lemmesayimyourbiggestfan

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Back to friends II - Dain Aetos

Dain Aetos x reader

you can find the first part here

word count: 2,5 k

warnings: angst (but a happy end!! haha)

requests are open!

Time doesn’t pass so much as it drags—reluctant, deliberate, as though the universe itself has slowed to a crawl just to make you feel every fractured second of this silence between you and him.

You wake, eat, train, breathe. You speak when spoken to. You keep your eyes forward, your posture perfect, your mouth quiet. But beneath the performance—beneath the well-maintained armor of discipline and indifference—your blood churns with every breath you take in the same air as him.

You don’t let yourself look at him, not really. Your eyes slide over him like he’s no more than a shadow, a shape, a fragment of someone you used to know. But you feel him. You feel his gaze like a burn at the edge of your awareness, always watching, always waiting, always just behind you—and still, you do not turn. You will not be the one to break.

He wanted simplicity. Clarity. Boundaries. He wanted to pretend that what happened between you didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything. So you’ll give him what he asked for: silence. Cold professionalism. Indifference sharp enough to cut.

Let him ache for it. Let him see what it means to be nothing.

***

Dain has always believed in control—the kind that comes from rigid structure, from discipline, from order. That belief has shaped every part of his life, from the way he speaks to the way he breathes. But now, that control is unraveling by degrees, in ways he never anticipated.

It starts with your silence.

The first day, he thinks maybe it’s anger, or pride. The second, he tells himself it’s better this way. Safer. The third, he starts to wonder if he’s made the biggest mistake of his life.

Because you’ve changed.

Not in ways anyone else might notice—but in ways that shatter him.

You don’t stumble in drills anymore. You don’t hesitate, don’t ask questions, don’t break ranks. You move like a machine, polished and efficient. Perfect. But he knows it’s not discipline. It’s distance. You’ve built a wall so tall and so seamless he can’t find a single crack in it, and he’s the one who forced you to build it.

He sees the way you laugh a little too brightly with the others, how your smile flickers only when you think no one’s watching. He sees how you won’t meet his eyes, not even when he speaks your name during formation. And gods, the silence that follows—it haunts him worse than anything.

He tries once to catch you outside the flight grounds, when the others have already gone, when the wind is low and the light is soft. He steps into your path, his heart lodged somewhere between his ribs and his throat.

You meet his gaze, but there’s nothing warm in it. Nothing left.

“Wingleader,” you say, cool and clipped, as though his name has become an inconvenience on your tongue.

He opens his mouth, desperate to find something that might shatter the silence between you, but the words falter, and before he can gather them again, you’ve already walked past him without pause, without turning. Without a second glance.

And he knows then—this isn’t something you’ll wait for him to fix.

This time, it’s on him to bleed.

***

You keep telling yourself you’re fine.

That this—this resolve, this distance, this carefully cultivated emptiness—is strength. That what you’re doing is survival. That you’re healing, slowly, by keeping him out. By starving the memory of what he once gave you and then took away.

You train harder. You sleep less. You fill your days with movement until exhaustion becomes a balm.

But the nights are cruel.

Because it’s in the quiet, in the stillness between one breath and the next, that the memory comes crawling back—the feel of his hands on your skin, the weight of his mouth on yours, the way he had looked at you like he wanted to memorize the shape of your soul. You remember the way he whispered your name in the dark, softer than the wind, and the way his absence the next morning felt like someone had hollowed you out with a blade.

You press your fingers to your chest some nights, wondering if it’s possible to bruise from the inside.

***

He finally breaks when he sees you with Bodhi.

It isn’t jealousy—at least not the kind born of possessiveness. It’s more like devastation. You’re laughing again, for real this time, with your head tipped back and your shoulders relaxed, the sunlight spilling gold over your skin like it belongs there. Bodhi stands close—too close—and you don’t move away.

Dain feels something split inside his chest.

Because that was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be his name on your lips when you smiled, his presence that made you glow like that, his arms you leaned into when the world was too much.

Instead, he watches you slip further from him with every hour that passes.

And it’s his fault. All of it.

That night, he paces his room like a man possessed, his fists clenched and his mind a storm of regrets.

In the late hours, when the moon is high and everything is still and soft, he finds himself standing in front of your door, heart hammering like a drumbeat in his chest.

He knocks.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then, quiet.

When you finally open the door, you look tired—not physically, but emotionally, like someone who’s been holding a fortress together with threadbare rope. And when your eyes meet his, something shifts in the air between you, as if the tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface has finally found a crack to spill through.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice low and rough with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

You stare at him, unblinking. “No. You shouldn’t.”

He stands there, eyes pleading, his hands curled into helpless fists at his sides. “I want-”

You tilt your head just slightly, your expression unreadable. “No. You don’t get to want now.”

He winces, but he nods. He deserves that. He deserves worse.

But he doesn’t leave.

You wait, arms crossed over your chest, your body coiled and bristling. When he still doesn’t move, you say, “You said it was a mistake. You said everything we were—everything I gave you—meant nothing. What’s left to say?”

“I lied,” he breathes. “Gods, I lied.”

He steps closer, tentative, and the pain on his face is so naked it almost feels indecent.

“I said it because I was afraid. Because I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. That keeping things simple—clean—was the only way to protect you. But the truth is, I’ve been dying a little every day since.”

You say nothing, but your hands uncross.

“I thought I could forget you. I thought I could move on. But I can’t.” He takes another tentative step. “Because I’m in love with you.”

***

The silence that follows is absolute.

And when you finally speak, it’s not with softness, but with fury buried so deep it sounds like grief.

“You don’t get to say that now. Not after walking away like it cost you nothing. You don’t get to come back only when it hurts.”

He nods. He doesn’t argue.

“I don’t forgive you,” you say, voice trembling, though not from weakness. “Not yet.”

“I’ll wait,” he whispers. “For as long as it takes.”

You study him—really study him—for the first time in weeks. You see the regret carved into the lines around his mouth, the sleepless ache in his eyes, the way his body is coiled with remorse.

You hold his gaze for a moment longer. Just long enough for the truth to settle between you.

Then, finally, you step aside.

It is not forgiveness. It is not resolution.

But it is something.

He steps into your space like it might collapse around him, like the floor beneath his boots is made of glass and one wrong move will shatter it all. You don’t look at him as you close the door behind him, not yet. You’re not ready for softness—not when your ribs still feel cracked from the weight of his silence. Not when the scent of him in your space, familiar and devastating, stirs memories you’ve spent weeks burying under discipline and fury.

The silence stretches again, taut as a wire.

He steps forward, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal. “I meant it,” he says. “What I said out there. About being in love with you. About wanting this to be real.”

“And yet,” you cut in, your voice deceptively calm, “when you had it, you buried it. You made me small. You made me doubt it was ever real.”

His throat works around a swallowed apology. “I know.”

“No,” you snap, and he flinches like you’ve hit him. “You don’t. You don’t know what it felt like to wake up and realize I’d become something you were ashamed of. A mistake.”

“I wasn’t ashamed,” he breathes.

“You hid me,” you say, stepping forward now, your voice trembling with the fury you’ve been holding in for days—weeks. “You kissed me in the dark. Touched me only when no one was looking. You said what we had couldn’t exist in the light. So tell me, Dain—what does that sound like to you?”

His silence is a confession all its own.

But you’re not finished. Not yet.

“I need more than secrets,” you say. “More than half-truths and late-night regrets. I need to be chosen. Not behind closed doors, not when it’s convenient. I need to be worth the risk.”

His eyes flash, and before you can step back, he’s closing the distance, his voice fierce now, raw around the edges. “You are. Gods, you are. I was the coward. I thought loving you would get you hurt. That if anyone knew—if they used it against us—”

“Don’t,” you whisper, eyes narrowing. “Don’t make this about your fear. You don’t get to dress it up as protection when all you did was run.”

A beat of silence passes. Then another.

Dain exhales like it costs him something, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of everything he’s held in.

“You’re right,” he says. “About all of it. And if I could go back, I would undo every word I used to push you away. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you I want to be the man who deserves you. Out there. In the open. Without shame.”

You take a step toward him, pulse thrumming like a drumbeat under your skin. “Then prove it.”

“I will,” he breathes, like a vow.

Your hand lifts—slow, tentative—as if you’re not entirely sure whether you want to reach for him or push him away. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just watches, eyes wide, like he’s afraid even the air between you might unravel.

Your fingers brush the edge of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed.

And for a moment—for just a moment—everything stills.

The silence between you changes shape. It softens, stretches, turns tender at the edges. It’s still full of pain, of unresolved ache, of words not yet spoken—but beneath it now lies something else. Something warmer. Something almost like hope.

You don’t kiss him. Not yet.

Instead, you say, “If this happens again—if you leave me again—I swear I’ll kill you.”

And the look on his face, the way his hands lift slowly as if to touch you but stop just short—it’s reverent. It’s shattered. It’s everything.

“I would expect no less from you,” he says.

And this time, when the silence comes, you let it stay.

But it feels different now.

Less like absence.

More like beginning.

***

Dain wakes in the half-light, the world still heavy with the remnants of sleep, but it’s the weight of the night that clings to him. At first, it’s nothing—just the quiet of dawn creeping in through the cracks in the curtains, the steady rise and fall of your breath beside him.

But then it hits him.

The absence of space. The closeness that feels too raw, too unfamiliar, but it’s not the kind of discomfort that pushes him away—it’s the kind that makes him want to stay.

His fingers twitch where they rest against your wrist, the memory of how they’d trembled last night still vivid. How he’d tried to hold on like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. And maybe it was. Maybe it’s the only thing that’s ever felt like home since the moment he let you slip through his fingers.

The room is still and quiet, and for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t feel the sharp bite of anxiety gnawing at his chest. The silence between you isn’t the bitter, suffocating one it’s been for weeks. It’s something else—something tentative, fragile, but somehow better.

Dain turns his head, slow, cautious. His gaze finds you before he can stop it.

You’re still asleep. Your face, relaxed in the soft morning light, is almost peaceful. But that peace is an illusion. Beneath it, he knows, is everything that still lingers between you. The tension. The words he’s yet to say. The silence you’ve both shared for so long now.

The weight of his own choices crushes him all over again. He watches you for a moment longer, not daring to move, as if any sudden motion might shatter the fragile thread connecting you.

He can still feel the echo of last night’s words in his veins—I’m in love with you. He can still taste the rawness of his confession, the tremor in his voice as he said it, and gods, how he meant it.

The guilt creeps in again, winding its fingers through his ribs. He should have said it sooner. He should have been stronger. He should have never let you go.

He tightens his grip on your wrist without thinking, his thumb brushing across your skin as if grounding himself in the touch.

But then you shift, just the slightest movement, and his breath catches.

He watches your face, half expecting you to stir and pull away, to remind him—again—that nothing has truly changed. That this isn’t some grand reconciliation. That he’s still the one who ruined it all.

But when your eyes finally flutter open, there’s no anger, no coldness, only something soft. Something tentative.

He doesn’t speak first. He doesn’t need to. The way you’re looking at him now tells him all he needs to know.

“You stayed,” you whisper, the question clear in your voice but laced with a kind of vulnerability he’s never heard from you before.

He doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing over the lines of your palm, the rough edges of your callouses. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, his voice thick with the weight of the promise. “Not if you’ll have me.”

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Back to friends - Dain Aetos

Dain Aetos x reader

you can find the second part here

word count: 1,3k

warnings: angst

inspired by the song Back to friends by Sombr :)

The bed is still warm when you wake up, but Dain is gone.

For a moment, you lie there, letting the stillness settle around you like a thick fog. You stare at the empty space beside you, your fingers tracing the outline of where he was. The sheets are tangled around your legs, a reminder of what happened, what you let happen. But you knew, didn’t you? You knew he wouldn’t stay. You knew he would slip away the moment the night ended, as if nothing had changed.

Still, the ache is there—a hollow, gnawing emptiness where his presence once filled the room.

You roll onto your back, your breath coming in shallow bursts, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. The scent of him lingers in the fabric, clinging to your skin, your hair. It’s strange how something so intimate can feel like a ghost, haunting you, when it should be a memory, a warmth. But it feels more like a wound.

You should get up. Move on. Pretend, just like he will.

But when you finally force yourself to sit up, to stand, your feet feel like they’re dragging you through mud.

—

He should never have let it happen.

The thought is a steady drumbeat in his head, pushing him forward, driving him toward the training grounds, even as his every instinct screams at him to stop, to go back, to fix it.

But there’s nothing to fix. He knows that.

He should have stopped it before it even started. The moment you looked at him, the moment he saw something in your eyes—a kind of vulnerability, a plea for something more, something different—he should have walked away.

But he didn’t.

And now, the consequences are weighing on him like a chain, dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. He can’t afford this. Not now, not ever.

Discipline. Rules. Order. Those are the things that have always kept him grounded. Kept him in control. Kept him safe.

But you—you—undid all of that in a single glance, a single moment of weakness.

He clenches his jaw, tightening his grip on his gloves as he exhales, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He can’t afford to let it happen again. He won’t.

So he straightens his back, schools his face into unreadable neutrality, and forces himself to remember who he is. Your wingleader. Your commander. Nothing else.

Nothing more.

—

You try to focus. Try to lose yourself in the drills, in the movements, in the rhythm of your body as it moves through the motions. But it’s like there’s a fog around you, a heavy weight pulling you down.

Your muscles are sluggish. Your movements lack the sharpness you’re used to, the precision. It’s like you’re not even fully there.

Every time you glance at Dain, his gaze is unreadable, cold, detached. His voice cuts through the air with that familiar authority, but there’s nothing in it for you. There’s nothing in it at all.

The ache in your chest grows with every passing minute, tightening like a noose.

It was just one night. Just one moment. But it’s tearing you apart.

By the time training ends, your nerves are raw, your mind frayed at the edges. You can’t stay here, not under the same roof as him, not in the same room, not like this.

But then he calls your name.

Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to stay still, to breathe, to mask the rawness that’s threatening to break through. You turn, face him.

—

The moment he calls your name, he regrets it.

His stomach churns, his throat tightens, but he can’t take it back. He needs to speak to you. Needs to address what’s happening between you two.

He watches you turn, and for a split second, his heart does something it shouldn’t. Something that’s been trying to get through to him all along. But he stifles it, forces it down, because it doesn’t matter.

You’re distracted.

He saw it in the way you moved, in the sharpness that had dulled over the course of the day. You’re not you today. You’re not the sharp, focused, disciplined rider he’s known. You’re something else now. Something he’s caused.

And it makes him sick.

“You were a little off today,” he says, the words coming out too sharp, too biting. He wants to soften them, to apologize, but the words don’t stop. They spill out like a flood he can’t control.

Your eyes flash, and for a moment, he thinks he sees the truth in them—the hurt, the anger, the confusion. But then your face hardens, like a mask snapping into place.

“That’s what you called me over for?” Your laugh is harsh, bitter, and it cuts him deeper than any insult ever could.

His stomach tightens. He should apologize. He should take it all back. But he can’t. Not now.

He holds your gaze, steady, unwavering. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks, his voice quieter, tinged with regret. It’s almost as if he’s apologizing, but he knows he can’t let that show—not here, not now.

“Did you?” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Seems like you’ve been avoiding me all day. Was I supposed to just pretend last night didn’t happen?”

His stomach churns. He’s bracing himself for what he knows is coming.

You tilt your head, your gaze piercing. “Let me guess—you don’t want things to get complicated?”

Dain’s silence is deafening. Because what is there to say?

That he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? That he lay awake last night, long after you had fallen asleep, memorizing the way you felt against him, knowing it was the first and last time he would allow himself to have you?

That this—you two—are not allowed to exist?

That if he lets himself be selfish, he’s not just breaking a rule, he’s risking the integrity of the entire squad?

Because if they see him favoring you, even once—if they sense even a flicker of personal attachment—then it will spread. And he can’t afford that.

He won’t let himself afford that.

So he forces the words out, even as they taste like poison on his tongue.

“It was a mistake.”

—

The words strike you like a slap to the face.

You suck in a breath, the sting spreading through you like fire. But you don’t show it. You won’t show him the damage. You won’t let him see how much he’s hurt you.

You laugh, a hollow, bitter sound that echoes in the quiet space between you. “I see.” You nod, as if everything is suddenly so clear, so painfully obvious. “So that’s it? You get to walk away like nothing happened, and I’m supposed to just fall in line?”

His face is unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes—they give him away. There’s something there. A flicker of guilt, of regret. But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to collapse. “Fine,” you say, your voice steady, cold. You take a step back, your hands trembling, but you keep your eyes locked on him, refusing to let him look away. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it easy for you.” You straighten, lifting your chin. “We’ll go back to the way things were. Back to friends. Back to nothing.”

You make to turn away, but your voice catches on the last words. “So, yeah. Maybe we were never meant to be anything more than… a mistake.”

You turn on your heel, walking away, each step filled with a strength you don’t feel, but have no choice but to show.

—

He watches you walk away, and with each step you take, something inside him cracks just a little bit more.

Every part of him wants to chase you, to stop you, to beg you to stay. To make things right. To fix it.

But he doesn’t move. He can’t.

He watches you leave because this is what he deserves. This is what he has to do.

It was a mistake. He tells himself that over and over, but it doesn’t make it easier.

Discipline. Rules. Order.

But why does it feel like he’s lost everything?

Dain exhales sharply, his hands clenching at his sides. He keeps his eyes on your retreating figure, but every part of him is screaming. Why does it hurt so much?

For all of his rule following, he feels like he just broke the most important rule of them all.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Relic II - Ridoc Gamlyn

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader

you can find the first part here

word count: 2,7 k

warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+

girlies i just had to write it the same day i wrote the first part 🫣 couldnt keep yall waiting queens

requests are open!!

“Oh, princess,” he murmured, eyes burning into yours. “I wasn’t playing.”

The words hung between you, heavy and unspoken. For the first time, Ridoc wasn't hiding behind his usual bravado. He was raw, exposed, and it made your pulse race in a way you couldn't ignore.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a smirk. "Prove it."

Something shifted in his expression - a flicker of heat, of hunger. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

"You're dangerous," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"You keep saying that," you murmured, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "But I don't think you mind."

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name. Then, without warning, he stepped back, his hand slipping from your waist.

You blinked, confused, but before you could say anything, he raised his hand with concentration, a faint shimmer of magic flickering at his fingertips. With a sharp motion, he gestured toward the door, and you heard the distinct click of the lock sliding into place. Of course he was the first of you two to master lesser magic.

"Ridoc-" you started, but he cut you off with a look.

"Sound shield," he said, his voice rough. "No one's getting in. No one's hearing us."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Confident, aren't you?"

He stepped closer again, his gaze never leaving yours. "You asked me to prove it. So let me prove it."

His hands found your waist again, pulling you against him. This time, there was no hesitation, no teasing. His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, and you responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his messy hair as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

The world around you faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you, the heat of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips. His hands roamed over your back, tracing the edges of your relic through the fabric of your tunic, and you shivered at the touch.

"Ridoc," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him. His name came out as a whisper, a plea, a demand - all at once. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and his breath was ragged as he stared down at you. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

"You're killing me," he murmured, his voice rough, strained. His lips brushed against yours again, not quite a kiss, just the faintest touch that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been killing me since the moment I saw you."

You smirked, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging lightly to tilt his head back.

"And yet, you're still here."

He groaned, low and deep, the sound vibrating through you. "Because I'm an idiot," he said and you were mesmerised by the way his tan throat bobbed with his words. "Because I can't stay away from you, no matter how hard I try."

His hands slid under the hem of your tunic, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your lower back, tracing the edges of your relic. You gasped, arching into him as his touch sent sparks shooting through your veins.

His lips found yours again, swallowing the sound as he kissed you deeply, hungrily, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

"Ridoc," you breathed again, your voice trembling this time, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough, his hands stilling on your skin. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

You didn't. Instead, you reached, like by a magnetic pull, to touch his skin, warm and damp with sweat, and you couldn't resist running your hands over the hard planes of his muscles, feeling the way they tensed under your touch.

"You're not stopping," you said, your voice low, teasing, as your fingers traced the lines of his abdomen.

Ridoc's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as your hands explored him. His eyes darkened, the usual playful glint replaced by something far more intense, something that made your stomach twist with anticipation.

"No," he murmured, his voice rough, "I'm not stopping."

His hands slid around to the front of your tunic, fingers deftly working at the laces. You didn't protest, didn't even think to. The air between you was electric, charged with a tension that had been building for weeks, months, maybe even since the moment you'd first met.

The fabric fell away, pooling at your feet, your breasts now only covered with a bandage. Ridoc's hand turned you slightly around as his gaze dropped to your relic, his breath catching as he took in the intricate design. He knelt on the mat as his fingers traced the edges of the dragon's wings, his touch feather-light but searing against your skin.

"Gods," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "It's even more beautiful than I remembered."

“Still not getting the whole picture, are you?” you smirked down at him over your shoulder, taking in his expression full of wonder and fire.

“Backshots with this on your body must be an otherworldly experience.” he laughed and the words sent a thrill through you, the heat rising in your cheeks.

Ridoc's hands slid down your sides, his touch firm and possessive, as he rose and pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding.

You laughed softly, the sound breathless and tinged with disbelief. "Is that all you can think about? Backshots?"

Ridoc's lips curved into that infuriating smirk, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes - something raw and unguarded. "Not all," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But it's definitely up there."

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way your breath hitched as his hands slid around to your front, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your pants. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him, your body betraying the nonchalance you were trying to project.

"Ridoc," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're impossible."

"And yet," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear, "you're still here."

You shivered, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as his fingers worked at the laces of your pants. The air between you was thick with tension and want.

When your pants finally gathered at your feet and he took off the bandage covering your chest, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the training hall, Ridoc's breath caught. His hands stilled on your hips, his gaze raking over your body with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"Gods," he breathed, his voice rough with awe. "You're... incredible."

You smirked, though your heart was pounding in your chest. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

Ridoc laughed softly as hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer.

"Good," he murmured, his voice low and rough, "because I plan to go everywhere with you."

He backed you up against the wall, his body pressing into yours, pinning you in place as his lips trailed down your chest, teasing your nipples with that skilfull tongue of his that left you a moaning mess.

Your hands found the waistband of his trousers, fumbling with the laces until they gave way, and then you were pushing them down, your fingers brushing against the hard length of him. He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained. "You're going to be the death of me."

You smirked, your thumb brushing over the tip of him, and he shuddered, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Less talking," you said, your other hand gripping his balls gently, which obviously drove him insane. "More doing."

He groaned, low and deep, but he didn't argue. Hands sliding down to grip your thighs, he lifted you effortlessly and pinned you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your breath hitching as he pressed against you, the heat of him sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You were suddenly breathless as he took matters into his own hands. The feel of him, going back and forth between the folds of your wetness made you whimper, your head thrown back against the wall as you arched into his touch. His mouth quickly found your nipple and your eyes rolled into the back of your head in response.

“Ridoc,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his muscular shoulders.

“Yes, princess?” he asked and pulled away from your chest, the cold air making you grind against his member even harder.

“I want you to stop messing around and fuck me.”

His lips curved into a smirk, but there was a heat in his eyes that made your stomach twist with anticipation. "As you wish, princess."

He lifted you slightly, adjusting your position, and then he was sliding into you, slow and deliberate, giving you time to adjust to the feel of him. You gasped, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he filled you, and he groaned, low and deep, the sound vibrating through you.

"Fuck," he muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to catch your breath. "You feel incredible."

You smiled, your hands sliding down to grip his hips. "Less talking," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "More moving."

He chuckled, low and deep, but didn't argue. His hands tightened on your hips, and then he was moving, slow and deliberate at first, but quickly building to a relentless pace that left you breathless. Your back pressed against the cool stone, and you gasped as his lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin and you knew his doing would leave visible marks the next day. Not that you really cared, now that he was pounding into you.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his way down your neck to your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as he thrust into you, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"Ridoc," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "Don't stop."

He groaned, his breath hot against your skin as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. "I can't stop now, princess. Not when I have you like this," he muttered, voice rough with desire.

You could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust, each touch, each whispered word. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your desire.

"Ridoc," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I'm close."

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours as he continued to move, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Me too," he muttered, his voice strained. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You cried out, your body arching into his as the waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Rido groaned, his body shuddering as he followed you over the edge, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrust into you one last time, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he collapsed against you, his forehead resting against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the soft rustle of your breathing, the occasional flicker of the torchlight casting shadows across the room.

Finally, Ridoc pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"I meant it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're incredible."

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You're not so bad yourself," you whispered, your voice filled with affection.

Ridoc chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of the training hall. His hands slid up your sides, his touch gentle now, almost reverent, as he held you close. The intensity of the moment had shifted, the raw passion giving way to something softer, something deeper.

"You know," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead, "this changes things. Many things. Probably all things."

You tilted your head to look at him, your fingers still tracing the contours of his face. "Does it?" you asked, your voice quiet, teasing. "Because it feels like we've been heading here for a while now."

He smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. "Maybe," he admitted. "But now... now there's no going back."

You studied him for a moment, the way his expression softened, the way his hands lingered on your skin like he was afraid you might disappear. "Do you want to go back?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ridoc's gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, he didn't answer. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm, resolute. "I don't want to go back. I just... I need you to know that this isn't just some game to me. Not anymore."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest, a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying. "It's not a game for me either," you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He nodded, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you closer. "Good," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tender, almost hesitant. "Because I don't think I could walk away from you now, even if I wanted to."

You smiled against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, slow and deep. The world outside the training hall faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, the flickering torchlight casting shadows on the walls around you.

When you finally pulled back, Ridoc rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "what now?"

You laughed softly, the sound light and carefree. "Now," you said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, "we figure it out. Together."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a glimpse of the man behind the bravado - the man who was just as vulnerable, just as unsure, as you were. And in that moment, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together.

"Together," he agreed, his voice filled with a quiet determination. And as he kissed you again, slow and sweet, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, everything was going to be alright.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Relic - Ridoc Gamlyn

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader

you can find the second part here

word count: 2,3 k

warnings: not much, broken nose, blood

requests are open!!

Ever since meeting you, Ridoc couldn’t stop flirting with you. It wasn’t just the way your eyes flashed with irritation every time he did, or the sharp, unimpressed edge to your voice when you shot him down. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name - a pull that drew the words from his mouth before he could think twice.

It became a game, one he was determined to win.

“Where’s your relic, princess?” Ridoc had asked you right after Threshing, grinning as he slung an arm over your shoulders like he belonged there. His touch was warm, his breath brushing against your ear as he leaned in just a little too close.

You rolled your eyes, shrugging him off with a sharp motion. “Somewhere you’ll never see it, Ridoc.”

His smirk widened, his mind already racing with possibilities. “Challenge accepted.”

***

When the sparring assignments were called, Ridoc’s grin was immediate. Your name next to his? Perfect. He watched you step onto the mat, head high, shoulders squared, exuding the same quiet fire that made his blood hum.

“You want me to go easy on you?” he asked, tone dripping with mock concern.

Your nostrils flared. Jaw tightened. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“No answer?” he taunted. “Guess that means-”

Your fist was already flying.

Ridoc barely dodged, laughing as he slid out of range. “Someone’s got a temper today.”

You didn’t respond, just pressed forward, fast and relentless. But you were too focused on him, on that cocky grin, on wiping it off his face. You missed the shift in his stance.

A second later, you hit the mat, hard.

Air rushed from your lungs as Ridoc pinned you effortlessly, his weight holding you down, his hands locking yours above your head. His breath was warm against your skin, far too close.

“You fucker,” you growled, twisting beneath him.

He just laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You reacted before you could think - legs shifting, body twisting, using his own weight against him. And then-

Crack.

The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking filled the hall. Blood splattered onto the mat as Ridoc reeled back, dazed, just long enough for you to slam your elbow into his ribs and throw him off you completely.

You scrambled to your feet, chest heaving, watching as he groaned, pressing a hand to his face.

“I yield,” he muttered, voice oddly quiet.

You frowned. That was… unusual. Ridoc never backed down so easily.

It wasn’t until later, sitting next to Rhiannon, that you noticed him still staring. Not at you.

At your back.

“What’s his problem?” you murmured, wiping sweat from your brow.

Rhiannon followed your gaze, then smirked. “Oh, nothing. Except the fact that he just saw your relic.”

Your stomach dropped.

“He couldn’t stop staring,” she added, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Like he forgot how to breathe.”

***

Ridoc was losing his mind.

That gods-damned relic.

He hadn’t meant to look. Hadn’t planned on it. But when your tunic had ridden up in the fight, revealing a part of the intricate dragon inked into your skin, its wings stretching just above the dimples of your lower back, his brain had short-circuited.

It was mesmerizing.

Beautiful.

And now he was fucked.

***

The change was immediate.

Gone was the relentless teasing, the insufferable cocky grins, the way Ridoc seemed to thrive on getting under your skin. Gone was the flirtation that used to make your blood boil, the easy arrogance with which he’d sling an arm over your shoulders or lean in too close, just to watch you bristle.

Instead, Ridoc became… awkward.

It wasn’t subtle, either. He tripped over his words when you were near, his usual confidence fractured into something hesitant, unsure. At first, you barely noticed. You were too busy enjoying the silence, relieved that - for once - he wasn’t running his mouth. You told yourself it was a blessing. That you could finally exist without the constant need to verbally spar with him.

But as the days passed, his behavior became impossible to ignore.

He barely met your gaze, and when he did, it was fleeting - just a flicker of eye contact before he was suddenly fascinated with the floor, the ceiling, the gods-damned weather. His cheeks flushed when you spoke to him, his ears burned red when you caught him staring, and worst of all? He ran.

Every time you entered a room, Ridoc found an excuse to leave it. If he couldn’t escape, he suddenly became very interested in whatever conversation was happening across the room. You’d never seen him so quiet before, and it wasn’t a good look on him.

It was bizarre.

“What’s going on with Ridoc?” you finally asked Rhiannon one evening as you sat together in the commons. He’d just all but fled when you entered about an hour ago, muttering something about having somewhere to be, despite the fact that you both knew he didn’t.

Rhiannon smirked over the rim of her cup, a knowing glint in her eye. “Weird how?”

You gestured vaguely, frustration creeping into your voice. “He’s not being himself. No flirting, no stupid comments. He won’t even look at me for longer than two seconds.”

She hummed thoughtfully, but you didn’t miss the way her smirk deepened.

You narrowed your eyes. “Rhiannon.”

She took an infuriatingly slow sip, dragging out the moment just to test your patience. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” you snapped.

With an exaggerated sigh, she leaned forward, voice dripping with amusement. “He’s embarrassed, princess.” She mimicked Ridoc’s favorite nickname for you, and you scowled. “You rattled him.”

You scoffed. “By punching him? I’ve done that before. He never cared.”

She shook her head. “Not the punch. The relic.”

Your breath caught.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to ignore the sudden warmth creeping up your neck. “What about it?”

Rhiannon’s smirk widened, delighting in your reaction. “Oh, come on. He couldn’t stop staring at it. You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. I don’t think he’s recovered.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” she mused, swirling her drink. “He’s been insufferable since the moment he met you, and suddenly, he’s quiet, awkward, nervous. It’s almost like - oh, I don’t know - seeing your relic made him realize something.”

You hesitated. “…Realize what?”

“That he’s down bad for you.”

You scoffed. “That’s-”

“Ridoc!” Rhiannon called suddenly, and you barely had time to react before he stopped mid-step in the hallway, looking like a deer caught in torchlight.

You turned just in time to see him freeze, eyes darting between you and Rhiannon like he was already calculating his escape. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Ridoc,” Rhiannon said, all too innocent. “What do you think about our dear friend’s relic?”

His eyes widened. “I- uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze snapping to the floor. “It’s… cool?”

Rhiannon snorted. “Just ‘cool’?”

Ridoc shot her a withering glare. “Very cool.”

You folded your arms. “That’s all you have to say?”

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “What else am I supposed to say?”

Rhiannon opened her mouth, but you shot her a warning look before turning back to him. “Nothing, apparently.”

“Great,” he said quickly. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Then, before you could say another word, he turned and practically fled.

You stared after him, brow furrowed.

“That was…”

“Pathetic?” Rhiannon offered.

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

She leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Told you.”

You sat there for a long moment, mind racing. Rhiannon, of course, was thriving off your confusion. She draped herself across the couch dramatically.

“You have to talk to him,” she said, barely containing her laughter.

You shot her a glare. “Why? He’s the one acting weird.”

“You did break his nose,” she pointed out.

“And?”

“And maybe - just maybe - seeing your relic did something to his brain.” She poked your temple. “Scrambled it. That boy was feral over you, and now he can barely form a sentence. I think it scared him.”

You frowned. “That makes no sense.”

“Exactly. So go ask him what his deal is before I die from secondhand embarrassment.”

***

You found him exactly where you expected - alone in the training hall, striking at a dummy like it had personally offended him. His movements were sharp, relentless, every hit carrying the weight of frustration he refused to voice. His shirt lay discarded on a nearby bench, leaving his sweat-slicked skin illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Muscles flexed with every controlled motion, his breath ragged, measured.

For a moment, you just watched. You told yourself you were studying his form, analyzing his technique. But you knew better. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved - something reckless in the sharp set of his jaw, the tension riding his shoulders like a burden he couldn’t shake.

Then, with a sharp inhale, you forced yourself to move.

You stepped onto the mat, making sure your boots hit the ground loud enough for him to hear. “Alright, what’s your problem?”

Ridoc startled - actually startled - and nearly lost his balance mid-strike. He recovered fast, whirling around to face you, but the brief lapse was all the confirmation you needed. His expression flickered between emotions too quickly to track - surprise, guilt, something dangerously close to panic - before he forced it all down and settled on a scowl.

“I don’t have a problem,” he muttered.

You folded your arms, leveling him with a look. “Bullshit.”

His jaw tensed.

“You won’t even look at me,” you pressed.

“I am looking at you,” he shot back, but it wasn’t convincing - not when his gaze barely met yours before flicking away again.

“Barely.” You took a step closer, watching the way his shoulders squared, like he was bracing for impact. “And before you come up with another dumb excuse, this started after our last sparring match.”

Ridoc didn’t answer, but the way his hand twitched at his side betrayed him.

You narrowed your eyes. “What about my relic freaked you out so much?”

That hit its mark. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and for the first time in a long time, Ridoc looked… hesitant. His usual bravado was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by something raw.

“I- it didn’t freak me out,” he muttered, though the words lacked conviction.

You took another step. “Then why have you been acting so weird?”

His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Because I-” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “It’s complicated, alright?”

You tilted your head, voice softening. “Then uncomplicate it.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, tension thrumming through every inch of him. His lips parted like he was about to deny you again, but then he shut his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. When he finally looked at you, something had cracked.

“I didn’t expect it,” he admitted, voice low. “I thought- I don’t know what I thought, but not that.”

You frowned. “Not what?”

His jaw flexed. “Not something that made my brain short-circuit, okay?” The frustration in his tone wasn’t directed at you - it was at himself. Like he was furious for feeling this way at all.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “So let me get this straight,” you said, voice quiet, teasing. “You’ve spent months getting on my nerves, flirting just to piss me off, and the one thing that finally shuts you up is seeing my relic?”

Ridoc scoffed, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I wouldn’t say shut me up-”

“You avoided me.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I needed time.”

“To what?” You stepped even closer now, closing the last bit of distance between you. His breath hitched. You saw the way his fingers twitched, like he was resisting the urge to reach for you.

“To process,” he muttered.

Your gaze flicked over his face, drinking in every tell, every faltering breath. “Process what, Ridoc?”

He looked away, like he didn’t want to answer. But then, finally, his jaw tightened, and he forced himself to meet your eyes.

“That I wasn’t just flirting,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe I wasn’t just pushing your buttons for fun. That maybe I wanted you to push back.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “That maybe I wanted to lose.”

The words sent a sharp thrill through you.

Ridoc was always relentless - always pushing, always pressing - but right now, he was the one standing still. Waiting.

You let the silence stretch, let him feel it. Then, finally, you leaned in just enough that your lips almost brushed his ear.

“If you wanted to see my relic that badly,” you murmured, “you could’ve just asked.”

His breath stuttered. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was fighting the impulse to close the distance between you.

“You-” He stopped, exhaling harshly. “You’re dangerous.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again, smirking. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a taste of your own game?”

Something shifted in his expression. The tension between you thickened, electric, pulling tight like a wire about to snap.

And then, before you could react, his fingers brushed against your waist - light, fleeting, but enough to make your breath catch. His voice was lower than you’d ever heard it when he finally answered.

“Oh, princess,” he murmured, eyes burning into yours. “I wasn’t playing.”

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Crossing the line - Dain Aetos

Dain Aetos x reader

word count: 4,6 k

trigger warning: mild onyx storm spoilers, NSFW, SMUT, 18+

requests are open!! i’m currently reading onyx storm and i’m obsessed with nearly everyone so shoot

Ever since entering the rider’s quadrant, you’d made it your personal mission to get under Dain Aetos’ skin. There was something about the way he carried himself - so composed, so infuriatingly perfect - that made you want to crack that facade wide open. Being in the same squad only gave you more opportunities to push his buttons. You told yourself it was just for fun, that you didn’t care about the way his jaw tightened when you teased him or the way his eyes flashed with something he couldn’t quite hide. But deep down, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were trying to see if there was more to him than the rule-following, by-the-book cadet everyone thought he was.

But later on, your comments grew to be more of a joke than genuine criticism and both you and Dain made it a part of your routine. Halfway through your second year, your teasing remarks had taken on a different tone - lighter, flirtier, though neither of you acknowledged it. You told yourself it was just a game, a way to keep things interesting. But sometimes, when his eyes met yours across the mess hall or during training, you wondered if there was something more behind his sharp retorts and smirks. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one who noticed the way the air between you seemed to crackle with something you couldn’t quite name.

But during your third year, you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under your wingleader’s eyes nor the lack of humour in his retorts. You’d been there when his father disowned him. The words had echoed through the room, sharp and final, like the crack of a whip. You’d seen the way Dain’s shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw clenched as if he were holding back a storm of emotions. But what struck you most was the way his eyes - usually so full of fire and determination - had gone hollow, as if a part of him had been extinguished. Your heart ached for him, though you’d never admit it out loud. For all the times you’d teased him, you’d never wanted to see him broken.

Somehow, you found yourself standing in front of the door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest as you paced back and forth. What the hell were you doing? This was Dain Aetos, the man who’d spent three years glaring at you like you were the bane of his existence. And yet, here you were, holding a bottle of wine like some kind of peace offering. You took a deep breath, your knuckles hovering over the door. Before you could second-guess yourself, you knocked - three sharp raps that echoed down the empty hallway. You heard those soft but tired steps coming closer and closer until the door opened and your eyes met his, their sandy-brown irises lacking their usual spark.

“Hey,” Dain said, leaning against the door frame in a poor imitation of nonchalance. But you saw right through him. The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, and the usual sharpness in his gaze was dulled by exhaustion. His brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his posture, though carefully casual, betrayed the weight he was carrying.

“Thought you could use some company,” you said, holding up the bottle of wine with a grin. “And before you say no, remember that I’m the only person in this quadrant who can put up with your brooding. Well, besides your paperwork, but I’m way more fun.”

Dain eyed the bottle suspiciously, his brow furrowing as if trying to decipher your motives. But you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. For once, he didn’t have the energy to push you away or fire off one of his usual sharp retorts. Instead, he glanced down the hallway, as if checking to make sure no one was watching, and then stepped aside to let you in. You didn’t need to say it out loud - you’d already won.

You’d never seen his room before, but it was exactly what you expected: barren walls, a simple bed, an armoire, a chair and a table buried under piles of paperwork and books. The sight made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just a room - it was a reflection of him. Orderly, functional, and painfully lonely. The guilt in your heart grew heavier. Had you been so focused on breaking his walls that you’d failed to notice how much he was already carrying?

Dain sat down back in his chair and started cleaning the surface of the table, to no avail. You could see the nervousness creeping into him. When was the last time he had a girl in his room? You forced yourself to not think about such nonsense.

You perched on the edge of his bed, the mattress firm beneath you, and took a swig of wine. The rich, tangy flavor grounded you as you watched him shuffle papers aimlessly. The room smelled faintly of leather and ink, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over his tired face. You fidgeted with the bottle, unsure what to do with your hands - or your thoughts. Upon noticing the empty glass on the table you walked over and filled it to the rim, sensing the way Dain was looking at you. You ignored the heat of his body and stalked back to the bed, the distance between you two palpable.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Dain asked, his voice low and weary. He kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, but you noticed the way his hand stilled, the pen hovering mid-sentence.

You hesitated, the question hanging in the air between you. Why were you here? To tease him? To comfort him? Or because, despite all your jabs and jokes, you couldn’t stand to see him like this - broken and alone.

“So you wouldn’t be so lonesome, wingleader,” you teased, smirking as you held up the wine bottle. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t drown in all this paperwork. I hear it’s bad for your health.” To your delight, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“How was your day?” he asked, still not looking at you. As surprised as you were, you didn’t comment when he took a sip of his wine. Oh, he must be actually going crazy.

“Sucked. Yours?”

“Same.”

You chuckled, laying down on the bed. The blanket smelled exactly like him.

“I could help you out with something,” you pointed to the piles of books.

“No need, thanks.”

“You scared I would mess something up, wingleader?”

“Well, don’t you always?” he jabbed back and you pretended to be offended by his words, though on the inside you couldn’t be happier he was turning back to his normal self.

“Excuse me? Never.”

Dain looked over his shoulder at you and lifted his brows.

“If you say so.”

With a scowl, you turned away from him.

For an hour, you kept each other quiet company, the only sounds being papers turning, pen scribbling and fire cracking in the hearth. You pretended you didn’t notice how Dain stole glances at you, the same way he pretended he didn’t see you looking at him. He looked damn perfect in this light.

So you two just drank, too much of cowards to actually acknowledge the chemistry between you two that has been growing ever since you first met.

When his glass was empty, you were there to fill it again. Silently, you watched with interest the effect alcohol had on him. Gods, had he ever drunk before? You could see his reddened cheeks, how he leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He looked so unguarded and beautiful.

To speak for yourself, the wine made you drop your defenses. When you saw his perfectly messed up hair, you couldn’t help but get up and go touch it. His eyes opened at your touch and Dain just stared up at you as you sunk your fingers in his silky hair.

“You have pretty hair,” you mumbled, blush creeping up your cheeks. What the fuck were you doing? He was your wingleader and the fact that you two had flirted for two years changed nothing.

“Really?” he whispered. You watched his tan throat, the soft skin as it bobbed when he swallowed.

“Mhm…” you hummed softly, moving your fingers to his temples, then caressing his sharp cheekbones. Slowly, you moved to touch those gods' damned lips.

Suddenly, his hands shot up so fast as he gripped your wrists. You could do nothing but stare at him, hurt flashing across your features.

“What are we doing?” Dain asked, unguarded confusion etched into his face.

“What we should have done a long time ago.” You knew he was bluffing. The grip he had on your wrists disappeared the second you kissed him.

After a moment of hesitation, you felt his body melt. With one arm he lifted you on his lap, the other holding your face as he caressed your neck, kissing you with intensity you never even thought of, his beard scraping your already sensitive skin. You felt his warm hand splayed on your hip, his fingers moving in circular motions up your waist. You couldn’t help but shudder at his touch.

For a second, Dain pulled away. “Is this fine?” he asked quietly, misunderstanding your shiver. Immediately, you missed the heat of his powerful body.

“Yes.” you said, breathless. “More than fine, actually.” you grinned and that blissful smile on his face made you melt. His hand gripped your hair as he pulled you close again, his lips trailing a path down the side of your throat. A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips and you heard Dain groan into your skin.

You needed him. For almost two years, you were saving the spot in your bed just for him, even though you would never admit it out loud. Buckling your hips, you felt his bulge rub against you. The sweet ache in your lower belly grew, as did your body’s need for this man.

“Dain,” you whispered, moving against him again. Dain whimpered softly, his forehead resting between your breasts while his hands explored your ass and waist.

“Yes, cadet?” you felt him smiling into your skin. Letting out a huffed laugh, you reached for the hem of his tight black tunic and tried to pull it off his toned torso. Only with his help did you finally shrug it off of him.

You’ve seen him shirtless many times before but now you could finally touch those muscles, visible with his every move.

“Oh, nothing important, wingleader. Just wanted to ask if you put a sound shield up or if you want the whole quadrant to hear me scream your name.” You purred into his ear.

He immediately froze and you knew you would never forget the look he gave you. But then he smirked, that gods’ damned cocky smirk and you melted right there and then.

“It’s up. If you scream my name, I would prefer it to be just for me, love.”

Dain gripped your hips firmly, making your bodies grind against each other harder. With a swallowed gasp of pleasure you caressed his muscular shoulders, pecs and biceps, admiring the bulging veins on his arms. Dain trembled under your touch while soft whimpers escaped his wickedly perfect lips. Oh, how you loved to see him like this.

"Guess I finally found a way to break your precious rules, wingleader." you smirked. “Who would’ve guessed that all it takes is just a pretty face.”

“It’s probably past curfew, pretty face or not,” Dain breathed out and you stopped, giving him an unbelievable look. “I’m kidding, Y/N.” he laughed and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“I hope I make you think of other things than curfew.” you smirked at him, caressing the skin of his torso right above his buckle.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Dain asked. You shook your head and he leaned closer, his scent overpowering you as he whispered in your ear: “I’m thinking about bending you over this table and making you fucking melt.”

A delicious shiver ran down your spine at his words as heat pooled low in your belly. You had pushed and teased him for years, but never had you imagined Dain Aetos would ever say something like that—to you, no less. To anyone, really. Was it the wine? It must have been.

“Is that so?” you murmured, tilting your head back slightly as his lips traced a slow path along the curve of your throat. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your flesh as if he was barely restraining himself.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his breath warm against your skin. “But something tells me you wouldn’t make it that easy for me.”

You smirked, reaching for his belt, but he caught your wrists again, this time with a firm yet careful grip. His sandy-brown eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering within them. At least their spark was back.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. But you also saw the question in his face.

Your heart thudded against your ribs. This was Dain—your wingleader, your rival, your… friend? No, you had crossed that line long ago, hadn’t you? This moment had been simmering between you two for years, an unspoken tension in every sharp remark, every stolen glance, every touch that lasted a second too long.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your hands slipping free from his hold to cup his face. His stubble scratched against your palms, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

"Do your worst," you whispered, your voice trembling despite your bravado.

Dain froze, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn't, he exhaled sharply, a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmured, his voice low.

"Then show me," you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest.

Dain exhaled sharply, something in him snapping. In an instant, he stood, lifting you effortlessly onto the table, sending books and papers scattering to the floor. You barely had a moment to laugh before his lips crashed against yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Gods, you had wanted this.

And by the way Dain groaned into your mouth, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every inch of you, you knew he had wanted it too.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with heat and the sound of your mingled breaths. Dain's hands were everywhere - tangling in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs-and you couldn't get enough of him. His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving marks you knew you'd have to hide later. You didn't care. Let the whole quadrant see. Let them know that Dain Aetos, the stoic, rule-following wingleader, had finally let his walls crumble - for you.

"Dain," you gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed your collarbone. His name felt like a prayer on your lips, and he responded with a low growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

"You've been driving me insane for years," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and strained. "Every damn comment, every smirk, every time you looked at me like you knew exactly what you were doing... I wanted to hate you for it."

You laughed breathlessly, your fingers threading through his hair. "Hate me? Really?"

"Yes," he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and you could see the truth in them. "But I couldn't. Not when you were the only one who ever made me feel... alive."

Your heart stuttered at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless. Dain Aetos, the man who always seemed so composed, so in control, was laying himself bare before you. And it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I-"

He cut you off with a kiss, deep and desperate, as if he couldn't bear to hear what you were about to say. Maybe he was afraid it would break the spell, shatter the fragile moment you'd built between you. Or maybe he just didn't want to waste another second talking when he could be showing you exactly how he felt.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took you in. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've spent years trying not to look at you like this," he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite grasp. "I don't know how l managed to keep my hands off you for so long."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You're not doing a very good job of keeping them off me now," you teased, your voice laced with amusement.

Dain chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Good," he said, his hands sliding up to cup your face. "Because I don't plan on stopping."

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to kiss and tease your skin. His hands moved lower, undoing the fastenings of your pants and sliding them down your legs. You kicked them off, your heart racing as he looked at you, his eyes filled with desire as he caressed your thighs.

You arched into his touch, your fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He groaned against your mouth, his hips pressing into yours as you finally freed him from the confines of his pants.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed you back onto the table. You laughed, the sound breathless and wild, as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart.

A gasp escaped your throat as his lips trailed down your chest, his tongue teasing your breasts. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he smirked, that infuriating, cocky smirk that had driven you crazy for years, and you knew there was no turning back.

You gasped as his mouth found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his teeth grazing lightly before he kissed his way higher. The scratch of his stubble against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and the warmth of his breath made your pulse race. You could smell the faint scent of wine on him, mingling with the earthy aroma of leather and sweat that clung to his skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue flicked against you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it was no use. Dain knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn't going to stop until you were completely undone.

"Dain," you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth as the pressure built inside you. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. And then, with one final flick of his tongue, you shattered, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Dain didn't give you a moment to recover. His hands gripped your hips again as he changed his position, bending you over the table - just like he promised.

His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, sending shivers down your body. You could feel the heat of him pressing against you, his arousal evident as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back.

"Dain," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. His name felt like a plea, a prayer, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through your entire being.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted this," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His hands slid up your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before settling on your shoulders. He pressed you down gently but firmly, your chest meeting the cool surface of the table as he positioned himself behind you.

You gasped as you felt him, hard and eager, pressing against you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this - wanted him - more than anything.

"Don't you dare," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. Dain laughed, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

"Good," he said, his voice low. And then he was pushing into you, slowly, deliberately, giving you time to adjust to the feel of him. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway, a soft, desperate sound that only seemed to spur him on.

Dain groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he buried himself to the hilt. For a moment, he stayed still, his forehead resting against your back as he fought for control. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled with the effort of holding back.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice breaking. You needed him to move, to give you the release you so desperately craved. And then he did, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface of the table as Dain set a relentless pace. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building the pressure inside you until you thought you might explode.

"You feel so good," Dain growled, his voice strained. His hands moved from your hips to your shoulders, pulling you up so your back was pressed against his chest. His lips found your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as he continued to move inside you.

You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you turned your head to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Dain groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering as he lost himself in the feel of you.

"Y/N," he gasped, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your neck. "I'm close."

"Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

Dain's hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. You cried out, your body tightening around him as pleasure ripped through you.

Dain followed you over the edge, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside you. He held you tightly, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he rode out the waves of his release.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft crackling of the fire and the sound of your mingled breaths. He scooped you into his arms and moved you to his bed. Dain's arms were wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the faint thud of his heartbeat, and the way his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of moments ago, and yet it felt just as profound.

For years, you’d teased him, pushed him, and now… now you were here, in his arms, wondering if you’d crossed a line you could never uncross.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary when the weight of what had just happened hung so palpably in the air. But eventually, Dain broke the silence, his voice low and rough, yet softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Y/N," he began, his fingers stilling on your arm. "This... changes everything."

You turned slightly in his arms, enough to meet his gaze. His sandy-brown eyes were darker now, the usual sharpness softened by something you couldn't quite name. Vulnerability, maybe. Or fear. You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and felt him lean into your touch.

"I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "But maybe it's a change we both needed."

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh, and pulled you closer. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, you just breathed together, the rhythm steady and grounding.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "How to be... this. With you."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words. This was Dain - your wingleader, your rival, the man who always seemed so unshakable - laid bare before you. And it was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

"You don't have to figure it out right now," you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "We can take it one day at a time. One moment at a time."

He nodded, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring your words. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of that familiar spark, the one you'd missed so much. "You always know what to say, don't you?" he murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you teased, grinning when he rolled his eyes. But the smile he gave you in return was genuine, and it made your chest tighten.

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. The world outside - the quadrant, the rules, the expectations - felt far away, like it couldn't touch you here. And maybe, just for tonight, it couldn't.

But as the fire began to die down and the room grew cooler, reality started to creep back in. You felt Dain shift beside you, his hand tightening around yours.

"We should probably get some sleep," he said reluctantly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Tomorrow's going to be... complicated."

You nodded, though the thought of leaving his arms was almost unbearable. "Yeah," you agreed quietly. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch. It wasn't just desire or affection - it was trust. And maybe, just maybe, something more.

"Together," he echoed, his voice firm despite the weariness in it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Get some rest, Y/N. I'll be here when you wake up."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. As you settled back into the bed, his arms wrapping around you once more, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known in years. This wasn't the end of something - it was the beginning. And whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you'd face them together.

Because Dain Aetos was no longer just your wingleader, your rival, or your friend. He was yours, and you were his. And nothing would ever be the same again.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

hi !! how about jun ho x reader where on halloween in s2 when he was supposed to be helping gi-hun and the others track down the front man, he finds reader is actually at the bar partying with friends and is super drunk getting hit on and touched by someone else so he has to decide between helping gi-hun or reader??

Lucky

Hwang Jun-ho x reader

oh, I loved writing this! I feel like it’s so refreshing to read a sg fanfic not taking place in the games, hope you like it as much as I do!

Word count: 0,7k

Warnings: none

requests are open!

Nothing was going as planned. Not only was he not supposed to enter the bar at all but Jun-ho also didn’t expect you to be there. Just when he was frantically trying to wake up his knocked out colleague at the bar, he saw you, neon lights reflecting in your hair, eyes dreamily squinted, hips swinging to the beat.

It’s been a while since you two saw each other. About three years. But Jun-ho felt the wound of your breakup more than ever as he was staring at you longingly, seeing you so free and happy. That’s what he wanted you to be. But a part of him, a stupid and selfish part, was still yearning for your company.

When Jun-ho began the search for his brother In-ho, he didn’t want to bother you with it at all. All he needed was your warm embrace when he got back home from another useless day of searching. But as things got more serious, he knew there were only two ways how to handle your relationship - either endanger you but have you by his side through it all or ensure your safety by letting you go.

And although he sometimes still woke up at night, scared and alone, reaching for the ghost of your hand, he knew he did the right thing. As much as it was killing him.

His phone vibrated - Gi-hun’s location changed to the alleyway next to the bar. With a sigh, Jun-ho was about to spare you a last look before turning away but he froze in place, blood turning cold. That was a stranger’s arm around your waist. And although you looked drunk enough, the tension in your body seemed to scream that the man definitely wasn’t your boyfriend.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jun-ho turned off his intercom and rolled up his sleeves as he pushed his way through the crowd. Without a thought, he gripped the guy’s collar, tearing him off of you.

“Hey!!” he screamed angrily, hands forming into fists. Before he got the opportunity to fight him, Jun-ho punched him in the throat, feeling satisfied as the man fell on the ground, wheezing for air while grasping his neck.

You just stared at Jun-ho, shock visible in your features.

“Jun-ho?” you whispered, the sound lost to the music. He could only stare at how your lips mouthed his name, something he never thought he would behold again.

“Y/N,” he mouthed back, a sad smile forming on his lips. He felt tears welling behind his eyes but fought hard to not let you see them. He caused you a lot of pain many years ago, the least he could do was feign that he got over you.

In your drunken state, he shouldn’t have been surprised that you immediately grabbed his hands. “Jun-ho…” you said again and for a second he thought it might have been a prayer coming off of your lips. He was yours, right then, right there. He would crawl for you, weep for you, do anything for you. And then he felt your warm hands squeeze his and he just couldn’t function anymore. His heart was beating furiously, beating for you only.

And then you started weeping. You came closer, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly into the embrace as your body shook with heartbreaking sobs.

“Don’t cry sweetheart.” Jun-ho said into your hair, holding the back of your head in one hand, the small of your back in the other. He felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks, determined to keep them hidden from you. The smell of you was driving him insane as it was all those years ago - apparently, you still used the expensive perfume he used to buy you whenever you ran out of it.

“Just so you know,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I come here every week only because I hope you’ll somehow be here.” With that you pulled away, searching for something in his expression. “Pathetic, right?” you added self consciously, laughing nervously at yourself.

“I thought I was too late,” Jun-ho said, leaning his forehead against yours. To hell with everything else. He had you right at that moment all for himself and you were all that mattered. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N, all those years we spent apart but I thought-“

“You are late,” you clarified, a smile spreading across your features, tears still running down that perfect face. “But lucky for you, Jun-ho, I’ve been waiting.”

Oh, he was lucky indeed.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

frontman x reader whos a player but not because of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun and ju-hon and got in the limousine and then in-ho falls in love with her and gets her out of the game with him like at the end of the season

can u also like not write it like a hate love relationship? like readers conflicted but still likes in-ho

Keeping you safe

Hwang In-ho x reader

hiii, pleasure writing your request! hope it’s the way you imagined :)

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: violence, murder,…

Requests are open! i would also like to write something about Jun-ho or the salesman, so hmu

When you jumped into the limousine after Gi-hun you didn’t consider its consequences. Jun-ho trusted you to keep your eyes on Gi-hun at all costs and you were going to keep your word, even when it meant making yourself vulnerable.

The gas was sweet on your tongue and Gi-hun already slumped down on the plush leather of the limo seats. But you were wide awake, somehow defying sleep’s influence, shaking, still processing what the deep voice implied and Gi-hun demanded. “Put me in the game. But leave her out of it.”

Those words were followed by a dry laugh. You knew that meant there was no way out of it now. You started whispering into the intercom to Jun-ho, saying how sorry you were. His panicked voice was cut off by you turning off the device while you prepared yourself for the Frontman’s reaction, closing your eyes and taking shallow breaths.

“No. Those are my games and my rules. Might make them more interesting, don’t you agree, player 456?”

Then the gas started rising up from the floor. Gi-hun grabbed your hand, rumbling about how sorry he was. You smiled wearily, pressing his hand. “It’s okay, Gi-hun.” You both knew it wasn’t. It was as far from ‘okay’ as possible.

His fingers went limp and you resigned, waiting for the inevitable. With muted senses you watched the tinted protection shield go down. Behind it was the man in the mask himself, looking at you over his shoulder. Just when his gloved hand hovered over his mask, shrugging it off, you were engulfed in darkness.

***

After the first game, you thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep you from all the bloodshed, even he couldn’t cover your eyes and ears every time there was a gunshot. Still pale and shaken, digging dirt and blood from beneath your nails, you sat on your bed with the provided food in your lap, watching your surroundings. At least Gi-hun could be happy he found here his long lost friend, with whom he was now talking. You still didn’t speak to anyone else. You were scared that if you did, they would be dead by tomorrow.

You barely noticed there was any commotion until the sudden silence peaked your interest. There was a skirmish between three guys, two of them working together, which made the outcome of the fight quite obvious. There was another player stalking towards the group, trying to break up the fight.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kids.” one of the guys shouted at him. That’s when you noticed the player’s still frame, like a cat before launching at its prey. And you were right; within a blink of an eye, he put both of the guys on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. You looked closer at him, reading the number 001 on his back. Even from afar you could see how deadly calm he was while choking one of them. After a moment the rage left his body and he released his grip. You didn’t expect the applause that followed his actions. You exchanged a look with Gi-hun. Were you the only one who sensed something foreboding?

You turned your attention back to the food in your lap and decided that even though you weren’t hungry, you desperately needed the energy. But in your mind, all you could think about was the player 001. Was he a police detective like Jun-ho or a former marine like Jung-bae or Dae-ho? Or something else entirely?

It took you a while to get out of your head and notice that his bed was right next to yours. With a sigh, player 001 sat down, grabbing his unfinished food. Just then he noticed your searching look and gave you a tentative smile.

“Hello, sir,” you began, looking down at your hands. A sudden wave of nervousness came over you. “I’m Y/N. Do you mind telling me your name?”

“No bother, Y/N,” he replied and you stared at his lips, at how perfectly they formed your name. “I’m Young-il. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you grinned at him in response, holding out your hand that he tentatively shook.

“Nice moves there,” you pointed your chin to the middle of the dormitory where the fight took place. “You could teach me if you had time, I’m terrible in combat.” A lie. Jun-ho himself taught you how to hold yourself and how to hold a gun. You were just trying to find out who Young-il was.

“If we have time, yes.” he nodded absentmindedly, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

“Do you mind me asking? I was just wondering if you have any children.” you said carefully.

“No, I don't.” Young-il replied, suddenly his gaze sharp.

“Well, I just thought that, based on your reaction to what that other player told you-“ you searched for the answer in his closely guarded expression. “You lost your child, didn’t you?”

Young-il didn’t say anything to that, his cutlery going limp in his hand.

“I just- I’d know that look anywhere. I know it’s not something to bond over,” you gave a startled laugh, fidgeting under his everlasting gaze, “but if you’d like to talk about it-“

“Thank you.” He reached out and squeezed your hand. His touch was calloused and warm. “I mean it.”

You smiled softly, squeezing his fingers in response. “I know.”

Preparing yourself for lights out, you couldn’t ignore his lingering gaze following your movements. Thankfully Gi-hun approached you and sat next to you on the bed, guilt visible in his expression.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to drag you into this. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe-“

“Don’t worry about that, sir. I can take care of myself. Anyways, I was only following Jun-ho’s orders. It had nothing to do with you.”

Unconvinced, Gi-hun sighed and moved to his own bed, not having the energy at the moment to argue with you. You finally lay down, moving the thin blanket over your body, curling up on your side.

“I overheard you talking about Jun-ho, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar that name sounds to me,” Young-il broke the silence, looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, he used to work as a police detective so that’s why you might know him.”

“Oh, yes, that might be possible,” Young-il gave you a restrained smile. “And he is to you-?”

“A friend. I used to work as a secretary in his department, that’s all.” you smiled back.

“Oh, sorry to pry.” he looked at his hands.

“Not at all.” He looked into your eyes and your eyes crinkled with another smile. Only when he looked away did you turn around in your bed. A few minutes later you heard Gi-hun and Young-il talking and even though you didn’t want to, it was impossible to not overhear. Young-il was explaining the story of why he’s in the games and why he chose to continue playing - how his pregnant wife was gravely ill and he needed the money due to her medical bills. Somehow, this answer shocked you, even though you shouldn't have been thrown off by it. Of course he was married.

Only after the whole dormitory fell silent did you finally fall into a fitful sleep.

***

“Thank you, Young-il.” you whispered to him, gratefully touching his shoulder. Young-il turned his gaze your way and the corners of his eyes crinkled under the influence of a smile. Only his supportive words during the six legged pentathlon could calm you down, which resulted in you successfully completing your mini game. The memory flashed through your mind - tears welling in your eyes, hands shaking as you reached again and again for the gong-gi pebbles. You could sense your teammates’ growing unease but that even worsened your situation. After the third attempt, Young-il grabbed you by the elbow, leaning closer as he said: “Ignore everything else okay? Just listen to me and focus.”

You nodded, bewildered eyes setting again on the pebbles. You were kneeling in a puddle of blood, which didn’t exactly help calm your nerves.

“Just concentrate. I know you can do it. Look at you, all flushed red and focused. This look suits you.” The pebbles balanced on the knuckles of your hand, just one more throw. You looked up at Young-il, lips slightly parted. Were you hearing correctly? Maintaining eye contact, you threw the pebbles op with a sudden surge of confidence and caught them flawlessly. Everyone cheered and you were hoisted up by your team, but all you could hear were Young-il’s last words whispered in your ear: “Good girl.”

Now he was looking at you, this new tension between you two palpable.

“Anytime.”

***

While you tried to act nonchalant, it was just impossible. The way Young-il now watched you at all times drove you crazy, feeling his gaze like a branding on your body. You were grateful for keeping a watch during the lights off, thinking that it could distract you from your own dirty thoughts. But it was quite the contrary.

Overlooking the silent dark room, those words echoed in you even more soundly. Good girl. With a sigh you stretched out your legs, trying to ignore the tightness in your underbelly. You were annoyed with yourself. Why did the words of a stranger make you feel this way? Words of a married stranger, more like it.

“You seem distracted.”

You jumped at that impassive raspy voice. Thankfully, once Young-ho sat down next to you, he couldn’t notice your flushed cheeks due to the impassable darkness. Your shoulders touched and to your surprise he didn’t immediately move away.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” you smiled with your head bowed, nearly chuckling at how clueless he must be.

There was an awkward silence following your reply, so, without thinking about it, you said: “Thank you again for today, truly. You helped me a lot.”

Young-il looked at you, searching for something in your expression. Apparently he found it. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry?” you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to react, what to say.

“My words alone made you quiver. Now imagine what my tongue could do.” he whispered, teasing you, a spark in his eyes.

“Young-il-“ you breathed out, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. You felt your underwear getting wetter by the minute. But you put that all in the back of your mind as you said: “I know you are married. Expecting a child, even. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Does that bother you? Or are you bothered by the effect I have on you?”

You sighed, looking away from his handsome face. Was he sent here just to test your boundaries?

“I still have enough self control to know right from wrong.” But your body wasn’t in line with your thoughts.

Young-il stared at you for a moment, then sighed, irritated. “My wife and my child are gone. I just don’t enjoy talking about them in past tense. I joined the games out of misery, nothing more. Are you happy now?”

You froze, looking at the way his arms formed into fists at his sides. It was like having ice cold water poured all over you.

“Young-il, I’m so-“

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time.” Eyes meeting, he smiled at you tentatively. You squeezed his warm hand and he relaxed, loosening his fist.

“Right now, I don’t care about anything but you.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Moving closer, he kissed the bruise already blossoming on your jaw. And you let him.

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation. But right now, I’m so desperately weak for you.” Your breathing hitched as he moved his lips to your ear.

Just when you thought he would kiss you, he suddenly pulled away.

“I’ll take over the watch. You should sleep, muster some energy for tomorrow.” You nodded as if in a trance. He helped you stand up and led you to your bed. Young-il left you standing there, leaving only the whisper of his lips branding your cheek.

***

The third game was a whirlwind of movement. Only thanks to Young-il were you still alive and breathing. Every time a number was announced, he firmly grasped your wrist and dragged you with him wherever he went. Not that you were complaining - you were so overstimulated by all the commotion that you were glad you could keep up with him.

When one player tried to separate you from him, Young-il bared his teeth and kicked him square in the chest. “She’s mine,” There it was, the cold expression and clenched jaw. Even though you were on the brink of dying, a shiver ran down your spine.

You made it safe with your group into one of the rooms and soon were walking out to play the last round. You knew exactly what the woman’s voice was going to announce and you were right: “Two.”

Young-il was already moving, pushing people out of your way. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until you reached the room; a player was already inside.

“Get out.” Young-il growled and reached the man, trying to get him on his legs and out of the room.

“We were here first,” the player whimpered. You noticed other players running to the door you were standing next to and panicking, you closed it, pushing your whole body against it.

You looked over your shoulder at Young-il, wanting to see if he was any closer to pushing the player out through the doors. But you froze when you saw he was holding the man in a headlock, choking him. All you could do was stare.

Young-il was looking straight back at you. And with one smooth motion of his arms he broke the man’s spine, leaving him staring at the ceiling, going limp in Young-il’s grip.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Young-il said, slowly getting up. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the lifeless body on the ground.

Only when he knelt in front of you did your eyes meet his. He grabbed your cold, shaking hands, kissing the knuckles while staring into your eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“You poor thing,” Young-il said absentmindedly, wiping your tears away. “I can keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. All I’ve done was to prove that to you.”

“It’s scaring me how far you’re willing to go for me,” you sobbed, fighting the urge to flinch when he caressed your cheek. Still, you couldn’t find a reason to hate him. All the things he was saying were true, he did all of this for you, he killed a man for you, for your own safety.

The lock on the doors clicked and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be guided by Young-il out of the room. You knew that if you looked once more at the corpse, you would never let Young-il touch you again.

So you kept your eyes closed, choosing the easier path.

***

When the lights went out, all you could do was hold Young-il as hard as possible and count the minutes until the slaughter was over. Head against his chest, you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, every other sound pushed into the background. His hand was on your lower back, holding you as close as possible.

“I want to go home.” you whispered, clutching the front of his T-shirt like a small child. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.

“Okay, you will, okay? When we disarm the guards, you stay hidden, but once we take control of the rest, you have to come to my side, you understand?”

You nodded into his chest. Young-il kissed the crown of your head before leaving you under the bed as the guards tried to take control of the situation.

After many gunshots fired, you were crawling to the group of players formed in front of the main doors. Without hesitation you claimed one of the smaller guns for yourself. Somehow, the familiar weight of it calmed you down a bit. Young-il looked at you with tenseness.

“Keeping secrets, I see.” In reply you just loaded the gun, staring back.

Gi-hun looked your way over his shoulder, sending you a quick nod. The group exited the room, moving quickly down the corridor. Young-il stayed back, moving slower than the rest. Once the first guards got in your way, he pushed you to the side, saying: “This way!” Looking over your shoulder, everyone was shooting at the enemy, moving the other way. You looked back at him, unsure.

“You wanted to go home, didn’t you? Well, this is it.” seeing how indecisive you were, he sighed, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Hesitant, you followed his lead. You took the side stairs up and you got a bad feeling in your stomach. Young-il didn’t bother to check the corners, nor the other stories as you climbed the stairs. He walked like someone who knew this place, someone who wasn’t scared that he might be shot.

You stopped in your tracks, aiming your gun with a trembling hand. Young-il, upon noticing you were not following him, turned around. There was something like betrayal shining through his demeanour.

“You’re going to explain.” you said, trying to keep your voice and hand steady.

“Oh, Y/N, I think you already know.” Young-il pointed out, a corner of his lips curling up. He took one step towards you.

“What. Is. Your. Real. Name.” you said through gritted teeth, cocking your gun.

“Hwang In-ho.”

All this time, he was the long lost brother Jun-ho was trying to find. You felt the sting of betrayal in your bones.

“Was any of this real?” Tears stung in your eyes and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable.

“Oh, baby,” In-ho sighed, walking to you, kneeling in front of you again. The muzzle of the gun touched his forehead, which he seemed unbothered by.

“Everything.” he said, looking up at you.

“I keep trying to hate you,” you whispered, trying to muster at least some hatred that would make you pull the trigger. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

In-ho reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hand. He threw in on the ground, making it slide on the floor.

“I know,” he whispered, grabbing your hips with his hands. He stared at you yearningly. There was a burning ache in your chest clawing its way into your throat.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

The worst part was that he was right.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t. It’s not that simple.” A sob tore out of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. There were so many emotions in you that your head was spinning. All you knew was the fact that you couldn’t hate the one person who deserved it the most.

“Stay with me, love. I beg you,” In-ho said hoarsely, gripping you harder, trying to make you understand. “You will be safe with me. I will not break that promise.” His eyes were filled with hope. “You felt it too, I know.”

You closed your eyes, composing yourself and your thoughts. You knew it was wrong. But you always had a weakness for the forbidden.

In-ho stood up, taking your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your jaw. And when he kissed you on the lips, you let yourself melt into the touch, forgetting everything else.

“You’ll be the death of me.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled into the kiss, knowing you were his.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Say my name again

Hwang In-ho x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: blood, gore, violence… if u watched SG, you’ll be fine

as always, requests are open!

You’ve been watching him for some time now. Paying attention to the way his mouth moved when he talked to his teammates, following his gaze wherever he looked. After the second game, you overheard him introducing himself. Young-il. What a coincidence he looked like the police officer that visited your flat so many years ago. The name was what made you suspicious - you could have sworn the police officer introduced himself to you as Hwang In-ho. And it’s not as if you could’ve gotten those mixed up; you two spent many restless days trying to find the ones who were behind the robbery of your home. But, you smiled with some bitterness on your tongue, the outcome was obvious based on your situation.

You knew you were the only one watching him so closely. One of your teammates even joked about it, saying you were mesmerised by that man. But he just made you nervous - his presence planting a bug in your brain. Was he a spy for the government? Or was he just as miserable as the rest of you?

With another unsuccessful vote behind you, you could finally rest and get off of your adrenaline high by leaning against the railing of your bunk bed while nibbling on some bread. You took off your bloodied shoes that always made you nauseous just by looking at them and while doing some breathing exercises your eyes of their own volition found that familiar face in the moving crowd. Of course he is still playing, you thought. He was a cop, no matter what. You watched him give his own share of milk to the pregnant girl. Did he do it out of kindness or to manipulate those people?

“Seriously, Y/N, you must have a problem. What is wrong with you? Staring like that at that poor guy- he might get the wrong idea.” One of your teammates said to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m just watching and that’s harmless on its own.”

“On its own, yes. But what you’re doing is more than that.”

You raised your brow in annoyance and curiosity and moved your eyes to her.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” You pursed your lips.

“Stalking, mildly put.” She grimaced at your look, sensing how close to irritated you were becoming.

“Stalking? Such a nonsense, Se-mi.”

“Well, whatever. Just be careful so he doesn’t notice or in the next game you might have even more trouble staying alive.”

“Yeah? Is that because you’re so done with me you’re gonna finish me off tomorrow?”

Both of you were grinning then.

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

***

The platform beneath you jerked to life but all your eyes could see were the puddles of blood everywhere. Your shoes were already drenched in it, the palms of your hands covered by it. You slipped on the blood so many times that your clothes were already camouflaged.

“Today I die,” you breathed out, ragged and scared. You knew you were right.

The music echoed in your head even as it quieted and the platform stopped. But you still couldn’t look away from all the blood, not caring anymore about the people around you.

“Two.” said the woman’s voice and panic began. You finally lifted your gaze, searching for Se-mi or anyone familiar but no one was around. People were screaming, dragging each other down, pushing, always pushing. And you just stood there, awaiting your unavoidable end.

“Come on!” There, a body appeared, and someone crashed into you with such force it was hard to stay on your feet. Hands grabbed your waist and with unbelievable strength half pushed you half carried you to the nearest unoccupied room. Only when your body connected with the floor and the doors locked behind you did you look up at the person who saved you.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Young-il or In-ho said, blocking the exit with his body, freezing you in place with those piercing eyes. So he has noticed, you thought, finding it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

“I know who you are.” you croaked and In-ho said nothing, but his laugh lines grew heavier.

“Do you?“ he asked after a while, his eyes sparkling. Was this just a game for him?

“Why didn’t you tell them your real name, In-ho?”

“What made you think you could talk to me like that?” You shivered at his words but your face remained impassable. Somehow, you weren’t scared of him, no. Just… curious.

“Same question.”

“You think I don’t remember you, right? But you’re wrong. The moment I noticed you here I knew exactly who you were, Y/ N.” It was hard to pretend that those words meant nothing to you.

“At least I don’t hide behind a different name.”

“It’s a precaution. Some of these people are criminals and if they recognised my name they wouldn’t be as happy as you to see me here, understood?”

Your cheeks reddened but that didn’t stop you from holding your ground. His gaze made you nervous and you started biting your lower lip.

“Would you stop doing that?” In-ho asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not the only one watching, Y/N.” he gave you a tentative smile.

Before you could say anything, the doors clicked and In-ho extended his hand to you as an offering.

“I can keep a secret… Can you?” A corner of his mouth curled up slightly and in answer you accepted his hand.

***

After you walked out of the room, the two of you didn’t speak until later that day in the dormitory. It was as if your roles switched - the whole day you felt his gaze following you wherever you went. It was driving you insane.

Thankfully In-ho approached you on his own, holding you by your elbow and gently leading you to a tranquil corner of the room.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!” you whisper shouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you.”

Again, the blush creeped into your cheeks. Flustered and ashamed, you looked away and bit your lip.

“I shouldn’t be here, you know.” he went on. His eyes were flickering from side to side, probably trying to see if anyone paid any attention to you.

“Well, I can keep a secret, can’t I?” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, a spark in your eyes. A smile crept on his face but quickly disappeared.

“As soon as the lights go out today, the other team is going to attack us so they have more people voting tomorrow for the games to continue. You hide under the bed and be quiet, you understand?”

“Is this a trap?” you asked and stepped away, your hands starting to shake.

“Do as I say.” And that was that. With it, he meant to turn away, but you gripped his wrist.

“In-ho-“

“Would you stop doing that?” he retorted and moved his hand so it was him holding you. His knuckles were all white but he wasn’t hurting you.

“Doing what exactly, In-ho-“ before you could finish the sentence, the palm of his hand covered your mouth. Your nostrils were met with a musky and tangy smell.

“Don’t test me.” He let go of you and stepped aside. As he turned to go, he spoke over his shoulder: “When the lights turn off, come and find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And somehow, no matter how dangerous this place was, knowing that you cannot trust anyone here, you trusted him.

***

“Light out in five minutes.” The woman’s voice resonated in the dormitory while everyone climbed into their beds. You sat at the edge of yours with shoes on, checking for the fifth time In-ho’s location. In your mind, you tried to blindly navigate your way and when you were finally convinced that you could do it, you loosened a deep sigh.

“Why so tense, Y/N?” Se-mi asked from the bed beneath yours. You climbed down onto her level and quickly checked if anyone was listening, before you whispered: “After the lights go out, gen under the beds. Trust me.” Thank god she didn’t question it, because you felt ridiculous enough for the both of you for even listening to In-ho. He didn’t have a motive to keep you safe. He had one to kill you, though. You were the only one here who knew his real name. You just didn’t know if it was information worth killing for.

“Lights out in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…” You looked around for the last time. The air was stale and tense. Your body started shaking immediately.

“Three, two, one.” The darkness fell like a heavy curtain. You quietly stumbled down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible. Your left knee nearly collapsed under you as you made the first step but you kept a firm grip on the railings as you slowly passed between the bunk beds. Two railings, you go right, tree railings, you touch the wall, you follow it into the corner, then four railings before you go left…. But it just wasn’t possible to move as quickly as required. You were three quarters in when hell was unleashed. The sounds of stabbing, screaming and gurgling filled the air but your legs refused to move. You were completely paralysed with fear.

Someone jumped screaming from their bed and stumbled into you. You fell with a yelp on the cold floor and tried to scoot under the closest bed, but someone was already there pushing you out, frantically repeating: “Get out, they’re gonna find me, you have to go!”

You scrambled on all fours and stayed as low as possible while crawling to where In-ho was supposed to be. You were such a fool.

There was a sudden kick to your abdomen and you gasped, pain resonating through your body. Someone tripped over you and fell with a scream, their hands trying to hold onto anything, which just happened to be your hair. You screamed with pain, blindly punching around yourself in a desperate attempt of defence.

“In-ho!” you finally screamed, not caring anymore if someone tracked you down because of it. There was so much noise that it didn’t matter.

“In-ho!” you kept on shouting as you got up and started frantically running in the direction you thought was the right one. You were starting to get desperate, your voice turning into a rasp, tears forcing their way out of your eyes.

Earlier, when you said that you were going to die that day, maybe it would actually happen.

Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle and you were prepared for the worst. But when your name fell off In-ho’s lips, your shoulders sagged with relief and with a desperate cry you got on the ground and slid next to him under the bed.

“I thought I was dead,” you gasped out, hand on your racing heart.

“Well, me too if that calms you down.”

“It certainly doesn’t, In-ho.” you glared at him. He was looking at you in a strange way, something in his expression you didn’t know how to identify.

“What is it?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was he actually betraying you? Or was he trying to kiss you? With that look on his face, you couldn’t say which one.

“Say my name again,” he breathed out, your breaths mingling. Suddenly, you noticed all the points where your body was touching his, your skin heating up at the contact.

“In-ho,” you mumbled and stretched out your hand to tuck a strand of his silky hair behind his ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” In-ho looked at you with a pained expression.

“Not in the slightest,” you whispered softly against his warm lips as you kissed him.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Make me

Sirius Black x fem!reader

in which James planned you a blind date with your nemesis

requests are open!

word count: 2,1k

warnings: language, drinking

...

"I'm so tired of all the boys. I swear, there is not even one normal man here in Hogwarts." you grumbled despairingly as you landed on the couch in the common room next to James.

"Oh sweetheart, so I take it the date didn't go as planned?" he chuckled.

You covered your face with your hands and loudly exhaled.

"Well, we did go to Hogsmeade but instead of Honeydukes he took me to Scrivenshaft's quill shop. Stop laughing, this isn't even the worst part. He then kept blabbering on about some new type of rainbow ink that he, in his own words, just has to buy."

At least James tried to not laugh as much as he desired to, though you wouldn't blame him - because what the actual fuck.

"Oh, I just love hearing of your escapades, Y/N. Such a shame, though; me and Lily are desperate to find another couple to go on double dates with." he smiled while pouting his lips mockingly. You punched his arm with surprising strenght.

"Just no more guys like Mr. Rainbow Ink, please." you laughed.

James looked as if he wasthinking of something and after a moment of silence, his whole face lit up and you knew that whatever he thought of was no good.

"Just leave it to me, 'kay? I'll find the perfect guy for you and arrange a blind date."

"Fuck no." you said immediately, knowing that James would singlehandedly mess up.

"No, no, just hear me out, okay? I will take this job seriously, in my own interest. I promise not to make a joke out of it."

You rolled your eyes in answer but didn't argue further.

"Plus, I think I have the perfect candidate."

At that moment, you should've already known that something will go really, really wrong.

...

Three days later, James already had everything planned out and was nearly jumping with excitement. Well, you didn't really share that feeling. But for some reason, seeing your childhood bestfriend so invested in finding you the best match made you soften and not argue that much.

"You know that this Friday is the Celestial ball, right? So, your date will pick you up at five and please, dress nicely so he doesn’t change his mind. Yeah, that's probably all you need to know." he gave you a wicked grin.

"Why the secrecy?" you raised an eyebrow at your friend.

"Nothing, just making sure it's an unfiltered experience for you."

“At least if he turns out to be another idiot, I have an excuse to get hammered.” you grinned.

“That’s the spirit!” James bumped your shoulder excitedly and you couldn’t help but smile at his childish happiness.

But when you tried to think of even a single person with whom he would set you up, your mind went blank.

Who are you gonna be, stranger?

…

In preparation of the upcoming ball, Lily and Dorcas braided your hair into a sort of messy half-up-half-down hairstyle and you girls shared quite a laugh when they tried to get you into your very - very - tight dress.

With your black high-heels on, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your Y/H/C hair looked so sexy tied liked that and you decided to go with the same messy vibe regarding your whole look. From the smudged black kohl lining your eyes and the bold dark-red lipstick to your floor length burgundy dress with black lace adoring its edges. Oh, it might have been just a bit too slutty for such an occasion, but you didn't mind at all. You and Marlene always enjoyed wearing things just a smudge out of pocket.

You also liked shy boys stuttering when they looked at you. You hoped your escort would be one of those. You grinned at the thought and left your room with a light step.

"I see you take this date seriously." James nodded at you approvingly as he watched you approach him in front of the Great Hall.

"Yeah, yeah, dream all you want." you rolled your eyes. "Where is he?"

"Darling, getting all pretty and dressed up for me today, aren't you?" a voice purred behind you and it affected you in the same way a bucket of icy water would.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

"Are you fucking serious?" you gritted your teeth at James and he paled when he saw the murderous look on your face. He better.

"Darling, he’s with Lily, remember? He wouldn’t be fucking me. But you, on the other hand… You know how my usual dates go."

You turned to face that ridiculously handsome face of Sirius Black. That fucker was you nemesis since the moment he saw you on the Hogwarts Express sharing a booth with James. It didn’t matter to you that James found a guy bestfriend – you were okay with sharing the same pedestal with another – but Sirius, on the other hand, just purely despised you for it. So after two yers of trying to settle this tension between you two, you gave up and started to treat him the same way he did.

And that nickname, that god-forsaken nickname; it drove you crazy and you both knew it.  

”I’m not spending even a second of my time on this… existence.” You spat at James instead, wisely ignoring that egoistic shit and silencing all your witty retorts. In your fourth year, you once wrote an entire list of those retorts, spending all your nights sitting crouched over that one piece of paper with anger flowing freely in your veins.

Obsessed much? a small voice in your head whispered.

“I think that if you give this a chance-“

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Angry already, darling?” Sirius purred and your knuckles turned white from you trying so hard not to break his perfect nose.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face before I do it for you.” You have been such a fool for trusting James to do just one thing right. Now you would do anything to be here with any of the guys you were previously complaining about. But instead, you were left with the only person you truly hated. So much for an unfiltered experience.

“Oh, are you gonna kiss me, Y/N?” Sirius smiled even wider.

“This was probably not a good idea.” proclaimed Lily as she approached you three.

“Probably not.” James nervously tugged at his hair.

You and Sirius were just staring daggers at each other. And after deciding this staring contest was fucking ridiculous, you just turned on your heel and began walking back up the stairs.

“Oh, darling, leaving so soon?” Sirius shouted at you and every head in the hallway turned your way. You turned around and bared your teeth at him, not caring that you probably looked like a wild animal.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Your voice was cold as you took the tree steps it took to reach him. Even though Sirius was towering over you, you felt as if you were looking down your nose at him.

“What, darling?” he puffed, one corner of his lips turning up. He was toying with you, you knew it. And you hated that he knew it, too.

“Yes.”

“Or what?” Sirius stepped closer and you felt the tips of your shoes touching his. With every rise of your chest you could feel the fabric of his shirt.

Before you could say anything back (which would be hard because, apparently, your mind just went blank at Sirius’ closeness), James tugged at your elbow and walked you to an alcove nearby.

“What the fuck, James?” you spat at his accusingly. He winced at your words as if you had hit him.

“I just- Well, I don’t have to justify my gut feeling to you, but I think you guys should get over your hating phase and start acknowledging the chemistry between you two,” he whisled slowly at that, “So please, hate me all you want tomorrow. But tonight, just give him a chance.”

You looked over his shoulder back to Sirius. He was talking to Lily and it wasn’t a smirk on his face but a soft smile that has not even once been aimed at you. That fact made you queasy. You knew he wasn’t always an asshole – it was only in your presence that he got so riled up. But, you thought, it would be nice to be smiled at just like that.

“Okay. But just tonight.” You were surprised by your own words. Were you an idiot for saying that? You didn’t know.

“Thanks,” James sighed, relief lacing his words. He took your elbow again and brought you back to the group.

“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Maybe two.”

Lily giggled at James’ words and grabbed onto his arm and the two of them hurriedly left. That meant you and Sirius were left alone, which was very, very dangerous. You started walking to the bar without looking back at your escort, because all you really needed at that moment was a strong ass drink.

“Firewhiskey, right?” Sirius asked you when he caught up to you. No matter how fast you tried to go, he infuriatingly and casually kept his pace next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, he shrugged. “I just know.”

You tried to shake off the feeling that embraced you after realizing he somehow knew your favourite hard liquor.

 You also didn’t know how to react to the fact that Sirius paid for his and your drinks that some students smuggled into the party for a laughably ridiculous price.

As he handed the cold glass to you, your fingers touched, just barely. You told yourself your heartbeat was quick because of your temper, no other reasons.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me.” You smirked ironically at Sirius, the alcohol already burning sweetly in your throat.

“I have that much of an effect on you? I should be flattered.” Sirius retorted. But it was not an angry answer, just…. A playful one. And you had no idea what to do with that.

“Don’t think you’re all that, Sirius.” You rolled your eyes. “Should I ckeck for a poisoned drink? Or a love potion?”

You knew you were dancing on the edge of a very sharp knife. But somehow, that made it much more fun.

“Don’t think of me so poorly, darling. As if I needed a love potion to get you on your knees and beg.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

“Yes, in my dreams, darling.”

You froze at that. Was he actually impying he dreamt about you being on your knees, begging before him? But of course he did, that arrogant prick. He always had to feel superior.

But that didn’t stop the blood from seeping into your cheeks - but you blamed your blush on the firewhiskey.

So in answer you just took another sip of your drink. Were you an idiot for flirting with him? But were all those quarells of your shared pasts actually any different from flirting? You’ve never been so confused.

“You really aren’t making this any easier.” Sirius mumbled but instead of your eyes he looked around the room. Thank Merlin the music was so loud that any awkward silences were swallowed up by it.

“As if you are?” His eyes met yours and you had to fight the instinct to fight with him, to get closer to yell at him - or get closer to kiss him?

Instead you got yourself another drink, just so you could do something with your hands.

“Slow down, tiger. Didn’t think you actually hated my presence so much you would rather get hammered.” Sirius mockingly frowned and before you could react, he snatched the glass from your hand.

“Give it back, you little fucker.” You growled and tried clawing at his raised arm. But he was a lot taller than you and to be honest, your attempts were just meaningless.

“Make me.” And maybe it was that crooked smile of his, or how good he looked in his suit or how soft his hair looked in the dim lights, that made you reach on your toes and kiss his infuriating dirty mouth that made you want to combust most of the time.

How was it possible that his lips were so intoxicating but the words that usually came out of it were so infurating?

But you forbid yourself to think of all those things. Instead you now easily reached for his hand and grasped your glass, snatching it from Sirius’ weakening grip.

“Made you.” You smiled. The bewildered look on his face was worth it. “I didn’t fluster you, did I?”

Sirius gave a startled laugh. “You clever little vicious thing.”

And he leaned into you, his nose touching yours, your breaths mingling. “Now do it again.”

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

if you love me, prove it

regulus black x fem!reader

when Regulus Black proves to be emotionally unavailable, Y/N decides it's better to end their relationship. In order to get her back, Regulus has to face his own trauma and open up his heart to her.

warnings: angst

word count: 1,9k

requests are open!

When Regulus saw you for the first time, he was smitten. Every time he saw your beautiful hair, heard your perfect voice.... He couldn't even stand to be in your presence, because your perfume smelt like heaven to him. In his dreams, that used to be haunted only by the traumas of his childhood, now, there you were, haunting him in a whole new manner. It scared him, yes. But for you... in that moment he first saw you, he decided he would do anything for you and he hated himself for having this weakness.

What a surprise it was to both of you when you asked him out in your fifth year. Your first date spent strolling around Hogsmeade wasn't the exact definition of a date - Regulus just couldn't figure out how to actually let you know that he liked you. All he knew about love was his now ruined bond with his brother Sirius and that all too twisted relationship with his own mother. He could express it in bits here and there; like when he helped Sirius heal his wounds when they were younger. But never anything more.

And when you were smiling at him so sweetly, he even felt anxious to return the smile. What was wrong with him? He spent years pining after you and when he was actually close to having you, he felt sick with worry.

"Why do you like me?" he asked you on that first date. Has he ever asked someone such a genuine question?

You gave him a perplexed look he couldn't decipher and one corner of your lips rose into a crooked grin. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

He thought about it, then. Yes, he wanted to tell you. Yes, I'm a coward. I'm a horrible person. But insted he just smiled and shook his head. "Nevermind."

And it worked for you for a while.

When you spent time together, just you two without anyone else nearby, Regulus tried to let you in and you were patient and proud of any progress you made in strengthening your whatever-kind-of bond-it-was. You told him of your childhood, of your siblings and your favourite memories from holidays spent oversees. And your openness ispired him so much - if you could, why couldn't he?

So he told you of his own childhood, of his abusive relationship with his parents, how they acted towards his pigheaded brother. How he was the one who helped patch Sirius up every single time and how he always hid his brother’s muggle stuff so their parents wouldn’t be even more angry.

Regulus was very vulnerable in the moments afterwards and very aware of the fact. But the tears welling in your eyes weakened him way more. But what could he do? He just sat there. There were no wounds to patch up. And apparently, that's all he knew how to do.

"I love you." you cried into his shoulder and he pulled you close. Was he doing this right? The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

But then the words actually reached him. For the first time in his life, he finally had those three little words aimed at him. All his life, all he ever wanted was to be loved and here it was, this precious little moment with the girl of his dreams being so vulnerable with him that his heart ached. The least he could do was do the same for you.

"I love you." he said and gently lifted your chin and kissed you on the lips. The kiss tasted sweet but salty from your tears.

"I see your worth, Regulus." your whispered into the kiss.

And he was, for the first time ever, home.

...

For a while you two were happy. For a while, you put up with being just his "friend" because Regulus insisted on keeping your relationship quiet. In private, you were everything to each other, but when in public, Regulus couldn't even look at you.

At first, you found it so romantic. Every time you were alone, you were so excited to hold him close. When you walked by him in the hallways, you could only admire him but that was enough. But was it really? None of your friends could know. And especially Sirius, with whom you sat at every meal. As far as you knew, noone had any suspicions, but sometimes you wished they did just so you could be cornered and get this secret off of your chest.

But you could live with it. What you couldn’t live with, though, were the secrets that Regulus kept from you since Christmas 2 months ago. Yes, you understood that spending time with his family wasn’t exactly something ejoyable for him, but that he kept it from you was killing you. You tried to ask but his dry answers – also obvious lies - were useless. Maybe that was the worst part – the lying that he was fine and the: “everything is okay“s.

And when you finally confronted him about it, Regulus just looked like he didn’t know what to say.

“Why are you lying to me, Reg?“ you whispered, staring into his dark eyes as if they could give you the answer.

“Y/N…“ he sighed and tried to reach for your hand. You put it inside your pocket instead and hurt flashed across his features.

“Stop it. I thought we were better than this. 8 months, Reg. 8 months we spent building that bridge of trust between us and you still shy away.“

He sighed, turned his face away from your searching gaze and ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Y/N. I’m just trying to keep you safe and unhurt-“

“But you are the one hurting me,“ your voice broke. “Your lies hurt me, the secrecy hurts me. Are you ashamed of me, is that it?“

“No! Of course not! I love you! What more could you possibly want? I gave you my heart, isn’t that enough?“ He looked as if he wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you until you understood his point.

“Not when you gave it to me in a locked chest and didn’t bother to give me the keys.“

“Y/N-“ he said desperately, searching for any signs of affection in your eyes. But you remained resolute.

“Sometimes, love isn’t enough, Reg.“ you said softly, as if explaining something to a toddler. “You’ve been subconciously sabotaging our relationship while calling it ��keeping me safe“. Either I get all of you, or none of you, but I won’t continue playing the fool who is glad for any scraps of love you can provide. If you love me, prove it.“ you gave him a sad smile and tears shone in your eyes. “Come back when you’re ready to let me in.“

With that, you left him standing with one arm outstretched, as if with that move alone he could stop the time.

…

“Sooooo….“ Sirius said and finished his glass of butterbeer. “You and Y/N no longer a thing?“

Regulus froze. Repairing his relationship with his brother was the first thing that came to his mind that could help him become a better person. But at that moment, he was rethinking his decision.

“What?“

“You know,“ Sirius mumbled nonchalantly, “that girl of yours with whom you’ve been with like, hmm, for like over half a year? Something like that?“

“How do you know about that?“ Regulus asked sharply.

“Oh, little Reggie,“ Sirius sighed pitifully. “Everyone knows. I mean, knew. Even, like, McGonagall and Dumbledore.“

Everyone knew. Was he so blind to see it the whole time? He tried so hard to keep you safe, from people knowing that you were the one weakness that could kill him. And, as it turns out, everyone knew.

Regulus put his head in his hands and started crying.

…

The day before the beginning of the summer break, Regulus finally aproached you. To say you spent every day since your breakup waiting for him was an understatement.

“Heyy,“ he said nervously when you two met in the middle of a hallway. You smiled at him warmly.

He took you by the elbow and tugged you near the windows so you wouldn’t get in the way of the other students.

“I just- look, I know I messed up, but ever since, I’ve been trying to-“

“I know,“ you said softly. His nervous gaze moved from his shoes to your eyes. He raised one eyebrow imploringly.

“Sirius told me you’ve been keeping in touch.“

“Oh.“

“And he also told me what happened during the Christmas break; how he ran away from home and left you there. I’m sorry I didn’t understand why you didn’t want to talk about it-“

“No, I’m sorry that I lied about it.“

You two were silent for a while before you both started smiling.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I wrote a letter for you.” Regulus blushed shily and fumbled for a bit before he took a letter from his backpack.

“You, Regulus Black, wrote me a letter?” you raised an eyebrow in surprise and Regulus just raised his shoulders uncomfortably. “I’m just joking, Reg. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Your eyes met again and now you were both blushing.

“So…” he started but couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

“So I will read it on the train and when we arrive in London I will find you and say my goodbye.”

“Yeah, of course.”

It was time to get to the carriages so you stood on your toes and gave Regulus a soft kiss on the cheek before leaving him standing there like a statue. On the way to Hogsmeade, you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

…

When you were sure you were left alone in your train cabin, you took the crumpled letter from your pocket and opened it. You smiled at Regulus’ neat handwriting.

My Y/N,

When I first saw you, I knew. I just did. And I’ve been hating myself for having that one and only weakness – you. My mother always told me that we cannot afford weaknesses. But what I didn’t get until a few weeks ago is that loving someone doesn’t make me vulnerable but stronger in some ways. It was just hard for me to understand the fundamentals of a relationship itself – I always appreciated your love but never actually accepted it, because I didn’t think I was worthy of you or your love. You gave me your heart so willingly and here I am, finally, offering mine on a golden platter, all of it – the pain and love and hate and happiness. And I hope that just once, all I am is enough.

Yours, Reg

You stared and stared at that perfect handwriting. And when the train stopped in King’s Cross station, you held the letter in your fist and ran out of the train, searching for that familiar face you loved.

Regulus was already anxiously waiting.

“Oh yes, all you are is enough for me.” You laughed and hugged him tightly and Regulus leaned his face in the crook of your neck.

“Will you introduce me to your parents?” was the only thing he said and there was a new spark in those beautiful eyes.