remy’s heart broke at the sight and sound of his lover. Her own downfall was going to be her steadfast nature to stay ahead of her work for the school. But surely, this was not a matter of life and death for anyone.

“Dey’ll understand if you take a lil longer for how you feelin’. Come on, you not gonna do any good work like dis. Let Gambit take care o’ his cher. I make you a thing of Nawlens syrup. Best thing my mama ever make for me when I was sick.” With that, she finally conceded and allowed him to help her to bed. Remy sat her down on the bed, and turned to give her a pair of pajama pants. He set it down on the bed, averting his eyes from her, and only turned around when she tapped his shoulder. Gambit took her clothes and pulled back the covers as he watched her crawl in.

The man disappeared into the bathroom afterwards to change from his suit. He heard rustling from inside the next room, but felt better knowing that she was finally taking care of herself. Slipping into a cut off shirt and some sweatpants, Remy opened the door to the bedroom to see an adorable sight. His girlfriend was lying in the bed with her face smushed into the side of his pillow. Making his way to the bed, Gambit felt bad for disturbing her, but it must be done. He grabbed her and realized that she was already fast asleep.

Remy sneaked underneath her on his side of the bed, and replaced the pillow with his own chest. She moaned, squirmed, but ultimately resettled in her new spot. While she drifted off, Remy stayed up for a little just watching her sleep. He was always going to be there to tell her to take a break. He was always going to be there to take care of her. Even if she did not understand why he did or said what he did or said, he knew why. Everything was done to keep her safe.

[oceantornadoo]

his favorite patient (simon riley x f!reader)

part 5 of the two lieutenants series...toothrotting fluff

--

"where is she?"

ghost thundered into the base hospital, all teeth and claws. the hospital staff scattered in his wake, avoiding eye contact. finally, a doctor approached, looking down at her clipboard nervously. "who are you looking for, sir?" he tried not to antagonize medical staff, but someone needed to get it together. "the lieutenant." he spit out. "right this way, sir."

the doctor pushed through the door to your hospital room, the sterile breeze drifting through ghost's mask. the doctor moved out of the way so he finally could view you.

you, who had taken two bullets to your left arm and yet still managed to complete the mission. had dragged gaz out with you, who was recovering in the room next to you. you were asleep, brows furrowed even in your sleep. he drowned out the words of the doctor, opting instead to move closer to your bed. "she's alrigh'?" ghost mumured, almost to himself. "she'll need some PT to regain range of motion, but she'll be okay, sir. she's just taking some much needed rest." he nodded his thanks, and the doctor made her way out, smiling to herself as she closed the door.

ghost took off his balaclava, setting it on the table behind him. he took a seat on your bed, dwarfing the small bed with his frame. he smoothed out the furrow between your brows, his gloves long forgotten back on base, abandoned the moment he heard you were in the hospital. "s'pposed to be end game, yeah? can't get shot on me now." his thumb traced the slope of your nose, trailing to your lips, down to your jaw. "my brave dove." his thumb traveled to your collarbone, brushing back and forth. he lost sense of time, entranced in the feel of your skin, the softness against his battle worn skin. almost half an hour had passed until...

"simon?" you croaked out, throat parched. "yeah, baby? feel ok?" he was so enamored with you, all doe eyes staring back at him. ghost was gone, the bloody work done, and simon was here to stay. you nodded slowly, still recovering from the events of the past days. "thirsty." he was up immediately, looking for water. he found a water cup a nurse had dropped off earlier, so deep in his trance he hadn't seen her come in and out. "go'on." he offered you the straw and you sipped, trying to go slow. he watched your throat move up and down with every sip. "better?" you hummed your appreciation. "you don't have any recruits to bother?" he gave you a sideways grin, one of his rarities. "you're more important."

you're more important. simon was here, sitting vigil at your bedside. he shirked his duties just for you. "why are you here, si?" he clicked his teeth, breaking eye contact for the first time he'd been in the room. simon stared at the clock, stared out the window. "ya don't get it, do ya?" he turned back to stare at you. you shook your head, brows furrowing again. his thumb jumped out and smoothed it before even realizing. "i haven't taken you out on that date yet, but y'r it for me. i'm y'r lieutenant, yeah?" you reached your uninjured hand towards him and he leaned in, letting you cup his face. "its all or nothing for you, isn't it?" he nodded. "hav' to be in our line of work." you gave him a small smile. "what is this, a proposal, riley?" you brushed his thumb over his lips. "let me know when your left hand is healed for a ring, baby." you laughed and it was the sweetest sound in the world to him. "my answer is yes. and a maybe to the proposal. you're on a trial period." he nodded again, nuzzling into your hand. "jus' let me take care of you, yeah?" you nodded, falling back into your hospital bed. "now i can sleep." he kissed your forehead, and all was right in the world again.

--

ugh i want a boyfriend

[midnightshindig]

Okay, so... Since you're practically the saviour of Cecil fans, could I request a cecil x reader where reader is being reckless and Cecil is frustrated because he's worried?

Of course, feel free not to, I love your work anyways! Thank you for sharing your work, have a wonderful week ❤️

psshhh daw shucks, me? Savior of the Cecil fans? How kind <3

as always, fic under the cut!

You’re a b tier superhero, good for saving major cities from minor threats, you do a great job of keeping annual bank robberies down

buutttt you’re not exactly the first person they call when there’s an alien invasion

Your partner, Cecil Stedman, knows this

What he doesn’t know is that you’re best friends with Black Samson, and have convinced him to let you know when the Guardians go on a mission

This is how you end up crashing a fight between the Guardians and some vague nondescript alien invaders

Your flying is all the best yet, and you come tumbling and crashing through the swarms of large grey aliens

rolling like a bowling ball knocking them down until you land in the middle of their troops

gulp. uh oh.

meanwhile, Cecil is screaming at you over your earpiece

you assume, at least, you turned it off a while ago, knowing he wouldn’t want you on this mission

but you can HELP the guardians, shouldn’t you?

speaking of, Monster Girl fights her way through the aliens to scoop you up under her giant green arm, before returning to the rest of the team

”Cecil’s mad, Y/n, like- ow my head hurts from the yelling bad!” She’s not mad at you, but you can imagine the toll having Cecil in your head takes, especially while fighting for your life

”It’s okay, Monster Girl! I’m here to help!” You grinned, giving her a sturdy thumbs up and wriggling free of her grasp

She Narrows her eyes incredulously

“Yeahhh I dunno about that..”

But you’re already gone, throwing yourself back into the fight- and to your credit- you get down a good twenty aliens or so before being overtaken

once again, and I can’t stress enough how funny this is in retrospect, hahaha isn’t it funny Cecil- Cecil please laugh I promise it’s funny in retrospect- but you have to get rescued again, this time by Rex Splode

hes not having your shit

”Y/n I swear to fucking GOD- you’re putting us all in danger, go. The FUCK. Home!”

swallowing your pride, you turn back on your ear piece and fly off, getting lectured the entire time

“what the hell were you thinking?! Cecil pinches his temple, pacing back and forth

“I’m not a child, Cecil, I don’t need you to scold me for doing my job.”

”You job-“ he sighs, pausing to collect himself “Y/n your job is to go where I tell you and fight what I tell you. Not interrupt guardian business and almost get KILLED.”

If you didn’t feel scolded before, shrinking in your seat, you certainly do now

”I’m sorryy, but I know I can be more useful-“

”You’re useful as long as you’re alive.” He bites back, folding his arms and giving you that unimpressed glare reserved for when teenagers misbehave. But you’re in your thirties

man you fucked up.

You slink into your chair a little more

“ugh…” he continues to pace, processing everything over the last few hours

you stand up, walking over to him and placing an open hand on his shoulder

”Cecil… I’m sorry” your voice is soft and shaky, eyebrows knitted up and eyes glassy with forming tears

he Looks at you, oh he can’t stay mad at you

not when he’s doing this just to keep you safe

He lets out a deep, frustrated groan, before opening a single arm and pulling you to his chest by the back of the neck

“😒”

Its okay though because he cares about you

”Y/n, promise me you’re going to stop doing stupid stuff like that. I give you the toughest missions I know you can handle. But-“ he sighs “If you want to get reassessed, I’ll tell Donald to get the stuff ready.”

your eyes shine, and you smile up at him “Id like that a lot”

a beat of silence between you two

”I’m sorry for scaring you today, Cecil.”

He pulls you a little closer, just enough to kiss the top of your head

”Yeah yeah, don’t do it again. You gave me and half the analysis department a god damned heart attack.”

under his nagging and frustrations an undercurrent of care, its audible in his tone

You Pull him back for a real kiss, resting your foreheads together after pulling away “I’ll be safer from now on.”

the moment passes, and you grab his hand “Now come on I wanna see how much stronger I am since the last time we did this!” and off you go, to get reassessed

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 05 - sugar and spice

wc: 1.6k

synopsis: hangman leaves everyone hanging... right?

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: absolutely loving all of your comments!! heres some hangman and then centric stuff which I KNOW people are waiting to see more of. the next update will be the final for dogfighting 101 but will feature an interaction between rooster and athena that probably (very honestly) wont answer your questions (yet)

“Howdy Miss ‘Thena,” is Hangman’s opening as you both enter the range.

“Hangman,” your greeting’s lacking a little luster.

Despite your early success, you’d only managed tone once and this was rotation four for you, and that’s not even taking into account the variations in which you weren’t flying and that no one else had managed to take your dad down yet.

Your arms hurt, your shoulders hurt, your back hurt, and you wanted to shower so incredibly bad. More than all of that though, you were emotionally exhausted. Flying with Bradley had been the gift that kept giving because even though you’d already gone through another rotation, you kept thinking about the blow out, about the before, about Bradley. As you stood on the tarmac again, you took in the little indents in your palms from the gravel being pushed into them during your push-ups, rubbing over one red mark and shaking your head. Safe to say, you could not wait to finish out the final few rotations, and then go home.

“What’s the matter, Honey?” the tease comes over the comms and even though you know he wants an answer all you can do is scoff.

“Getting tired of push-ups is all,” you say simply.

“I was hoping so,” Jake decides and your brow furrows. You don’t need to see him to know he was planning something.

“What are you planning?” you ask seriously, fully aware that your dad and the rest of the detachment was listening in.

“I was wondering, are you still made of sugar and spice and everything nice?” it sounds condescending, and you’re sure Phoenix and Halo are scoffing at the question, but you know better.

Sugar and Spice was a code, a reference to something you’d only ever talked through with Jake during some downtime on the carrier. Unlike Rock and Roll which you’d actually trained for with Harvard and Yale during Top Gun, Sugar and Spice was completely theoretical.

“You’re joking,” you deadpan, turning to glare at him through the canopy.

“You said you were tired of push-ups. I think it could work, especially since two highly decorated and competent aviators came up with it. Unless, of course, you’d rather continue the heavy set arm day you’ve got going on?” he says nonchalantly.

“Why does it feel like you called me a coward while also complementing me?” you scoff.

“Because you know me,” is all he offers.

“That’s a lot of chatter for two aviators who don’t have the bandit in their sights,” Maverick’s voice finally cuts through, interrupting your back and forth with Jake.

“Hangman, you got eyes?” you ask staring around and out the canopy after confirming your dad wasn’t on the radar.

“No, my guess is he’s coming from below the hard deck again,” the other aviator offers and you do a quick roll, inverting like you had on the first run.

“No contact,” you huff, rolling back.

And then all of a sudden you hear a boom and Mav comes zipping down in front of you. Breaking the sound barrier as he drops from where he’d been miles above you and Jake moving faster than you’d anticipated.

“Holy shit!” you shout.

“Oh fuck!” Jake’s curse echoes with yours.

“Fight’s on, Aviators, let’s see how your arms feel after, kid,” your dad teases as he circles around.

“Break left!” Hangman’s shout echoes.

And you do.

You break left and loop around, looking for Jake who’d gone int he opposite direction. He hadn’t ditched you, yet. Not like he had with Phoenix and Bob earlier. You know it’s not entirely fair a line of thought though, he was different with you, he’d yet to break a promise or leave you out to dry, not like he so flippantly seemed to be with everyone else. You hesitate a second longer before deciding, no, I do not want to do more push ups, and yes, I do trust Jake.

“Sugar and Spice,” you finally shout.

“Wait, really?” the surprise is evident, as if despite his cocky attitude he couldn’t believe you were agreeing.

“Yes!” you confirm, rolling your eyes. “Now move your ass, Hangman!”

“My fine ass, you mean,” he shouts back and you can hear the smirk as he loops back to meet you so you could assume the correct positions.

It’s tricky, you decide.

You always knew it would be, but you never thought you’d actually try it out. In theory, Sugar and Spice was supposed to create a gap that was a trap for the bandit. Where Rock and Roll was a distraction and attack, with each aviator having a specific goal, Sugar and Spice held more risk. Here both pilots act as the distraction, while attempting to get tone at the same time. When you’d initially talked it out with Jake there were three possible formations. Option A was the Side by Side, where you fly parallel. Option B was the Stack, where one pilot flies directly above the other. And Option C, which you had succinctly named, the collision course; in which one approaches from the tail of the bandit, and the other nose.

It seemed Jake had decided to run the collision course. It took a few maneuvers, some creative flying in order to lure Maverick into the right space at the right time, but then you were approaching form his nose, while Jake came in from the tail.

“What the fuck?” was your dads response when he realized that he had to make a choice, continue to attempt tone on you, move before Jake got tone on him, or move before you got close enough to get tone on him.

He feigned a left, which you followed, but then he made a sharp turn right.

What Mav didn’t anticipate was the height change. Jake had moved up, just enough to angle himself perfectly, and to ensure that if your dad didn’t move from the game of chicken you were playing with him, you wouldn’t just crash into your own teammate.

When Maverick flipped a hard right, probably hoping to get tone on you, Jake got tone first, having seen the move coming, and prepared accordingly.

It was silent for a moment, as the tone rang out.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Maverick’s voice crackles over the comms as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

When you land Hangman’s already on the ground by your ladder, having rushed out of his jet after landing first.

You’re not even all the way down when his arms wrap around you and he pulls you down, “Holy shit, ‘Thena, that was fucking incredible!” he shouts, squeezing you for just a moment.

This is Jake, you think fondly. You liked Jake, a lot. You liked him a hell of a lot more than Hangman. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone got to meet Jake, and that, you decided was a god damned shame.

“I mean, I always knew you were smart, ‘Thee but this idea really was something else entirely! And getting to test it out, I’m fucking ecstatic the height change worked….” he was rambling, and there was this twinkle in his eyes that made the green seem alive.

You hadn’t seen him ramble since before the announcement of the detachment, honestly not for a while if you’re honest. Maybe the last time you’d both had feet on solid ground instead of an Air Craft Carrier in the middle of the Pacific. He seemed younger, the southern drawl more evident as he talked too fast to fully enunciate each word.

“Seresin! Mitchell!” the shout from your dad forces Jake to stop, and you notice as his brain finally catches up, how he steps back from you and straightens out, how the excited gleam in his eye dies out a bit, and you frown at Jake, because you watch as he tucks the more authentic parts of himself away.

“Yes, Sir?” you ask, turning to your father who was approaching.

“Hell of a move, where’d you learn that?” he asks, looking between the two of you.

“Lieutenant Mitchell designed it, Sir. After a cat and mouse training exercise on the carrier between our squads,” and if your dad was shocked before, hearing Hangman of all people pay another pilot credit was the blackout on top of the bingo.

“It was a team effort, Sir,” you argue. “Then and now, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to do it with anyone else,” you admit, and something in both your father’s gaze, and Jake’s softens.

“Keep thinking outside the box. It’s a good skill, and you’ll need it,” your father praises you, before turning to head to Hondo for his push ups, giving the next group a bit of a break.

“Hey Maverick!” you shout after him, “Always think the 360!”

A random sentence that no one else would understand, but he would, and based off of the near prideful smile he shoots you before turning back around, you know he understood.

While your dad did his push ups and the next pairing came down, you stopped in an empty hallway. “Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah?” he asks, pausing and then turning back once he realized you were no longer right beside him.

“I’m happy it worked too. Thanks for not leaving me hanging,” you say softly.

He looks down and then back at you, brows furrowed as if something wasn’t adding up for him, “Mitchell, you should know by now, I’d never leave you,” he says in response, green eyes swirling with emotion, too many to place, but his words feel like so much more than just talking as your wingman.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid

if your tag is striked it means i was unable to tag you.

[chiliyue-archived]

Sitting on his lap

Includes; Dazai, Chūya, Nikolai, Jōno

Requested ! [Bsd M.List]

-

—DAZAI

" Belladonna, come sit on my lap~" Dazai had crooned to you, his cheeks tugging into a familiar expression of amusement. Before you could even protest, cotton hands and nimble fingers hooked around your waist, beckoning you close to his chest with just a couple of mere couple tugs.

" Osamu - you have work to do." You attempted, though you hardly resisted when you felt his chest press against your back, the tip of his nose nestling in your hair. And counterproductive to your words, habitually, you sunk into his embrace.

It didn't help that Dazai made quick work at finding purchase at your hips, running his index fingers over the clothed spot in a manner he knew would make you indulge to his needy touches. He chuckled as you exhaled deeply, surrendering to his actions.

" Hmm, don't underestimate me, love. Surely I can do both." He hummed nonchalantly, his grip unwavering as he opted to pepper kisses along your shoulder. You could feel him smirk as you failed to suppress a shudder, muscles stiffening beneath his saccharine affections.

" Besides, having a pretty you to keep me company? Why I call that motivation." He quickly interjected as you glanced over your shoulder, sending him a skeptical look comprised of pinched brows and pursed lips. Distractions would be a better term, you reckoned.

Dazai showed little signs of letting you go, arm encircled around your waist and all but enveloping you against him. His legs also hooked around your own, occasionally swaying your locked limbs back and forth.

Had it been up to him, you could foresee yourself always being within his clutches, smothered in sweet kisses that nudges did little to cease. In that reverie, it wasn't entirely unappealing - until you acknowledged his camaraderie.

" Good thing Kunikida isn't here. Otherwise, you'd really be in big trouble." You muttered, casting an uneasy glance toward the door. Even as the words hung in the air, you contradicted yourself, fully immersing against him and allowing the warmth of his chest to reverberate along your spine.

If anything, his grip tightened in response to your light quip, leaving you entrapped as he pressed a peck to the crown of your head. His voice took a complacent tone.

" Even if he did, 'Bella, don't think I'm ever gonna let you go."

-

—CHŪYA

" Hey Chū, can I sit on your lap?"

The question had caught your lover off gaurd, his grip on his pen stiffening to an unceremonious halt. Given his expression; a light rose expanding from his cheeks to the tip of his nose accompanied with the flutter of his eyelashes, you had almost assumed he was going to say no.

Very quickly, however, your concerns were met with swift reassurance as Chūya meekly nodded his head. It was followed by a terse answer of " Go ahead." Wordlessly, he accommodated himself on the elaborate cushioned chair, motioning you to join him with a shy flick of his hand.

His grip was tenuous at first, resting at your hip as his other continued to sway his pen. He let out a prolonged breath as you sunk into his embrace, arms draping over his shoulders and pressing your chest against his own. He wondered if you could hear his heartbeat spike as you squished your cheek against him.

" Comfortable?" He asked, his voice a little daunt with the proximity of the situation. He continued to shift a bit more until you replied with a satisfied hum.

With little results, he attempted to quell his thumping heartbeat, no doubt echoing through your ears as you nuzzled into him for the nth time. Yet against his own rationality, it hadn't even occurred to him that his own body arched forward, seeking to eliminate all spaces between you.

Flustered but undeterred, a soft sigh left him as his pen continued to work on the documents littering his desk - though his fingers moved rather aimlessly as his eyes kept glancing to your figure. You could feel his breath prickle your temples, lips just shy of the skin as he pondered for a moment.

Suddenly, he paused, favoring to instead tug the glove off from one of his hands before slipping that very limb beneath the hem of your shirt. Though shaky as first, tender motions traced out your spine, the pads of his finger slightly cold to your sensitive skin yet in a manner that was oddly soothing. He chuckled softly as you squirmed at his ministrations, his movement persisting at a tantalizingly slow tempo.

For the rest of the evening, Chūya made due with working with one hand whilst the other continued to rub at your back comfortingly. And of course - he took every opportunity he could to steal a glance, feeling a sense of pride - and a touch of hidden possessiveness- that you felt safe in his arms and that this was something he alone would share with you.

-

—NIKOLAI

You hardly managed to get a word out when you found yourself caged within the heat of Nikolai's arms, the limbs deftly circled firmly around your waist.

" Kolya-?!" You sputtered, the name muddled as one of his hands rested on the back of your neck, effectively pulling your cheek against his chest. In a couple of movements you found yourself situated on his lap, gloved fingers lazily rubbing at your sides.

" Don't fret too much, doll." He lightly chastised, an all too familiar grin coming to his lips. " Indulge me for a couple minutes, no? I believe you'll find yourself to enjoy this." He mused against your temples, voice reverberating along your skull.

You really could do nothing more than to slump your forehead against his chest as his fingers aimlessly ran along from the point of your shoulder down to your elbow. He watched with an increasingly growing gleam as you slowly succumbed to his pokes and brushes.

As you reclined your head against his shoulder, you could faintly make out a hum resonating from his throat, adams apple bobbing as he spoke; " See Dove, I kept my promise." A satisfied look etched on his features, taking note of your pliant state, muscles loose and relaxed.

The sound you made in response was muffled, cheek and hand settled over his sternum.

Your ears caught the sound of a light-hearted chuckle, gloved hands trailing to cup with your cheeks and puckering up your lips involuntarily. His gaze remained locked on yours, the intensity making you shift around with little avail - not with your body pressed against his own, both of your legs dangling off the edge.

With his hand remaning on your cheeks, he veered you in a for a kiss, gentle lips pressing on your own. He lingered there for a moment before withdrawing with a pronounced "Mwah!~" He watched with a broad grin as you sputtered over your words, lips still fully puckered with nothing but a playful glare that you can send him.

Nikolai let out an exasperated sigh, bringing you close to the clutches of his embrace once more and settling his chin to rest on the crown of your head. His mind drifts as he stirs other wondrous ideas for later use, gaze flickering down to your figure.

He observed with little words as you ultimately snuggled against his chest, arms slipping around his shoulder and eyes shutting close in serene verity.

He remained like that, having you sit on his lap as his fingers played with your strands of hair, coiling it with his pinky and watching it unwind.

Even as seconds and minutes melded together into a sloppy time frame, he relished having you in his presence for as long as that persisted.

-

—JŌNO

He can hear the pitter patter of your shoes as you approached him, the sound amplified in his sensitive ears. His head was already perking toward your direction before you could even have the opportunity to mumble a word. His brow quriked, curious to what you may want.

" Can I sit on your lap?" The question left your mouth, a sheepish undetone hidden. Well, he certainly wasn't expecting that.

Much to your disappointment, you were met with prolonged silence as Jōno took in your inquiry. You were fully prepared to be met with a hard cold denial until...

"... I suppose." The hunting dog replied, fixating on your habits; the light fidgeting on your fingers against his sleeve, the subtle thump of your heart or how you exhaled in relief when he didn't deny your request. How cute, he thought inwardly.

He pushed the chair back, wincing as the legs of the furniture grated on the floor. Though that keening ache hasitly vanished away as he felt your back press to his chest.

The raidence of your warmth was evident, proliferating from his sternum and to the tip of his fingers that set his nerves ablaze - yet not in a way he would click his tongue at in mild annoyance - instead he allowed for that warmth to accumulate, pricking the pads of his fingers.

His grip was tighter than usual, hands busied at kneadning your skin, letting out a nonchalant sound as his muscles loosened slightly by the passing second. It was almost a complete change in his demeanor, the ambiance coaxing a gentle smile to your lips as you reclined into his bulky form. He hadn't failed to notice how you slightly snuggled into him, a soft hum escaping you as you did.

" You are incredibly clingy sometimes." He added; however, his indicated nothing serious about his statement, even if it held merit to some extent. Yet contrary to his sentence, Jōno pulled you closer to him with small tug, thumb swiping over the pulse point on your wrist - a habit he had acquired in response to fuming emotions that only stirred whilst in your presence

" Right, I'm the touch starved one." Your playful retort was earned with a gentle pinch to your forearm. Before you could pout too much, however, you felt his lips brush against your forehead; the curve of a satisfied grin present, fully resigning to your snuggles and sugared endearments.

" I suppose we're both guilty of that allegation."

-

A/n; sorry for my absence, I didn't like the drafts I had for this originally and kept editing it. Still don't really like it but oh well 💀

[crowsofdarkness]

Eric finds you on the Ferris wheel and delivers your punishment for running.

18+ CW's Below The Cut(Stalker!Eric, mention of branding, public sex, unprotected pinv, masturbation, Eric making a mess on your chest, fingering, very slight oral with male receiving, and choking)

My knee bounced in annoyance as I sat in the ferris wheel cart, waiting for the ride to start. I kept my eyes sharp as I looked at each face around me, looking for those bright blue eyes. It wasn’t anything new, those eyes following me everywhere I went. At first, I was afraid but as time wore on, I got used to those eyes following me. More like, he wore me down. 

When I ran into Eric Draven a few moments ago, I was already on edge because of a little disagreement earlier. He texted me not to go out tonight, rather to meet at his place. But ever stubborn I was , I ignored the text and came to the fair with my best friend. So when I saw him in the crowd, I immediately began avoiding him because the last thing I wanted to do was to have another argument. 

The cart moved as a new weight was added to it causing me to snap my gaze away from an older couple over to those dreaded bright eyes as Eric sat across from me. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I screamed, rising to my feet to get off the ride only for the cart to jerk, us starting to move. 

“I’d suggest sitting down, Y/N. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt,” Eric smirked. 

“Fuck you!” I seethed while sitting down again, arms crossed over my chest. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to play with your food?”

He rested his arms against the back of the cart as we slowly rose to the top. “So you agree you’re mine?”

Weeks of back and forth led to this moment. Eric wanted to be more than occasional fuck buddies but I wasn’t ready to settle down just yet. I was young and wanted to live my life. 

“I deserve to live my life without you stalking me,” I said with thin slits for eyes.

This made Eric sit forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What makes you think you deserve anything, Y/N? You’ve disobeyed me yet again.”

I rolled my eyes at this overused phrase. “I’m not yours! I don’t have to listen to you.” 

Suddenly he was across the cart in a flash, his fingers wrapped around my throat as he peered down at me, both of his knees on either side of me on the bench I sat on. The grip was tight but not enough to cut off my oxygen. I refused to break our gaze, afraid and slightly aroused as to what he would do. 

“You’re mine, crow. The brand on your perfect tit says so. Do I need to brand the other one for you to realize how serious this is?” His bottom lip trembled as he bit out his words. 

Oh yeah, the brand. A few days ago when I continued to say I wasn’t his, Eric branded me with his name underneath my breast. It was so fucked up. So wrong. Yet I got off on the whole thing. 

Not being able to speak, I shook my head as best as I could in his tight grasp. His face was so close to me and his warm breath fanned over my lips. There was a bit of space between our bodies, just enough for me to slip through to run away. 

“Don’t even think about it,” was my only warning before Eric lifted me from my seat as the ride came to a stop, us being stuck at the top. 

“We stopped,” I choked out, his grip still around my throat. 

Spinning me to face the other way, Eric forced my top half over the side so I gazed straight down to the fairgrounds. Fear filled my veins as I tried to fight against him, which prompted him to lock me into place with his hips against my ass. Large hands slinked up my sweater, over my stomach, and towards the bandage on my breast. I gnawed on my bottom lip, doing whatever I could to keep the moans quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that I’d been turned on this entire night. Our game of cat and mouse worked me up that all he had to do was breathe against my clit and I would cum. 

“That skirt is really short,” Eric commented.

“Are you going to cut my clothes away this time?” I shot back while looking over my shoulder at him. 

Fuck, he was breathaking. Those eyes dragged me under each and every time. 

“Believe me, it’s tempting. But I can't risk you leaving here naked,” Eric hands flipped up the edge of my skirt, exposing my ass to the cold air. 

Goosebumps pricked my skin as I felt his fingers brush along my folds and this time, I couldn’t hold back the moan when it fell from my lips. Hooking the band of my thong to the side, he slipped a finger inside of me finally. 

“I can't believe you jacked off with my underwear,” I breathed, remembering he made a comment about that earlier when we spoke. 

I wanted to be angry that he could do something so disgusting but the image of him sitting on my bed with my panties wrapped around his cock was overpowering as I nearly fell to my knees.

“I almost sent you a video of it,” Eric teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. 

Feeling my ego boost at the prospect of that video, I pressed my ass harder against his hips in an effort to make him go deeper with his finger. 

“You should have.”

Eric hummed a delicious sound. “Next time, crow.”

“Shit, it’s so good,” I purred when a second finger slipped inside of me. 

Eric’s pace was slow and teasing, wanting to work me up until I felt like I was on the edge of destruction. 

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. 

Full of defiance, I let my forehead fall to my arm as it rested on the edge of the cart. “No one.” 

The sound of a hand on my ass echoed in the air around us, mixed with my cries as Eric left smack after smack on my bare ass. I writhed away from him in an effort to save myself from another punishing blow but he wrapped a thick arm around my stomach to press me against him again. 

“Try again,” he demanded with another smack, only this time it was to my aching cunt. 

“YOU!” I moaned. “I belong to you.”

Ripping my panties down my legs, Eric spun me around so I could look up to him as he pushed me roughly against the edge of the cart. My hair dangled off the edge along with my head as I clawed against his jacket, trying to get a better grip so I didn’t fall over. 

“Now that’s my good crow. I knew you would see things my way,” he praised while holding one hand around my neck, the other unzipping his pants to pull out his erect cock. 

Absent-mindedly, I licked my lips with desperation to taste him again. 

“Y/N.” 

I peered up at those ocean eyes, something glimmering in their depths. “Hm?” 

Gone for a moment was the darkness in his voice as he asked me something I almost expected now. 

“Safe word?” 

Immediately I shook my head. “If I didn’t want any of this, I would have uttered it already.” 

Our hookups weren’t exactly vanilla so we came up with a safe word in case things got too rough or went too far. Neither of us said it. 

That seemed to please him before without a second thought, Eric poised his cock at my pussy before sliding in. Exactly like the first time, it took a bit of coaxing until I was able to take the fullness of him. His pace wasn’t gentle by any means as he rutted his hips into mine, shaking the cart. The fear of possibly falling off the edge every time he snapped his cock into me fueled the arousal as the heat spread at the base of my spin almost instantly. 

“I’m so close,” I panted while grabbing onto the forearm that held my neck. 

“Not yet,” he snarled. I want you to come apart with me,” Eric said, the muscle in his jaw jumping. 

He was trying to hold himself back, not wanting this to end. With the head only inside of me, he slowly fucked me and I whined out, wanting the whole thing. 

“Please,” I begged while locking my ankles around his. “I need all of you.”

Eric's eyes rolled back and he pressed deep inside of me again, both of us sharing a groan of pleasure. He lifted up my lacy top to make my breasts spill out and quickly, he removed the bandage to look at his brand. 

“It’s healing nicely,” he observed, peppering the area around it with kisses. 

The grip around my neck faltered to grasp the back of my skull, bringing our lips together in a passionate kiss; sloppy but it ignited the flames brighter inside of me. Without warning, my orgasm drowned me, pulling me down to the darkness that was Eric. I screamed my release into the palm of my hand, not wanting anyone to hear me. It didn’t matter because I craved more of him, his cock spearing me open while my fingers played with the edge of his mask, scratching my nails along the skin. 

Suddenly I felt empty when Eric stood tall in front of me, leaving me a wet mess between my legs, only for him to force me onto my knees. 

“Cover your breasts,” he ordered. 

Doing what he said, I placed the bandage over the brand before pulling down my tank top again. His hands brushed my jacket off my shoulders, it pooling around me. 

“Push them up,” he grunted with a sharp nod to my breasts again. 

Once more doing what he said, I pushed them up so the top of them nearly spilled out of the top of my shirt and watched with pure elation as he gripped his cock. My gaze tracked every moment of his hand pumping up and down the length of him, taking notes of how he did it so I could remember what he liked. 

“Crow,” he grunted while nearly falling over, free hand gripping the edge of the cart of the ferris wheel while his other gripped so hard around his cock, I was sure he was hurting himself. 

It was at that moment I realized we started moving again, slowly descending back down. 

My mouth parted to speak but all came out was a moan of praise when I felt his warm cum shoot all over my chest, coating me in his seed. Eyes glimmered up at him with a smile playing on my lips; the red lipstick I wore undoubtedly smeared over my face due to the intensity of our kiss. 

His cock looked so pretty covered in his cum and I couldn’t wait any longer. All I wanted was a little taste. As his eyes were shut while he was catching his breath, I guided my mouth to the head of his cock, lapping up his arousal and humming in delight. 

“Fuck,” Eric shivered, holding my head in place for a moment before pulling me up to my feet. 

“Hey,” I protested.

Quickly adjusting himself, he tucked his cock back into his briefs just in time for the ride to come to a halt, both of us back at the bottom safely. 

“Get yourself cleaned up before someone sees. And remember to behave Crow,” Eric spoke while zipping up my jacket to cover my cum covered chest. 

“Y/N! You rode it without me?!” 

Whirling around, I saw my best friend Meri on the other side of the gate that surrounded the ferris wheel. 

Holding up a finger in a “one second” motion, I went to turn back towards Eric only to realize I was alone in the cart. 

“How the fuck is he so fast with that?” I shook my head in disbelief, doing my best to ignore the stickiness not only on my chest but between my legs.