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luveline · 2 days ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧

Things between you and Peter change with the seasons. [17k]

c: friends-to-lovers, hurt/comfort, loneliness, peter parker isn’t good at hiding his alter ego, fluff, first kisses, mutual pining, loved-up epilogue, mention of self-harm with no graphic imagery

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

Fall

Peter Parker is a resting place for overworked eyes, like warm topaz nestled against a blue-cold city. He waits on you with his eyes to the screen of his phone, clicking the power button repetitively. A nervous tic.

You close the heavy door of your apartment building. His head stays still, yet he’s heard the sound of it settling, evidence in his calmed hand.

“Good morning!” You pull your coat on quickly. “Sorry.”

“Good morning,” he says, offering a sleep-logged smile. “Should we go?”

You follow Peter out of the cul-de-sac and into the street as he drops his phone into a deep pocket. To his credit, he doesn’t check it while you walk, and only glances at it when you’re taking your coat off in the heat of your favourite cafe: The Moroccan Mode glows around you, fog kissing the windows, condensation running down the inner lengths of it in beads. You murmur something to do with the odd fog and Peter tells you about water vapour. When it rains tonight, he says it’ll be warm water that falls.

He spreads his textbook, notebook, and rinky-dink laptop out across the table while you order drinks. Peter has the same thing every visit, a decaf americano, in a wide brim mug with the pink-petal saucer. You put it down on his textbook only because that’s where he would put it himself, and you both get to work.

As Peter helps you study, you note the simplicity of another normal day, and can’t help wondering what it is that’s missing. Something is, something Peter won’t tell you, the absence of a truth hanging over your heads. You ask him if he wants to get dinner and he says no, he’s busy. You ask him to see a movie on Friday night and he wishes he could.

Peter misses you. When he tells you, you believe him. “I wish I had more time,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you say, “you can’t help it.”

“We’ll do something next weekend,” he says. The lie slips out easily.

To Peter it isn’t a lie. In his head, he’ll find the time for you again, and you’ll be friends like you used to be.

You press the end of your pencil into your cheek, the dark roast, white paper and condensation like grey noise. This time last year, the air had been thick for days with fog you could cut. He took you on a trip to Manhattan, less than an hour from your red-brick neighbourhood, and you spent the day in a hotel pool throwing great cupfuls of water at each other. The fog was gone just fifteen miles away from home but the warm air stayed. When it rained it was sudden, strange, spit-warm splashes of it hammering the tops of your heads, your cheeks as you tipped your faces back to spy the dark clouds.

Peter had swam the short distance to you and held your shoulders. You remember feeling like your whole life was there, somewhere you’d never been before, the sharp edges of cracked pool tile just under your feet.

You peek over the top of your laptop screen and wonder if Peter ever thinks of that trip.

He feels you watching and meets your eyes. “I have to tell you something,” he says, smiling shyly.

“Sure.”

“I signed us up for that club.”

“Epigenetics?”

“Molecular medicine,” he says.

The nice thing about fog is that it gives a feeling of lateness. It’s still morning, barely ten, but it feels like the early evening. It’s gentle on the eyes, colouring the whole room with a sconced shine. You reach for Peter’s bag and sort through his jumble of possessions —stick deodorant, loose-leaf paper, a bodega’s worth of protein bars— and grab his camera.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cataloguing the moment you ruined our lives,” you say, aiming the camera at his chin, squinting through the viewfinder.

“Technically, I signed us up a few days ago,” he says.

You snap his photo as his mouth closes around ‘ago’, keeping his half-laugh stuck on his lips. “Semantics,” you murmur. “And molecular medicine club, this has nothing to do with the estranged Gwen Stacy?”

“It has nothing to do with her. And you like molecular medicine.”

“I like oncology,” you correct, which is a sub-genre at best, “and I have enough work without joining another club. Go by yourself.”

“I can’t go without you,” he says. Simple as that.

He knew you’d say yes when he signed you up. It’s why he didn’t ask. You’re already forgiven him for the slight of assumption.

“When is it?” you ask, smiling.

—

Molecular medicine club is fun. You and a handful of ESU nerds gather around a big table in a private study room for a few hours and read about the newer discoveries and top research, like regenerative science and now taboo Oscorp research. It’s boring, sometimes, but then Peter will lean into your side and make a joke to keep you going.

He looks at Gwen Stacy a lot. Slender, pale and freckled, with blonde hair framing a sweet face. Only when he thinks you’re not looking. Only when she isn’t either.

—

“Good morning,” you say.

Peter holds an umbrella over his head that he’s quick to share with you, and together you walk with heads craned down, the umbrella angled forward to fight the wind. Your outermost shoulder is wet when you reach the café, your other warm from being pressed against him. You shake the umbrella off outside the door and step onto a cushy, amber doormat to dry your sneakers. Peter stalks ahead and order the drinks, eager to get warm, so you look for a table. Your usual is full of businessmen drinking flat whites with briefcases at their legs. They laugh. You try to picture Peter in a suit: you’re still laughing when he finds you in the booth at the back.

“Tell the joke,” he says, slamming his coffee down. He’s careful with yours. He’s given you the pink petal saucer from the side next to the straws and wooden stirrers.

“I was thinking about you as a businessman.”

“And that’s funny?”

“When was the last time you wore a suit?”

Peter shakes his head. Claims he doesn’t know. Later, you’ll remember his Uncle Ben’s funeral and feel queasy with guilt, but you don’t remember yet. “When was the last time you wore one?” he asks. “I don’t laugh at you.”

“You’re always laughing at me, Parker.”

The cafe isn’t as warm today. It’s wet, grimy water footsteps tracking across the terracotta tile, streaks of grey water especially heavy near the counter, around it to the bathroom. There’s no fog but a sad rattle of rain, not enough to make noise against the windows, but enough to watch as it falls in lazy rivulets down the lengths of them.

Your face is chapped with the cold, cheeks quickly come to heat as your fingers curl around your mug. They tingle with newfound warmth. When you raise your mug to your lips, your hand hardly shakes.

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Fine. Are you gonna help me with the math today?”

“Don’t think so. Did you ask nicely?”

“I did.” You’d called him last night. You would’ve just as happily submitted your homework poorly solved with the grade to prove it —you don’t want Peter’s help, you just wanted to see him.

Looking at him now, you remember why his distance had felt a little easier. The rain tangles in his hair, damp strands curling across his forehead, his eyes dark and outfitted by darker eyelashes. Peter has the looks of someone you’ve seen before, a classical set to his nose and eyes reminiscent of that fallen angel weeping behind his arm, his russet hair in fiery disarray. There was an anger to Peter after Ben died that you didn’t recognise, until it was Peter, changed forever and for the worse and it didn’t matter —he was grieving, he was terrified, who were you to tell him to be nice again— until it started to get better. You see less of your fallen, angry angel, no harsh brush strokes, no tears.

His eyes are still dark. Bruised often underneath, like he’s up late. If he is, it isn’t to talk to you.

You spend an afternoon working through your equations, pretending to understand until Peter explains them to death. His earphones fall out of his pocket and he says, “Here, I’ll show you a song.”

He walks you home. The song is dreary and sad. The man who sings is good. Lover, You Should’ve Come Over. It feels like Peter’s trying to tell you something —he isn’t, but it feels like wishing he would.

“You okay?” you ask before you can get to your street. A minute away, less.

“I’m fine, why?”

You let the uncomfortable shape of his earbud fall out of your ear, the climax of the song a rattle on his chest. “You look tired, that’s all. Are you sleeping?”

“I have too much to do.”

You just don’t get it. “Make sure you’re eating properly. Okay?”

His smile squeezes your heart. Soft, the closest you’ll ever get. “You know May,” he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to give you a short hug, “she wouldn’t let me go hungry. Don’t worry about me.”

—

The dip into depression you take is predictable. You can’t help it. Peter being gone makes it worse.

You listen to love songs and take long walks through the city, even when it’s dark and you know it’s a bad idea. If anything bad happens Spider-Man could probably save me, you think. New York’s not-so-new vigilante keeps a close eye on things, especially the women. You can’t count how many times you’ve heard the same story. A man followed me home, saw me across the street, tried to get into my apartment, but Spider-Man saved me.

You’re not naive, you realise the danger of walking around without protection assuming some stranger in a mask will save you, but you need to get out of the house. It goes on for weeks.

You walk under streetlights and past stores with CCTV, but honestly you don’t really care. You’re not thinking. You feel sick and heavy and it’s fine, really, it’s okay, everything works out eventually. It’s not like it’s all because you miss Peter, it’s just a feeling. It’ll go away.

“You’re in deep thought,” a voice says, garnering a huge flinch from the depths of your stomach.

You turn around, turn back, and flinch again at the sight of a man a few paces ahead. Red shoulders and legs, black shining in a webbed lattice across his chest. “Oh,” you say, your heartbeat an uncomfortable plodding under your hand, “sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I scared you.”

“I didn’t realise you were there.”

Spider-Man doesn’t come any closer. You take a few steps in his direction. You’ve never met before but you’d like to see him up close, and you aren’t scared. Not beyond the shock of his arrival.

“Can I walk you to where you’re going?” Spider-Man asks you. He’s humming energy, fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot.

“How do I know you’re the real Spider-Man?”

After all, there are high definition videos of his suit on the news sometimes. You wouldn’t want to find out someone was capable of making a replica in the worst way possible.

You can’t be sure, but you think he might be smiling behind the mask, his arms moving back as though impressed at your questioning. “What do you need me to do to prove it?” he asks.

He speaks hushed. Rough and deep. “I don’t know. What’s Spider-Man exclusive?”

“I can show you the webs?”

You pull your handbag further up your arm. “Okay, sure. Shoot something.”

Spider-Man aims his hand at the streetlight across the way and shoots it. He makes a severing motion with his wrist to stop from getting pulled along by it, letting the web fall like an alien tendril from the bulb. The light it produces dims slightly. A chill rides your spine.

“Can I walk you now?” he asks.

“You don’t have more important things to do?” If the bitterness you’re feeling creeps into your tone unbidden, he doesn’t react.

“Nothing more important than you.”

You laugh despite yourself. “I’m going to Trader Joe’s.”

“Yellowstone Boulevard?”

“That’s the one…”

You fall into step beside him, and, awkwardly, begin to walk again. It’s a short walk. Trader Joe’s will still be open for hours despite the dark sky, and you’re in no hurry. “My friend, he likes the rolled tortilla chips they do, the chilli ones.”

“And you’re going just for him?” Spider-Man asks.

“Not really. I mean, yeah, but I was already going on a walk.”

“Do you always walk around by yourself? It’s late. It’s dangerous, you know, a beautiful girl like you,” he says, descending into an odd mixture of seriousness and teasing. His voice jumps and swoons to match.

“I like walking,” you say.

Spider-Man walking is a weird thing to see. On the news, he’s running, swinging, or flying through the air untethered. You’re having trouble acquainting the media image of him with the quiet man you’re walking beside now.

”Is everything okay?” he asks. “You seem sad.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Maybe I am sad,” you confess, looking forward, the bright sign of Trader Joe’s already in view. It really is a short walk. “Do you ever–” You swallow against a surprising tightness in your throat and try again, “Do you ever feel like you’re alone?”

“I’m not alone,” he says carefully.

“Me neither, but sometimes I feel like I am.”

He laughs quietly. You bristle thinking you’re being made fun of, but the laugh tapers into a sad one. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world,” he says. “Even here. I forget that it’s not something I invented.”

“Well, I guess being a hero would feel really lonely. Who else do we have like you?” You smile sympathetically. “It must be hard.”

“Yeah.” His head tips to the side, and a crash of glass rings in the distance, crunching, and then there’s a squeal. It sounds like a car accident. Spider-Man goes tense. “I’ll come back,” he says.

“That’s okay, Spider-Man, I can get home by myself. Thank you for the protection detail.”

He sprints away. In half a second he’s up onto a short roof, then between buildings. It looks natural. It takes your breath away.

You buy Peter’s chips at Trader Joe’s and wait for a few minutes at the door, but Spider-Man doesn’t come back.

—

I don’t want to study today, Peter’s text says the next day. Come over and watch movies?

The last handholds of your fugue are washed away in the shower. You dab moisturiser onto your face and neck and stand by the open window to help it dry faster, taking in the light drizzle of rain, the smell of it filling your room and your lungs in cold gales. You dress in sweatpants and a hoodie, throw on your coat, and stuff the rolled tortilla chips into a backpack to ferry across the neighbourhood.

Peter still lives at home with his Aunt May. You’d been in awe of it when you were younger, Peter and his Aunt and Uncle, their home-cooked family dinners, nights spent on the roof trying to find constellations through light pollution, stretched out together while it was warm enough to soak in your small rebellion. Ben would call you both down eventually. When you’re older! he’d always promise.

Peter’s waiting in the open door for you. He ushers you inside excitedly, stripping you out of your coat and forgetting your wet shoes as he drags you to the kitchen. “Look what I got,” he says.

The Parker kitchen is a big, bright space with a chopping block island. The counters are crowded by pots, pans, spices, jams, coffee grounds, the impossible drying rack. There’s a cross-stitch about the home on the microwave Ben did to prove to May he could still see the holes in the aida.

You follow Peter to the stove where he points at a ceramic Dutch oven you’ve eaten from a hundred times. “There,” he says.

“Did you cook?” you ask.

“Of course I didn’t cook, even if the way you said that is offensive. I could cook. I’m an excellent chef.”

“The only thing May’s ever taught you is spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Hope you like marinara,” he says, nudging you toward the stove.

You take the lid off of the Dutch oven to unveil a huge cake. Dripping with frosting, only slightly squashed by the lid, obviously homemade. He’s dotted the top with swirls of frosting and deep red strawberries.

“It’s for you,” he says casually.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“I know. You like cake though, don’t you?”

You’d tell Peter you liked chunks of glass if that was what he unveiled. “Why’d you make me a cake?”

“I felt like you deserved a cake. You don’t want it?”

“No, I want it! I want the cake, let’s have cake, we can go to 91st and get some ice cream, it’ll be amazing.” You don’t bother trying to hide your beaming smile now, twisting on the spot to see him properly, your hands falling behind your back. “Thank you, Peter. It’s awesome. I had no idea you could even– that you’d even–” You press forward, smushing your face against his chest. “Wow.”

“Wow,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. He angles his head to nose at your temple. “You’re welcome. I would’ve made you a cake years ago if I knew it was gonna make you this happy.”

“It must’ve taken hours.”

“May helped.”

“That makes much more sense.”

“Don’t be insolent.” Peter squeezes you tightly. He doesn’t let go for a really long time.

He extracts the cake from the depths of the Dutch oven and cuts you both a slice. He already has ice cream, a Neapolitan box that he cuts into with a serrated knife so you can each have a slice of all three flavours. It’s good ice cream, fresh for what it is and melting in big drops of cream as he gets the couch ready.

“Sit down,” he says, shoving the plates with his strangely great balance onto the coffee table. “Remote’s by you. I’m gonna get drinks.”

You take your plate, carving into the cake with the end of a warped spoon, its handle stamped PETE and burnished in your grasp. The crumb is soft but dense in the best way. The ganache between layers is loose, cake wet with it, and the frosting is perfect, just messy. You take another satisfied bite. You’re halfway through your slice before Peter makes it back.

“I brought you something too, but it’s garbage compared to this,” you say through a mouthful, hand barely covering your mouth.

Peter laughs at you. “Yeah, well, say it, don’t spray it.”

“I guess I’ll keep it.”

“Keep it, bub, I don’t need anything from you.”

He doesn’t say it the way you’re expecting. “No,” you say, pleased when he sits knee to knee, “you can have it. S’just a bag of chips from Trader–”

“The rolled tortilla chips?” he asks. You nod, and his eyes light up. “You really are the best friend ever.”

“Better than Harry?”

“Harry’s rich,” Peter says, “so no. I’m kidding! Joking, come here, let me try some of that.”

“Eat your own.”

Peter plays a great host, letting you choose the movies, making lunch, ordering takeout in the evening and refusing to let you pay for it. This isn’t that out of character for Peter, but what shocks you is his complete unfiltered attention. He doesn’t check his phone, the tension you couldn’t name from these last few weeks nowhere to be felt. You’re flummoxed by the sudden change, but you missed him. You won’t look a gift horse in the mouth; you won’t question what it is that had Peter keeping you at arm’s length now it’s gone.

To your annoyance, you can’t stop thinking about Spider-Man. You keep opening your mouth to tell Peter you talked to him but biting your tongue. Why am I keeping it a secret? you wonder.

“Have something to tell you.”

“You do?” you ask, reluctant to sit properly, your feet tucked under his thigh and your body completely lax with the weight of the Parker throw.

“Is that surprising?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“No. Just. I’ve been not telling you something.”

“Okay, so tell me.”

Peter goes pink, and stiff, a fake smile plastered over his lips. “Me and Gwen, we’re really done.”

“I know, Pete. She broke up with you for reasons nobody felt I should be enlightened right after graduation.” Your stomach pangs painfully. “Unless you…”

“She’s going to England.”

“She is?”

“Oxford.”

You struggle to sit up. “That sucks, Peter. I’m sorry.”

“But?”

You find your words carefully. “You and Gwen really liked each other, but I think that–” You grow in confidence, meeting his eyes firmly. “That there’s always been some part of you that couldn’t actually commit to her. So. I don’t know, maybe some distance will give you clarity. And maybe it’ll break your heart, but at least then you’ll know how you really feel, and you can move forward.” You avoid telling him to move on.

“It wasn’t Gwen,” he says, which has a completely different meaning to the both of you.

“Obviously, she’s the smartest girl I’ve ever met. She’s beautiful. Of course it’s not her fault,” you say, teasing.

“Really, that you ever met?” Peter asks.

“She’s the best girl you were ever gonna land.“

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.” After a few more minutes of quiet, he says, “I think we were done before. I just hadn’t figured it out yet. Something wasn’t right.”

“You were so back and forth. You’re not mean, there must’ve been something stopping you from going steady,” you agree. “You were breaking up every other week.”

“I know,” he whispers, tipping his head against the back couch.

“Which, it’s fine, you don’t–” You grimace. “I can’t talk today. Sorry. I just mean that it’s alright that you never made it work.” You worry that sounds plainly obvious and amend, “Doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re never a bad person, Peter.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t need me to tell you.”

“It’s nice, though. I like when you tell me stuff. I want all of your secrets.”

You should say Good, because I have something unbelievable to tell you, and I should’ve said it the moment I got home.

Good, because last night I met the bravest man in New York City, and he walked me to the store for your chips.

Good, because I have so much I’m keeping to myself.

You ruffle his hair. Spider-Man goes unmentioned.

—

He visits with a whoop. You don’t flinch when he lands —you’d heard the strange whip and splat of his webs landing nearby.

“Spider-Man,” you say.

“What’s that about?”

“What?”

“The way you said that. You laughed.” Spider-Man stands in spandexed glory before you, mask in place. He’s got a brown stain up the side of his thigh that looks more like mud than blood, but it’s not as though each of his fights are bloodless. They’re infamously gory on occasion.

“Did you get hurt?” you ask. You’re worried. You could help him, if he needs it.

“Aw, this? That’s a scratch. That’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse from that stray cat living outside of 91st.”

You look at him sharply. 91st is shorthand for 91st Bodega, and it’s not like you and Peter made it up, but suddenly, the man in front of you is Peter. The way he says it, that unique rhythm.

Peter’s not so rough-voiced, you argue with yourself. Your Peter speaks in a higher register, dulcet often, only occasionally sarcastic. Spider-Man is rough, and cawing, and loud. Spider-Man acts as though the ground is a suggestion. Peter can’t jump off the second diving board at the pool. Spider-Man rolls his shoulders back in front of you with a confidence Peter rarely has.

“What?” he asks.

“Sorry. You just reminded me of someone.”

His voice falls deeper still. “Someone handsome, I hope.”

You take a small step around him, hoping it invites him to walk along while communicating how sorely you want to leave the subject behind. When he doesn’t follow, you add, “Yes, he’s handsome.”

“I knew it.”

“What do you look like under the mask?”

Spider-Man laughs boisterously. “I can’t just tell you that.”

“No? Do I have to earn it?”

“It’s not like that. I just don’t tell anyone, ever.”

“Nobody in the whole world?” you ask.

The rain is spitting. New York lately is cold cold cold, little in the way of sunshine and no end in sight. Perhaps that’s all November’s are destined to be. You and Spider-Man stick to the inside of the sidewalk. Occasionally, a passerby stares at him, or calls out in Hello, and Spider-Man waves but doesn’t part from you.

“Tell me something about you and I’ll tell you something about me,” Spider-Man says. “I’ll tell you who knows my identity.”

“What do you want to know about me?” you ask, surprised.

“A secret. That’s fair.”

“Hold on, how’s that fair?” You tighten your scarf against a bitter breeze. “What use do I have for the people who know who you are? That doesn’t bring me any closer to the truth.”

“It’s not about who knows, it’s about why I told them.” Spider-Man slips around you, forcing you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk as a car pulls past you all too quickly and sends a sheet of dirty rainwater up Spider-Man’s side. He shakes himself off. “Jerk!” he shouts after the car.

“My secrets aren’t worth anything.”

“I doubt that, but if that’s true, that makes it a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

He sounds peppy considering the pool of runoff collecting at his feet. You pick up your pace again and say, “Alright, useless secret for a useless secret.”

You think about all your secrets. Some are odd, some gross. Some might make the people around you think less of you, while others would surely paint you in a nice light. A topaz sort of technicolor. But they aren’t useless, then, so you move on.

“Oh, I know. I hate my major.” You grin at Spider-Man. “That’s a good one, right? No one else knows about that.”

“You do?” Spider-Man asks. His voice is familiar, then, for its sympathy.

“I like science, I just hate math. It’s harder than I thought it would be, and I need so much help it makes me hate the whole thing.”

Spider-Man doesn’t drag the knife. “Okay. Only three people know who I am under the mask. It was four, briefly.” He clears his throat. “I told one person because I was being selfish and the others out of necessity. I’m trying really hard not to tell anybody else.”

“How come?”

“It just hurts people.”

You linger in a gap of silence, not sure what to say. A handful of cars pass you on the road.

“Tell me another one,” he says.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, just tell me one.”

“How do I know you aren’t extorting me for something?” You grin as you say it, a hint of flirtation. “You’ll know my face and my secrets and even if you tell me a really gory juicy one, I have no one to tell and no name to pair it with.”

“I’m not showing you anything,” he warns, teasing, sounding so awfully like Peter that your heart trips again, an uneven capering that has you faltering in the street.

Peter’s shorter, you decide, sizing him up. His voice sounds similar and familiar but Peter doesn’t ask for secrets. He doesn’t have to. (Or, he didn’t have to, once upon a time.)

“Where are you going?” Spider-Man asks.

“Oh, nowhere.”

“Seriously, you’re out here walking again for no reason?”

“I like to walk. It’s not like it’s dark out yet.” You’re not far at all from Queensboro Hill here. Walking in any direction would lead you to a garden —Flushing Meadows, Kew Gardens, Kissena Park. “Walk me to Kissena?” you ask.

“Sure, for that secret.”

You laugh as Spider-Man takes the lead, keeping time with him, a natural match of pace. It’s exciting that Spider-Man of all people wants to know one of your useless secrets enough to ask you twice. The attention of it makes searching for one a matter of how fast you can find one rather than a question of why you’d want to. It slips out before you can think better of it.

“I burned my wrist a few days ago on a frying pan,” you confess, the phantom pain of the injury an itch. “It blistered and I cried when I did it, but I haven’t told anyone about it.”

“Why not?” he asks.

He shouldn’t use that tone with you, like he’s so so sorry. It makes you want to really tell him everything. How insecure you feel, how telling things feels like asking for someone to care, and half the time they don’t, and half the time you’re embarrassed.

You walk past the bakery that demarcates the beginning of Kissena Park grounds across the way. “I didn’t think about it at first. I’m used to keeping things to myself. And then I didn’t tell anyone for so long that mentioning it now wouldn’t make sense. Like, bringing it up when it’s a scar won’t do much.” It’s a weak lie. It comes out like a spigot to a drying up tree. Glugs, fat beads of sound and the pull to find another thing to say.

“It was only a few days ago, right? It must still hurt. People want to know that stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll tell someone tomorrow,” you say, though you won’t.

“Thanks for telling me.”

The humour in spilling a secret like that to a superhero stops you from feeling sorry for yourself. You hide your cold fingers in your coat, rubbing the stiff skin of your knuckles into the lining for friction-heat. The rain has let up, wind whipping empty but brisk against your cheeks. Your lips will be chapped when you get home, whenever that turns out to be.

“This is pretty far from Trader Joe’s,” he comments, like he’s read your mind.

“Just an hour.”

“Are you kidding? It’s an hour for me.”

“That’s not true, Spider-Man, I’ve seen those webs in action. I still remember watching you on the News that night, the cranes. I remember,” —you try to meet his eyes despite the mask— “my heart in my throat. Weren’t you scared?”

“Is that the secret you want?” he asks.

“I get to choose?”

Spider-Man throws his gaze around, his hand behind his head like he might play with his hair. You come to a natural stop across the street from Kissena Park’s playground. Teenagers crowd the soft-landing floor, smaller children playing on the wet rungs of the climbing frame.

“If you want to,” he says.

“Then yeah, I want to know if you were scared.”

“I didn’t haveI time to be scared. Connors was already there, you know?” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it before. I wasn’t scared of the height, if that’s what you mean. I already had practice by then, and I knew I had to do it. Like, I didn’t have a choice, so I just did it. I had to save the day, so I did.”

“When they lined up the cranes–”

“It felt like flying,” Spider-Man interrupts.

“Like flying.”

You picture the weightlessness, the adrenaline, the catch of your weight so high up and the pressure of being flung between the next point. The idea that you have to just do something, so you do.

“That’s a good secret.” You offer a grateful smile. “It doesn’t feel equal. I burned myself and you saved the city.”

“So tell me another one,” he says.

—

Maybe you started to fall for Peter after his Uncle Ben passed away. Not the days where you’d text him and he’d ignore you, or the days spent camping outside of his house waiting for him to get home. It wasn’t that you couldn’t like him, angry as he was; there’s always been something about his eyes when he’s upset that sticks around. You loathe to see him sad but he really is pretty, and when his eyelashes are wet and his mouth is turned down, formidable, it’s an ache. A Cabanel painting, dramatic and dark and other.

It was after. When he started sending Gwen weird smiles and showing up to the movies exhilarated, out of breath, unwilling to tell you where he’d been. Skating, he’d always say. Most of the time he didn’t have his skateboard.

You’d only seen them kiss once, his hand on her shoulder curling her in, a pang of heat. You were curdled by jealousy but it was more than that. Peter was tipping her head back, was kissing her soundly, a fierceness from him that made you sick to think about. You spent weeks afterwards up at night, tossing, turning, wishing he’d kiss you like that, just once, so you could feel how it felt to be completely wrapped up in another person.

You’d always held out for Peter, in a way. It was more important to you that he be your friend. You were young, and love had been a far off thing, and then one day you suddenly wanted it. You learned just how aching an unrequited love could be, like a bruise, where every time you saw Peter —whether it be alone or with Gwen, with anyone— it was like he knew exactly where to poke the bruise. Press the heel of his hand and push. The worst is when he found himself affectionate with you, a quick clasp of your cheek in his palm as he said goodbye. Nights spent in his twin bed, of course you’ll fit, of course you couldn’t go home, not this late, May won’t care if we keep the door open —the suggestion that the door being closed might’ve meant something. His sleeping arm furled around you.

Now you’re nearing the end of your second semester at ESU, Gwen is going to England at the end of the year, and Peter hasn’t tried to stop her, but he’s still busy.

“Whatever,“ you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not mad at Peter, you just miss him. Thinking about him all the time won’t change a thing. “It’s fine.”

“I’d hope so.”

You swing around. “Don’t do that!”

Spider-Man looks vaguely chastened, taking a step back. “I called out.”

“You did?”

“I did. Hey, miss, over there! The one who doesn’t know how to get a goddamn taxi!”

“I like to walk,” you say.

“Yeah, so you’ve said. Have you considered that all this walking is bad for you? It’s freezing out, Miss Bennett!”

“It’s not that bad.” You have your coat, a scarf, your thermal leggings underneath your jeans. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with staying at home?”

“That’s not good for you. And you’re one to talk, Spider-Man, aren’t you out on the streets every night? You should take a day off.”

“I don’t do this every night.”

“Don’t you get tired?”

Spider-Man’s eyelets seem to squint, his mock-anger effusive as he crosses his arms across his chest. “No, of course not. Do I look like I get tired?”

“I don’t know. You’re in a full suit, I can’t tell. I guess you don’t… seem tired. You know, with all the backflips.”

“Want me to do one?”

“On command?” You laugh. “No, that’s okay. Save your strength, Spider-Man.”

“So where are you heading today?” he asks.

There’s a slip of skin peeking out against his neck. You’re surprised he can’t feel the cold there, stepping toward him to point. “I can see your stubble.”

He yanks his mask down. “Hasty getaway.”

“A getaway, undressed? Spider-Man, that’s not very gentlemanly.”

You start to walk toward the Cinemart. Spider-Man, to your strange pleasure, follows. He walks with considerable casualness down the sidewalk by your left, occasionally letting his head turn to chase a distant sound where it echoes from between high-rises and along the busy street. It’s cold and dark, but New York is hectic no matter what, even the residential areas. (Is there such a thing? The neighbourhoods burst with small businesses and backstreet sales, no matter the time.)

“Luckily for you, crime is slow tonight,” he says.

“Lucky me?” You wonder if your acquainted vigilante flirts with every girl he stalks. “You realise I’ve managed to get everywhere I’m going for the last two decades without help?”

“I assume there was more than a little help during that first decade.”

“That’s what you think. I was a super independent toddler.”

Spider-Man tips his head back and laughs, but that laugh is quickly squashed with a cough. “Sure you were.”

“Is there a reason you’re escorting me, Spider-Man?” you ask.

“No. I– I recognised you, I thought I’d say hi.”

“Hi, Spider-Man.”

“Hi.”

“Can I ask you something? Do you work?”

Spider-Man stammers again, “I– yeah. I work. Freelance, mostly.”

“I was wondering how you fit all the crime fighting into your life, is all. University is tough enough.” You let the wind bat your scarf off of your shoulder. “I couldn’t do what you do.”

“Yeah, you could.”

He sounds sure.

“How would you know?” you ask. “Maybe I’m awful when you’re not walking me around. I hate New York. I hate people.”

“No, you don’t. You’re not awful. Don’t ask me how I know, ‘cos I just know.”

You try not to look at him. If you look at him, you’re gonna smile at him like he hung the moon. “Well, tonight I’m going to be dreadfully selfish. My friend said he’d buy my movie ticket and take me out for dinner, a real dinner, the mac and cheese with imitation lobster at Benny’s. Have you tried that?”

Spider-Man takes a big step. “Tonight?” he asks.

“Yep, tonight. That’s where I’m going, the Cinemart.” You frown at his hand pressing into his stomach. “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“I can hear– something. Someone’s crying. I gotta go, okay? Have fun at the movies, okay?” He throws his arm up, a silken web shooting from his wrist to the third floor of an apartment complex. “Bye!” he shouts, taking a running jump to the apartment, using his web as an anchor. He flings himself over the roof.

Woah, you think, warmth filling your cold cheeks, the tip of your nose. He’s lithe.

Peter arrives ten minutes late for the movie, which is half an hour later than you’d agreed to meet.

“Sorry!” he shouts, breathless as he grabs your hands. “God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. You should beat me up. I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck happened?” you ask, not particularly angry, only relieved to see him with enough time to still catch the movie. “You’re sweating like crazy, your hair’s wet.”

“I ran all the way here, Jesus, do I smell bad? Don’t answer that. Fuck, do we have time?”

You usher Peter inside. He pays for the tickets with hands shaking and you attempt to wipe the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve. “You could’ve called me,” you say, content to let him grab you by the arm and race you to the screen doors, “we could’ve caught the next one. Why were you so late, anyways? Did you forget?”

“Forget about my favourite girl? How could I?” He elbows open the doors to let you enter first. “Now shh,” he whispers, “find the seats, don’t miss the trailers. You love them.”

“You love them–”

“I’ll get popcorn,” he promises, letting the door close between you.

You’re tempted to follow, fingers an inch from the handle.

You turn away and rush to find your seats. Hopefully, the popcorn line is ten blocks long, and he spends the night punished for his wrongdoing. My favourite girl. You laugh nervously into your hand.

—

Winter

Spider-Man finds you at least once a week for the next few weeks. He even brings you an umbrella one time, stars on the handle, asking you rather politely to go home. He offers to buy you a hot dog as you’re walking past the stand, takes you on a shortcut to the convenience store, and helps you get a piece of gum off of your shoe with a leaf and a scared scream. He’s friendly, and you’re getting used to his company.

One night, you’re almost home from Trader Joe’s, racing in the pouring rain when a familiar voice calls out, “Hey! Running girl! Wait a second!”

Him, you think, as ridiculous as it sounds. You don’t know his name, but Spider-Man’s a sunny surprise in a shitty, wet winter, and you turn to the sound with a grin.

He jogs toward you.

You feel the world pause, right in the centre of your throat. All the air gets sucked out of you.

“Hey, what are you doing out here? Did you get my texts?”

You blink as fat rain lands on your face.

“You okay?” Peter asks, Peter, in a navy hoodie turning black in the rain and a brown corduroy jacket. It’s sodden, hanging heavily around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s go,” —he takes your hand and pulls until you begin to speed walk beside him— “it’s freezing!”

“Peter–”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Peter, what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice an echo as he drags you into the foyer of your apartment building.

Rain hammers the door as he closes it, the windows, the foyer too dark to see properly.

“I wanted to see you. Is that allowed?”

“No.”

Peter takes your hand. You look down at it, and he looks down in tandem, and it is decidedly a non-platonic move. “No?” he asks, a hair’s width from murmuring.

“Shit, my groceries are soaked.”

“It’s all snacks, it’s fine,” he says, pulling you to the stairs.

You rush up the steps together to your floor. Peter takes your key when you offer it, your own fingers too stiff to manage it by yourself, and he holds the door open for you again to let you in.

Your apartment is a ragtag assortment to match the one next door, old wooden furniture wheeled from the street corners they were left on, thrifted homeward and heavy blankets everywhere you look. You almost slip getting out of your shoes. Peter steadies you with a firm hand. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the hook, prying the damp hoodie over his head and exposing a solid length of back that trips your heart as you do the same.

“Sorry I didn’t ask,” Peter says.

“What, to come over? It’s fine. I like you being here, you know that.”

All your favourite days were spent here or at Peter’s house, in beds, on sofas, his hair tickling your neck as credits run down the TV and his breath evens to a light snore. You try to settle down with him, changing into dry clothes, his spare stuff left at the bottom of your wardrobe for his next inevitable impromptu visit. You turn on the TV, letting him gather you into his side with more familiarity than ever. Rain lays its fingertips on your window and draws lazy lines behind half-turned blinds. You rest on the arm and watch Peter watch the movie, answering his occasional, “You okay?” with a meagre nod.

“What’s wrong?” he asks eventually. “You’re so quiet.”

Your hand over your mouth, you part your marriage and pinky finger, marriage at the corner, pinky pressed to your bottom lip, the flesh chapped by a season of frigid winds and long walks. “‘M thinking,” you say.

“About?”

About the first night in your new apartment. You got the apartment a couple of weeks before the start of ESU. Not particularly close to the university but close to Peter, your best, nicest friend. You met in your second year of High School, before Peter got contacts, ‘cos he was good at taking photographs and you were in charge of the school newspapers media sourcing. You used to wait for Peter to show up ten minutes late like clockwork, every week. And every week he’d barge into the club room and say, “Fuck, I’m sorry, my last class is on the other side of the building,” until it turned into its own joke.

Three years later, you got your apartment, and Peter insisted you throw a housewarming party even if he was the only person invited.

“Fuck,” he’d said, ten minutes late, a cake in one hand and a whicker basket the other, “sorry. My last class is on–”

But he didn’t finish. You’d laughed so hard with relief at the reference that he never got the chance. Peter remembered your very first inside joke, because Peter wasn’t about to go off to ESU and meet new friends and forget you.

But Peter’s been distant for a while now, because Peter’s Spider-Man.

“Do you remember,” you say, not willing to share the whole truth, “when you joined the school newspaper to be the official photographer, and you taught me the rule of thirds?”

“So you didn’t need me,” he says.

“I was just thinking about it. We ran that newspaper like the Navy.”

Peter holds your gaze. “Is that really what you were thinking about?”

“Just funny,” you murmur, dropping your hand in your lap and breaking his stare. “So much has changed.”

“Not that much.”

“Not for me, no.”

Peter gets a look in his eyes you know well. He’s found a crack in you and he’s gonna smooth it over until you feel better. You’re expecting his soft tone, his loving smile, but you’re not expecting the way he pulls you in —you’d slipped away from him as the evening went on, but Peter erases every millimetre of space as he slides his arm under your lower back and ushers you into his side. You hold your breath as he hugs you, as he looks down at you. It’s really like he loves you, the line between platonic and romantic a blur. He’s never looked at you like this before.

“I don’t want you to change,” he whispers.

“I want to catch up with you,” you whisper back.

“Catch up with me? We’re in the exact same place, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

Peter hugs you closer, squishing your head down against his jaw as he rubs your shoulder. “Of course we are.”

Peter… What is he doing?

You let yourself relax against him.

“You do change,” he whispers, an utterance of sound to calm that awful bruise he gave you all those months ago, “you change every day, but you don’t need to try.”

“I just… feel like everyone around me is…” You shake your head. “Everyone’s so smart, and they know what they’re doing, or they’re– they’re special. I don’t know anything. So I guess lately I’ve been thinking about that, and then you–”

“What?”

You can say it out loud. You could.

“Peter, you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

His fingers glide down the length of your arm and up again.

If you're wrong, he’ll laugh. And if you’re right, he might– might stop touching you. Your head feels so heavy, and his touch feels like it’s gonna put you to sleep.

He’s Spider-Man.

It makes sense. Who else could have a good enough heart to do that? Of course it’s Peter. It explains so much about him, about Peter and Spider-Man both. Why Peter is suddenly firmer, lighter on his feet, why he can help you move a wardrobe up two flights of stairs without complaint; why Spider-Man is so kind to you, why he knows where to find you, why he rolls his words around just like Pete.

Spider-Man said there are reasons he wears his mask. And Peter doesn’t tell you much, but you trust him.

You won’t make him say anything, you decide. Not now.

You curl your arm over his stomach hesitantly, smiling into his shirt as he hugs you tighter.

“I was thinking about you,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“You’re quieter lately. I know you’re having a hard time right now, okay? You don’t have to tell me. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

“You used to sit on my porch when you knew May wouldn’t be home to make sure I wasn’t alone.” Peter’s breath is warm on your forehead. “I don’t know what you’re worried about being, but I’m with you,” he says, “‘n nothing is gonna change that.”

Peter isn’t as far away as you thought.

“Thank you,” you say.

He kisses your forehead softly. Your whole world goes amber. He brings his hand to your cheek, the thought of him tipping your head back sudden and heart-racing, but Peter only holds you. You lose count of how many minutes you spend cupped in his hand.

“Can I stay over tonight?” he utters, barely audible under the sound of the battering rain.

“Yeah, please.”

His thumb strokes your cheek.

—

Two switches flip at once, that night. Peter is suddenly as tactile as you’ve craved, and Spider-Man disappears.

He’s alive and well, as evidenced by Peter’s continued survival and presence in your life, but Spider-Man doesn’t drop in on your nightly walks.

You take less of them lately, feeling better in yourself. Your spirits are certainly lifted by Peter’s increasing affection, but now that you know he’s Spider-Man you were waiting to see him in spandex to mess with his head. Nothing mean, but you would’ve liked to pick at his secret identity, toy with him like you know he’d do to you. After all, he’s been trailing you for weeks and getting to know you. Peter already knows you. Plus, you told Spider-Man secrets not meant for Peter Parker’s ears.

You find it hard to be angry with him. A thread of it remains whenever you remember his deception, but mostly you worry about him. Peter’s out every night until who knows what hour fighting crime. There are guns. He could get shot, and he doesn’t seem scared. You end up watching videos on the internet of the night he ran to Oscorp, when he fought Connors’ and got that huge gash in his leg. His leg is soiled deep red with blood but banded in white webbing. He limps as he races across a rooftop, the recording shaky yet high definition.

It’s not nice to see Peter in pain. You cling to what he’d said, how he wasn’t scared, but not being scared doesn’t mean he wasn’t hurting.

You chew the tip of a finger and click on a different video. Your computer monitor bears heat, the tower whirring by your thigh. Your eyes burn, another hour sitting in the same seat, sick with worry. You don’t mind when Peter doesn’t answer your texts anymore. You didn’t mind so much before, just terrified of becoming an irrelevance in his life and lonely, too, maybe a little hurt, but never worried for his safety. Now when Peter doesn’t text you back you convince yourself that he’s been hurt, or that he’s swinging across New York City about to risk his life.

It’s not a good way to live. You can’t stop giving into it, is all.

In the next video, Spider-Man sits on a billboard with a can of coke in hand. He doesn’t lift his mask, seemingly aware of his watcher. You laugh as he angles his head down, suspicion in his tight shoulders. He relaxes when he sees whoever it is recording.

“Hey,” he says, “you all right?”

“Should you be up there?” the person recording shouts.

“I’m fine up here!”

“Are you really Spider-Man?”

“Sure am.”

“Are you single?”

Peter laughs like crazy. How you didn’t know it was him before is a mystery —it couldn’t sound more like him. “I’ve got my eye on someone!” he says, sounding younger for it, the character voice he enacts when he’s Spider-Man lost to a good mood.

Your phone rings in the back pocket of your jeans. You wriggle it out, nonplussed to find Peter himself on your screen. You click the green answer button.

“Hello?” Peter asks.

You bring the phone snug to your ear. “Hey, Peter.”

“Hi, are you busy?”

“Not really.”

“Do you wanna come over? I know it’s late. Come stay the night and tomorrow we’ll go out for breakfast.”

“Is Aunt May okay with that?”

“She’s staring at me right now shaking her head, but I’m in trouble for something. May, can she come over, is that allowed?”

“She’s always allowed as long as you keep the door open.”

You laugh under your breath at May’s begrudging answer. “Are you sure she’s alright with it?” you ask softly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You never, ever could be. I’m coming to your place and we’ll walk over together. Did you eat dinner?”

“Not yet, but–”

“Okay, I’ll make you something when you get here. I’ll meet you at the door. Twenty minutes?”

“I have to shower first.”

“Twenty five?”

You choke on a laugh, a weird bubbly thing you’re not used to. Peter laughs on the other side of the phone. “How about I’ll see you at seven?”

“It’s a date,” he says.

“Mm, put it in your calendar, Parker.”

—

Peter waits for you at the door like he promised. He frowns at your still-wet face as he slips your backpack from your shoulder, throwing it over his own. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I‘ll dry fast,” you say. “I took too long finding my pyjamas.”

“I have stuff you can wear. Probably have your sweatpants somewhere, the grey ones.” Peter pulls you forward and wipes your tacky face. “I would’ve waited,” he says.

“It’s fine.“

“It’s not fine. Are you cold?”

“Pete, it’s fine.”

“You always remind me of my Uncle Ben when you call me Pete,” he laughs, “super stern.”

“I’m not stern. Look, take me home, please, I’m cold.”

“You said it wasn’t cold!”

“It’s not, I’m just damp–” Peter cuts you off as he grabs you, sudden and tight, arms around you and rubbing the lengths of your back through your coat. “Handsy!”

“You like it,” he jokes back, his playful warming turning into a hug. You smile, hiding your face in his neck for a few moments.

“I don’t like it,” you lie.

“Okay, you don’t like it, and I’m sorry.” Peter gives you a last hug and pulls away. “Now let’s go. I gotta feed you before midnight.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Apparently, nothing is.”

Peter links your arms together. By the time you get to his house, you’ve fallen away from each other naturally. May is in the hallway when you climb through the door, an empty laundry basket in her hands.

“I see Peter hasn’t won this argument yet,” you say in way of greeting. Peter’s desperate to do his own laundry now he’s getting older. May won’t let him.

“No, he hasn’t.” She looks you up and down. “It’s nice to see you, honey. And in one piece! Peter tells me you’ve been walking a lot, and I mean, in this city? Can’t you buy a treadmill?” she asks.

“May!” Peter says, startled.

“I like walking, I like the air,” you say.

“Can’t exactly call it fresh,” May says.

“No, but it’s alright. It helps me think.”

“Is everything okay?” May asks, putting her hand on her hip.

“Of course.” You smile at her genuinely. “I think starting college was too much for me? It was hard. But things are settling now, I don’t know what Peter told you, but I’m not walking a lot anymore. You know, not more than necessary.”

She softens her disapproving. “Good, honey. That’s good. Peter’s gonna make you some dinner now, right?”

“Yeah, Aunt May, I’m gonna make dinner,” Peter sighs, pulling a leg up to take off his shoes.

Peter shouldn’t really know that you’ve been walking. He might see you coming back from Trader Joe’s or the bodega on his way to your apartment, but you haven’t mentioned any of your longer excursions, and everybody in Queens has to walk. That’s information he wouldn’t know without Spider-Man.

He seems to be hoping you won’t realise, changing the subject to the frankly killer grilled cheese and tomato soup that he’s about to make you, and pushing you into a chair at the table. “Warm up,” he says near the back of your head, forcing a wave of shivers down your arms.

He makes soup in one pan, grilled cheese in the other, two for him and two for you. Peter’s a good eater, and he encourages the same from you, setting a big bowl of tomato soup (from the can, splash of fresh cream) down in front of you with the grilled cheese on a plate between you. You eat it in too-hot bites and try not to get caught looking at him. He does the same, but when he catches you, or when you catch him, he holds your eye and smiles.

“I can do the dishes,” you say. You might need a breather.

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna rinse them, put them in the dishwasher.” Peter stands and feels your forehead with his hand. “Warmer. Good job.”

You shrug away from his hand. “Loser.”

“Concerned friend.”

“Handsy loser.”

”Shut up,” he mumbles.

As flustered as you’ve ever seen, Peter takes your empty dishes to the kitchen. When he’s done rinsing them off you follow him upstairs to his bedroom and tuck your backpack under his bed.

You look down at your socks. Peter’s room is on the smaller side, but it’s never been as startlingly small as it is when Peter’s socked feet align with yours, toe to toe. Quick recovery time, this boy.

“There’s chips and stuff on my desk. Or I could run to 91st for some ice cream sandwiches if you want something sweet,” he says.

You lift your eyes, tilt your head up just a touch, not wanting him to think you’re in his space no matter how strange that might be, considering he chose to stand there. “I’m all right. Did you want ice cream? We can go if you want to, but if you want to go ’cos you think I do then I’m fine.”

“That’s such a long answer,” he says, draping an arm over your shoulder. “You don’t have to say all of that, just tell me no.”

“I don’t want ice cream.”

“Wasn’t that easy?” he asks.

“Well, no, it wasn’t. Saying no to you is like saying no to a puppy.”

“Because I’m adorable?”

“Persistent.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He drapes the other arm over you. The soap he used at the kitchen sink lingers on his hands.

“Peter…?” you murmur.

“What?” he murmurs back.

You touch a knuckle to his chest. “This– You…” Every quelled thought rushes to the surface at once —Peter doesn’t like you as you desire, how could he, you aren’t beautiful like he is, aren’t smart, aren’t brave, no exceptional kindness or goodness to mark you enough for him. It’s why his being with Gwen didn’t hurt; she made sense. And for months now you’ve wondered what it is that made him struggle to be with her. And sometimes, foolishly, you wondered if it was you. But it’s not you, it’s never you, and whatever Peter’s trying to do now–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, taking your face into his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He pushes his hand back to hold your nape, thumb under your ear. “I can’t hear you.”

You raise your voice. “Why did you invite me over tonight?”

“‘Cos I missed you?”

“I used to think you didn’t miss me at all.”

Peter winces, hurt. “How could you think that? Of course I miss you. What you said to May, about college being hard? It’s like that for me too, okay? I miss you all the time.”

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. “…College isn’t hard for you.”

“It’s not easy.” He frowns, the fallen angel, his lips an unsure brushstroke. “What’s wrong? Did I say the wrong thing?”

You’re being wretched, you know, saying it isn’t hard for him. “You didn’t. Really, you didn’t.”

“But why are you upset?” he implores, dark eyes darker as his eyebrows tug together.

“I’m not–”

“You are. It’s okay, you can be upset. I just want you to feel better, you know that?” He settles his hands at the tops of your arms. Less intimate, but something warm remains. “Even if it takes a long time.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“How would you know?” you finally ask.

Peter stares at you.

“I know you,” he says carefully, “and I know you aren’t struggling like you were, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen or that you have to be a hundred percent better now.”

“I didn’t realise that I was,” you say, licking your lips, “‘til now. I didn’t get that it was on the surface.”

Peter pulls you in for a gentle hug. “I’m here for you forever, and I’ll make it up to you for not noticing sooner,” he says, scrunching your shirt in his hand.

After the hug, he tells you to change and make yourself comfortable while he showers. So you put on your pyjamas and climb into Peter’s bed, head pounding as though all your energy was stolen in a fell swoop. You press your nose to his pillow and arm wrapped around his comforter, gathering it into a Peter sized lump. The shower pump whines against the shared wall.

Things aren’t meant to be like this. You thought Peter touching you —holding you— was the deepest of your desires, but you feel now exactly as you had before he started blurring the line, needing Peter to kiss you so badly it becomes its own kind of nausea. Why are you still acting like it’s an impossibility?

When he comes back, you’ll apologise. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He does keep a secret, but don’t you keep one too? He’s Spider-Man. You’ve had deep, complicated feelings for him for months. They are secrets of equal magnitude, and are, more apparently, badly kept.

You wish you could fall asleep. Your heart ticks in agitation.

Peter returns as perturbed as earlier.

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” he asks, raking a hand through his hair. A towel hangs around his neck.

“I’m sorry for being weird.”

“You’re not weird,” Peter says, bringing the towel to his hair to scrub ruthlessly.

“It’s just ‘cos things have been different between us.” And, you try to say, that scares me no matter how bad I wanted it. because you’re not just Peter anymore, you’re Spider-Man. I’m only me, and I can’t do anything to protect you.

Peter gives his hair a long scrub before draping the towel on his desk chair. He rakes it messily into place and sits himself at the end of the bed. You sit up.

“Yeah, they have been. Good different?” he asks hesitantly.

“I think so,” you say, quiet again.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I don’t want you to feel like I don’t want to be here. I just worry about you.”

Peter uses his hands to get higher up the bed. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, “Jesus, please don’t. That’s the last thing I want from you, I hate when people worry about me.”

You curl into the lump of comforter you’d made. Peter lets himself rest beside you, his back to the bedroom wall, tens of Polaroids above him shining with the light of the hallway and his orange-bulbed lamp. His skin is glowing like it’s golden hour, dashes of topaz in his eyes, his Cupid’s bow deep. How would it feel to lean forward and kiss him? To catch his Cupid's bow under your lips?

You brush a damp curl tangled in another onto his forehead.

You lay there for a little while without talking, listening to the sound of the washing machine as it cycles downstairs.

“Am I going too fast?” Peter murmurs.

You press your lips together, shaking your head minutely.

“Is it something else?”

You don’t move.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No.”

Peter rewards you with a smile, his hand on your arm. “Alright. Let me get this blanket on you the right way. You’re still cold.”

You resent the loss of a shape to hold when Peter slips down beside you and wrangles the comforter flat again, spreading it out over you both, his hand under the blankets. His knuckles brush your thigh.

He takes a deep breath before turning and wrapping his arm over your stomach, asking softly, “Is this alright?”

“Yeah.”

He gives you a look and then lifts his head to slot his nose against your temple. “Please don’t take this in a way that I don’t mean it, but sometimes you think about things so much I worry you’re gonna get stuck in your head forever.”

“I like thinking.”

“I hate it,” he says quickly, a fervent, flirting cadence to his otherwise dulcet tone, “we should never do it ever again.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Would you? For me?”

You laugh into his shirt, feeling the warmth of your breath on your own nose. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. I’d miss you too much if you got lost in that nice head of yours.”

You relax under his arm. You aren’t sure what all the fuss was about now that he's hugging you. “I’d miss you too.”

May comes up the stairs about an hour later. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch when she finds you and Peter smushed together watching a DVD on his old TV. He’s holding your arm, and you’re snoozing on his shoulder, half-aware of the world, fully aware of his nice smells and the shapes of his arms.

“Door open,” she says.

“Not that either of us want it closed, May, but we’re adults.”

“Not while I’m still washing your clothes, you’re not.”

He snorts. “Goodnight, Aunt May. The door isn’t gonna close, I promise.”

“I know that,” she says, scornful in her pride. “You’re a good boy.” She lightens. “Things are going okay?”

Peter covers your ear. “Goodnight, Aunt May.”

”I have half a mind to never listen to you again. You talk my ear off and I can’t ask a simple question?”

“I love you,” Peter sing-songs.

“I love you, Peter,” she says. “Don’t smother the girl.”

“I won’t smother her. It’s in my best interest that she survives the night. She’s buying my breakfast tomorrow.”

“Peter Parker.”

“I’m kidding,” he whispers, petting your cheek absentmindedly. “Just messing with you, May.”

You smile and curl further into his arms. His voice is like the sun, even when he whispers.

—

To your surprise, Spider-Man comes to find you after class one evening. A guest lecturer had talked to your oncology class about click chemistry and other molecular therapies against cancer, and the zine book she’d given you is burning a hole in your pocket. Peter is going to love it.

You pull it out and pause beside a bench and a silver trash can, the day grey but thankfully without rain. The pages of your little book whip forcefully in the wind. It’s chemistry, sure, but it’s biology too, wrapping your and Peter’s interests up neatly. If it weren’t for Peter you doubt you’d love science as much as you do. He’s always been good at it, but since you started college he's been a genius. Watching him grow has encouraged you to work harder, and understanding the material is satisfying, if draining. You take a photo of the middle most pages and tuck the book away, writing a quick text to Peter to send with it.

Look! it says, LEGO cancer treatment!!

The moment you press send a beep chimes from somewhere close behind you, all too familiar. You turn to the source but find nobody you know waiting. Coincidence, you think, shaking yourself and beginning the trek to the subway.

But then you hear the tell tale splat and thwick of Spider-Man’s webbing.

You wait until you’re at the alleyway between Porto’s Bakery and the key cutting shop and turn down to stop by one of the dumpsters.

“Spider-Man?” you ask, shoulders tensed in case it’s not who you think.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You gasp as he hops down in front of you, his suit shiny with its dark web-pattern caught by the grey sunshine passing through the clouds overhead. “Shit, don’t break your ankles.”

“My ankles?” He laughs. He sounds so much like Peter that you can only laugh with him. What an idiot he is for thinking you don’t know; what a fool you’d been for falling for his put upon tenor. “They’re fine. What would be wrong with my ankles?”

“You just dropped down twenty feet!”

“It’s more like thirty, and I’m fine. You understand the super part of superhero, don’t you?”

“Who said you’re a superhero?”

“Nice. What are you doing down here?”

“I was testing my theory. You’re following me.”

“No, I’m visiting you, it’s very different,” he says confidently.

“You haven’t come to see me for weeks.”

“Yes, well, I–” Spider-Peter crosses his arms across his chest. “Hey, you’re the one who told me to take a day off.”

“I did tell you to take a day off. It’s not nice thinking about you trying to save the world every single night. That’s a lot of responsibility for one person to have.”

“But it’s my responsibility,” he says easily. “No point in a beautiful girl like you wasting her time worrying about it. I have to do it, and I don’t mind it.”

“Do you flirt with every girl you meet out here in the city?” you ask, cheeks hot.

“No,” he says, fondness evident even through the mask, “just you.”

“Do you wanna walk me home? I was gonna take the subway, but it’s not that far.”

Spider-Man nods. “Yeah, I’ll walk you back.”

He doesn’t hide that he knows the way very well. He takes preemptive turns, crosses roads without you telling him to go forward. You can’t believe him. Smartest guy at Midtown High and he can’t pretend to save his life.

“Are you having a good semester?” he asks.

“It’s getting better. I’m glad I stuck with it. I love biology, it’s so fucking hard. I used to think that was a bad thing, but it makes it cooler now. Like, it’s not something everyone understands.” You give him a look, and you give into temptation. “My best friend got me into all this stuff. I used to think math was hopeless and science was for dorks.”

“It’s definitely for dorks.”

“Right, but I love being one.” You offer a useless secret. “I like to think that it’s why we’re such great friends.”

“Me and you?” Spider-Man asks hoarsely.

“Me and Peter.” You elbow him without force. “Why, do you like science?”

“I love it…”

“You know, I really like you, Spider-Man. I feel like we’ve been friends for a long time.” You’re teasing poor Peter.

He doesn’t speak for a while. He stops walking, but you take a few steps without him. When you realise he’s stopped, you turn back to see him.

Peter’s gone so tense you could strike him with a flint and catch a spark. It’s the same way Peter looked at you when he told you about his Uncle, a truth he didn’t want to be true. Seeing it throws a spanner in the works of all your teasing: you’d meant to wind him up, not make him panic.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Can you hear something?”

“No, it’s not that…” He’s masked, but you know him well enough to understand why he’s stopped.

“It’s okay,” you say.

“It’s not, actually.”

“Spider-Man.” You take a step toward him. “It’s fine.”

He presses his hands to his stomach. The sun is setting early, and in an hour, the dark will eat up New York and leave it in a blistering cold. “Do you remember when we first met, the second time, we swapped secrets?”

“Yeah, I remember. Useless secret for another. I told you I hated my major. It’s not true anymore, obviously. I was having a bad time.”

“I know you were,” he says, emphasis on know, like it’s a different word entirely.

“But meeting you really helped. If it weren’t for you, for Peter,” —you give him a searching look— “I wouldn’t feel better at all.”

“It wasn’t his fault?” he asks. “He was your friend, and you were lonely.”

“No–”

“He didn’t know what was going on with you, he didn’t have a clue. You hurt yourself and you felt like you couldn’t tell anybody, and I know it wasn’t an accident, so what was his excuse?” His voice burns with anger. “It’s his fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t your fault. Is that what you think?” You shake your head, panicked by the bone-deep self loathing in his voice, his shameful dropped head. “Yes, I was lonely, I am lonely, I don’t know many people and I– I– I hurt myself, and it wasn’t as accidental as I thought it was, but why would that be your fault?”

“Peter’s fault,” he says, though his head is lifted now, and he doesn’t bother enthusing it with much gusto.

“Peter, none of it was your fault.” You cringe in your embarrassment, thinking Fuck, don’t let me ruin this. “I was in a weird way, and yes, I was lonely, and I really liked you more than I should have. You didn't want me and that wasn’t your fault, that’s just how it was, I tried not to let it get to me, just there were a lot of things weighing on me at once, but it really wasn’t as bad as you think it was and it wasn’t your fault.”

“I wasn’t there for you,” he says. “And I’ve been lying to you for a long time.”

“You couldn’t tell me, right? Spider-Man is your secret for a reason.”

“…I didn’t even know you were lonely until you told him. He was a stranger.”

You hold your hands behind your back. “Well, he was a familiar one.”

Peter reaches out as though wanting to touch you, but your arms aren’t in his reach. “It’s not because I didn’t want you.”

“Peter,” you say, squirming.

He steps back.

“I have to go,” he says.

“What?”

“I have to– I don’t want to go,” he says earnestly, “sweetheart, I can hear someone calling out, I have to go. But I’ll come back, I’ll– I’ll come back,” he promises.

And with a sudden lift of his arm, Peter pulls himself up the side of a building and disappears, leaving you whiplashed on the sidewalk, the sun setting just out of view.

—

You fall asleep that night waiting for Peter. When you wake up, 5AM, eyes aching, he isn’t there. You check your phone but he hasn’t texted. You check the Bugle and Spider-Man hasn’t been seen.

You aren’t sure what to think. He sounded sincere to the fullest extent when he said he’d come back, but he didn’t, not ten minutes later, not twenty. You made excuses and you went home before it got too dark to see the street, sat on the couch rehearsing what you’d say. How could Peter think your unhappiness was his fault? Why does he always put the entire world on his shoulders?

Selfishly, you worried what it all meant for his lazy touches. Would he want to curl up into bed with you again now he knows what it means to you? It’s different for him. It isn’t like he’s in love with you… you’d just thought maybe he could be. That this was falling in love, real love, not the unrequited ache you’d suffered before.

But maybe you got everything wrong. All of it. It wouldn't be the first time.

—

You and Peter found The Moroccan Mode in your senior year at Midtown. The school library was small and you were sick of being underfoot at home. When you started at ESU, you explored the on campus coffeehouse, the Coffee Bean, but it was crowded, and you’d found yourself attached to the Mode’s beautiful tiling, blues and topaz and platinum golds, its heavy, oiled wooden furniture, stained glass lampshades and the case full of lemony treats. The coffee here is better than anywhere else, but the best part out of everything is that it’s your secret. Barely anybody comes to the Mode on purpose.

You hide in a far corner with a book and an empty cup of decaf coffee, a slice of meskouta on the table untouched. Decaf because caffeine felt a terrible idea, meskouta untouched because you can’t stomach the smell. You push it to the opposite end of the table, considering another cup of coffee instead. It’s served slightly too hot, and will still be warm when it gets to your chest.

The sunshine is creeping in slowly. It feels like the first time you’ve seen it in months, warming rays kissing your fingers and lining the walls. You turn a page, turn your wrist, let the sun warm the scar you gave yourself those few months ago, when everything felt too big for you.

Looking back, it was too big. Maybe soon you’ll be ready to talk about it.

The author in your book is talking about bees. They can fly up to 15 miles per hour. They make short, fast motions from front to back, a rocking motion. Asian giant hornets can go even faster despite their increased mass. They consider humans running provocation. If you see a giant hornet, you’re supposed to lay down to avoid being stung.

You put your face in your hand. Next year, you’ll avoid the insect-based electives.

Across the cafe, the bell at the top of the door rings. Laughter falls through it, a couple passing by. The register clashes open. A minute later it closes.

You don’t raise your head when footsteps draw near. A plate is placed on the table, pushed across to you, stopping just shy of your coffee.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Peter asks quietly.

His voice is gentle, but hoarse.

You tense.

“Are you okay?” he asks, not waiting for your answer to either question. “You don’t look like yourself. Your eyes are red.”

You lift your head. Wet with the beginnings of tears, you see Peter through an astigmatic blur.

“What are you reading?” He frowns at you. “Please don’t cry.”

You shake your head. Your smile is all odd, nothing like his, no inherent warmth despite your best effort. “I’m okay.”

He nudges you across the booth seat and sits beside you. His arm settles behind your shoulders. He smells like smoke and soap, an acrid scent barely hidden. “Can you tell me you didn’t wait long for me?”

“Ten minutes,” you lie.

“Okay. I’m sorry. There was a fire.” He rubs your arm where he’s holding you. “I’m sorry.”

“Will you go half?” you ask, nodding to the sandwich he’s brought you. It’s tough sourdough bread, brown with white flour on the crusts and leafy greens poking between the slices. You and Peter complain about the price. You’ve never had one. He passes you the bigger half, holding the other in his hand without eating.

“I know you’re hungry,” you say, tapping his elbow, “just eat.”

You eat your sandwiches. Now that Peter’s here, you don’t feel so sick —he’s not upset with you. The dull pang of an empty stomach won’t be ignored.

Peter puts his sandwich down, which is crazy, and wipes his fingers on the plates napkin. You’ve never seen him stop before he’s done.

“It was in the apartments on Vernon. I– I think I almost died, the smoke was everywhere.”

You choke around a crust, thrusting the rest of your half onto the plate. “Are you hurt?” you ask, coughing.

He moves his head from side to side, not a shake, but a slow no. “How long have you known it was me?” he asks, curling his hand behind your back again, fingers spread over your shoulder blade, a fingertip on your neck.

You savour his touch, but you give in to your apprehension and stare at his chest. “The night you caught me outside in the rain in November. You called me ‘running girl’. The way you said it, you sounded exactly like him. I turned around expecting,” —you whisper, weary of the quiet cafe— “Spider-Man, and I realised it’s him that sounds like you. That he is you.”

“Was that disappointing?”

“Peter, you’re, like, my favourite person in the world,” you whisper fervently, your smile making it light. You laugh. “Why would that be disappointing?”

“I thought maybe you think he’s cooler than me.”

“He is cooler than you, Peter.” You laugh again, pleased when he scoffs and draws you nearer. “I guess you’re the same person, right? So he’s just as cool as you are. But why would being cool matter to me? You know I like you.”

“You flirted pretty heavily with Spider-Man.”

“Well, he flirted with me first.”

You chance a look at his face. From that moment you can’t look away, not from Peter. You like when he wears that darkness in his eyes, the hint of his rarer side so uncommonly seen, but you love this most of all, Peter like your best memory, the way he’s looking at you now a picture perfect copy of that moment in a swimming pool in Manhattan with cracked tile under your feet. His arms heavy on your shoulders. You didn’t get it then, but you’re starting to understand now.

“I’ve made a mess of everything,” he says softly, the trail his hand makes to the small of your back leaving a wake of goosebumps. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

“I haven’t, either.”

“I want to ask you for something,” Peter says, a fingertip trailing back up. He smiles when you shiver, not teasing, just loving. “You can say no.”

“You’re hard to say no to.”

“I need you to talk to me more,” —and here he goes, Peter Parker, flirting and sweet-talking like his life depends on it, his face inching down into your space— “not just because I love your voice, or because you think so much I’m scared you’ll get lost, but I need you to talk to me. We need to talk about real things.”

We do, you think morosely.

“It’s not your fault,” he adds, the hand that isn’t holding your back coming up to cup your cheek, “it’s mine. I was scared of telling you for stupid reasons, but I shouldn’t have let it be a secret for so long.”

“No, I doubt they’re stupid,” you murmur, following his hand as he attempts to move it to your ear. “It’s not easy to tell someone you’re a hero.”

His palm smells like smoke.

“That’s not the secret I meant,” he says.

You take his hand from your face. Peter looks down and begins pressing his fingers between yours, squeezing them together as his thumb runs over the back of your hand.

“So tell me.”

The sunshine bleeds onto his cheek. Dappled orange light turning slowly white as time stretches and the sun moves up through a murky sky. “You want to trade secrets again?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Okay. Okay, but I don’t have as many as you do,” he warns.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t. It’s not a real secret, is it? I’ve been trying to show you for weeks, we…”

He tilts his head invitingly.

All those hand-holds and nights curled up in bed together. Am I going too fast? You know exactly what he means; it really isn’t a secret.

“I’ll go first,” he says, lowering his face to yours. You try not to close your eyes. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks.” He closes his eyes so you follow, your breath not your own suddenly. You hold it. Let it go hastily. “What’s your secret?”

“Sometime I want you to kiss me so badly I can’t sleep. It makes me feel sick–”

“Sick?” he asks worriedly.

You touch the tip of your nose to his. “It’s like– like jealousy, but…”

“You have no one to be jealous of,” he says surely. He cups your cheek, and he asks, “Please, can I kiss you?”

You say, “Yes,” very, very quietly, but he hears it, and his smile couldn’t be more obvious as he closes the last of the distance between you to kiss you.

It isn’t the sort of kiss that kept you up at night. Peter doesn’t hook you in or tip your head back, he kisses gently, his hand coming to live on your cheek, where it cradles. It’s so warm you don’t know what to make of him beyond kissing him back —kissing his smile, though it’s catching. Kissing the line of his Cupid’s bow as he leans down.

“I’m sorry about everything,” he mumbles, nose flattened against yours.

You feel sunlight on your cheek. Squinting, you turn into his hand to peer outside at the sudden abundance of it. It’s still cold outside, but the Mode is warm, Peter’s hand warmer, and the sunshine is a welcome guest.

Peter drops his hand. “Oh, wow. December sun. Good thing it didn’t snow, we’d be blind.”

“I can’t be cold much longer,” you confess. “I’m sick of the shitty weather.”

“I can keep you warm.”

He smiles at you. His eyelashes tangle in the corners of his eyes, long and brown.

“Did you want my meskouta?” you ask.

Peter plants a fat kiss against your brow.

You let the sunshine warm your face. Two unfinished sandwich halves, a mouthful of coffee, and a round slice of meskouta, its flaky crumb and lemon drizzle shining on the table. You would ask Peter for his camera if you’d thought he brought it with him, to take a picture of your breakfast and the carved table underneath. You could turn it on Peter, say something cheesy. This is the moment you ruined our lives, you’d tease.

“You never told me you met Spider-Man, you know.”

You watch Peter lick the tip of his finger without shame. “They could make a novella of things I haven’t told you about,” you murmur wryly.

Peter takes a bite of meskouta, reaching for your knee under the table. He shakes your leg a little, as if to say, Well, we’ll work on that.

—

Spring

“Sorry!”

“No, it’s–”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m– shit!”

“–okay! All legs inside the ride?”

“I couldn’t find my purse–”

“You don’t need it!” Peter leans over the console to kiss your cheek. “You don’t have to rush.”

“Are you sure you can drive this thing?”

“Harry doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mean the car, I mean, are you sure you can drive?”

“That’s not funny.”

You grin and dart across to kiss his cheek, too. “Nothing ever is with us.”

Peter grabs you behind the neck —which might sound rough, if he were capable of such a thing— and pulls you forward for a kiss you don’t have time for. “If we don’t check in,” —you begin, swiftly smothered by another press of his lips, his tongue a heat flirting with the seam of your lips— “by three, they said they won’t keep the room–” He clasps the back of your neck and smiles when your breath stutters. You squeeze your eyes closed, kiss him fiercely, and pull away, hand on his chest to restrain him. “And then we’ll have to drive home like losers.”

Peter sits back in the driver's seat unbothered. He fixes his hair, and he wipes his bottom lip with his knuckle. You’re rolling your eyes when he finally returns your gaze. “Sorry, am I the one who lost her purse?”

“Peter!”

“I can’t make us un-late,” he says, turning the key slowly, hands on the wheel but his eyes still flitting between your eyes and your lips.

“Alright,” you warn.

He reaches for your knee. “It’s a forty minute drive. You’re panicking over nothing.”

“It’s an hour.”

Your drive from Queens to Manhattan is entirely uneventful. You keep Peter’s hand hostage on your knee, your palm atop it, the other hand wrapped around his wrist, your conversation a juxtaposition, almost lackadaisical. Peter doesn’t question your clinging nor your lazy murmurings, rubbing a circle into your knee with his thumb from Forest Hill to Lenox Hill. There’s so much to do around Manhattan; you could visit MoMA, Central Park, The Empire State Building or Times Square, but you and Peter give it all a miss for the little known Manhattan Super 8.

It’s been a long time since you and Peter first visited. You took the bus out to Lenox Hill for a med-student tour neither of you particularly enjoyed, feeling out future careers. It’s not that Lenox Hill isn’t one of the most impressive medical facilities in New York (if not the northeastern USA), it’s that all the blood made him queasy, and you were panicking too much about the future to think it through. He got over his aversion to blood but chose the less hands-on science in the end, and you worked things through. You’re a little less scared of the future everyday.

You and Peter were supposed to get the bus straight back home for a sleepover, but one got cancelled, another delayed, and night closed in like two hands on your neck. Peter sensed your fear and emptied his wallet for a night in the Super 8.

The next morning it was beautifully sunny. The first day of summer that year, warm and golden. The pool wasn’t anything special but it was invitingly cool, blue and white tiles patterned like fish below; you clambered into the water in shorts and a tank top and Peter his boxers before a worker could see and stop you.

It was one of the best days of your life. When you told Peter about it last week, he’d looked at you peculiarly, said, Bub, you’re cute, and let you waste the afternoon recounting one of your more embarrassing pangs of longing. A few days later he told you to clear your calendar for the weekend, only spilling the beans on what he’d done when you’d curled over his lap, a hand threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, murmuring, Tell me, tell me, tell me.

He’d hung his head over you and scrunched up his eyes. Cheater.

The best thing about having a boyfriend is that he always wants to listen to you. Peter was a good listener as a best friend, but now he has his act together and the secrets between you are never anything more than eating the last of the milk duds or not wanting to pee in front of him, he’s a treasure. There’s no feeling like having Peter pull you into his lap so he can ask about your day with his face buried in your neck, sniffing. Sometimes, when you text one another to meet up the next day, you’ll accidentally will the hours away babbling about school and life and things without reason. Peter has a list on his phone of your silliest tangents; blood oranges to the super moon, fries dipped in ice cream to the world record for kick flips done in five minutes. It’s like when you talk to one another, you can’t stop.

There are quiet moments. You wake up some mornings to find him awake already, an arm behind you, rubbing at your soft upper arm, fingertip displacing the fine hairs there and trailing circles as he reads. He bends the pages back and holds whatever novel he’s reading at the bottom of his stomach, as though making sure you can see the words clearly, even when you’re sleeping.

There are hectic, aching moments —vigilante boyfriends become blasé with their lives and precious faces. You’ve teetered on the edge of anxiety attacks trying to pick glass from his cheek with a tweezers, lamented over bruises that heal the next day. It’s easier when Peter’s careful, but Spider-Man isn’t careful. You ask him to take care of himself and he’s gentle with himself for a few days, but then someone needs saving from an armed burglar or a car swerves dangerously onto the sidewalk and he forgets.

He hadn’t patrolled last night in preparation for today.

“Did you know,” he says, pulling Harry’s borrowed car into a parking spot just in front of the Super 8 reception, “that today’s the last day of spring?”

“Already?”

“Tonight’s the June equinox.”

“Who told you that?”

“Aunt May. She said it’s time to get a summer job.”

You laugh loudly. “Our federal loans won’t last forever.”

“Harry’s gonna get me something, I think. Do you want to work with me? It could be fun.”

You nod emphatically. It’s barely a thought. “Obviously I want to. Does Oscorp pay well, do you think?”

Peter lets the engine go. The car turns off, engine ticking its last breath in the dash. “Better than the Bugle.”

You get your key from the reception and find your room upstairs, second floor. It’s not dirty nor exceptionally clean, no mould or damp but a strange smell in the bathroom. There’s a microwave with two mugs and a few sachets of instant coffee. Peter deems it the nicest motel he’s ever stayed in, laughing, crossing the room to its only window and pulling aside the curtain.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his arm around you as you join him, “that’s what dreams are made of.”

The blue and white tiled pool. It hasn’t changed.

It’s about as hot as it’s going to get in June today, and, not knowing if it’ll rain tomorrow, you and Peter change into your swim suits and gather your towels. You wear flip flops and tangle your fingers, clanking and thumping down the rickety metal stairs to the pool. There’s nobody there, no lifeguard, no quests, and the pool is clean and cold when you dip your toes.

Peter eases in first. Towels in a heap at the end of a sun lounger, his shirt tumbling to the floor, Peter splashes in frontward and turns to face you as the water laps his ribs. “It’s cold,” he says, wading for your legs, which he hugs.

“I can feel it,” you say, the cool waters to your calves where you sit on the edge.

“You won’t come in and warm me up?” he asks.

You stroke a tendril of hair from his eyes. He attempts to kiss your fingers.

“I’m trying to prepare myself.”

“Mm, you have to get used to it.” He puts wet hands on your thighs, looking up imploringly until you lean down for a kiss. The fact that he’d want one still makes you dizzy. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’ll have to move.”

Peter steps back, a ripple of water ringing behind him, his hands raised. He slips them with ease under your arms and helps you down into the water, laughing at your shocked giggling —he’s so strong, the water so cold.

Peter doesn’t often show his strength. Never to intimidate, he prefers startling you helpfully. He’ll lift you when you want to reach something too tall, or raise the bed when you’re on his side to force you sideways.

“Oh, this is the perfect place to try the lift!” he says.

“How will I run?” you ask, letting your knees buckle, water rushing up to your neck.

Peter pulls you up. He touches you easily, and yet you get the sense that he’s precious with you, too. There’s devotion to be found in his hands and the specific way they cradle your back, drawing your chest to his. “I don’t need you to do a running start, sweetheart,” he says, tilting his head to the side, “I’ll just lift you.”

“Last time I laughed so much you dropped me.”

“Exactly, you laughed, and this is serious.”

The world isn’t mild here. Car horns beep and tyres crunch asphalt. You can hear children, and singing, and a walkie talkie somewhere in the Super 8’s parking lot. The pool pumps gargle and Peter’s breath is half laughter as he pulls you further from the sidelines, ceramic tiles slippery under your feet. In the distance, you swear you can hear one of those songs he likes from that poor singer who died in the Wolf River.

He’s a beholden thing in the sun; you can’t not look at him, all of him, his sculpted chest wet and glinting in the sun, his eyes like browning honey, his smile curling up, and up.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

You rest an arm behind his head. “The rash guard is a good look?”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t look cuter,” he says, hands on your waist, pinky on your hip. “I wish you’d mentioned these shorts a few days ago. I would’ve prepared to be a more decent man.”

“You’re decent enough, Parker.”

“Maybe now.”

“Well, if things get too hot, you can always take a quick dip,” you say.

You’re teasing, but Peter’s eyes light up with mischief as he calls, “Oh, great idea!” and lets himself drop backwards into the water. You pull your arm back rather than go with him. You can’t avoid the great burst of water as he surges to the surface.

He shakes himself off like a dog.

“Pete!” you cry through laughs, wiping the water from your face before the chlorine gets in your eyes.

“It just didn’t help,” he says, pulling you back into his arms, “you know, the water is cold, but you’re so hot, and I actually got a pretty good look at them when I was under, and you’re just as pretty as I remembered you being ten seconds ago–”

“Peter,” you say, tempted to roll your eyes.

Water runs down his face in great rivers, but with the dopey smile he’s sporting, they look like anything but tears. “Tell me a secret?” he asks, dripping in sunshine, an endless summer at his back.

A soft smile takes your lips. “No,” you say, tipping up your chin, “you tell me one first.”

“What kind of secret?”

“A real one,” you insist.

“Oh…” He leans away from you, though his arms stay crossed behind you. “Okay, I have one. Ask me again.”

You raise a single brow. “Tell me a secret, Peter.”

He pulls your face in for a kiss. His hand is wet on your cheek, but no less welcome. “I love you,” he says, kissing the skin just shy of your nose.

You’re lucky he’s already holding you. “I love you too,” you say, gathering him to you for a hug, digging your nose into the slope of his neck as his admission blows your mind. “I love you.”

Peter wraps his arms around your shoulders, closing his eyes against the side of your head. You can’t know what he’s thinking, but you can feel it. His hands can’t seem to stay still on your skin.

The sun warms your back for a time.

Peter lets out a deep breath of relief. You lean away to look at him, your hand slipping down into the water, where he finds it, his fingers circling your wrist.

“That’s another one to let go of,” he suggests.

He peppers a row of gentle kisses along your lips and the soft skin below your eye.

You and Peter swim until your fingers are pruned and the sun has been blanketed by clouds. You let him wrap you in a towel, and kiss your wet ears, and take you back to the room, where he holds your face.

“I’ll start the shower for you,” he says, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, each stroke of them encouraging your face from one side to the other, just a touch, ever so slightly moved in the palms of his hands.

“Don’t fall asleep standing up,” he murmurs.

Your eyes close unbidden to you both. “I won’t.”

He holds you still, leaning in slowly to kiss you with the barest of pressure. Every thought in your head fades, leaving only you and Peter, and the dizziness of his touch as he lays you down at the end of the bed.

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

please like, comment or reblog if you enjoyed, i love comments and seeing what anyone reading liked about the fic is a treat —thank you for reading❤︎

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ikeuverse · 3 days ago

Text

DUAL LIFE — s.jaeyun

PAIRING: mafiaboss!jake x fem!reader GENRES: smut, angst, slight fluff WC: 10.8k+

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of drugs and illicit things, mafia stuff, jake implicitly jealous, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected sex (do it safely, please). lmk if i missed anything else.

SYNOPSIS: being a serious and respected businessman was the only side of him that jaeyun wanted you to know, afraid that he would let you into his life and, over time, you would get to know not only sim jaeyun, but also sim jake, the mafia boss.

NOTES: idk how, but i thought about it for a day and just wrote it down. i let my mind run wild and wanted something completely different for jake, so here it is. i hope you like it!

masterlist

The corporate environment could be challenging and misogynistic when a woman holds a position of great power. At first, the fear hit you hard when your name was molded onto a plaque and, below it, the title of the boss was stamped. But alongside all this, you found yourself supported by your colleague and partner Sim Jaeyun. The first man who saw you with respect, who treated you like a boss and a partner, who handed you demands with the same intensity as he handed demands to other men in the company.

He was incredible when he signed the contract to share that company with you. And it was a good deal because once your name was linked to Jaeyun's, everything inside that building seemed to be moving perfectly toward success. Numbers and shares grew faster and faster, and meetings were shared late into the night where you and Jaeyun reviewed what you had done so far, whether you needed to change any strategies in your approaches, and how you two could take the next step.

You were surprised every time because even though he was there for everything, his word was always final. Jaeyun seemed to want your approval even if his vision was the opposite of yours. It was as if your permission was worth more than his, even though you saw him think for a while before making any decisions. Carefully and cautiously when he asked you about shares and employees, about investments, and what he should do, he was careful and very intelligent, but in his view, you were so much more. So having your approval before his was more important.

This meant that the two of you shared more time than necessary, apart from being in the office. Jaeyun constantly calls you to have dinner and go over some papers when, in reality, the two of you did everything but go over papers. Or when he called you for coffee in the middle of the day to de-stress from an annoying client in question, you gladly accepted because the combination of his company and a hot coffee was all you needed after a moment like that.

What started as routine things became a little different when Jaeyun became warmer towards you at work. It was hard to tell at first since he was always very professional and the looks you got from him were either approving ones or small smiles after a good idea in the corporate environment. You never noticed anything more than that. Until that moment. Where he made a point of touching your hand when he sat next to you, reaching for your pen while he was resting on the other side. Or when Jaeyun would gently rest his hand on your lower back so that you would enter the rooms before him as if he would lose sight of you at any moment even though the room was quite large and there was no way he could lose sight of you.

Dinners no longer had the excuse of work stuff, Jaeyun just wanted to go out and talk to you about everything other than shares, money, and boring investors. He wanted to know more about you, he wanted to hear you tell stories and he wanted to share his too. However, in this respect, you could feel him wavering a little as if he was afraid to talk about something he shouldn't have.

In your mind, Jaeyun had something difficult he was dealing with, so he tended to be more reserved about it, but you learned enough about him as the dinners became weekly. Every detail about his life – which he managed to share with you – and every quirk you picked up on as the two of you spent more time together. Jaeyun was a little box of surprises that you were trying to unravel little by little.

But as things naturally grew closer between you and him, something about the boy's behavior caught your attention. From time to time Jaeyun seemed more scattered at meetings, as if his mind was anywhere but on the words of an old, gray-haired man talking about work. Or how dinners between the two of you became the company cafeteria, him refusing – politely – to go out with you with the excuse that he was too tired. But at the same time, he didn't want to break his silent promise that you and he would share a meal at least once a week.

That didn't bother you, after all, you still had his company even if the dishes varied from pasta with fancy sauce to ramen that he asked an employee to pick up at the corner convenience store. That wasn't so important, at least Jaeyun was sitting in front of you with a faint smile and talking about how hard his day had been and how he wanted to go home and be with his dog.

Everything changed that night. You did everything in your routine, working tirelessly in your office while receiving a few emails from Jaeyun to line up a thing here and there. Answering a few calls and dealing with the staff as best you could. After you finished work, you just wanted to be in the cafeteria and try another flavor of ramen that Jaeyun had bought, claiming that you would love it. Your mouth was already starting to salivate because you knew he could find the most unusual flavors, always impressing you with the smallest things.

But your heart sank when the door to your living room opened, revealing Jaeyun and a grocery bag. Everything happened slowly before your eyes, even though the scene itself was so fast.

“I can't stay today” Jaeyun's voice snapped you out of your reverie, the bag placed on your desk while his hands were now hidden inside the tailored pants he was wearing.

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, trying not to sound disappointed enough for him to see that he had messed with you.

But what you didn't know was that Jaeyun knew you as well as you knew yourself. Your every expression, tone of voice, everything. He knew exactly how you felt, perhaps because he was the same way, but also because he watched you too much.

“Some personal problems” he sighed softly, looking away from the bag to you “I brought you the ramen, so you can try it and tell me what you think.”

Jaeyun tried to smile to lighten the mood, taking his hands out of his pockets to fiddle with the bag and take out the bowl, showing you the new flavor he'd found. You bit your lower lip to keep from letting out a sigh or saying something you shouldn't have. Your heart was strangely bothered by it.

“It's no fun without you, Jaeyun” was the most you could say without sounding desperate or showing too much.

He felt the weight of everything fall on him as his eyes fell to the pot of ramen, seeing a spark of sadness shine in your eyes as your hands touched his and took the pot from his hand. Putting it back in the bag, you closed it and pushed it towards him.

“I—” Jaeyun turned away from your table, not wanting the ramen packets back “I'm sorry, Y/n. I really have to go.”

“Jaeyun—”

He was afraid that if he heard you say anything, he'd stay for dinner with you. That's what he wanted most. But he couldn't. Jaeyun had to leave as soon as possible before everything went to shit. So, just as quickly as he entered your office, he left and closed the door before he heard anything else come out of your mouth.

You stood there at your desk, staring at the bag that had been left there. It was the first night since you two started eating together that he didn't stay. The first night that Jaeyun barely looked at you before saying goodbye. He didn't even touch your hand as he did when he picked you up for dinner or coffee. He was so distant that it seemed like you didn't recognize him.

Meanwhile, Jaeyun was racing against time to try to balance the double life he was leading. Getting involved with you wasn't in his plans, not least because corporate life was just a façade for him, so the moment he found himself nurturing any feelings for you, he knew he was screwed. Jaeyun couldn't fall in love, but he also couldn't help feeling it when everything seemed natural when he was with you. Your presence made him forget all the bad things he experienced outside that office. That is there he was Sim Jaeyun, your partner and someone who was slowly taking over your heart.

But unfortunately, that couldn't be forever and he knew it. Leaving the elevator and walking hurriedly to his car, he took off his jacket and threw it on the passenger seat, the place where you had sat countless times in your work clothes as beautiful as any woman he had ever seen in his life. That symbolic place belonged to you, even if he didn't want to admit it. Jaeyun let his head fall back against the steering wheel of the car, uttering swear words that he remembered and that made his body explode with rage.

He wanted to be Sim Jaeyun forever. Your partner, the man who was slowly making you fall in love.

But leaving there he was Jake, one of the mob bosses who was now rushing to help his friends with new charges and problems coming up.

The sound of his fingers drumming on the marble of the table was a little louder than usual. Jaeyun tried hard not to show how annoyed – and angry – he was to be there that night. He knew it would be impossible to hide from his friends how much he disliked being there, but at the same time, he couldn't forget what an authority figure he was there too.

“Are you in a bad mood?” he heard Sunghoon's voice cut through the air, entering the room with all the grace he had compared to the other boys. Jaeyun sighed, stopping his drumming to slide his hand to the glass in front of him and drink all the liquid it contained. He wasn't sure what it was, but he would thank Heeseung later for putting in the highest alcohol content he could find.

“Don't tease me, Park” he replied after feeling the burning go down his throat.

Sunghoon laughed a little and sat down next to Heeseung, facing Jaeyun.

“I asked you a question, bro” he said, “Why are you in such a bad mood? Jay and San have already managed to corner those idiots and take what they tried to steal from us.”

Looking at it that way, Jaeyun could be relieved. Smuggling drugs wasn't something he was proud of doing, but he knew how respected he was for carrying on his father's work as well as he would have liked. At the time, Sim wished he hadn't been so good and just stuck to executive work, without getting involved with the family mafia. But he knew how much confidence his late father had and how much he wanted Jaeyun to take over.

“I know, it's just—”

“He's mad because we ruined his date with his girlfriend” Heeseung winked at Sunghoon, who quickly understood everything.

“Shit, tonight was the night of your romantic dinner.”

“It's not a romantic dinner” Jaeyun tried to make amends.

“I told us not to call him, damn it, Heeseung” Sunghoon pretended to be angry, knowing that there was no way not to call Jaeyun. This was of a gigantic magnitude and even though the two of them were his right-hand man, they couldn't make decisions without consulting him first. A form of respect for their best friend, who had taken them in even after taking on a dangerous and important position.

“What did you want me to do?” Heeseung tried to defend himself, sliding down the back of the chair and running one hand through his hair “They tried to rob us” he continued “My only thought was to run to the shed and stop it, but I couldn't do that without Jake's approval.”

Jaeyun listened intently as the conversation unfolded in front of him. Heeseung and Sunghoon knew that they had complete freedom when it came to any decision, especially if Jaeyun was playing the role of partner in a big company. Wearing a suit and tie, expensive tailoring, and with you by his side. It was a persona he wanted to maintain, even though reality hit him every time he received a call from his best friends informing him of something concerning his second job.

He ran a hand through his hair, the sting of the drink gradually fading from his throat as he looked at the two boys still talking.

An absurd urge to disappear and leave the business to the two of them, to run to the office because Jaeyun knew you'd still be there working, eating the ramen he'd left for you. A strange tightness in his chest made him sigh. He had left you alone for the first time after everything had happened. It wasn't because he wanted to, but Jaeyun was afraid of involving you in the second life he was leading. He didn't want to put you in danger, make you go out to dinner with glances lingering between the two of you.

That life brought Jaeyun and his friends a lot of good things, but just as many bad things. He walked around with plainclothes security guards all the time, but it wasn't as if he could do that for you without your permission. It would be handed to him on a plate to tell you about his life in the mafia because on what pretext would Jaeyun say he wanted to offer you private security? It wasn't as if it was necessary for the life of a company boss. No one would want to hurt you for that. So with his lack of creativity in coming up with an excuse, he found himself doing the one thing he didn't want to do: hide you.

Dinner in the company cafeteria was safer than parading around with you by his side, even though it was the only thing he wanted at that moment more than anything. Holding your hand again with the excuse that the restaurant was full and he didn't want to let you out of his sight. That may have been true, but a large part of it was because he was worried that someone in disguise might harm you.

Jaeyun had declared enemies and he knew what some were capable of. Anything could be done against him, but no one should lay a finger on you.

“Jake!” Heeseung's shout brought him out of his thoughts quickly, blinking hard to regain awareness that he'd been immersed in his thoughts for too long “Dude, do you have her on your mind again?”

“At least disguise it” Sunghoon muttered.

“I think I'm going to shoot your ass, you idiot” Jaeyun pointed at his friend, getting up from his chair.

“Calm down man, I'm kidding” he said “Messing with her really puts you in a bad mood.”

Jaeyun ignored it because he had no way of refuting it. He realized that everything that involved him made his nerves frayed and his feelings more acute. It wasn't as if he could control what he felt. If he could, Jaeyun would have chosen not to involve any feelings because he wanted to protect you. But the next thing he knew, any little detail about you made him lose his mind. He wanted to keep you close, he wanted to feel you, he wanted to have you even if it meant risking everything.

A remnant of conscience made him keep his touches a little simpler, although he felt the absurd urge to grab your waist and feel your lips pressed to his.

“I'm going to check what Jay's got so far” Heeseung got up too, passing the seats and going around the table to leave the room “Any news I'll let you two know, so keep an eye on the phones” and left.

Now with Sunghoon being the only presence in the room besides him, Jaeyun felt the weight of everything almost crush him. His friend's gaze almost pierced his insides because he knew how Sim felt. Sunghoon had a better view of Jaeyun's feelings than the other two.

“Sit down” he said when he saw his best friend lost in thought, barely able to utter a word apart from opening and closing his mouth a few times. Obeying, Jaeyun sat back in his chair “What's going on?”

What about? He wanted to ask but knew it was a waste of time. There was nothing Park Sunghoon couldn't figure out. So the other just sighed, leaning back even further in his chair and closing his eyes.

“I shouldn't have liked her in the first place” it was almost natural to let it out, as if he wanted Sunghoon to hear those words “Things should be professional, I should just focus on the actions and nothing else. Then go back home, deal with the mafia problems my father left behind, and later think about marrying the daughter of some other mafia boss.”

“Better than marrying Y/n?” Sunghoon asked.

It was strange that his best friends spoke your name. This was proof that the two worlds Jaeyun lived in were colliding. Then he opened his eyes, wanting to scream out everything that had been squeezing his chest for the last few hours.

“That's what happened to my father, I just—”

“It doesn't have to happen to you” Sunghoon interrupted him with a certain kindness, although there was none in his tone. He still looked at his best friend as he said each word with deep sincerity “You fell in love with her and you have to go with that. Make Y/n part of your life like Sim Jaeyun and—”

“Don't even finish it” it was his turn to interrupt him “I would never bring her to meet Jake Sim.”

“But if you two got engaged, sooner or later she'd find out about the double life you lead, man” Jaeyun hated how certain Sunghoon seemed about anything. He was the most rational when it came to work and personal life and always had the best advice. He was responsible for not letting any of his three best friends commit any kind of madness.

“This can't happen” his hands ran frantically through his hair, messing up every strand that Jaeyun managed to get his fingers through. He wanted to pull them out of his head in a moment of small sanity but came back to reality when he heard Sunghoon's voice next.

“Maybe you don't need to tell her at first, but it might make Jaeyun's life a little more enjoyable” he said calmly, “You really are falling for her, we can see that.”

We. Jaeyun had always been good at hiding his feelings, from the prettiest to the worst, from his friends. Or so he thought since he had to swallow so much just to make his father proud and be where he was at that moment. Bringing Sunghoon, Jongseong, and Heeseung with him was a baggage of confidence and a remnant of the normal life he had before getting involved in the family business. The only three people in his circle who knew everything, who never judged him, and were always there for Jaeyun. The best childhood friends who stuck together, and that in itself made them get to know more about each other every day.

That's why the three of you could see Jaeyun slowly falling in love with you. Although the words never left his mouth, the way he talked about you could already be deduced from afar. The sparkle in his eyes when he opened a message from you on the meeting table in the room as Jake Sim. The spark of a feeling emerged as he replied sweetly. When the boys attended a company dinner as fake investors, talking to you about the profit they could generate for your and Jaeyun's company. The reality was that they were there at Sim's request to check if anyone was a possible suspected smuggler or rival since his name had been talked about so much in the city at the famous dinner. He was afraid of someone showing up and ruining the double life he had fought so hard to hide.

It was the first and only time the three of them had met and talked to you, but it was enough to see the way Jaeyun looked at you. How he behaved next to you and the tired sighs he released throughout the night as each man approached you. Before, your name was a legend to them, Sim Jaeyun's lousy partner in the company, but when they saw you in person, it all seemed to make sense.

Now we know why Jake fell in love so easily, Heeseung almost lost his teeth when he made that comment inside the shed, after counting out three hundred and eight suitcases of cash. Payment for the container of drugs they had distributed. Jongseong was in charge of separating his best friend so that he wouldn't beat Heeseung to a pulp, while Sunghoon calmly intervened.

Everything went so slowly until he realized that he had fallen too hard for you. In the feelings he was having for you.

“What can I do about it now?” Jaeyun finally looked at Sunghoon, really looked at him. Looking for an answer and no longer wanting to run away from what mattered at that moment.

“How about making amends and asking her to dinner?” he asked.

“I don't want to go out with her and be seen— You know, I don't know who might be following me…”

“Come on Jake, how many men do you have doing security for your dead father's mafia?” he glared at his friend, always teased by the way Jaeyun didn't like to say that it was all his now. It would be easier to say that it still belonged to his late father, that all those men followed the command of Mr. Sim, to whom Jaeyun gave his voice. He didn't like to be called boss, although it happened at the teasing of his friends.

“Many” Jaeyun answered him.

“Then put them in charge of her security once a week” Sunghoon swiveled in his chair, his eyes never leaving Jaeyun's for a second “We have enough men to put in one a week without her noticing, and you'll still be able to go out with her in peace.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment. He didn't want to be awkward about mentioning to you that men were escorting you for your safety, after all, he was afraid that something would happen to you even if the two of you had no involvement whatsoever.

“That's a very good idea, Hoon, but—”

“There's no such thing, you know it's the only way if you want to have something with her.”

For a while longer he seemed to think about the possibility. It wasn't as if Jaeyun was hiding something terrible from you, not least because he would be looking out for your safety. He'd also be freer to go out with you again for the dinners you two shared during the weeks.

“Not to mention that if you and she start dating, the security will be doubled, don't you think?” Sunghoon stood up from his chair “Everyone will know about her if something gets serious.”

That was Jaeyun's fear, that everyone would know about you besides him and his best friends. In that world where he was Jake Sim, there was no way anything could be hidden. It wasn't like the world where Jaeyun could get away with it under an expensive suit and a lot of stock. He sighed heavily, throwing his head back without the strength to continue the conversation. Knowing how right his best friend was.

“Right, thanks for the advice, anyway” Jaeyun asked.

“At your service” Sunghoon smiled “Are you going to stay there now? I'll check on Heeseung if Jay needs any help too…”

“I'll stay a while longer, I'll be going soon” he said, still sitting down because his body seemed to be weighed down by the barrage of information and advice thrown at him in such a short space of time.

Sunghoon walked to the door of the room, opened it, and turned to Jaeyun with a playful, silly smile on his face.

“Yes sir, boss” giving a mock salute, he ran off before Jaeyun could gather up a load of papers to throw in his direction, but Sunghoon was quick to close the door. Not before hearing the other swear at him for his provocations.

Jaeyun got to know you little by little, his first impression being of you as a strong and fearless woman. Someone he could easily work with among the men who underestimated you and who made him feel angry. Little by little, he noticed how easy it was to live with you and how you could read between the lines when things were happening. He was surprised when he started to notice the moment you felt uncomfortable in a meeting or in the presence of a man who tried to put you down, or how he could understand how bothered and angry you were with some stupid comment or action that had gone wrong.

Over time, he realized that he knew a lot about you just by interacting with you professionally. But when he decided to take a step and invite you to dinner, under the pretext of reviewing something from work, Jaeyun knew he was ruined. He knew that the first sincere smile you gave him had ruined and torn down any barrier he had built over the years in an attempt to not bring anyone into the dark and double world of his life. Jaeyun didn't want you to be a part of that.

So trying to push you away and keep you safe was the first and only thought he had, swallowing the physical and carnal desire that consumed him for wanting to have you in his arms. He couldn't afford to make the mistake of going around glimpsing you and your beauty, enjoying life as a couple that he knew was dangerous.

Sim Jaeyun was a good man, but Sim Jake was the opposite of that. And between the two personas he found himself divided on what to do because he knew that in both his lives, he was in love with you. It was the only thing he couldn't separate.

He knew it was too late to try to make Sunghoon's advice count for anything. Arriving at the office the next day, Jaeyun knew he had screwed up when he saw the bag of ramen on his desk, the two untouched pots very well placed next to the papers he needed to fill out during the day. What surprised him was the way you treated him throughout the week.

Professionalism took over again and you were the Y/n he had met when he joined that company and took on the role of being his partner. He saw the old woman with whom he had shared the management of that building and whom he had always admired – later he had fallen in love – and now he was back to the beginning. At least you, because he felt that he was falling more and more into your charms and letting his feelings take over.

It wasn't easy that you were monosyllabic in meetings, your gaze never meeting his, and every time you both needed to talk about any decision, you said you were busy and asked Jaeyun to talk to your secretary. You were running away, he knew that. So it could only mean that, besides being upset about him leaving you that night, something told you that you also had feelings for him.

Because no one would be upset about canceling a dinner. Even with the shitty excuse he gave you, if neither of you had feelings for each other, Jaeyun wouldn't have been frustrated to get Heeseung's call that night and you wouldn't have been upset to see him leave without even eating with you and then leaving.

It was a silent competition of who was handling it the worst way possible.

But he didn't know that jealousy was being added to the mix when he saw a new investor smile at you. How bold he was to approach you after the meeting, in the coffee room, and ask if you wanted to go out for something to eat.

I've seen this happen before, idiot. Don't even try. That's what he hoped the look would convey, but Jaeyun forgot that you hadn't looked in his direction for a few days, trying to ignore him as best you could. That's why you accepted the invitation. A little hesitantly because it had never happened before, other than Jaeyun, it was the first time that any man inside that building had invited you for something other than your partner. At that moment, after so many days, you looked in his direction, afraid of what you might feel when your eyes met. But seeing the discomfort on Sim's face seemed to give you some satisfaction.

“I still have a few more things to take care of, so—” the man extended a hand to you, gently holding yours. His touch was gentle and you tried to smile a little wider, looking away from Jaeyun to the boy in front of you “Do you mind meeting at the restaurant on the corner in half an hour?”

“No. It’s okay” you replied, feeling him squeeze your hand and lean in to kiss your torso, pulling away and letting go of your hand. He smiled at you once more, returning to the circle of men that was in the other corner of the room to say goodbye and do what he had to do.

You thought you should chat with your employees after a meeting, have some coffee like you always did, and then go to your office. But Jaeyun’s gaze was starting to make you feel strange. He didn’t miss a single movement of yours, from the moment you moved to get a cup of coffee to when you approached your secretary to whisper to him.

“I’m going to my office” you said quietly, not wanting to make a fuss with anyone. “I’ll be leaving for dinner soon, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am” he smiled at you, looking away to Jaeyun and swallowing hard. Your secretary had always been a bit wary of the man who was staring at you, but since there had never been any disagreements, that was passed on as he showed himself to be completely professional.

Jaeyun had never felt jealous until this moment, watching you gracefully leave the room and close the door.

It was all his fault and the idiotic way he tried to push you away even though he wanted to keep you close. Now, not knowing how to act, Jaeyun had to witness that scoundrel of someone asking you out and, worst of all, you accept it.

Something settled inside him and, without measuring any effort, he walked out the door quickly to your office. His mind had never worked well under pressure, whether from anger or jealousy like it was now. Jaeyun had never been jealous, after all, he had never met anyone who aroused that kind of feeling in him. It was like an urban legend or only hearing about the romantic stories that Jongseong and Sunghoon had here and there. But he had never felt that in his life.

When he stopped in front of your office door, his heartbeat almost rose to his ears as adrenaline and anxiety ran through him. Jaeyun didn't know how he would act after finding you in your office and confronting you. He knew something would happen, you could feel the tension in the air every time the two of you were in the same room, he just didn't know how intense it was. He had a slight impression, but he couldn't decipher you from that yet.

He decided not to knock, gripping the door handle and turning around without beating around the bush, entering right away before you could say anything else.

“What—” you quickly turned around from the table, where you had been facing away until then, packing your things and ready to leave. Your heart almost jumped out of your mouth at the sight of Jaeyun standing in the middle of your living room. The thud of the door as it closed went unnoticed by your ears and the only sound was your own racing heart. “Jaeyun?”

He approached slowly, one step at a time as he thought about what to say or how to act. You could tell how fast his chest was rising and falling due to the rapid breathing from the fright he had gotten seconds ago.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to stay calm as he continued to approach. The steps stopped just a few inches away when he cornered you between his body and your table, making your body almost bend over if it weren’t for your hands being quick enough to hold on to the edge of the table.

“You’re not going to this dinner” the authority in his tone of voice made your legs tremble, but you were grateful to hold yourself firmly against the table and your hands tightened their grip on the edge. Jaeyun still had the ability and knowledge to read you so perfectly that when he saw your mouth open – probably with the intention of asking why – he was faster and leaned in to press his lips to yours.

He expected anything: a slap, a sudden pull away, a loud curse that could echo throughout the building. But the surprise came when you let go of the edge of the table to spread your hands against his chest, slowly moving up until you grabbed the collar of the shirt he was wearing, pulling him closer to you.

You were an amazing woman and he knew it, every single thing you did drove him crazy. And feeling you pulling him between your legs, giving way by opening your lips and welcoming his tongue and tangling it with yours.

Everything seemed magical to Jaeyun and you. Each touch took its time, something that had been repressed until now. He brought his hands to your hips, keeping you in place as he made a small effort to lift you up and sit you on the table.

Your pride in trying to ignore him was going down the drain more and more, as Jaeyun intensified that kiss and moaned against your lips. You should have pushed him away and gotten out of there when it was time, but now it was too late. He was tangled between your legs and his hands were doing a great job squeezing you and sliding down to your lower back to slide down to your ass. It was your turn to moan against his lips, your nails going inside the collar of his shirt and scratching his shoulder to mark something against the skin you wanted so much to know.

“Jaeyun” you whispered breathlessly and he swore that was the best sound he had ever heard in his life. Pulling his lips away from yours to get some air for his lungs, he let you ramble on as he lowered his mouth down your jaw. Feeling the taste of your skin and the texture of it between his lips, marking a path of saliva until it reached your neck.

“Yes, babe?” Jaeyun had no idea how much he moved you, because if he did, he would never call you by that nickname in the form of a whisper, while still kissing your skin and sucking a good amount of it between his lips. The pop noise he left after a long suck, certainly leaving the spot marked a few minutes later.

“I need—” you wanted to say that you needed to go, that this would be a provocation on his part. But your mind wasn’t working right and it didn’t help that he started pressing his hips against yours. “Holy shit” you moaned softly, the hardness of Jaeyun’s cock slowly making the right pressure against your still-clothed clit. You couldn’t say how he had the exact notion of where to press and how to press.

“I already told you that you won’t, Y/n” Jaeyun gasped against your neck, moving his kisses up and trailing the tip of his tongue across your skin until his face was level with yours again.

That sight was hell on earth for you. Jaeyun with his lips red and shiny from the kiss they had just shared, adding to the kisses and hickeys on your skin. His eyes drooping and dark with desire staring at you with a possessiveness you never thought you would know. You wanted to be able to say something, but it was impossible while you had his hands on your shoulders now.

“Tell me if this is too much, okay?” What did he mean by that? What was Jaeyun thinking when he asked you that kind of thing? It was already too much to have felt his kiss in a situation like that, but you were sure that it was too much to have his fingers unbuttoning the buttons of your shirt.

Every particle of your skin is exposed for his eyes to admire even more. You were never one to wear low-cut tops at work and his sanity was grateful for that, so he didn't know what to do as each button was undone until he reached below your breasts.

“Shit” he cursed softly, praying that you wouldn't hear the hint of vulnerability in his voice as he noticed the light lace adorning your breasts. They were beautiful and he didn't want to think about anything else but touching them. But Jaeyun didn't want to rush, he needed to feel you because he had been depriving himself of it for so long and almost lost.

When the last button was undone, he bit his lower lip to keep from moaning at the sight of you naked in front of him, sitting on the table with his body between your legs. Jaeyun would be lying if he said he had never thought about being in that position with you, or any other, where only his cock inside you and your voice moaning his name would be enough for any scenario to be propitious. He felt like a pervert for it, but there was no denying the desire that radiated inside him every time you showed up.

Leaning down, Jaeyun left a kiss in the space between your neck and your collarbone, enjoying the sounds you made and smiling against your skin when he didn't hear any objections from you. This meant he could continue with the kisses until he reached the curve of your breast, tracing the outline with the tip of his tongue. He looked up, seeking eye contact with you and when he did, he knew he was where he belonged. The way you looked at him, the tense and longing expression you maintained as you held his gaze was all he needed.

“Can I continue?” he asked.

“Please, yes” you answered, nibbling on your lower lip at the same moment that Jaeyun's teeth slid over the lace of your bra, lowering the fabric enough to expose your chest. He was on the verge of madness to taste every part of you, but desire consumed him with every reaction you had to his touch.

The tip of Jaeyun's tongue circled your exposed nipple, making a moan run through the room as it slipped out of your throat. He felt his cock tighten even more in his pants with each sound you made. His hands – which had previously remained calm when touching you – now impatiently ran over your shoulders to remove your shirt with a quick tug, going to the middle of your back to unbutton your bra and rip it off your body as well. Turning his attention back to your breasts, he sucked your nipple with such desire while his large hand covered the other and squeezed to feel its softness.

You were on cloud nine, his every touch coated with possessiveness and desire, making your head spin as you felt Jaeyun's warm tongue against your nipple. The silent sucking compared to the sound of your moans, while your hands quickly went to his hair to pull the strands as a sign that he would never stop what he was doing.

But he also didn't intend to take his mouth off your body. If Jaeyun could talk at that moment, he would tell you how good it was feeling every part of your skin, hearing every one of your moans, and he still hadn't done half of the things he wanted to do with you.

Missing your mouth, he went up to your lips again to share another kiss, this time a little more sloppy and slobbery. Your tongues ran against each other for dominance while your mouths fit perfectly, the synchrony of the movements making you both gasp into each other's mouths.

Jaeyun's hands went to your hips again, but this time his speed and strength came to the advantage as he took off your skirt along with your panties. At another time you could notice how skilled he was and wonder – or not – why he was in such a hurry or knew how to do it so quickly. But now you just wanted to focus on the cold air of the room hitting your pussy and how Jaeyun released your lips with a lewd and wet noise.

It never crossed your mind that Sim Jaeyun, your partner, the man you had seen many times seriously across the room – regardless of the number of times you had dinner together – and for whom you were harboring feelings, would now be kneeling in front of you. He was perdition personified in that submissive and vulnerable position. His eyes were bright, like a puppy begging for a reward. And you knew that what he wanted, besides making up for lost time, was to be between your legs like that.

A mutual and wordless agreement between you and Jaeyun was drawn at that moment, with him slowly approaching your pussy and you opening your legs enough to accommodate him even more. As a test, he stretched out his tongue and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clitoris, collecting your essence and feeling your taste linger on the tip of the wet muscle that he passed through your entire intimacy.

“Fuck, Jaeyun” you tilted your head back, the deliciously warm sensation of his tongue licking your pussy was too much to handle. His hands wrapped around your thighs and held them wide open as he licked a little more, seeming to be hungry as he collected a little more of your essence.

You rested your hands in his hair, your legs feeling like jelly as Jaeyun moved a little further. He focused on sucking on your clit, circling his tongue over the sensitive bud as he looked up to try to catch some reaction from you. Your head was thrown back, but he wanted you to look at him, just once. Just once to see him eat you like a good meal.

“Look at me, Y/n” Jaeyun asked hoarsely, pulling his lips away from your pussy to get your attention. You wanted to pull his hair and bury his face in your pussy again, the lack of contact with your clit made you whimper softly, it was a great torture. But you had to obey if you wanted to feel him again, so your head lifted, your eyes searching his to find the sinful sight.

There was no way Jaeyun could be that desirous more than anything else, it was impossible that that man could look so good in any position or situation. You almost cursed him if it weren't for how quickly he maintained eye contact as he approached your pussy again. This time he sucked you more slowly, drawing circles on your clit and maintaining eye contact, not losing a single second of his eyes on yours. He moved one of his hands away from your leg to slide between your folds, introducing his index finger into your hole.

“I— Fuck, don't do this” you pressed yourself against his finger, the introduction being too much for you. He wanted to fuck you so badly now, with your moaning and your eyes nearly closing, it was torturous to keep them open as he inserted the second finger and continued to suck on your clit.

The movements were now combined quickly, making him alternate between scissoring movements and rotating his fingers inside you, at the same second he sucked your clitoris and ran the tip of his tongue over your pussy, opening your lips so he could spread his saliva along with your essence. The wet sound of his fingers going back and forth inside you, Jaeyun's prominent knuckles almost making you come undone right there. Your walls sucked him so deliciously that he wanted to feel his cock being buried inside you and how hot it would be to be inside there.

The thought alone made Jaeyun feel his underwear get wet, he knew that his pre-cum was almost overcoming the tailoring of the pants he was wearing. It was already too much to have to endure all of that without being able to feel the slightest relief in his cock. But when he decided to introduce the third finger inside your pussy, it was as if he had seen the vision of heaven. Your head fell back again, you couldn't keep your eyes on him.

“Y/n, look—”

“Come up here, please,” you begged. He gave your clit one last kiss as if to taste you one last time before moving up his body to be close to you again. His fingers continued to work your pussy harder and harder as it clenched around his sliding, wet digits.

When Jaeyun brought his face closer to yours, you didn’t wait for any response other than to place your lips on his, sharing the taste of you that lingered on his lips. It was all so intense as your body shuddered and the knot in your stomach broke. You hugged Jaeyun’s body between your arms and held him by the hips between your legs, your pussy convulsing on his fingers as his mouth muffled the most obscene and loud moans you could make calling his name. Cumming on his fingers so hard that all of your liquid easily ran down the palm of his hand.

He wanted you to take the time you needed to catch your breath, the intensity of your orgasm taking over every cell in your body as he was careful enough to pull his fingers out of your pussy. You moaned and whimpered, the lack of contact making you feel empty and weak, but something sparked in you when Jaeyun pulled away enough to bring his fingers to his lips, licking the length of his cock until he reached the palm of his hand.

“I knew you tasted amazing” he whispered, completely cleaning up what had been your orgasm liquid until there was nothing left.

You pulled him back to you, running your thumb over his chin that held more of your liquid. Jaeyun smiled slowly as he felt your soft touch, your fingers sliding down it until they reached the waistband of his pants.

“Y/n, don’t—”

“Shhh, it’s okay” you kissed his jaw, your lips slowly sliding down Jaeyun’s neck to part of his exposed collarbone “It must hurt, huh?”

“No” he lied, moaning the second your hands undid his belt and opened his zipper so his cock would be less tight. He wasn’t good at that kind of lie per se, but he wasn’t stupid enough to want to demand too much from you either, considering the intensity of your orgasm, Jaeyun was already happy to see you satisfied like that.

“We can make this less painful for you” your voice whispered so sensually that he almost came undone right there, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he felt your mouth kiss him, right in the middle of his throat. “Put that down for me” your request was an order that had no objection, so Jaeyun quickly pushed his pants along with his underwear, his cock jumping out and hitting against his pelvis and stomach. Your eyes quickly scanned down, seeing the size of it and sighing at the thought of it being inside you in a few seconds.

“Y/n” Jaeyun moaned, an absurd need to have any kind of touch from you against him. Then your fingers quickly went to the head of his cock, red and shiny with pre-cum, spreading all the liquid with the sole purpose of stimulating him and teasing him a little. “What the fuck, shit” he cursed.

It was too much to suffer, considering that Jaeyun had been untouched for a long time, even more so after hearing your moans and seeing what your body was capable of with just a few touches from him. Impatience took over and he pulled his shirt by the collar, not bothering to undo any buttons, he just wanted to get rid of any piece that held him and feel the heat of your body against his.

“I want—” he moaned again, pushing his hips against the palm of your hand when you held the base and went down the entire length, masturbating his veiny and thick cock between your fingers. Jaeyun wanted nothing more than to feel your touch and what you were making him feel.

“What do you want?” you asked, your lips still against the skin of his throat, slowly sliding down to one of his ears to whisper the words. He spread his hands on your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and pulling your body over the table so that he was at the edge of it. Your hips and your pussy are a little more exposed to him.

“I want to be inside you, Y/n. I— fuck” Jaeyun knew he was being a mess just moaning and fucking your fist as your hand tightened more and more on his cock. Spreading the pre-cum all over the length until it reached the base.

He went crazy when you leaned in enough for a ball of saliva to escape between your lips and slide down to the head of his cock, spreading some of it along the length with your – almost–perfect aim. That helped spread it even more across Jaeyun’s cock and he couldn’t take it anymore, it was too much for him and the boy was afraid he would explode in his hand and cum right there. It would be shameful to do this without him being inside you, even for a few seconds.

“Y/n, please…” it was his turn to beg now. The feared Sim Jake would never do this, would never be in this role, much less Sim Jaeyun. Both respected and feared, but now he just wanted to be yours and beg for whatever you had to offer.

Without further provocation, you knew how painful it was for him. And your pussy got wet again just from the sounds he made and the unfolding of the scene in front of you. Positioning his cock at your entrance, it was a silent invitation for him to insert himself into your hole. Your hands left there to hold him, one on each side of his neck, letting Jaeyun lead the movements.

Slowly he thrust his cock into you, the warmth of your pussy and the wetness of your juices being enough to shelter him so well and facilitate the entrance of his cock that you swore it would not be possible to fit. Soon he was all the way inside you, his breathing uneven as he finally had his cock shoved into your pussy.

“How do you feel?” Jaeyun uttered with some difficulty, his chest rising and falling quickly as he leaned his body towards you.

“Amazing” you tried not to moan, pulling his face close to yours so that his forehead rested on yours. “You can move now” your request, again, became an order when Jaeyun finally moved his hips to remove his cock and leave only the head inside you, returning with a slow but strong movement. His pelvis touching your clit with the movement.

He could no longer hold back his good manners and the desire to go slowly, wanting to make you feel every time his cock entered and left your pussy. Jaeyun pressed his fingers into your thighs, leaving marks that could be seen later as his nails dug into your skin, gaining momentum to start the movements. The sounds of skin slapping and the wetness of both your arousals are the perfect symphony accompanied by the moans that you and he left in your living room. It was visible the way you tried to keep your body each time Jaeyun thrust his cock even deeper into you, the burning slightly appearing in your groin with each more force that he thrust inside you. Your walls fluttered around his cock and sheltered him each time he entered with even more force.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Jaeyun gave a small smile when you tried to say something, only managing to moan and nod in agreement. Knowing how hard it would be for you to say anything at that moment he went faster and faster, pressing his fingers harder and harder against your body, now moving up to your hips. He felt you move your body against his, rubbing your clit against the length of his cock each time he pulled out completely before burying him deep inside you again. Jaeyun’s pelvis stimulated your sensitive bud each time he went so deep that there was no space left between your bodies, his balls slapping against your thighs and adding even more to the obscene noises in the sex between the two of you.

Jaeyun’s cock twitched as your pussy tightened, indicating that your orgasm was just around the corner. He was also about to cum, practically holding it in for so long that he feared how much would come next.

“I need—” Jaeyun whispered.

“Inside” you cut him off, knowing he could cum just by the way his hips bucked between thrusts. Your hands slid down his neck and up to his cheeks, cupping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues tangled, your lips quick and desperate for some pressure as he picked up the pace to drive his cock even deeper into you.

A combination of his hip thrusts and the pulls he gave your hips to meet him, he felt your pussy clench around him so hard that it was enough for Jaeyun to spill. He came, painting your walls milky white as he moaned your name relentlessly. You weren’t far away and it only took a few more thrusts for you to cum on his cock. The white ring formed around his length as he continued to thrust in and out of you, not indicate that he was stopping just because cum was still gushing from the head of his sensitive cock.

With one last movement, your pussy milking every last drop, Jaeyun stopped moving. The strength draining from his body and giving way to calm, the high serotonin running through you and him after you both came together.

Jaeyun left a slow kiss on your lips, waiting a long minute until he finally pulled out of you. The sensitivity hits you both and makes you moan into each other's mouths.

“Sorry” he said as he knew you might be hypersensitive, even though he wanted to stay inside your pussy all night if he could.

“Okay” you replied, smiling tiredly before looking to the side and searching for your clothes. He went faster before lifting his underwear and pants, leaving a hint of sadness in your body for depriving you of the sight of him practically naked in front of you. But what caught your attention was that Jaeyun picked up his shirt from the floor, stretching it towards you.

“I don’t know where there are tissues, but—” he smiled a little, using the sleeve of his shirt to clean you between your legs.

“Jaeyun” you tried to stop him, but it was too late. Jaeyun cleaned you so carefully that it was practically impossible to believe, especially after what the two of you had done and the marks he had left on your body.

He helped you change, putting each piece of clothing in its proper place and still waiting for you to fix your hair, turning to him after a long time. The stain on the sleeve of his shirt, after it was put on, made your cheeks burn more than looking into his eyes and thinking about what the two of you had done.

“So…” you began, looking at him with a shy smile. Jaeyun smiled too, biting the inside of his cheek to keep it from growing even bigger as he got closer and wrapped one of his arms around your waist.

“Then I’ll take you home, and we’ll have dinner properly again from now on” as a couple, he wanted to add. But that was too much for just one night, Jaeyun wanted to tell you that as the two of you went out more often.

Explaining the fear he felt about his feelings for you was the most that could come out of Jaeyun's mouth. That made him feel good enough to not think he was lying – completely – to you. He was really afraid of what he felt, but at the same time, he was afraid of bringing you into his double world. The last part was still a secret, but at least hearing that you forgave him and that you accepted having a relationship with him was all that needed to be said.

Two months in which Jaeyun stopped being afraid to tell you what he felt for you. That the two of you, besides being business partners, had become a couple. You started to frequent his apartment and met his friends too, those who had to lie about their professions and never let it slip that they worked for Sim Jake, who you didn't even know.

Two months in which you had private security, unknown to you because Sunghoon's idea was better. At least one man every week took care of you from afar and kept Jaeyun informed in case anyone suspicious approached. No consequences were made as the relationship progressed. He was a little more relieved. Keeping it just in Jaeyun's life was what he wanted for a while, if things really progressed and became even more serious, he had to tell you about his other life. But there was no need yet.

“Love” your voice made him abandon the thoughts that constantly intrigued him, afraid that you would leave him at any moment for the lie he so wanted to get rid of, but couldn't. Looking in your direction, the smile came automatically when you approached him, going around the office desk to sit on his lap “Is everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?” in the last few months Jaeyun let the thought pass that you could also read him the same way he did with you. That you knew him as well as he knew you.

“Because I’ve been feeling quiet for a few days now” you wrapped one of your arms around his shoulders, at the same second he wrapped his arm around your waist “And because you’re twenty minutes late for dinner.”

Shit, the dinner. He had completely forgotten, staying inside the office to finish answering Jongseong and Sunghoon’s messages, trying to keep things out of danger with the new robbery that had been successfully carried out. He wanted to know if everything had gone according to the orders he had given that same morning, completely forgetting that he was supposed to meet you twenty minutes ago in the company parking lot.

“Shit, love, I’m sorry” Jaeyun leaned in, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His heavy breathing hit your skin and made you shiver. “I just—”

“How about we go home, then?” you asked, one of your hands going up to his hair and trying to stroke it slowly. “Your day must have been kind of rough, those men are annoying when they want to go back on their proposals.”

Every time you deduced that Jaeyun's tiredness and fear had something to do with the office, his heart sank a little more. His breathing hitched and he wanted to scream. But he held himself back and just nodded slowly, kissing your skin and lifting his head to look at you.

“Wait for me in the car? I'll fix everything here,” he asked.

“Sure,” you smiled once more, that being enough to calm all the nerves that persisted in his body. You leaned in to leave a quick and simple kiss on Jaeyun's full lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, Y/n,” he whispered back, kissing you once more before letting you get off his lap to leave the room.

Saying that he loved you out loud was like freeing himself from the bonds that suffocated him, held him back, and hurt him. He had never said that out loud to anyone other than his parents and his best friends. At first, it was as scary as wanting a relationship, but as you said and showed your love, Jaeyun knew it was the right thing to do. He felt that all that love was overwhelming, that as intensely as it scared him, it was the only thing that gave him the courage to continue.

Turning off all the appliances in the room and turning off the lights, he headed to the hallways of the building, greeting the security guards and some employees who were still there. Going to meet you in the parking lot. He just wanted to go home, enjoy your company, and take a hot shower. Many notes Jaeyun could think about having sex with you and using it as a form of calming, but that night he just wanted to feel your embrace, and your smell alone being the only thing capable of making his mind unfocused from everything that worried him.

A natural calming that was always right in front of him, the person who was the perfect balance between chaos and what he needed to stay alive.

“Jaeyun!” That was your voice, he could hear it from far away, but it wasn't like your call was as soft and calm as it always was. You were screaming. In desperation.

He looked around the open parking lot, trying to find you and why you seemed so desperate, but suddenly his world fell apart. Jaeyun's stomach was churning seeing your figure through the window of that van, screaming desperately and being pulled by someone hooded who wanted you to be quiet.

The car accelerated, making a complete turn in the parking lot before stopping next to Jaeyun and the passenger rolled down the window.

“We have something that belongs to you, Jake” the man smiled with rotten teeth, Jaeyun ran a few steps to grab him, but the driver took off “We want our drugs back!” he shouted before disappearing.

Your screams were the last thing he heard before the dead of night and the noise of the tires tearing through that parking lot. Jaeyun fell to his knees on the ground, the strength draining from his body. His scream echoed throughout the parking lot as he felt despair flood his body, along with the burning in his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks.

What he feared most had happened. And he would stop at nothing to get you back.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #enhypen jake #enha smut #jake angst #jaeyun angst #jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #jake hard hours #enhypen hard hours #jaeyun hard hours #enha fics #enha angst #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

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lalluviadeanoche · 2 days ago

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Merlin *on four hrs of sleep for the past week, dirty from a fight, definitely has a concussion and at least two untreated injuries, one of which he’s bleeding out from, leans over on someone’s shoulder*: Arthur has no idea I have magic!

Arthur *still blushing from Merlin leaning on him and is now very confused w his emotions*: YOU HAVE MAGIC?!

Merlin: oh… sorry.

Merlin *moves to Lancelot’s shoulder*: Arthur has no idea I have magic!

Arthur: I can still hear you!! You’re right next to me and you’re yelling!!

The knights:… you didn’t know??

#Arthur: what do you mean “I didn’t know?! you all did?! and didn’t tell me???#Gwaine: he was never subtle about it princess #Elyan: you mean to tell me every time he’s shouting spells you never heard that?? Really??#Arthur: so you’re a traitors..#Percival: no not all of us Leon looks like he didn’t know as well #Leon: oh I knew I just didn’t think it important #Arthur: DIDNT THINK IT IMPORTANT?! He has magic and you knew!!#Leon: Sire pls in my defense Merlin confesses to treason at least twice a month and he always gets away with it in the end #Arthur:… moving on #Leon that night: dear diary tomorrow morning I turn in my resignation.. I can’t wait to finally be free..#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #im sorry #arthur #arthur and merlin #knights of the round table #leon the long suffering #lancelot #gwaine #sir elyan #sir percival #Lancelot: so none of you are going to mention the injuries…?#Lancelot: alright then let’s go to gaius Merlin #Merlin: do you guys ever get scared of toasters??#everyone: tf is a toaster??

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ja3yun · 1 day ago

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Devil's Corner || S.JY

racer!jaeyun x rival's sister!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), food play - lollipops, exhibitionism (kinda), terribly described racing scenes, mentions of past trauma, anything else lmk! wc: 18k synopsis: jaeyun goes by a lot of names - leader of the lucifers, your brother's biggest rival, the number one racer in the south&west, and your non-boyfriend. on his birthday, you go to the grit track to wish him luck, not knowing your relationship is going to change forever. a/n: hi! i am not officially back, i'm still taking a break but it would be so wrong of me to miss the loml's birthday (although i'm early) <33 this isn't exactly how i wanted this to turn out so i'm sorry if it's shit 😮‍💨 anyway, i'll be back soon hopefully bc it's almost my one year anniversary. comments/feedback/reblogs are all appreciated and i love you all so much! happy jake day when it comes <3

“You know I can’t be here, Ireh,” you say, casting a wary glance around. “If Yeonjun sees me, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Will you just relax for like half a minute, please?” Ireh sighs, her voice tinged with lighthearted frustration as she tugs you closer to the grit track, the sound of revving engines growing closer. “He’s probably busy preparing for the race. You know how seriously he takes this.”

You dig your heels into the ground, stopping both of you in your tracks. “Girl, please be serious. We’re practically on the track! He could spot me in a heartbeat.”

Avoiding your older brother isn’t really in your nature; you’ve always been inseparable. You and Yeonjun are like two cubes of ice that no matter how much you whack them, they stay glued together. He always protects you, teaches you the ropes on how to navigate life even though there is only 3 years between you, and you would probably class him as one of your best friends.

Yet, he never wants you to come to his races.

Yeonjun is one of, if not the best illegal drag racer in the city. He’s built respect around his and his crews name - Thursday’s Children - TC for short. Initially, he loved bringing you along to the races, but that quickly changed the moment you caught the attention of the one rival he despises.

Ireh turns to you, exasperation etched across her features as she crosses her arms. “So, do you want to see your boyfriend or not?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Ireh,” you retort, huffing the words out for what feels like the millionth time. But she isn’t wrong - you are here to see the boy, and though typically you wouldn’t risk coming to the tracks and getting caught by Yeonjun, there’s a reason for the risk tonight.

“Oh? So what do you call a guy you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’re willing to betray your brother and sneak behind his back?” she counters with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because you wouldn’t do that for a casual hookup.”

That’s also the kicker of this whole thing; since that day when you bumped into Yeonjun’s rival and the ban was put in place so that you never have to come into contact with him…you’ve actually been seeing him almost every day for the past seven months. Your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s Sim Jaeyun - the leader of The Lucifers, and your brother's arch nemesis.

It makes you recoil every time you think about betraying your brother, especially when someone slaps you over the face with it so blatantly the way your best friend does. It’s worse because as much as you downplay the relationship, you can’t deny that there is something so real between you both. As soon as you met him, you were instantly drawn to him - like a moth to a very dangerous and reckless flame.

To be honest, you vowed to stay away from any and all racers. Each of them is arrogant and too prideful, your brother included, but the more you spoke with Jaeyun, got to know him and all his quirks, you realised quickly that he’s the exception.

Jaeyun is ripped straight from the pages of a romance book. At first glance, with his sharp smirk and the swagger that comes with being one of the city’s top drag racers, he gives off that classic fuckboy vibe - a bit reckless, untouchable, with that unbothered arrogance he uses to get under other crew’s skin. To a lot of people, he’s just the arrogant leader of The Lucifers, quick to brush off his competition like they’re nothing.

But that’s only half of who he is.

When it’s just the two of you, you get to see a side of Jaeyun that he guards closely - trusting you with something he doesn’t share with the world. He’s patient and tender, his words soft and careful, and it’s almost startling how different he can be. He’s not performing or putting up walls; he’s just there with you, completely and wholly, in a way that’s so real it takes your heart a minute to stop making more space for him. If you were to say this to anyone else that knew him, or of him, they would laugh in your face - and Jaeyun would deny it in a heartbeat.

It wouldn’t be fair to say he hides his ‘real’ self from others because being the racer everyone perceives is also part of him. The intensity he brings to the track is genuine - it’s a part of his soul, he’s clearly passionate about it, loving the thrill and heat that comes from burning some rubber and shouting a big fuck you to his opponent. But with you, Jaeyun allows himself to be something more. He only shows the loverboy side of him in your company, being with you gives him a moment to embrace a side of himself that he sometimes forgets about.

Of course, he’s still cocky and boastful - he’s allowed to be; he’s really fucking good - it’s the main reason why he and Yeonjun are rivals in the first place. While TC rules the North and East of the city, The Lucifers hold ownership of the South and West, but both of them want to be on top - the best in the city, not just their turfs.

In Yeonjun’s eyes, the only one who could be deemed better than him is Jaeyun, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. So he won’t swallow it, he’ll use it as motivation instead, to beat Jaeyun in ever way possible.

Shifting your focus back to Ireh and ridding your mind of the thoughts of the leaders, you shake your head and let out the fakest laugh you think you’ve ever heard spit from your mouth. “In love with him? I am not in love with him. We’re just, seeing one another, casual, y’know?”

Ireh holds that knowing stare on you as you stand there, your mind battling with itself like it usually does in moments like these, justification and excuses bubbling up. “Listen, you can keep him as your ‘not boyfriend’ all you want,” she adds with a smirk, “but you know that label isn’t hiding your feelings. It’s written all over your face - even now.”

You’re an open book, what your mouth doesn’t say, your face certainly will and you’re more than sure it’s telling the story of your heart that you refuse to admit. For both your sake and Jaeyun’s.

“Whatever, let’s just go find him.” Rolling your eyes, you take her arm and lead her further into the pit of people.

It’s heaving with racers, pit lizards, and those just looking to have a good time and smell the fumes. The floodlights guide you to the edge of the track while you thread your and Ireh's way through the crowd, moving closer to the edge, where you get a clear view of the grit track. Out of all the places Yeonjun and Jaeyun race, this track has a special place in your heart. There’s nothing too fancy about it, but it does have one element that outdoes all the rest; Devil’s Corner.

Devil’s Corner is infamous, a steep turn that has racers pushing their cars to the limit. They either conquer the bend or be conquered by it. It’s a sharp, merciless curve that rises slightly before plunging down at a nearly impossible angle, leading straight into a narrow stretch and to the finish line. So many have tried to beat it or show off on it - you’ve seen more than one car flip or crumpling like a smooshed tin can.

Luckily, both your brother and Jaeyun know exactly how to handle it, masters of their art being proven each time. You never have to worry about them too much when it comes to this track, they’re usually way ahead of whatever chump tries to race them, but a little flutter of anxiety will always be there.

You squint against the harsh glare of headlights, raising a hand to shield your eyes as you scan the crowd. Among the bustle, you spot Heeseung and Jongseong leaning casually against a car with the devil printed crudely onto it, looking entirely at ease in the chaotic scene. They’re two of Jaeyun’s closest friends and crewmates, so wherever they are, he’s usually not far behind.

Heeseung is the first to notice you, nudging Jongseong with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shoots you a welcoming look. The two of them are more than just members of The Lucifers - they’re practically family to Jaeyun, and in turn that makes them your number one hype men and the only others to know about your secret fling.

Squeezing her arm, you guide Ireh across the track and into red territory, smiling brightly and suddenly forgetting about the possibility of Yeonjun spotting you.

“Hi, boys!” you greet them warmly, letting go of your friend to hug them tightly. “How are you feeling?” Both of them have races tonight, though you could never tell with how nonchalant they both look. Going against TC always has higher stakes, but they don’t seem fussed.

Jongseong pats your head and smirks. “We’re chill, it’s only Gyu and Soobin, hardly competition.”

“We are shocked to see you though, doesn’t little Junnie usually keep you in a cage when it comes to TC Lucifer races?” Heeseung nips in.

“Well, I had to come and-”

“Support the number one racer on his birthday,” a fading Australian accent interrupts your sentence, his hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you back into him, your ass pressing against one of your favourite parts of him.

Jaeyun’s touch is intoxicating, a magnetic pull that has you leaning back into him without a second thought, any anxiety about Yeonjun’s lurking eyes now vanished. His hands drift up and down your waist, lingering over the curves he knows so well, savouring the feel of the skintight dress you’ve slipped into just for him. You can feel his gaze, possessive, admiring, and utterly absorbed into you as his fingers press against the sheer fabric at your sides, the warmth of his skin teasing yours through the thin material. He loves it when you dress up for him because he knows it’s only for him, not one of these other fuckers at the grit track gets to touch you the way he does, gets to see you the way he does.

Instinctively, he dips his head, his lips grazing your shoulder, trailing upwards in a slow, lazy path that sends a pulse straight to your core. His mouth follows the line of your neck, leaving a trail of heat that makes you feel like the two of you are alone in the world, past all of the noise and chaos around you. When he reaches your ear, he nibbles down and whispers, “Hi, Princess.” It’s a greeting as much as a claim, you’re his princess.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this is probably the most reckless thing you could do. Yeonjun could be here any second, his protective instincts would be kicking in if he caught even a speckle of Jaeyun’s hands on you. And yet, the thrill of it only makes you want to sink deeper into Jaeyun’s touch. He holds you firmly, his grip the only thing holding you up right now.

However, you need to let go, scared of the repercussions. It’s bad enough you’re even on this side of the track, let alone in the arms of The Lucifer’s leader. So you spin around, gathering your bones and standing upright, although they almost turn to jelly again as soon as you see him.

His hair is bouncy, parted down the middle with two strands falling effortlessly on his face, pointing straight to that perfect nose that you’ve had the pleasure of riding one or ten times. His lips are curled up in a small smile, so subtle only you can see before it turns into a full-blown smirk, his kissable lips so inviting as he bites into his bottom one. You love his mouth, everything about it; how it looks, the way it tastes, it’s magical skills when it’s in between your legs, all of it.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur, smiling so fondly at him that you know Ireh is going to have something to say about it later.

“Thanks. What did my girl get me?” he asks, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over yours, his bottom lip begging to be bitten and sucked on. Every time he calls you his girl, you swear you almost get down on your knees and begin to worship him.

Maybe you’re starting to see what Ireh and his friends mean about your non-existent label and what it should be.

You resist the urge to just devour him in a kiss as you speak. “I can’t show you it right now, not here,” you tease, poking your tongue out to wet your lips.

“Yeah? What if I ditch this race and we go somewhere that you can show me?” His voice is low and inviting, every word dripping with promise. Jaeyun leans down, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his eyes gleaming playfully. His hands roam up your back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make you shudder, his nails grazing your skin ever so slightly - a subtle incentive to consider his tempting suggestion.

Before you can even nod, though, Jongseong clears his throat pointedly, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. “Actually, mate, you really can’t skip this one,” he says in a language you can’t understand, his tone heavy with meaning meant solely for Jaeyun.

Jaeyun’s grip loosens slightly as he pulls back, and you seize the moment to break from his hypnotic gaze, turning to face Jongseong with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so special about this race?” you ask, voice laced with curiosity. “What’s at stake this time, a car?”

High-stakes wagers are nothing new. Racers love to have some form of motivation and it’s not unusual for bets to involve money, cars, or something like territorial rights over parts of the city. And while you don’t know exactly what’s in play, the tension between Jongseong and Jaeyun suggests this isn’t just any race.

“Not a car,” Jaeyun begins removing his hands from your waist, and just in time too, because over the racer's shoulder, you see someone walking over with raw fury and intensity over their features.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun spits as he approaches, his aura red. The last time you saw him this angry was when you accidentally mistook his MSCHF boots as funky vases and put the tulips that Jaeyun had got you inside them. Of course, he didn’t know they were from his rival, but you did just ruin his £300 shoes.

Truthfully, they looked better as a vase.

Jaeyun’s hand still rests on your waist, firm and possessive, but you reluctantly take a step back, putting as much space as possible between you. You will yourself to look unfazed and relaxed, praying Yeonjun hadn’t seen Jaeyun practically dry-humping you just moments before.

Thinking on her feet, Ireh steps in, tossing a casual arm over Jongseong’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Actually, it’s my fault, Yeonjun,” she chirps, doing her best to sound apologetic yet unbothered. “I wanted to see Jongseong race, and I dragged Y/N along for moral support.” Her voice drops, filled with mock affection. “We’re dating.”

Everyone looks confused except Ireh, who is putting all those years bluffing to her parents about her whereabouts in the middle of the night to the ultimate test. They are easily fooled, but Yeonjun is not.

Glancing down at his ‘girlfriend’, Jongseong wears a look of uncertainty but also…happiness? You always suspected his crush on your best friend, this just confirms it. Like breathing, he slips into the role, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple lovingly - he’s clearly taking this as an opportunity to be close to her.

Yeonjun’s lip curls as he looks Jongseong up and down with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Slim pickings around here, I guess. I didn’t think you’d settle for a shit stain on the sidewalk.”

Jongseong’s easygoing expression hardens as he holds Ireh close, offended and possessive. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls, his tone a warning.

Amidst the brewing tension, Jaeyun’s hand sneaks to find home on your ass, his grip firm and reassuring. He’s careful though, keeping his touch just out of Yeonjun’s line of sight, but you can tell he also doesn’t care, not really. He would fight your brother in an instant if it wasn’t for you asking him to keep it in check. No one ever tells Jaeyun what to do - not the authorities, not family, no one - but he’ll make the exception for you.

“Get off our side, Yeonjun,” Jaeyun finally interjects and pausing the bickering, his voice low and steady, clearly unbothered by the confrontation brewing. He removes his hand from you and he regrets it almost the moment it happens, wishing he could glue himself to you and always feel your warmth.

“Not until I get my sister back,” Yeonjun retorts, the words hang thickly in the air as the rest of The Lucifers gather around.

Even the mere suggestion of you being taken away stirs something in Jaeyun, a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. Now that he has you by his side, on his side both physically and literally, he doesn’t like you too far away.

But Jaeyun’s lips twitch into a mocking smile as he crosses his arms and hides his true feelings, eyes never leaving Yeonjun’s. “Take her back then,” he scoffs, tilting his head with an air of nonchalance that only stokes the fire. He turns to you, smirking and hiding that beautiful boy you know behind the arrogance of himself. “If that’s what she wants.”

The ball is in your court and you hate when people do this to you - making you choose - and this is the worst choice of all. Jaeyun is giving you the opening to stand up for yourself, something he’s been slowly but surely trying to help you do throughout the seven months of seeing him, but it’s so much harder than he realises.

Betraying Yeonjun feels like tearing a piece of your soul away. The thought of hurting him, of driving a wedge between you twists in your gut. It’s not easy to reconcile the love you have for your brother with the undeniable connection you share with Jaeyun.

As the silence stretches, you take a deep breath, your heart racing. You glance at Jaeyun with sorrowful eyes, knowing you’re disappointing him with what you’re about to do. You take a step forward and stand by Yeonjun, looking down shamefully. You don’t dare look at the hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes.

And it’s there, only for you to see. He had truly hoped that this would say a big ‘fuck you’ and rid yourself of the shackles of Yeonjun’s overbearing brotherly role and claim the independence he’s been encouraging you to reach for.

In all honesty, he has been respecting your wishes and he’s content with that, but he hates to see you battling with it so damagingly. Your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes, your brain whispering insults and what ifs while Jaeyun’s lips are on yours,l. It’s gotren so bad in fact that half of your secret meetups have consisted of you sitting in his lap while he strokes your back, whispering petal soft reassurances to calm you down from turmoil.

Not exactly a five star date.

In some way, he wonders if the weight of it all is pressing harder now because you’re both crossing into a deeper territory of emotions that you can’t step back from.

“Ireh, don’t you dare bring Y/N back here again,” he warns your best friend, stepping in front of you, his way of protecting you but really he’s just locking you in the cage that he built. You can feel the heat of anger surrounding him and you feel ashamed. Not only are you in trouble but now your best friend is getting the blame for it. All because you can’t tell Yeonjun the truth.

Jaeyun pokes his tongue in his cheek and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough to make Yeonjun tense once again, narrowing his eyes.

“You want to say something else?” your brother grits out, hoping that Jaeyun will bite his bait.

Yet, Jaeyun simply raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a playful smile on his face. “Nah, mate. I’ll save all my talking for out on the track, yeah?” The tone of his words is light but there’s an underlying tension simmering as he stops himself from saying what he really thinks.

What he really wants to say is how fucking ridiculous it is to watch Yeonjun try to control not just your life but also those who have no obligation to bow to him. It’s clearly a trait of his - one he can’t get on board with.

However, the phrase ‘save all my talking for out on the track’ strikes you as oddly significant. You then suddenly remember Jongseong’s earlier cryptic warnings to Jaeyun about how he should stick around for the race and it all clicks into place.

Your eyes widen as you search Jaeyun’s expression for confirmation, but he remains locked onto Yeonjun’s fierce glare, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Pulling at Yeonjun’s wrist, you draw his attention back to you, though his gaze never wavers from Jaeyun. “You’re racing each other tonight? Why?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Of course, it’s not uncommon for leaders of rival crews to face off in races; it happens all the time. But the stakes feel particularly high tonight, and a knot of worry forms in your stomach. They haven’t battled it out since that night you met Jaeyun and that almost ended with Yeonjun crashing and Jaeyun turning upside down.

They have no limits when it comes to racing one another, and at the grit track, that can only mean bad things.

“Because Jaeyun here decided he wants this track to himself,” Yeonjun explains half-heartedly.

The grit track is TC territory, placed technically within the east side of the city, but its location on the very edge of the west makes it up for grabs - if they can win it. For years, The Lucifers have wanted this spot, the leaders well before Jaeyun took charge could never do it. TC leaders make sure this is the one track they’re masters at, no one is ever able to beat them on it.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, closing the space between them. “The track belongs to whoever can handle it, not whoever sticks their name on it and hopes everyone just plays nice.”

“I’ve been handling it, in case you couldn’t see that,” he chides back, not appreciating the jab. “Your old leader Mingi couldn’t handle it against me, that’s the reason you became leader, right?”

Yeonjun’s smirk is cold, knowing that mentioning the former leader will get the reaction he wants from Jaeyun - and it does. Jaeyun’s easy smirk falters for a split second, his eyes darkening with a flash of barely concealed rage. Mentioning Mingi was a low blow, they both know it.

Mingi is Jaeyun’s best friend and the night he tried to stake claim on TC turf, he ended up crashing the car, paralysing his body from the waist down. In truth, it’s the only reason Jaeyun is standing in the position he is right now, and he hates that fact.

He always admired Mingi as a leader.

Jaeyun’s voice drops, dangerously calm. “Say his name again,” he warns as the muscles in his jaw tighten. “But make sure you remember that if he hadn’t crashed because of your pathetic excuse of a trick, he would have this track, easy.”

Yeonjun’s smug grin only widens, feeding off the frustration simmering in his rival. “Is that right? Funny, because as far as I remember, it wasn’t foul play, he just couldn’t handle Devil’s Corner, and we all know what happened after that. Or maybe you’d like a reminder?”

The tension is suffocating, an invisible line drawn in the dirt between them, and everyone around senses that one wrong word could send it spiralling out of control. Jaeyun takes a step closer, closing the gap so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You better watch your fucking mouth, you know what you did.”

You don’t know much about that night, neither of the men in your life wishing to utter a word about it, but all you’ve gathered from the rumours is that there are two sides to believe; one in which Mingi was simply reckless on the corner, a freak accident due to his negligence, the other? Yeonjun and his crew planted a spike trail on the road that caused him to flip over and roll down the hill.

The rumours were never settled because the car took such a tumble that it eventually got engulfed in flames, the tyres melting and any evidence gone. It’s one of the biggest mysteries amongst the crews and only TC will truly know the truth, not that they would ever admit it.

Do you think your brother could do such a thing? Not in a million years, but you also know his competitive streak can cloud his judgment. Either way, you’re nervous about his and Jaeyun’s safety tonight.

Yeonjun’s expression hardens, dropping all pretences of mockery. “Prove it. I did fuck all, your pathetic excuse for a leader was just a shit driver that couldn’t handle the heat.”

The words are enough to push Jaeyun to the edge. His fists clench at his sides, but before he can lurch forward and connect his knuckles with your brother’s face, Heeseung pulls him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, speaking low and steady. “It’s not worth it, Jae. He wants you to lose it.”

“And I fucking will, the prick deserves it,” you hear him argue with his friend. It’s moments like these you wish you could just walk over to him and settle his nerves. Not in the Joey King in Kissing Booth way with the cliche ‘look at me, look at me’ vibes, but let him know that you’re there for him, that this urge to win and prove something might end up even more disastrous than Mingi’s fate.

While Heeseung and Jongseong tend to Jaeyun’s flaring temper, Yeonjun shifts his focus to you, his rebellious sister. “Seriously, Y/N, I told you to stay the fuck away from these races,” he has venom in his voice but that’s still lingering from the spout with Jaeyun. Towards you, there is affection and concern, his usual feelings towards you.

“I just…Ireh wanted me to come,” you lie, using the dark night and shadows from the floodlights to mask your growing nose.

“Okay, fine. You still should have said no,” he rebuts, suddenly giving you a quick glance over, “And why are you dressed like that? You never dress like a track hopper.”

It’s a little insulting, considering what you wear is none of his business, and that you actually do feel good in it.

You square your shoulders, meeting Yeonjun’s scrutinising gaze. “I wanted to dress up for once, alright? Is that such a crime?” you snap, your voice sharper than you initially intended. But something about his tone, so quick to judge, grates on you.

Yeonjun’s eyes soften just a fraction, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N,” he begins, his tone shifting to something gentler. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just don’t want you getting dragged into this, especially tonight.” His eyes flick to the track, the pits where engines roar to life, and the crowd of people buzzing with dangerous energy as they wait for the next race. “You’re above all of this.”

A small pang of guilt tugs at you, but you hold your ground. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Yeonjun. Let me just stay to support you,” you lie again, stomach twisting as the truth sits, heavy and hidden.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, not fully convinced but willing to let it go - for now. “Alright, but stay out of the pit. And if anything happens, you leave, got it?”

“Got it. I’ll keep my distance.”

Satisfied, he gives a brief nod, but as he turns back towards his car, guiding you over to the right side of the track, where you belong. You look back as you watch Jaeyun eye you up, saddened at your sudden removal, but expecting it nonetheless.

You guess you’ll just need to see him once this is all over, and both of them finish this race safely.

You hope.

_____

The sound of engines revving fills the night air as you stand on the edge of the track, patiently awaiting Jaeyun and Yeonjun’s arrival. Your nerves are unsettled and your mind is very much being represented like that one scene in Spongebob where he forgets his name and the little sponges in his brain scramble for the answer.

It’s been a long time since you felt this tense, you thought coming here and hiding would be the thrill of your night, turns out that was the most mundane - and unsuccessful part.

The crowd is bigger now, all revved up - no pun intended - for the race. The stakes are high, like really high and you can’t imagine what the outcome could possibly be.

A thrill courses through the crowd, the anticipation tangible as Jaeyun’s car pulls up on the east side of the track - your side. While most of the TCs around you murmur, assuming he’s just trying to throw Yeonjun off, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jaeyun’s tactic isn’t about intimidation; he just wants a final glance at you before the race begins, to see you in that dress that Yeonjun hates oh so much, and use it as motivation. He doesn’t want to show off per say, but if you’re impressed, it’s a bonus.

The intensity in his eyes across the crowd is unmistakable, and when he whistles, a slight, beckoning tilt of his head makes it clear he’s calling you over.

You look around to see if anyone noticed, and once you’re convinced they haven’t, you check your brother. Sure enough, he’s deep in conversation with his crew, oblivious as he checks his car’s setup.

Is it stupid to go over and risk getting caught? Of course. But Jaeyun has a persuasive smile and dreamy eyes to match. So the next thing you know, you take a deep breath, slipping through the sea of people, and make your way towards Jaeyun’s car. His smirk widens as you reach him, his hand already extended to brush your arm.

But you swat it away, half playfully, half serious. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t a guy get a good luck kiss from his girl?”

“Jaeyun, are you fucking crazy? Look who’s right next to you!” you hiss, gesturing towards Yeonjun, who’s still unaware, thankfully. You really appreciate his attention to detail in these moments.

“Princess, you’ve been sneaking around and bouncing on my cock for seven months now. If he hasn’t caught on by now, I doubt he’s going to. He probably doesn’t even care.” He says it so easily, like all of this has just been in your mind and not a real threat.

“Yeah? Tell that to the way he glared you down not two hours ago. Or did you miss the part where he wanted to tear you to pieces for even breathing next to me?”

Jaeyun barely flinches at the mention, a hint of a pout replacing his smirk. “Come on, it’s my birthday. Don’t you think I deserve at least one little kiss?”

“Didn’t you already use the birthday excuse to get me here?” you counter, eyeing him with a playful twinkle.

“That’s for attendance,” he teases, leaning closer to you, practically hanging out the window just for a taste of you. “Kisses are part of the package.”

Unable to resist the temptation in his eyes, you check over your shoulder one last time before leaning in, brushing your lips against his in what should be a quick peck for luck, but he turns into so much more.

Jaeyun’s hand slides up to cradle your cheek, his touch warm and possessive. His thumb brushes softly over your skin as he deepens the kiss, ignoring the chaos, this stolen moment is the only thing that matters. His fingertips, rough from years of racing, contrast with the gentle way he holds you, drawing you further into him.

His tongue sweeps over your lips and you can’t help but groan and grant him access to your mouth, praying to the gods to get a taste of him. You’re greedy for him, ravenous almost, and he mirrors your need. If he wasn’t in front of at least one hundred people, including your brother, he would be dragging your pretty ass into this car and watching your tits clap in his face.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, reality hits as Jungwon steps between the two cars, flag poised for the start. You pull away reluctantly and savour the last few pecks Jaeyun plants on your puffy, lipgloss-smudged lips.

Yeonjun snaps to attention suddenly aware of your appearnce and his voice cuts sharply through the revving engines. “Y/N! What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, his tone edged with disbelief and frustration. “I told you to stay off the pit!”

You jump, instinctively retreating from Jaeyun’s side as you stammer out a response, just thankful that he didn’t seem to notice how seconds prior you were getting your tonsils tangled with Jaeyun. “I was just…I was wishing you good luck!” You walk quickly, rounding Jaeyun’s car, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of the kiss. But Yeonjun’s face is a mask of exasperation as you approach his window.

“Y/N, get back!” he orders, eyes widening as he glances at Jungwon, who’s counting down without a care in the world.

Only then do you realise you’re directly between the two cars, and neither Jaeyun nor Yeonjun seems willing to delay the race.

“Three!” Jungwon’s deep voice booms, the crowd roaring as the tension builds.

Your feet feel glued to the ground, panic swelling in your chest. You know that chances of you getting hurt are slim, but you’ve never been this close to the race, so close that you can feel the heat from their motors swirling your leg like those snakes on Lucy Grey.

“Two!”

Jungwon raises the flag, ready to unleash it. The cars tremble with power, the engines growling, but your brain’s too scrambled to make a move. Jaeyun sees your tense frame and panics for you, scared of even a scratch on you.

“One!”

Suddenly, you feel a jolt - a car door bumps against the back of your legs, and before you know it, strong hands grab your waist, pulling you backwards in a quick, fluid motion. You land on something soft, but before you even realise what’s happened, Jaeyun’s arm reaches across to steady you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Go!”

With a salute to Yeonjun that’s equal parts taunt and triumph, Jaeyun hits the gas, and the world blurs as he speeds off, leaving your brother gaping in stunned disbelief behind you.

The wind whips through the open passenger door as you scramble to sit upright, barely processing what just happened. You feel like you’re suddenly on a rollercoaster, the car's oomph causing you to stick to the seat like the Sticky Wall.

“Can you shut that, Princess? You’re letting a draft in,” he smirks, too pleased with himself.

But all you can do is stare back, aghast. “What the fuck, Jae?! This is not funny.”

“It’s not, you could have got fucking hurt,” he tries to play it off as a joke but you hear the seriousness in his tone. When you look at him, you also see the slight fear in his eyes.

Jaeyun knows it was stupid to drag you into his car, but he panicked, what else could he do? All the possibilities swam across his mind like a reckless current. You could have gotten scratched up by the grit, swooped under the tyres with the sheer power of the acceleration…or worse.

Not all of these scenarios make sense, but the fear of losing you makes him think even the impossible. So if he can save you even from probabilities, then he will.

You reach over and such the door, the wind making it difficult as he rounds a corner. Once it clicks into place, you relax a little, breathing out. It happened in such a blur that you can’t even figure out where on the track you are. All you know is that Jaeyun is first, and you’re stuck in this race whether you like it or not.

Without taking his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator, he reaches over you and grabs the seatbelt, fiddling with it awkwardly to secure you in. You hate to say that you’re looking at the veins on his hands as he unravels it, but you are. You could be helping him and saving him the struggle but it’s just too fucking delicious to look at.

That distraction is the only thing stopping your heart from leaping out of your throat.

“Did you really think dragging me into your car, going a million miles per hour and having to survive the grit track safer than me standing on the starting line?” you question him, disbelief and mockery in your tone.

Jaeyun furrows his brows and lets your words sink in. “Well…when you put it that way, it’s dumb,” he agrees, mentally cursing himself. “But if you think about it, now your brother won’t pull any of his tricks. Not with his precious sister in the car.”

Now that embarrassment for his rash decision is turning into pride. Maybe subconsciously he pulled you into his car as a safety measure, after all, can’t be too careful around a bunch of TCs; not when there is so much at stake.

“Really? I’m a reassurance? What if he’s already planned something and you’ve just brought me to my demise?” It hurts you that Jaeyun truly believes your brother is capable of dirty tricks, but then again, you don’t have one hundred percent faith that he wouldn’t pull something.

Jaeyun looks into his rearview mirror and sees Yeonjun hot on his tail, probably filled with enough fury to power his car without an engine. It makes Jaeyun nervous, both your words and Yeonjun’s gaining speed, but he masks it under a laugh.

“At least we would die together. What’s that song? To die by your side-”

“Is such a heavenly way to die, yeah, yeah, it’s one of my favourite songs,” you admit, heart blushing that he even remembered it considering his playlists contain an abundance of Justin Bieber and other generic pop acts - he’s not really one to appreciate the Smiths. “But I would rather listen to the lyrics than live it out, Jaeyun.”

“I don’t see a double-decker bus,” he looks at you for a split second but it’s long enough that you see the teasing glint in his eye that masks his genuine concern, and weirdly, it puts you at ease. He would never let anything happen to you, you know that deep down.

You let out a genuine laugh and whack his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, Jaeyun.”

“Princess,” he intertwines his fingers with you, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I promise, okay? You will get out of this car in one piece.” Jaeyun kisses your knuckles and it’s both stomach fluttering and impressive how he can handle a car going 80mph and still have time to dote on you.

The romance doesn’t last too long though, because he has to lock in and focus. Behind him, Yeonjun’s car looms closer, headlights glowing like the eyes of a predator. He’s tailing Jaeyun so closely that any error, even a slight miscalculation, could end it all in a brutal collision. Jaeyun glances at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face, fierce and determined.

He figured your brother wouldn’t be in the best of moods with his act.

“You think that little gap’s gonna stop him?” you mutter, gripping the seat as Jaeyun expertly rounds another bend, tyres squealing against the track’s rough surface.

“Not a chance,” Jaeyun replies with a grin. “But it’ll take him a few seconds longer. Enough for me to play with.”

He shifts gears, feeling the engine’s deep growl as he powers down a straight stretch, his speedometer needle pushing higher. Yeonjun matches his pace, but Jaeyun, ever the strategist, swerves slightly, throwing up a cloud of grit in his rival’s direction. The dust storm is thick enough to obscure Yeonjun’s vision momentarily, forcing him to fall back by a hair’s breadth.

Jaeyun accelerates, barely missing a pile of tyres on his right. Just as he slips past, Yeonjun veers to the inside lane, attempting to pass on Jaeyun’s left. The corner’s coming up fast - a sharp, unforgiving turn with no forgiveness if they misjudge. Jaeyun catches on immediately, not giving Yeonjun the satisfaction. With a calculated flick of the wheel, he forces Yeonjun to either fall back or risk veering straight into the barrier.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t about to let him off easy. He falls back just enough to avoid a crash but quickly cuts to Jaeyun’s other side, inches away, daring him to swerve first. Their cars glide nearly side-by-side, matching each other’s pace in a tense, furious dance.

It’s so scary, being in the passenger seat of a car that’s almost buckling under the pressure of how fast it’s going. Of course, you knew this was not going to be like overtaking someone on the M8, but you sure as fuck didn’t expect this. The world is flying by you so fast that you can’t begin to comprehend how either of them even drives like this.

Your brother’s car pulls up beside you both and making eye contact with him is the worst thing in the world you could do.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” you lip read, unable to actually hear him over the roar of the engines. He blames you so easily - even if it is 60% of your fault because you answered Jaeyun’s beckon - but it still makes you a little mad.

Did you want to be dragged into this? Absolutely not. All you wanted was to kiss your pretty non-boyfriend good luck on his birthday, you didn’t need all these dramatics with it; you get enough fireworks in your belly from his pretty mouth alone.

The sound of the engine thunders louder, Jaeyun accelerating and pushing his car beyond its threshold as he glides through the race. It’s all pretty intense - and oddly fun - but it’s not about to be in roughly one minute.

“Devil’s Corner’s up,” you murmur as if Jaeyun even needs the reminder. But he only nods, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, a spark of something almost wicked in his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a determined grin, shifting gears smoothly as he sets up for the turn. “This is where your brother won’t risk it. He’s too careful with the track; it’s got him wrapped around its finger.”

“Everyone is careful around this part of the track…” you half express as a statement while also hinting that it could be a question, inquiring what Jaeyun could possibly do next.

Your trail-off sentence steals his attention and he sees the query in your eyes. He inhales deeply before addressing the elephant in the car you’ve somehow given birth to.

“Princess, do you trust me?”

“Of course, it’s the track I don’t,” you confess.

“Me either, but I gotta pull all the punches here; for the track, for the Lucifiers…for Mingi.” His voice cracks a little as he thinks of his friend, and the damage it caused him.

Jaeyun's gaze hardens, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten, as though he’s holding not just the car but every ounce of the Lucifier’s pride and promise he’s made as their leader. His mind is as sharply focused on Mingi as it is on the wheel, almost as if his friend’s presence is woven into every inch of the track ahead. There’s a weight he feels, a determination to make his best friend proud, to take the track that cost Mingi so much.

"Trusting me means sticking it out," he adds, almost like a dare. “You ready?”

You swallow, nerves bubbling as you nod, barely managing a steady breath. “Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But even as you say it, you know Jaeyun’s already got a strategy, one as risky as it is relentless. He could fucking kill you right now and yet, you’re ready to put your life in his hands, because you know he’s never going to snap it.

Kind of like your heart.

Ahead, Devil’s Corner yawns open like a waiting trap, and Yeonjun knows it. You can feel the weight of your brother’s stare from the other car, his eyes sharp with worry and rivalry. He’s fought this corner countless times and knows that going at it full throttle will never end well. You catch the fleeting look on Yeonjun’s face - a mixture of fear, anger, and an unspoken warning. He’s petrified for you, not knowing how far Jaeyun will go to secure the win.

Yet, you couldn’t be calmer.

“Hold on, yeah?” Jaeyun instructs and you immediately obey, watching as the dial hits it’s peak, his car flying even further in front of Yeonjun’s.

“You need to slow down, Jae…” you warn.

“How about you put that trust into action yeah?” he snaps back, though his anger isn’t directed at you, he’s just nervously tense. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? So you don’t hold it against him. If anything, it just makes you want to take his hand in yours and offer him some semblance of comfort.

But that would be silly right now considering there’s a death corner with you and his name on it.

As Jaeyun steers into Devil’s Corner, the entire car seems to tighten, every movement rippling through you as though you were an ant, squashed under the tyre. The pressure outside is immense, like a wall of wind trying to shove the car off the road. Inside, it’s nearly as suffocating, the tension compressing everything around you, even your heartbeat syncs with each vibration of the engine.

The curve is sharp - even sharper than you’d realised watching from the stands - and you feel the pull of gravity as Jaeyun doesn’t so much follow the turn as he cuts through it, daring the edge. Gravel spits and clinks against the sides of his precious baby.

Yeonjun is somewhere far back, but you can’t even think about him or his safety. The only thing consuming your mind is Jaeyun’s grip on the wheel and the creeping dread and exhilaration fighting for space in your lungs.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you convince yourself that it’s less scary to face it if you can’t actually see it - using the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ childlike tactic to feel brave. And in the midst of it all, as the car feels like it’s on the edge of its control, you hear Jaeyun’s voice over the noise - a steadying presence cutting through as he senses your apprehension.

“Nearly there, Princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched and his heart holding still within his chest. Although he’s fighting the battle of fear and hope inside of him, his voice anchors you just enough to brace yourself.

The car rockets through the tightest part of the bend, wheels practically skating on the track's very edge - the same edge that caused Mingi his loss of legs. You grip onto whatever you can as Jaeyun’s knuckles whiten, his hands firm and controlled on the wheel. The tension in the car mounts like a coiled spring ready to snap, the corner pulling both of you, testing how far it can go before either you or the car breaks under pressure.

At last, you feel the tail end of the car swerve slightly as Jaeyun gives just enough leeway to keep control, and you can sense him gaining ground, just barely escaping the grasp of the turn. Devil’s Corner spits you both out onto the straight stretch and for a heartbeat, there’s only the muted sound of your breathing, mixing with Jaeyun’s, heavy and relieved.

Finally, you open your eyes to see the road unwinding ahead, straighter, safer, and almost welcoming after the chaos of the corner. Your pulse is still racing, but the danger feels like it’s finally behind you - or so you hope. Jaeyun throws you a quick, side-glance, his usual cocky smirk returned but softer, almost a silent acknowledgement of the risk he just took with you by his side.

He doesn’t need to say anything, but as he shifts gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator to widen the gap between him and Yeonjun, his smirk says it all: That was for Mingi, and for you.

Once he sees the finish line in sight, he breathes out and slaps the wheel harshly. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, victory secured and only a long stretch away.

“Holy fuck…” you breathe out, chest heaving and eyes glued to the road in front of you.

“And you doubted me,” he feigns an upset pout and tilts his head in your direction.

“Well, you still have Yeonjun to deal with.” The reminder of your brother fast approaching doesn’t rock him, instead, he laughs.

Shaking his head as if Yeonjun’s trailing position is as much of an inconvenience as a bird shitting on his windshield, Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh and squeezes. “He’s still there because I let him be there. Can’t humiliate the guy completely y’know? He’ll be my family in the future.”

Your mouth opens as you process his words, unsure if he even realises what he just said. It’s a pass-away promise of commitment, and considering you aren’t even officially dating, you would say it’s thrown you off of Everest and has your mind tumbling down after your body.

It’s probably best to bring it up later though, you don’t want to throw him off, especially considering he’s still going 50mph.

He smirks and revs the engine once more, pushing the car just shy of its limits. “Why so worried? I’ve got a perfect record of keeping you safe, don’t I?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Oh, you mean the ‘perfect’ record that almost just got me toppling over into the ditches of Devil’s Corner?” You roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he grins, then he pulls his attention fully to the finish line up ahead. It’s close enough now that the crowd is visible, and he salutes them with a quick flick of his hand.

God, he’s so hot when he’s like this. How lazily arrogant his entire racing persona is. You adore his softer side, of course you do, but this side of him gets your own motor running.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t ready to concede. He surges forward, lining up beside you both in a final, determined push, his car engine roaring with a fury that sends chills down your spine. You see him shoot a glare, not just at Jaeyun, but at you as well. But Jaeyun merely returns the look, cool and unbothered, and then, with one final roar of his engine, he edges past the line first, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.

Jaeyun’s car barrels across the finish line with a triumphant howl from the crowd, cheers blending with the echo of his engine as he cuts through the air, a living victory. The thrill radiates off him; he punches the air, letting out a victorious whoop as his foot remains steady on the accelerator. He finally glances over at you, his face alive with pure elation, his cocky grin fully in place. But instead of slowing down, he maintains his speed, the wind whipping through the car as you look back at the receding crowd.

"Wait - where are we going?" you ask confused, looking back as you pass by everyone and leaving them in the wake of victory.

Jaeyun flicks his gaze over, eyes dark with both mischief and longing. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Y/N, but you still owe me my birthday present,” he says hick and low, each word like a steady drumbeat against your pulse.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your own voice steady. “Don’t you want to celebrate with everyone? You just won the Lucifers the grit track and Devil’s Corner.”

He lets out a laugh, deep and incredulous. “Celebrate with everyone else? Princess, I’d be out of my mind to spend one more second without seeing what you have for me. I would be fucking insane, actually.” He eyes you hungrily, already imagining all the possibilities under your dress or up your sleeve. His tongue brushes his bottom lip in a glazing swoop, a promise lingering in his gaze that leaves your cheeks feeling warmer than they should.

He shifts gears, and you glance back to see the track and the crowd becoming distant figures in the rearview mirror, your brother among them. “Besides,” Jaeyun adds, leaning closer as he cuts through the night, “Do you really wanna see Yeonjun right now?”

“...No.”

“Good, then trust me.”

_____

The car halts, tyres crunching over gravel as you take in the scene before you. Below the dark sky, the city sprawls out like a tacky but beautiful Christmas night with glittering lights, each window and streetlamp reminiscent of a fairy light. Below, the river carves an almost silver line through it all, shimmering under the moonlight. It’s too beautiful for you to describe and give it the credit it deserves.

Jaeyun doesn’t speak at first. His hand finds yours, fingers slipping through as he releases a slow, steady breath. He wasn’t aware how badly his muscles were suffocating his bones until now. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, an absent yet soothing gesture, and he finally lets himself relax, the hard lines of his jaw softening as he looks at you. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the relief etched on his face - a look so different from the racer who stared down Devil’s Corner only 20 minutes ago.

For a moment, you both just sit there, silently letting the thrill of the night settle. You turn to him, sensing his guard finally lowered, his eyes holding something warmer, deeper than his usual confident smirk.

“It’s so pretty here,” you murmur softly, nodding towards the city.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, bringing your lips to his hand and kissing your knuckles softly, the tingle from the spark shooting all over your body. “I’d say the view is pretty fucking perfect.”

A blush creeps on your face, his eyes glued onto you as he mumbles the words into your skin, each syllable fluttering to your heart. Of course, he means you. He has seen this exact city view a million times, often coming up here after races to cool off and regather himself.

It’s the first place he drove to once he heard about Mingi.

It’s the first place he drove to once he met you.

It’s the first time he’s shown someone this spot.

Letting go of your hand, he quickly offers you a small smile before undoing his seatbelt. “C’mon, let's get a closer look.”

With that, you follow him and you both settle against the hood of the car, your shoulders brushing as you take in the sprawling lights below, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. The city glows, pulsing like a heartbeat, life so obvious yet subtle. You tilt your head toward him and nudge him softly.

“So,” you say, half-smiling, “how does it feel?”

“What?”

“Winning the grit track.”

He shrugs, and his gaze becomes distant, falling somewhere into the night. The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable, the city’s buzz helping to fill the contemplative silence between words.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, surprising you into a pause.

“What do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard. After all, this entire night was about winning the territory, claiming a stake over it and expanding the Lucifers’ ground. It sounds like a shitty action movie on Tubi now that you think about it, but that really is what the crews strive for. So for Jaeyun to say he doesn’t care, when he did what his past leaders couldn’t, throws you for a new one.

“The track…he can keep it,” Jaeyun says with a dismissive wave, almost as if he’s letting go of a heavy burden. “It was never about winning a stupid bit of dirt road.” He pauses, biting his lip as he searches for the right words. “I wanted to prove that TC had something to do in Mingi’s accident.”

The words leave his mouth in a rush, and you feel the weight of his pain and loyalty colliding in that confession. Jaeyun’s gaze stays trained on the city, brow furrowed, his jaw set, the ease on his bones only lasting the skip of a jump rope.

He truly believes that Yeonjun was involved - that he orchestrated some plan to knock Mingi out. You’ve seen Jaeyun’s loyalty; you know Mingi is more than a friend to him, practically family, and Jaeyun’s heart has no room to consider the idea that Mingi could’ve just…lost control.

You scoot closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, sensing how vulnerable this confession has left him. “Look, Jaeyun,” you start, hesitating. “I don’t believe my brother would do something like that. But just because you made it through Devil’s Corner safely this time doesn’t rule out anything, yeah? There’s still a chance he had nothing to do with it…but maybe he did.”

He looks at you, contemplation written in the lines around his eyes, but doubt remains.

“I just can’t accept that it was some accident, you know?” he finally says, his voice tight with frustration. “Mingi was solid. The guy could practically drive in his sleep, and suddenly he spins out there?” His shoulders tense as he talks, each word laced with an anger born of grief and unresolved questions. He wants answers, and you sense how deeply he’s embedded in this conviction.

“Okay, so what if…” You hesitate, not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth right now, but knowing Jaeyun needs something to hold onto his faith in Mingi. “What if Yeonjun did have something to do with Mingi’s accident? He could have been planning it tonight but called it off because I was in the car with you?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jaeyun lets out a harsh laugh, but it’s not at you. “Then I could have got you fucking hurt, and what kind of man does that make me?”

It’s as if any reasoning or justification for his actions has suddenly all surged to his mouth and left a bitter taste, one that he finds hard to coat over with some mints. In his mind, he convinced himself for the moment that he was saving you, but in actuality, maybe he was just protecting himself.

He could have lost you.

That though makes him stand up and walk closer to the cliff edge, not enough to cause you alarm, but enough that indicates he’s in the need of feeling free from his mind.

And that’s something you can definitely help with.

Pushing yourself off the car, you reach out to him, lacing your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly from behind. Instantly, he cups your linked hands in his and melts into you, closing his eyes in relief as you kiss his back ever so gently.

“We can’t know what happened that night, Jaeyun, no one ever will. But it’s also not your battle.”

“But I-”

“No. End of story.” You twist him around to face you, your hands dipping your hands into his back pockets. “Mingi and Yeonjun raced that night, the outcome was what it was, and we have to move on. The longer we sit in the past, in this mindset of what if and what could have been, you prolong everyone’s pain, especially yours. And I won’t sit back and watch you do it.”

It’s tough, and you wish you could have laid it all out a little more prettily, but a dagger of truth won’t sink into skin if it’s covered in padding and fluff.

Jaeyun’s eyes portray a man trying to will himself to argue with you, that fight for his friend still very much alive. Yet, he knows you’re right. He isn’t helping himself by wallowing in the past, he’s only hurting himself and creating a deeper hole in his chest, one that is consuming him alive.

But no one has told him to get the fuck over it. Not until now.

“I know for a fact that Mingi does not want you dwelling on it, especially not tonight. You won the grit track, I’d say he’ll be over the moon with that, wouldn’t you?”

The last nudge is enough to make Jaeyun nod, a small smile creeping on his face. “Yeah. I saw him before the race and all he asked was ‘don’t fucking die and get us that track’.”

“See? You achieved both of those requests, I would say that’s worth celebrating,” you grin widely up at him, relieved to see his jaw loosen and shoulders unravel themselves. “It’s also your birthday…which is another reason to celebrate.”

Jaeyun checks his watch and sucks in a breath, his playful demeanour slowly coming back to the surface, much to your delight. “It’s actually past my birthday now.”

Widening your eyes, you drag his wrist to your face, reading the clock's arms as they disappointingly read 12:04am. The sadness is plastered all over your face, your eyes looking glassy due to both regret and the cold wind nipping them.

Jaeyun immediately notices your solemn expression and pouts, holding back a laugh. “Princess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t even get to give you your presents.” You are never one for being late with gifts, in fact, you take birthdays so seriously that gifts are often in your friend’s hands early in the morning. Every birthday is precious to you, well, maybe not your own, but you love to make others feel appreciated and seen on the one day that is reserved for them.

The racer looks at his watch again and reaches for the dial, twisting it back as the small arrow rounds anti-clockwise to the 11. Happily, he flashes the watch’s face in front of yours. “Look, now it’s 11:05pm. You have 55 minutes left.”

A laugh bursts out of you, the heartache over the small inconvenience now lifted by his antics. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to lift you up so easily, it’s his superpower.

“Okay, which one do you want first?” you step back and place your hand on your hips, exhaling the drama from tonight out of your system. No more racing, no more brother, no more bad thoughts. Just you and Jaeyun celebrating the final hour of his birthday.

“There’s more than one?” he asks in a smug tone.

“There are three in total. One is your main present and two are tiny little things,” you explain.

Nodding, Jaeyun feigns ponder as he taps his chin. “Well, I think I should save my main for last, so let’s start with the ‘tiny little things’” he repeats back to you, knowing that they won’t in fact be tiny, their significance probably vastly bigger than any other gift he has ever received throughout his previous 21 birthdays.

Holding up a finger, you tell him to wait before you open the right backseat door of his car and retrieve two carefully wrapped gifts. You put in far too much effort in folding each corner perfectly and twirling every bow to sit neatly, but looking at your work now, you can safely say it was all worth it.

Confusion crosses Jaeyun’s pretty face as he points to his car. “When did you sneak into my car and put them in there?” he asks with piqued confusion. He would notice bright yellow wrapping paper with orange ribbons in a minute, the colours bouncing so brightly off his black interior.

“I didn’t,” you shrug as you confess, holding out the two gifts. “I shoved them both under my seat when you paid for the gas yesterday.”

“Your seat, huh?” he repeats with a lace of amusement, taking the top box from your grasp.

“Well, do you drive other women about?”

“Don’t ask fucking ridiculous questions. You’re the only girl.”

You curse your stomach for flipping out like it’s on an Alton Towers ride, the statement probably meaning nothing significant from his lips. He always says pass away comments like that, and each one you desperately try not to read into too much, your heart having a hard time already with calling this relationship between you both casual, never mind your brain popping up with conspiratorial thoughts that he could see you as something more than his non-girlfriend.

Gently, his hands peel the wrapping paper off, and reveal the first gift.

“Lollipops?” he laughs out, though joy shines from his features.

“Well I saw you were running low, and it is my fault you need to stock up on them, so…” you explain sheepishly, your foot carving out nonsense lines in the gravel.

Since you started hooking up, Jaeyun quit smoking. You hate the taste of the cigarette on his tongue and the smell of it in his car, and he caught onto that instantly. The way you would spray your perfume ‘randomly’ after he flicked the butt out his window, or how you offered him a chewing gum coincidently a few minutes before you climbed into his lap and licked into his mouth.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

So he stopped. Cold turkey without a second thought. He still had the itch though, muscle memory constantly bringing something to his lips for a drag. That’s when you gave him a strawberry Chupa Chups and he never looked back. His dentist hates you for it, but his doctor couldn’t be more delighted.

Taking a cola lollipop from the assorted selection, he unwraps it and places it into his mouth, humming as the beautiful taste hits his tastebuds. His tongue swirls the ball of goodness and he instantly smiles at your reaction, deciding to play on it.

You curse him, his smirk widening as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth just wide enough for you to watch the cola lolly get coated in his saliva, his tongue enveloping it the exact same way he does with your clit when he’s buried face first between your thighs.

Squeezing your legs together in order to stop the flow of arousal from dripping down your leg, you thrust the other present into his chest, retrieving the box of lollipops from him in the process. The further these things are from his mouth right now, the better.

“Okay, now this one,” you urge, clearing your throat and hating the way he pushes the sweet to the side of his mouth, the stick pocking out the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. Somehow, it only made him hotter, like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

God, now you’re even more horny.

Jaeyun nods and flips the gift over, inspecting what it could possibly be. But he’s never been good at guessing, so he quickly tears the paper off, a little more forcefully than the lollipops. A black box adds another layer of suspense and curiosity. “Did you get me a diamond necklace?” he jokes, but once he peels open the lid, nothing is funny anymore.

His eyes flicker between you and the gift. “Y/N…”

“It’s not much, I know. But I thought it was fun,” you explain, scared that it’s not enough.

Picking it from the box, Jaeyun inspects it carefully. To most, it’s just a keyring, but to him, it’s the most thoughtful gift he has ever been given. The mini replica of his precious car, clearly hand-decorated by you stands out - the red decals and perfectly selected interior act as a mirror to the real thing; even the license plate has his famous J4K3YUN etched into it. The black Honda Civic replica sits so tiny yet powerful in his hands.

It was the first car he could afford. Everyone laughed at him - even Mingi - when he turned up to his first race. It’s a shitty little car with not much horsepower, but considering he was only seventeen when he started racing, he could hardly afford to put his student loan into a BMW or Aston Martin. Instead, he modified it, just enough to put his name out there.

His baby has never let him down since. All those times everyone has pestered him to trade her in have never crossed his mind. Even you know how much she means to him. Why else would you have given him an oversized keyring of it?

You know him, and that squeezes Jaeyun’s throat, stopping him from expressing thanks.

“If you pop open the boot, it has something inside,” you point out, excited. He’s made modifications to the real thing, but you got crafty with the mini-me.

“Can anything even fit in this?” he laughs but nonetheless, opens the boot - and it is not what he was expecting.

The interior has been prettily painted pastel pink, with glitter and gems perfectly placed inside, crowding the minuscule space. The first initials of your names are enveloped in a shakily drawn heart. It’s pretty and so very, very you.

Jaeyun’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you interpret it as pure adoration, injecting some pride into your chest. He likes it - thank fuck.

“I thought it was fun, since y’know, on the outside you’re all tough and metal but inside you’re just a sparkly pink princess.” You place the lollipop box on the hood and step closer, inspecting your work once more - as if you haven’t been scrutinizing every detail of it over the past month.

Throwing his head back in a laugh, he blinks away the joy in his tear ducts and nods, sighing out in defeat. “I’m not so sure ‘princess’ is the word I’d use-” he starts, only for you to interrupt.

“Oh, you are,” you insist, taking the lollipop from his mouth and placing it in your own, “You’re the prettiest princess to ever exist, actually.”

“I think that title is reserved for you, baby,” he grins fondly, eyes raking over every feature of your face as you savour the taste of the cola sweet. “Thank you…so much, Y/N, no one has ever gotten me something so thoughtful. I really love-...it. A lot.” His throat tightens, words tangling up in his chest, but thankfully, you don’t seem to notice

Nodding, you give him a soft kiss, careful not to poke him with the lollipop stick, before taking the gift back, carefully placing it and the lollipops in the car for safekeeping. “Now, do you want your big present?” You wiggle your brows and shut the car door, almost skipping back to your spot in front of him.

Jaeyun was so caught up with everything tonight that he forgot that this was the reason he whisked you away as soon as the race ended, at least, it was the shallow reason. The deeper reason is something he won’t speak out into the night air.

Placing his hands on your hips, glides his hands up and down your sides, the warmth from his palms blissfully welcome. You love this dress, the way you feel in it, how it makes you look, but it isn’t exactly good for fighting the nipping cold away, especially considering the wind is much thinner up on the cliff.

“My big present…” he repeats, bringing his face down to yours, his hot breath creating a rose tint along your cheeks. “I think I want that more than anything right now.” His confession is raw and more than surface-level lust. He has so many emotions running through his body right now, and he knows that your present is going to be exactly what he needs.

“You need to unwrap it then.” The smirk on your face is contagious and your voice is low. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what your gift is, but he’s in for a treat nonetheless.

Jaeyun does pause for a moment, his hands fiddling with your zipper at the back but hesitant. “I think my gift might freeze to death if I unwrap it here, don’t you think?”

You hadn’t…thought about that actually. To be honest, when it comes to Jaeyun’s cock, that’s probably the only thing you think about. Rain or shine, snow or fog; if his dick is close to being inside of you, you’ll face any weather.

His fingers pinch the zipper and tug it down slowly, the winter air biting up your spine, but the shivers that are rippling through your body aren’t from freezing; the opposite in fact. The ghost of his fingertip creates a heated surge through your body, your skin igniting with pure desire.

Pushing the dress off your shoulders, your tits are laid bare in front of him, nipples hard and much more delicous than any lollipop Jaeyun could ever suck. They’re perfect, so perfect that he has a hard time putting his love for them into words.

“No bra?” he asks cheekily, that cocky boy everyone loves swimming to the surface of the night.

Shaking your head, you close your eyes as he cups them delicately. “Dress didn’t look right with it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jaeyun’s thumbs flick over your hardened buds as he backs you up to the hood, you ass perched against the edge, a welcomed seat considering your legs could turn to jelly at any moment.

Truth be told, it was the main reason you didn’t wear a bra, with the tightness of the dress, it didn’t allow much more room for any extra padding. But you can’t lie and say that you also didn;t adorn one because it would save time.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation, will I?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of your throat before travelling down, sending waves of warmth through you with each kiss.

You feel the cool press of the hood beneath you as he lifts you up to perch you, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples now you’re at the perfect height, his tongue tracing lazy, agonising circles that make your breath catch. He shifts to the other, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as he bites gently, eyes smouldering with a dark intensity that only makes you want him more.

With each flick of his tongue, your mind fogs over, the chill of the night air long forgotten. His mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he works his way down, fingers slipping under the fabric gathered at your hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines along your waist.

“Are these new?” he hikes your dress up so only your waist is covered and your new panties are on full display for him. It’s incredible how he noticed initially through touch alone, his mind cataloguing each thong, brief, and lacey panty you own.

“Yeah, got them a few days ago.” You don’t need to tell him that you bought them specifically for his birthday, he will know just by the Ivory colour alone.

A playful smirk curves on his lips as he takes in the sight of your new lingerie, his fingers grazing over the delicate lace with a possessive tenderness. “I thought so,” he murmurs, voice low and almost reverent as his thumb hooks under the fabric, dragging it down with aching slowness, leaving your cunt exposed, yet you feel anything but vulnerable.

There is a thrill of anticipation that crackles between you as his hands linger, his thumb tracing a line along your thigh. You’re so consumed with how close he is to your heat that you almost miss his other hand coming up to remove the cola lolly from your mouth.

“Open up,” he instructs, which you blindly follow, releasing the delicious treat from your mouth. “Good girl. Now, spread open for me.”

“Jaeyu-”

“It’s my birthday, Princess. I still have,” he checks his rewound watch, “36 minutes left, so until then, you gotta do what I say, yeah?”

That sounds perfect to you if you weren’t aware of how much of a tease he is. He’s going to torture you on the hood of his car, you know it, but you relent anyway, giving him a sharp nod and breathing out slowly.

Your legs spread wide, your feet finding stability on his bumper. The compromising position could mean anything, your mind flashing with all the possibilities of what he could do to you.

And by fuck, does he have a sweet, sweet plan.

A glint of mischief flickers in his gaze as he tilts the lollipop, the cola sweet glistening in the moonlight as he brings it down to hover just above your entrance. The sticky sweetness clings to the night air, and you feel your body tense with anticipation, each nerve heightened by the thrill of surrendering control.

He runs the candy along your inner thigh first, slow and deliberate, leaving a faint, sugary trail that he follows with his mouth. The coolness of the lollipop contrasts sharply with the warmth of his breath, sending shivers skittering up your spine as his lips and tongue trace after, claiming every inch of sweetness he’s left on your skin.

Finally, he presses the lollipop between your folds, teasingly dragging it up and down without quite giving you what you need, his eyes fixed on your reactions, devouring every tremor, every bite of your lip and jerk of your hips as the lollipop circles your clit. The sensation is maddening, the blend of sticky from the sweet and your own juices only heightens the ache building within you, and he seems to revel in the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. He wants to take his time.

The lolly ghosts your entrance before he presses it ever so slightly inside, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation. His mouth follows close behind, claiming you with a slow, deliberate kiss that has your toes curling against the bumper, his tongue tracing the sweetness lingering on your skin.

A wave of heat radiates through you as Jaeyun continues his maddeningly slow pace, the lollipop pressed just at your entrance, teasing and coaxing you in a way that has your pulse racing, much like how it was when you were near death on Devil’s Corner.

He dips the lollipop in a little further, the rounded edge pressing in just enough to make you gasp and claw at his car bonnet, and then he draws it back out, running it up and over your clit with agonising patience. The pressure of the sweet gliding over your most sensitive spot has you squirming, but his hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving on his lips as he swirls the lollipop slowly, tracing lazy circles that leave you breathless. The candy, now coated in your own slick, sends shockwaves through you, and you feel yourself clenching, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more. Jaeyun seems to notice, and he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling against your inner thigh.

With one last, lingering drag of the candy over your clit, he brings it to his mouth, sucking in the mix of flavours. Your sweetness mixing on his tastebuds with the cola makes his eyes roll and contemplate opening up a business just for him that sells pussy flavoured lollies. Specifically, your pussy, of course.

“You’re fucking delicious, Princess,” he moans out, sucking the pop with fervour. You’re so jealous and you curse ever buying him them. But not really, the scene of his tongue lapping it up eagerly, mixed with the saliva that's glistening on his lips only adds a series of precious memories that you can happily store in your wank bank.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it just rough enough for him to growl. “Please, I’m trying to cum for you before your birthday ends.”

“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh and tosses the almost obsolete lolly away, the stick hidden by the gravel that swallows it. “I can make that happen.”

“Good-”

“If you beg.”

You freeze, resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. If there is one thing you hate most in the world, it’s begging for a man. You can submit to Jaeyun, sure, that’s easy enough. But there’s something so humiliating about having to plead for your own pleasure. He never makes you beg, usually too fucking impatient himself to play that game, so this is not exactly in your forte.

“I’m not begging. No way.” You cross your arms and shake your head adamantly.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens as he sees your defiance, his gaze darkening with something that borders on both amusement and challenge. “Really now?” he murmurs as his thumb traces slow circles on your inner thigh, inching achingly close but not quite where you want him. “You’re gonna stand by that?”

His eyes roam over you, taking in the way your body reacts despite your stubbornness, and you can feel the tension building in the air as he leans in, his lips hovering just above your core, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. The anticipation sends shivers racing over your skin, but you keep your arms crossed, refusing to relent.

“I know you hate it. You’re so powerful, baby. I adore that about you,” he continues in a low murmur, voice laced with a teasing edge, “But just once, for me?” He pouts, bottom lip overtaking his entire face and somehow making him look even more irresistible.

That fucking pout.

With a small laugh, he shifts down, pressing soft and tongue-focused kisses along your thighs, each one closer than the last. His breath is warm, and you can feel the control slipping from you with every careful movement.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, eat me out.”

“Come on, Princess. If you’re going to beg, I want to hear you properly.”

“Jaeyun,” you whine, already flushing up with embarrassment.

“How about,” his mouth places one feather-light kiss on your clit, a gasp of pleasure drawing from your lips, “I beg you to beg me? Then we’re both on the same boat.”

Now, while you don’t like to beg, you love to hear Jaeyun beg. There have been countless times when you’re on your knees, much like he is now, and your mouth is a hairline away from his tip, and he’s thrashing under you, moaning out pleas and needs in a higher pitch, wanting nothing more than you to consume his painfully hard cock in his mouth.

Jaeyun doesn’t have humility when he is with you, he’ll scratch and claw at the bedsheets, whine out your name in desperation, and have you take full control if you want to. You wish you could be more like that, because fuck does it look beautiful, and you know he will love it if you’re a crying, pleading mess under him.

It would be the perfect birthday gift, actually.

So with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Okay. But only if you go first.”

Jaeyun smirks and rubs some heat back into your legs. With soft, kitten-like licks, he plays between your folds, giving you an inch of what's to come. “Princess, please beg for me. I’ve been such a good birthday boy, have I not? I need to hear you want me, the same way I need you. This pretty pussy deserves to be devoured, and I can only do that if you beg for it. Please, baby. Pretty please with a lollipop on top.”

God, he is so fucking good at it. Somehow he still sounds so strong and assured even when you can hear the cracks in his voice and the tremble on his lips. His hips buck the air, mimicking what he wants to do with you, his cock leading him, thinking with his second head.

Whimpering, you look down to see him adorning that pretty pout once again, and you crumble.

“I nod. Jaeyun…please make my cum on your tongue, let me give you the best birthday gift. I want you to lap me up and never stop, make you remember this birthday for the rest of your life. Please, baby.”

You don’t cringe, instead letting your desperation take charge, which gladly works. Jaeyun groans loudly at your filthy words as they echo over the cliff, giving the city indication of what’s taking place. His cock is so painfully hard against his jeans that he wonders if it has the ability to tear through the material like Hulk when he transforms. It certainly feels like it could.

“Good girl,” he praises, before giving you what you crave.

Connecting his mouth to your core, his skilled tongue has you keening, head falling back against the car hood as he licks a broad, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. His lips close around you, his tongue flicking and swirling as he loses himself in the taste of you, his hands spreading your thighs even wider to hold you firmly in place.

He slurps and devours you, humming into your hole in pure lust. Jaeyun loves nothing more than being buried in pussy, he could spend the rest of his life between thighs, your thighs. The added tints of cola still lingering on your skin only heighten his arousal, the sweet tang mixture enough for him to dig his nails into your thighs and bury further in.

Arching your back, your thighs fight his grip as they try and clamp around his head, the way his tongue dips into your hole, rimming it with teasing strokes before shooting back in makes your head dizzy, the November air suddenly feeling like a July breeze - welcomed and just right.

“Fuck,” you hiss out as he bites at your folds, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth, another way of tormenting you yet giving you everything you could want. His bottom teeth drag up to your clit with his puffy bottom lip trailing behind it like a soothing balm.

You’re starting to wonder whether it’s his birthday or yours.

With precision, Jaeyun latches onto your clit and suddenly, you’re seeing more stars in the sky, body lurching forward as you trap him there. The tension coils tightly in your stomach, and he takes his time, alternating between sucking and licking, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back just before you can tip over, savouring every second of your mounting need.

“Jaeyun, please…” you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, and he hums against you, sending a shudder through your entire body.

“See? You can beg so easily,” he mocks playfully, smirking as your thighs act as earmuffs. Despite the barricade, he can still hear every plea and mewl that falls from your lips, indicating that you’re close.

So, he picks up the pace, his hands gripping under your ass to push you further into his face. His round nose nuzzles your nub as his tongue swirls around inside your cunt, the tip of his tongue committing every bump and nook to memory - not like he hasn’t already. He knows everything about you, that’s what happens when you spend seven months doting on and worshipping the same person.

Grabbing tightly onto his hair, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to pull apart, the threads of rope straining as your climax tugs. “I’m cumming…fuck, Jaeyun,” you warn, but it’s not breaking news to the man causing the euphoria. He’s licking, sucking, and biting with ferocity because he knows you’re falling apart

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your body, his tongue flicking over you with such skill it has you trembling. “Come on, Princess. Let go for me,” he whispers, his words like a command, and your body is happy to obey.

And then, it hits you - the release crashing through you, sending shudders of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You can’t stop it, your back arching as you clutch at his hair, your thighs trembling as the wave washes over you, and Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He keeps going, worshipping you like he’s addicted to your taste, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

Your chest heaves and your body goes limp as he cleans your pussy, making sure he takes every drop of his birthday gift. You taste heavenly, your cum swirling in his mouth as he slurps and sucks, the shocks jolting up your spine each time he nudges over your clit.

Once your legs release his head, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, mouth covered in your essence. “Thank you, baby,” he praises, his chest filled with a cocktail of emotions, the first as foremost one being adoration. “With 10 minutes to spare too,” he laughs, glancing at his watch.

Jaeyun stands up, kissing you with passion. He transfers your juices onto your mouth and you groan at the taste. All those days of downing pineapple and cranberry juice always pay off. His tongue licks yours, taking over your entire mouth as he claims you. His lips are sweet but his touch is anything but, you know he’s desperate, if his actions weren’t enough, the painful bulge that’s bucking into your sensitive folds is enough to tell you.

Swiftly, your hands move to his buckle, undoing it amongst the breathtaking kisses. It doesn’t take you more than a minute to undo his jeans and push them just low enough that his ass is on full display and his hard shaft can spring free. His cock is so pretty, like a work of art; six inches of pure joy. You’ve lost count of how many times this cock has made you come undone, the curve of it hitting perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for you. In some ways, you think it is.

Spreading your legs once again, you wrap your hand around his cock, the heat from it a stark contrast to your still cold hands. The sensation elicits a hiss from the birthday boy, his lips pulling from yours as he looks down. Your hand just fits around his length, and that makes his tip twitch. He’s proud of his size, but somehow he loves it even more when in the clasp of your fingers.

You press it against your wet core and he loses any sense of control he had left.

With a primal growl, he grabs your hips and lines up at your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. Between your outfit, the rush of the race, your cries of pleasure from his tongue work, and the overwhelming tightness in his heart, he needs to be inside you. Now.

Jaeyun slides in fully with one thrust, both of you creating a beautiful harmony of moans that echo like a choir in the night. His cock fills you up to the brim, his balls sitting comfortably against your ass. You feel like fucking heaven, in fact, if he was to die right now, he would do so happily. Those pearl gates could only mirror the happiness and alleviation that he feels as he buried himself to the hilt inside your warm hole.

His forehead rests on your shoulder, his lips peppering a succession of kisses just above your collarbone as he begins to move his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each bump of your walls hugging him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Princess,” he mumbles, officially lost in the act of pleasure. He’s not thinking about anything else, just how your wet heat feels enveloping him.

You can’t say your thoughts aren’t also only consumed by the tip of his cock poking your cervix so deliciously, his balls slapping against you almost mimicking a spank each time. His thrusts pick up pace and you both lose yourselves in one another, chanting praises and curses to convey your feelings.

Jaeyun’s hands roam over your body as his cock pounds into you, switching from holding your hips in place to kneading your breasts, each one serving their own purpose. He wants you still so he can keep hitting that perfect spot over and over again, the squishy spec in your cunt his main target, but your tits bouncing in the moonlight keep distracting him, his cock losing power as his brain gets clouded in the movements.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he confesses, kissing the valley between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

Your heart hammers harder, the pulse resounding in your ear as you smile gratefully. “So are you, Jaeyun.” And you mean it. He’s the most beautiful person inside and out, you’re never going to meet anyone like him again, and that’s what terrifies you.

Jaeyun locks his eyes on yours, his hips finding a new determined rhythm. He presses his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose with yours in a kiss. How is it possible to feel so adored and cherished by a man you have no label with? That’s the question running through your mind as you stare into his soul, begging for him to answer.

And in some way, he does. His pupils shine with nothing but your reflection, showing just how deeply you're ingrained in him. Though neither of you may voice exactly what this is, you both know it.

As you lose yourselves in each other, that familiar coil tightens low in your belly, heat pooling with a desperate need for release. You dig your nails into Jaeyun's shoulders and bury your face in his neck, signalling you're close.

Gripping your waist, he matches your rhythm, pushing you both to the edge—metaphorically this time, thankfully. He's already brought you close enough to danger tonight; there’s no need to test fate again.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he urges, jaw clenched as he holds back his own release. He’s never been one to finish before his girl.

With his coaxing and the delicious sensation of him deep inside, you reach your climax once more, this time more intense than you expected. You bite down on his neck to muffle your moans, and like a domino, he spills into you.

His white ropes soothe your cunt, painting your walls with his adoration of you. The best decision you ever made was getting an IUD. You know it’s not full protection, but for the feeling of his seed filling you up like a cream piping bag, you’re willing to take the risk.

Jaeyun holds you close, his breath mingling with yours as both of you come down from the high, eyes blazing secret confessions into one another. The steady thud of his heart under your palm feels grounding, almost comforting in the quiet aftermath. You shift slightly, feeling his warmth begin to fade in the cool night air, yet he doesn’t let you go just yet, keeping you wrapped up in him.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper softly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, a faint smile tugging at your mouth.

Mirroring your expression, he melts into your pepper kisses as you trail down his neck, paying extra attention to the skin you marked up with your canines. His large hands glide up your back and hold you close to him. “Thank you.” It’s simple, but he’s biting his tongue, the moment too perfect to destroy with his post-nut brain.

You sense his apprehension and lean back, gazing into his eyes and studying the specs of his brain that you can make out. “You okay? You’re usually cracking out a joke by now,” you ask playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of concern in your tone.

Jaeyun bites his lips together, preparing himself to possibly make the biggest mistake of his life. He pulls out of you, jerking his cock clean enough that he can get away with it, before tucking it back into his trousers.

Oh no.

Your mind does everything to convince you that this isn’t going to end the way you think it will. The efforts to soothe your racing mind falter just at the finish line. This is it. He’s going to hit you with the ‘this has been fun but it’s not what I want anymore’ or ‘hey, so this was great but you’re not what i’m looking for’. Whatever concoction of those sentences he wants to spin, you know it’s going to hurt. You’re in too deep.

And you would much rather be humiliated with your clothes on. So you jump off the hood of the car, your slick glistening in the night lights like a snail trail. Suddenly, the acts you just took part in have turned from euphoric to sickly.

“Listen-”

“I meant it,” he interrupts, not even letting you end this before he can. “I really mean it when I say you’re the only girl for me.”

You’re waiting on the but, yet it never comes. Instead, he’s biting his lip nervously, looking at you but not into your eyes, his focus on your forehead like a sniper in the woods. And you feel like you’ve been shot, just not in the hurtful way you were expecting, it’s almost like you’re on the receiving end of a blank and the shock is ringing in your ears more than anything.

You stand dumbfounded, zipping up your dress at the back. “Huh?” It’s stupid and not what you want to ask, but your flabber has been gasted.

Jaeyun groans and rubs over his face. “I don’t want anyone else. And I know you’re annoyingly loyal to Yeonjun, but I can’t pretend that this isn’t more than what it is.” He steps forward and cups your flushed face, the cold now settling upon it once again. “I. Love. You. I have for fucking months, and…I don’t know, I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

I. Love. You.

It’s such a simple and common phrase, yet hearing it in his accent, from his mouth, directed at you, you find it foreign.

Jaeyun hates the silence that follows, the horns from the cars down below act like a mocking laugh to the moment. He knows its risky, confessing his feelings so bluntly, but if he had to keep them in any longer then he might have buried them forever and harboured an even deeper resentment towards himself and your brother.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, I get that. But can we call a spade a spade and admit that we love each other?” He insists, now finding his confidence. Go big or go home, he supposes. He’s convinced you love him too, you look at him the way he does you, and even if it’s only a tiny speckle of love that you hold for him, he needs you to admit it. For his sanity, and yours.

You can’t process a single thought beyond his words, their weight pressing down on you, making it impossible to breathe for a second. The world falls quiet around you, the buzzing city and distant hum of traffic fading as your mind hones in on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lip as he waits.

“Jaeyun,” you manage, though it barely comes out above a whisper, “This isn’t…this isn’t exactly what we agreed on.” Stupid. Why the fuck are you saying that NOW.

“I know, but I also know you feel it too.” His thumb moves tenderly across your cheek, brushing over the spot where a tear might fall if you let it. “And if there’s even the slightest chance that you feel what I feel, I just need to know.” He pauses, his voice softening as he meets your gaze fully. “Because you’re it for me. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you completely. You deserve to be loved, and although I might not deserve to be the one to give you that, I want to try.”

You want to look away, to retreat and give yourself a chance to think, but his eyes are pleading with you to stay present, to face this. And the truth is, in some corner of your heart that you've tried to ignore, you know what he's saying is true.

But Yeonjun…If he finds out, he’ll never forgive you. It’s one thing to be in a fun fling with his rival, it’s another to be completely and utterly head over heels for the boy.

The silence is thick, but there’s an odd comfort in it. You reach up, covering his hand with yours, grounding yourself in his warmth. “I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, voice trembling. “And I…I don’t know how we’d make it work without hurting Yeonjun.”

Jaeyun’s grip tightens, his confidence anchoring you. “I’ll make it work. I’ll do everything to make sure he accepts it. I’ll step down as the Lucifer’s leader, I’ll get on my knees and beg, baby I will do whatever it takes to get him on our side. I don’t want to come between you both, I know how precious he is to you, and you to him,” he pauses, breathing out and collecting his thoughts before he goes on a desperate faffing rant, his point losing focus. “I love you, and that means loving every part of you.”

“In the car…” you begin, voice unsure, “You said something about how Yeonjun would become your family, you meant-”

“Yeah, listen. Don’t freak out about that. I was jumping the gun with that one…but I mean, is it so unplausible? For us to be together? To imagine a future with you?”

“There’s a big difference between jumping into dating and leaping into marriage, Jaeyun.”

“Okay? So we’ll hold back on the leaping for now,” he laughs, pressing his forehead to yours, “but tell me you’ll jump.”

His breath mingles with yours, warm and steadying, grounding you in a way that makes your hesitation falter. "Jaeyun," you begin, your voice so soft it barely carries the weight of what you’re feeling. "It’s terrifying to even think about, you know that, right? Yeonjun is…he's been there my whole life, my protector, my brother…you’re asking me to risk that.”

"I know." He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles along your cheek, calming and reassuring. "And I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t believe with every part of me that we’re worth it. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready; whether that’s now, or tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. I’m in this, Y/N. All the way. I just need you to say yes."

Your lips part, the words catching in your throat, suspended between the comfort of safety and the thrill of the unknown. Slowly, you reach out and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Alright," you say, a tremor of nerves mingling with the glint of determination in your eyes. "I’ll jump…but you’d better catch me, Jaeyun."

A grin breaks across his face, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rivalry, the fear, even Yeonjun. It’s just you and him, exactly how it should have been from the beginning.

"Always," he whispers, voice filled with quiet conviction. Then he closes the distance between you, sealing your promise with a kiss that’s soft, lingering, and brimming with all the words neither of you dared to speak out loud.

But maybe it’s time you do

“I love you too, Jaeyun,” you confess, eyes boring into his heart.

His eyes widen for a split second, and you see the disbelief flicker across his face, not quite sure he heard you right. But then his gaze softens, and a smile breaks across his face, one so genuine and unguarded that it sends warmth flooding through you. His hand tightens around yours, squeezing his happiness into your veins and bones.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that leaves your heart aching. “I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants, kissing all over your face, causing you to scrunch up and laugh, attempting to push him away but failing - not that you’re going to complain about that.

There’s a sense of relief, a lightness you haven’t felt in so long, as if all the weight of secrecy and uncertainty has lifted. For once, you’re not worrying about the consequences, about what could go wrong or who might get hurt. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the truth laid bare between you.

“Yes, okay, we love each other! Enough!” you giggle between his million and one kisses.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with reverence. “I’m never letting you go now, you realise that, don’t you?”

You nod, a smile creeping across your face, and pull him in for another kiss, this one filled with the promise of everything that lies ahead. “Oh I know. Just wait till I tell your crew,” you laugh, pushing him away. “‘Oh, Y/N, I love you sooooo much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me-'”

Your imitation is cut short, his hand flying over your mouth as he suppresses a laugh, trying to portray fear that isn’t truly there. “C’mon! You can’t ruin my reputation like that,” he whines, giving you that signature pout.

“Oh but I will-” Without warning, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he carried you to the backseat. “Jaeyun! Put me down!”

“I’m going to fuck every word and thought out of that pretty brain of yours so you never utter my soft side to a soul,” he playfully jabs, opening the backseat and tossing you inside.

“Well…I have a lot of thoughts…and words,” you reply, biting your lip as you settle across the seats, legs already accommodating for him.

“Then it’s gonna be a long night. I suppose I’ll need to turn my clock back some more, don’t you think?”

____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

@diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee

@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

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@emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove

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@ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee

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@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

@ikeuverse @dollyyun

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enha x reader

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keferon · 2 days ago

Note

Isn’t Vortex a fucking torture freak tho? 👀👀👀

Yep. He is. He is a lot of things actually. The more you learn about him the more fucked up it gets

#at first I was like #ah yes another crazy helicopter #but then I learned the lore haha #hoo boy #the guy was a criminal and was so good at it #the government had to take his spark out of his body and put it in a freezer so he won't break the law anymore #then Starscream took him out and was like #you and your bros are my minions now #btw I made you unable to recharge on your own so uou are basically my hostages #work for me or starve to death losers #and then also Megatron with his Javascript exercises #Seriously. Megs looked at those criminals who were crazy strong and also crazy smart and decided that enslaving them would be a great idea #He basically reprogrammed Vortex and others. He made him literally unable to disobey his orders #what kind of fucked up thing to do Megsy???#G1 was great ahahahah #silly kids show about war and crimes and slavery #also #I might be wrong here because I haven't watch G1 entirely....but I'm pretty sure Combaticons just fuckin. stay Megatron slaves forever??#Like. The code that Megs put in their heads is never mentioned again? And for the rest of the show they forced to serve the Decepticons???#and everyone just?? Forget about them? I repeat I might be wrong here. It would be great if I'm wrong #also yeah Vortex is a torture freak and totally crazy #I saw a note somewhere that mentioned he likes to transform around other bots and then fly as high as he can and drop them #fucker lol

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elikajinnie · 3 days ago

Text

Enchant me - P.S

P: Ravenclaw!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive Content, Angst, Sunghoon is kinda mean (not to you), Academic Rivalry, Tension, Fluff, Teasing, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Newt Scamander Mention!!

Synopsis: You’ve always found yourself in competition with Park Sunghoon, a brilliant Ravenclaw who seemed to have it all—intelligence, charm, and ambition. Whether it was academic duels or playful banter, he was always your rival. Yet, the only thing he truly wanted was you.

Wordcount: + 30k ( i know.. im sorry)

a/n: yall strap in for this one.. (heeseung is the last one that will be posted soon :) if yall wanna see more of the hogwarts au let me know!

masterlist

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you started being an overachiever in your studies. It was a gradual thing, a slow shift that snuck up on you and became part of who you were. When you received your letter to Hogwarts, you were ecstatic—absolutely thrilled by the thought of magic, the possibility of flying, the enchantment of potions, and the spells. But then you saw the material and you knew right away that in order to succeed, you had to study.

But it didn’t stop there. As you poured yourself into your work, absorbed every bit of information, you started to realize something else—something that fueled you even more. Praise. Recognition. House points. The feeling of achievement after every successful spell or potion, the way other students came to you for help. It was intoxicating. The more you learned, the more respect you gained, and you could feel your status growing. It was simple math, really: hard work plus success equals recognition. And you thrived on it.

Soon enough, you became known as one of the top students at Hogwarts, the one everyone turned to when they needed help or advice. And you liked it. You liked the feeling of being ahead, of being the best at something. You liked the way professors praised you, the way your name carried weight when spoken in hallways. You’d earned this position. You deserved it.

But, of course, you weren’t the only one who excelled. There were others, too, students who worked just as hard as you did. And you were fine with it. You respected them; they respected you. It wasn’t about competition—it was about mutual recognition.

Then there was Park Sunghoon.

He was a quiet Ravenclaw, one who kept to himself for the most part, except when he was in class. That’s when everything changed. He had a way of standing out without even trying—his answers sharp, his insight keen, his mind quick. Every time you thought you had the answer, Sunghoon was already there, raising his hand or blurting it out in that effortless, nonchalant way. And every single time, your chest tightened, your stomach dropped. He was always just a step ahead of you, and you hated it.

But what really made your blood boil wasn’t just that he outperformed you—it was the way he did it. The way he would always, always look at you with that damn smirk. That teasing, almost mocking expression, as if he knew exactly what it did to you. As if he relished in it. Every time he answered a question before you, every time he earned praise or house points, he would glance over at you, eyes glinting, that smug smile never leaving his face. It wasn’t just a simple exchange of competition. It was personal. It was deliberate. And it drove you mad.

It didn’t help that Park Sunghoon was everything you hated and everything you secretly admired. He was smart—impossibly smart. His resourcefulness in class was unmatched, and every time he spoke, it felt like he had all the answers. And on top of all that, he was tall, handsome, with perfectly styled hair that never seemed to fall out of place, his Ravenclaw robes always crisp and neat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t catch yourself staring at him sometimes, trying to pretend you weren’t affected by how effortlessly he seemed to glide through life. He was always polished, always put together, and you hated how good he looked doing it.

It only made things worse when you started realizing that you were developing feelings for him. A crush, despite everything. Despite the way he ignored others, brushing them off like they were nothing, like they were dust clinging to his perfect robes. You couldn’t help it. He was attractive, there was no denying that. But it wasn’t just that—it was the way he held himself. The prefect badge on his chest always gleaming, always sparkling. The way he moved through the castle with an air of authority, a quiet power that seemed to command the attention of everyone in the room.

If Sunghoon deemed you as beneath him, he wouldn’t hesitate to let you know it—not directly, of course. No, that would be too obvious. Instead, he would treat you like one of the ghosts haunting Hogwarts, barely sparing you a glance, letting his indifference cut deeper than words ever could. You’d watch him glide past students who tried to catch his attention, their hopeful faces falling as he brushed them off without a second thought. His expression would remain blank, that neutral, almost cruel face he reserved for people he deemed unworthy of his time.

And the moments when he was forced to acknowledge someone? That’s when his sharp, silver tongue came out. You’d witnessed him being cold and dismissive, shutting down anyone who dared to push their luck. He had a way of saying just the right thing to make people feel small, a razor-edged wit that cut through even the bravest students, leaving them stammering, unsure of what they’d done wrong. It was subtle, and he was never outright rude—just dismissive enough to make it sting.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the crush. You hated it. You hated him. But the more he teased, the more you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him.

And you wouldn’t dare to say you liked Sunghoon—not in the way one might admit to having a crush, at least. No, liking him wasn’t even an option. If anything, you tolerated him on your best days, pushed yourself to ignore the smug expressions and the subtle, condescending way he would respond to you in class. And on the worst days? You found yourself actively ignoring him. Because nothing seemed to satisfy Sunghoon more than bringing others down to elevate himself.

When someone dared to voice an answer he deemed beneath his own standards, you’d see it: the slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle twist of his lips. He’d wait, just a beat, before stepping in to “correct” them, his tone laced with just enough contempt to make it clear who the “real” intellect in the room was. And somehow, he managed to do it all without outright insulting anyone. His comments were surgical, precise, his criticism delivered with a calm, cold detachment that only made it sting more. It made you question him, wonder why he seemed so determined to keep everyone beneath him.

But what frustrated you most was his selective charm. You’d watch him laugh and chat easily with other high-ranking students, his demeanor suddenly pleasant, even civil. He’d converse with them like they were equals, never the hint of a condescending smirk, no belittling glances. And in front of professors? Sunghoon transformed entirely. He was the picture of the ideal student, humble, deferential, offering polished responses that seemed designed to earn him a rare smile or a nod of approval. The teachers couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. His calculated, chameleon-like behavior left you wondering, time and time again, why he had ended up in Ravenclaw and not Slytherin. After all, he possessed every quality they prized: cunning, ambition, a nearly ruthless drive to succeed. It was like he wore a Ravenclaw uniform, but underneath, his nature seemed more like that of a Slytherin than anything else.

And perhaps, deep down, that was what unsettled you most about him—that he seemed to wear a mask depending on who he was with.

It frustrated you, intrigued you, and, despite yourself, drew you in.

So, you had learned to keep your distance from Sunghoon, to wear a mask of indifference around him. A poker face. Neutral. Unmoved. It became second nature, the way you could shut down your emotions whenever he entered the room, the way you refused to show any weakness in his presence. If you didn’t give him anything, you reasoned, he’d get bored of you eventually. He’d move on, as he did with everyone else. You figured, if you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, he’d leave you alone.

But now, reflecting on it, you realized that might have been the wrong choice. Because it didn’t matter how little you engaged with him. Sunghoon had a way of finding you. It was like he had a radar, some silent pull that always seemed to zero in on you during the day. And when he did, that was it. You had his full attention. Not a passing glance, not an idle comment. Sunghoon would fix his gaze on you, like a hawk locking onto its prey, his focus unyielding. It wasn’t an accidental glance; it was deliberate. Every moment, every word, every action seemed like it was a calculated move to engage with you, to get your attention—whether you wanted it or not.

If you were anyone else, if you were just a normal student, you might’ve gushed about it, maybe even bragged to your friends. After all, who wouldn’t want the attention of someone like Sunghoon? The handsome, accomplished, and charming prefect. But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t lesser. You knew exactly why he sought you out—and it wasn’t because of some secret admiration.

He saw you as competition. You were an obstacle in his path to greatness. The two of you were always near the top of the class, always neck-and-neck, and he wasn’t about to let someone else get ahead of him. You knew that much. He probably had plans of his own—dreams of becoming an Auror, or securing some high-ranking position in the Ministry of Magic. He wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way. And you were the one standing there, blocking his path. He had to prove he was better, that he was the best. It was almost… inevitable.

But deep down, you started to realize that there was something more to it than that. Sunghoon wasn’t just focused on outshining you academically. No. You had started to see the little things—the moments when his eyes lingered a little too long, the rare flicker of something deeper in his expression when he caught you in the hall or across a classroom.

And it made you question: was there more to how he saw you than just another obstacle? Were you something else entirely?

You first started to figure it out years ago, back when you were in fourth year and the two of you shared a few classes. It was the first time you’d really noticed Sunghoon, in Astronomy class, of all places. You had been excited for that class, you had always been fascinated by space, by the endless expanse of stars and the way the moon seemed to shift and change. As a child, you’d spent countless hours lying on the grass, gazing up at the sky, watching the constellations dance. You hadn’t thought twice about taking the class, certain you’d excel.

But you weren’t the only one eager to impress the professor. No, there was another student who seemed just as invested, answering questions with ease, his knowledge sharp and quick. You’d expected some competition, sure—but it was the way he answered, the confidence with which he spoke, that made you take notice.

It was Sunghoon.

You could see it in his eyes, the surprise that mirrored your own. The realization that you weren’t just any ordinary student—no, you were just as capable, just as quick-witted as he was. And that’s when it clicked: you weren’t just another student to him. You were a challenge.

After class, you’d been making your way out of the room, mind already spinning with the next lesson. But then you’d turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with him, Sunghoon standing in the hallway like he was waiting for you. You hadn’t expected it, not at all.

“Impressive,” he’d said, raising an eyebrow. “You always this good with the material?”

You’d been taken aback, not quite sure how to respond, but something in his tone made you pause. At that point you weren’t used to students, especially not someone like him, complimenting your intellect outright. And yet, there was something sharp about his words, something that made you feel like this wasn’t just casual admiration.

“Of course,” you replied, instinctively meeting his challenge. “It’s not that difficult once you understand the basics.”

Sunghoon gave a smirk that only seemed to intensify the challenge. “So,” he began, crossing his arms. “If you’re as clever as you say, what’s the difference between the Confundus Charm and the Misdirection Hex?”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but entertained. “Easy. The Confundus Charm affects the mind, creating confusion and distorting a person’s perception, whereas the Misdirection Hex only creates a temporary distraction without altering any mental clarity.”

Sunghoon nodded, clearly expecting that you’d know the answer but not missing a beat. “Fair enough. How about this one—” he leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting, “if you were to brew Amortentia, what’s the critical ingredient that activates the potion’s scent signature?”

You didn’t even flinch. “Moonstone. It’s the key to personalizing the scent and creating that pull, that... sense of longing,” you replied, a trace of smugness in your voice. “Now my turn.”

You watched him closely, his expression unchanging, as you asked, “What’s the main difference between Episkey and Vulnera Sanentur?”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed. “Episkey is a basic healing charm that works for minor injuries—usually cuts or bruises. Vulnera Sanentur, on the other hand, is far more advanced, and it actually seals major wounds, specifically stopping blood flow and beginning tissue repair.”

You smiled, only a little disappointed that he got it right. “Well done, Park,” you replied, crossing your arms.

But he wasn’t done yet. With a slight tilt of his head, he said, “If you’re so good, tell me, what’s the incantation for a Hot-Air Charm, and when would it be used?”

“Calidus Aero,” you replied easily, rolling your eyes. “And it’s used to produce a continuous flow of warm air. Good for drying things—or keeping people warm.”

There was a slight twitch of his lips, as if he were amused that you’d added the last bit. “Impressive. But let’s see how you handle this one,” he continued, looking pleased. “What’s the effect of adding powdered Runespoor eggs to a Memory Potion?”

You paused for only a moment, narrowing your eyes at him. “It sharpens the recall and clarity of recent memories, but it also makes them harder to alter or distort after the fact,” you replied, watching him carefully. “A good trick for Aurors needing airtight evidence in trials.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, though he tried to hide it. “Not bad,” he admitted, a trace of a smile showing. “Looks like you know your potions.” He shifted, almost as if he’d found the whole exchange too easy. Then he gave you a look—calculated and challenging. “One more. What’s the wand movement for the Incarcerous spell, and what’s the incantation variation that makes the conjured ropes fireproof?”

You tried not to show that this one caught you off guard. “The wand movement for Incarcerous is a firm downward flick, followed by a counterclockwise twirl,” you said carefully, a smirk forming as you gained confidence. “And the fireproof variation is Ignus Incarcerous.”

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle, a little begrudging, but impressed all the same.

You’d hoped that after that, he’d leave it at that, yet, as you turned to leave, you felt his gaze on your back. And before you could walk away, he stopped you. You had expected something snide, maybe a remark about how you’d bested him, or how you were too proud. Instead, he spoke, his voice smooth, almost teasing.

“You’re… smarter than I expected.” There was a pause, and then he’d added, “In fact, you’re pretty impressive.”

You had frozen, not sure what to make of it. But then came the twist: the way he said it, the slight upturn of his lips, the almost flirtatious edge to his words. It caught you off guard.

You had been prepared for rivalry, for sharp competition, but not for that. Not for him to suddenly flirt with you. The change in his tone, the way his words softened, made you feel uneasy, but also... intrigued.

You hadn’t known how to respond, but all you could do was walk away, your mind racing. Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—had just complimented you with the kind of look that made your heart beat a little faster, even though you told yourself you hated him.

You had barely made it a few steps when you heard him call out, his voice smooth and teasing, like a final jab in a match you hadn’t realized was over.

“Not bad at all,” Sunghoon said, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at his lips, his tone dipping slightly, as if it were more of a challenge than a compliment. “Nice to know there’s someone around here who can keep up.”

For a moment, your pulse quickened. You wanted to respond, to throw a witty retort back at him. But you couldn’t find the words—because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much that one line had affected you.

Instead, you just stopped. You didn’t turn around, not fully, but you allowed yourself one quick glance over your shoulder.

Sunghoon was standing there, looking perfectly composed, his hands tucked casually behind him, his eyes following you with that unreadable look. The smirk remained, but there was something different about it now—less arrogant, more knowing. Almost like he was waiting for you to react, as if this small exchange was part of some game he wasn’t finished playing yet.

Without a word, you turned back around and continued walking, your steps brisk, your mind swirling.

You didn’t usually talk to Sunghoon outside of class—there was never much reason to. Your friend groups didn’t overlap, and both of you had your own routines, different paths to follow. But somehow, that didn’t stop him. No, every chance he got, Sunghoon would find a way to cross paths with you. He’d come up to you before classes, lean against a wall, and throw in some teasing remark about the next lesson or slyly compliment you on your latest academic achievement. It was almost like clockwork.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the star student,” he said, his tone playful but sharp. “Bet you’ve already memorized the entire textbook for today’s lesson, haven’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, not even breaking your stride. “You’re the one who’s obsessed with keeping up with every lesson, Sunghoon. I’m just trying to avoid getting bored.”

He chuckled, pushing off from the door and walking alongside you. “Right, because you’re totally not the type to get caught up in the thrill of perfect grades.” His eyes twinkled with a mixture of admiration and challenge. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure you don’t make it too easy for yourself.”

You smirked back, not missing a beat. “You’re right, I don’t like making things easy,” you said dryly. “But I’m sure you’re just trying to keep me on my toes, aren’t you, Sunghoon?”

He shrugged with a grin. “I’m just keeping things interesting. Besides, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Another time, just before Transfiguration, you found him leaning against a pillar, twirling his wand with a practiced ease, his gaze catching yours as you approached.

“So, tell me, have you figured out the secret to getting Transfiguration perfect every time, or do you just have some magic trick up your sleeve?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You answered, not at all phased. “I think you’d be more impressed if you actually paid attention during class instead of just showing off your wand skills, Sunghoon.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, I pay attention. But I’m just more interested in seeing if you can stay on top of everything. Don’t want to make it too easy for you, right?”

“You wouldn’t know what to do without a challenge, would you?” you shot back, giving him a sideways glance.

“You’re right,” he said, his grin widening. “And it’s not every day I get to challenge someone like you.”

And alas every day, just before classes, there he was, making some comment that practically demanded a response. You’d either fire back a witty remark of your own or just give him a deadpan look, as if you couldn’t be bothered. And yet, he’d show up again the next day, and the cycle would repeat. It was a routine you both seemed to have unconsciously built into your days. Neither of you ever missed it, both being somewhat meticulous about perfect attendance.

At some point, you realized it was strange. You noticed that he never spoke to anyone else in quite the same way. No other girl at Hogwarts seemed to have the so-called privilege of Sunghoon’s attention, and it confused you beyond belief. It didn’t make sense—he was smart, popular, handsome. And yet, he’d somehow decided that teasing you was worth his time.

It wasn’t until one late afternoon in the library that the thought came to a head. You were tutoring one of your Hufflepuff friends, helping her brush up on Transfiguration, when she looked at you with a knowing smile and just dropped it on you.

“I think Sunghoon likes you,” she said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You laughed it off immediately, shaking your head. “That’s not possible. Sunghoon only likes people if they can help him get more house points,” you replied. “Why would he like me?”

Your friend just shrugged, that same smile still on her face. “You’re the only person he talks to like that,” she pointed out. “It’s like he’s constantly finding an excuse to be around you.”

You tried to ignore it, brush it off as one of her theories. But later, when you were alone, you couldn’t shake her words from your mind. You thought back to every interaction you’d seen between Sunghoon and other students, particularly girls. The more you thought about it, the more you realized it was true: you’d never once seen him act the same way around another girl. In fact, you couldn’t remember him ever dating anyone. Despite the whispers in the corridors and the way some girls openly admired him, he never seemed interested. No, you’d seen him reject more of them than you could count.

But with you... things were different.

You didn’t know what to make of it. Sunghoon had always been that one puzzle you couldn’t solve. He was unpredictable, throwing in little remarks as if he’d calculated your every reaction.

If he did like you, it would mean something you hadn’t prepared for. It would mean you’d been wrong about him—or, at least, about why he kept coming back to you.

Maybe that was why you found yourself in the library a little later than usual, searching for one specific book. The library was quieter than it had been all day, with only a handful of students still scattered between the rows of shelves, their heads buried in their books. Madam Pince was busy sorting through a stack of newly returned books at the far end of the room, so you figured you’d have some peace and quiet to yourself.

You’d been meaning to find this particular book for a while. The only problem was that you hadn’t seen it in the library for months. The last time you’d seen it, it had caught your eye when one of your Gryffindor friends had been flipping through its pages in the common room. You hadn’t been able to get a good look at it, but now, as you found it tucked away in the far corner, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

You pulled the book off the shelf carefully, balancing it in your hands as you climbed down the ladder. The title read “Figuring and Tackling Your Feelings.” It was something about sorting through emotions, a guide that, frankly, seemed more like it belonged in the realm of self-help than anything academic. You weren’t sure why it had piqued your interest so much, but you were eager to take a closer look, especially now with everything on your mind.

Before you could fully inspect the cover, a voice came from behind you, low and familiar.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Sunghoon’s voice cut through the silence of the library like a knife.

You jumped, startled, spinning around instinctively to hide the book behind your back. Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to regain your composure. There he stood, leaning casually against a nearby shelf, eyes already trained on you with that signature smirk of his.

“What are you doing here, Sunghoon?” you asked, your tone betraying the sudden flurry of nerves. You couldn’t help it. The last thing you needed right now was for him to get a glimpse of what you were holding.

“Me? Oh, nothing,” he said with a shrug, his eyes flicking to the book behind your back. “But you, on the other hand… reading ahead, are we?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s none of your business,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” His steps were slow and deliberate as he moved closer to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know, it’s not like you to hide books behind your back. What’s got you so secretive?”

Before you could stop him, his hand darted toward the book, attempting to grab it from behind your back. Reflexively, you twisted away, turning just enough so that he couldn’t get his hands on it. You managed to get a better grip on the book, but Sunghoon wasn’t backing off. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the little game.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you muttered, trying to hold the book out of his reach. “Stop trying to grab it.”

Sunghoon just grinned, his gaze never leaving the book. “Come on, just let me see it. You know, I always find it fascinating when people start acting so mysterious about things.”

You twirled around again, moving just a little faster than him this time, keeping the book hidden behind you. The book’s cover was almost too easy to read from his angle, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d noticed the title.

“Why are you so curious about what I’m reading?” you shot back, hoping the question would throw him off balance.

His grin widened. “Maybe I just like seeing how you react. You’ve always been so… poised. I wonder if there’s more to you than the perfect student.” His voice dropped a little, a note of challenge creeping in. “Come on, just give it to me. You’re not that afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, the teasing getting to you. “It’s not about competition,” you muttered, taking another step back to keep the book away from his prying fingers. “Just… drop it, alright?”

His eyes flickered to the book once more, then back to you. “Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But you’re really not going to let me see what you’re reading? You’re too mysterious for your own good.”

You exhaled, trying to calm your racing heart as you finally straightened up, no longer trying to keep it hidden. “It’s just a book. Nothing important.”

He tilted his head, eyeing you with that all-too-knowing look. “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced.

And with that, he turned and strolled away, his footsteps echoing softly through the nearly empty library.

You let out a long breath, the book still in your hands, but your mind now racing in a way it hadn’t been before. Why had you reacted like that? What was it about Sunghoon’s teasing that got under your skin so easily?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Sunghoon had seen right through you—like he always did. As the library door closed behind you, you felt a strange sense of relief mixed with lingering unease. You hadn’t expected that interaction to leave you so rattled. It was just Sunghoon, right? Yet, there was something about his persistence, the way he kept pushing you, that had thrown you off balance.

The book was still tucked under your arm as you made your way out of the library and toward your common room. You tried to focus on the cool, quiet hallways of Hogwarts, the flickering torches lighting your path. The winding corridors, usually so familiar, now seemed almost too vast, too empty.

The sound of your footsteps echoed as you passed through the hallway, heading toward the familiar portrait that would let you into your common room. You had to hurry; curfew was close, and Madam Pince had already given you a warning for lingering too long in the library.

As you reached the entrance to your common room, you glanced over your shoulder, just in time to catch a shadow move in the corner of your vision. But when you turned fully, the hallway was empty, just the faint echo of your own footsteps following you.

You shrugged it off. You must have imagined it.

With a quick word, the portrait swung open, and you stepped inside, relieved to be back in the warmth of your common room.

Outside, beyond the walls of the common room, Sunghoon stood hidden in the shadows, leaning against a pillar just out of sight, watching you go. His eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary before he turned and slowly disappeared into the shadows. He walked through the dimly lit hallways, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet night. He hadn’t intended to follow you; it wasn’t some grand plan.

He’d tried to convince himself it was just curiosity—nothing more. After all, you were the only one who seemed to keep up with him in class. You challenged him, and that’s what he’d always thrived on.

And it was like he couldn’t not think about you. And that frustrated him.

He never expected you to be this… enigmatic. No one else had ever caught his attention like this—not like you did. It was a puzzle, one that didn’t make sense, and yet the more he tried to figure you out, the more complicated and captivating you became.

You had this effortless confidence, a sharp wit that matched his, but you weren’t like the other students he’d come across. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, not even him. There was something in your eyes when you’d deflect his teasing, a glimmer of something he couldn’t place. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting the way he expected, and that drove him mad.

Sunghoon pushed a hand through his hair, his thoughts tangled as he navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts. He shouldn’t be thinking about you so much. There were other things to focus on—other students, other challenges, other ways to advance. Yet, every time he tried to shake it off, his mind would return to you.

How had you managed to enrapture him so effortlessly? He wasn’t the type of person to become so… fixated. Yet here he was, walking through the darkened halls, and all he could think about was you. You never played by the same rules as everyone else, and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

No. He couldn’t let himself get tangled up in this. You were a challenge, just like he’d always wanted. You were nothing more than that, right?

But even as he told himself this, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else—something more—that was pulling him toward you.

You sat at your desk in Potions class, the scratch of your quill against parchment the only sound filling the otherwise quiet classroom. Snape’s voice droned on, but your mind kept drifting. You had hoped for a peaceful class today—one where you could focus on the lesson without the usual distractions. But of course, it didn’t take long for that hope to be dashed.

The seat next to you, which had been occupied by a nervous Hufflepuff just moments ago, was now filled by none other than Park Sunghoon.

You didn’t look up immediately when he sat down. You had caught the tail end of his glare directed at the Hufflepuff, whose wide eyes had flicked from Sunghoon’s cold stare to you in a silent plea. In an instant, the Hufflepuff had scurried off, leaving the seat beside you vacant for Sunghoon to claim.

A small sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you focused on your notes, carefully copying the ingredients Snape was listing for the potion you were about to brew. You wouldn’t let him distract you, not this time. The class was important, and the competition was heating up, especially with exams just around the corner.

You could feel the subtle shift in the air with Sunghoon settled beside you. But today, he didn’t say anything. Not a word. He simply unpacked his books, setting them down with a quiet precision, and began his own notes. It was almost too quiet, too… calm. It was rare that he didn’t start a conversation, especially considering the usual banter you both shared.

The fact that he was acting so reserved, while sitting so close to you, made you all the more aware of the faint tension between you. It was like he was waiting for you to say something first. But you wouldn’t. Not this time.

You kept your focus on your parchment, the quill moving smoothly as you wrote. It was an exercise in patience, in ignoring the small things: the way his sleeve brushed yours as he leaned over to grab an ingredient, the soft rustling of his books as he turned pages. You didn’t let your mind wander. You wouldn’t.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you felt the pull of his presence, as if he were a magnet. You stole a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He was scribbling down notes too, but there was something different about the way he held his quill, the way his eyes flicked to the board and then to the ingredients list. He was concentrating, but you knew it wasn’t just the potion he was thinking about.

The realization hit you a little too late: He was watching you.

Your quill faltered for just a second before you steadied it again, keeping your eyes on the board. You couldn’t ignore the small, almost imperceptible glance he threw at you from time to time. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he was as unfazed as he appeared—or if, like you, he was just trying to hold his composure.

The class ended bit too soon, but not before you felt that pull again. Before you could gather your things, Sunghoon stood up, his chair scraping the floor with a soft sound. He didn’t look at you as he walked away, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze linger on your back as you packed up your belongings.

The class was buzzing with quiet energy as Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him as he made his way to the front. You could feel the usual hum of anticipation ripple through the classroom as he began with his first question, his gaze sharp and probing.

Without fail, Sunghoon was seated right beside you. He had strolled in at the last possible second and taken the empty seat before you could even think about moving. It was a position that had become an unspoken habit between the two of you—a silent agreement that this was where you would always sit, even if neither of you admitted it out loud.

“Who can tell me the primary function of wolfsbane in this potion?” Snape’s gaze swept across the class, but it settled almost immediately on you.

You raised your hand automatically, but just as you opened your mouth to answer, Sunghoon’s voice cut through the air. “The primary function of wolfsbane is to suppress the transformation of a werewolf. But specifically, in this potion, it’s used to temper the effects, making the potion safe for consumption by those with lycanthropic tendencies.”

Your jaw clenched, and you quickly chimed in, “That’s true, but wolfsbane’s reaction with belladonna is crucial to ensure the potion is actually effective. Otherwise, you risk a rapid breakdown of the ingredients, and the potion loses its potency within hours.”

A faint smirk played on Sunghoon’s lips as he turned slightly to face you, his eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and amusement. “Of course,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, “but that’s only if the brewer doesn’t know how to stabilize the reaction properly.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you know better than the author of ‘Potions for Practical Application’?” You raised an eyebrow, the hint of a challenge in your voice.

Snape’s voice sliced through your exchange. “If the two of you are quite finished,” he said dryly, “perhaps you’d like to enlighten the rest of the class.”

You both looked up, not missing the faint irritation in his expression. And yet, as he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, he seemed almost amused. If Snape enjoyed one thing in his classes, it was competent students—but if he enjoyed two things, it was watching competent students try to one-up each other.

With a quick glance at Sunghoon, you cleared your throat and addressed the rest of the class, your voice steady. “Wolfsbane, also known as aconite, stabilizes the transformation process. But the reason belladonna is needed in the mixture is because it counters the initial toxicity of the aconite.”

Sunghoon jumped in seamlessly, his tone smooth. “Exactly. Aconite alone could be harmful, but combined with the right ingredients, it actually makes the potion effective. Belladonna slows down the rate of the potion’s effect, balancing the intensity.”

You could see Snape’s eyes narrow just a fraction, clearly considering whether he’d allow this back-and-forth to continue. He hadn’t interrupted yet, though, and so you didn’t hold back.

“That only works, though,” you continued, “if the potion is brewed at precisely the right temperature. A variance of even one degree could cause the aconite to overpower the belladonna, which is why attention to detail is critical here.”

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “True. But I’d argue that anyone who’s capable of brewing at an advanced level should be able to handle such minor details.” He cast a sideways glance at you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them. He was enjoying this far too much. “Perhaps. Though, as they say, perfectionists always notice the minor details others miss.”

“Implying I’m not a perfectionist?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone was light, but you could sense the competitive edge in it.

You shrugged, giving him a look of feigned innocence. “Just that you might not be as exacting as some of us.”

Before he could retort, Snape stepped in, his voice a mixture of impatience and reluctant amusement. “Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Park. While I am deeply fascinated by your thorough analysis, the class may benefit from a more structured approach.” He glanced around at the other students, who were watching you and Sunghoon with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Your cheeks flushed as you turned back to your notes, feeling a rush of heat from Sunghoon’s lingering gaze. But Snape wasn’t done.

“In fact, why don’t you both demonstrate your understanding?” Snape gestured to the cauldron at the front of the room. “Brew the potion together. Let’s see if your theoretical knowledge holds up under practical application.”

You felt the tension shift as Sunghoon pushed himself up from his chair, casting a smirk in your direction. “Let’s see if you can keep up, then,” he murmured as he moved to the front.

Swallowing your nerves, you followed him, setting out the ingredients with practiced ease. As you worked, the rivalry simmered just beneath the surface. Sunghoon was methodical, careful with each step, yet he didn’t miss an opportunity to toss a teasing comment your way.

“Careful,” he said at one point, his voice low. “That’s a lot of aconite you’re adding there. Are you sure you’re not trying to mess up the potion to make a point?”

You shot him a look. “Maybe I just don’t trust you to brew this properly without a little oversight.”

His eyes glinted. “Funny, because I was about to say the same thing to you.”

The two of you continued in this vein, quietly exchanging barbs as you measured, stirred, and added ingredients with exacting precision.

When the potion was nearly complete, you both paused, watching as the liquid in the cauldron shifted from murky green to a smooth, midnight blue—the exact color it was supposed to be.

Sunghoon tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not bad,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You met his gaze, a smirk of your own forming. “Could say the same to you.”

The rest of the class continued in much the same way, the tension between you and Sunghoon thick as you both remained locked in your rivalry. As Professor Snape continued his lesson, you and Sunghoon each made sure to answer his questions before the other could, each answer delivered with just enough confidence to imply you had known it all along.

Every now and then, you’d catch Sunghoon looking your way, a small, knowing smile on his face, as if he could read every thought running through your mind.

Just as you were jotting down notes on the final instructions for the potion, a Ravenclaw beside you leaned over. “Hey, Y/N,” she whispered, “can I borrow your notes from last week? I’m a bit behind.”

Before you could even respond, you noticed a shift beside you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Sunghoon’s expression harden. His jaw clenched as he shot the Ravenclaw a sharp look, his gaze practically daring her to linger a moment longer.

She hesitated, glancing between you and Sunghoon before quickly saying, “You know what, never mind. I’ll, uh, figure it out.” With that, she scurried off, leaving you a bit bewildered.

You turned back to your notes, only to feel Sunghoon relax beside you, leaning back in his chair with a casual air as if nothing had happened. His expression softened, the subtle smirk you’d come to expect making its return. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to address it as you continued your notes. But before long, another student tried to approach.

This time, it was a Gryffindor who slipped you a folded note with a question on today’s potion. But before you could even open it, you noticed that same glint in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was quietly measuring the other student’s worth. His glare was steely, his gaze intense enough that, once again, your classmate seemed to change their mind about talking to you at all. The Gryffindor muttered a quiet apology and quickly returned to their seat.

You couldn’t help but cast a sidelong glance at Sunghoon, raising an eyebrow at his now placid expression. He noticed and merely gave a slight shrug, as if to say he hadn’t done a thing. It was infuriatingly typical of him, acting as if he hadn’t just sent two students retreating.

“What’s your problem?” you whispered, leaning in slightly.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepened. “No problem. Just keeping distractions to a minimum.”

You scoffed, your irritation clear, but deep down, a part of you wondered why he even cared.

But then Snape’s voice cut through the room, calling for silence, and you both snapped back to attention, the rivalry and tension settling between you once more.

As you walked out of the dungeon, feeling the cool stone hallway stretch out in front of you, you were met by two Gryffindor students waiting just outside. They exchanged a glance, visibly relieved as you approached, and one of them quickly stepped forward.

“Hey, Y/N,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We were wondering if you could maybe tutor us in Potions? We’re both, uh… struggling with it, to say the least.”

His friend nodded, looking equally sheepish. “Yeah, we could really use the help.”

Before you could answer, though, you felt a presence at your side. Sunghoon had followed you out, his usual calm but intense demeanor practically radiating as he watched the two Gryffindors. His gaze hardened, and he didn’t waste a second before stepping between you and them.

“You two really have nothing better to do than pester her?” he asked, his tone dismissive, his glare enough to make them visibly uncomfortable.

The Gryffindors exchanged glances, shuffling back slightly, but they didn’t say anything. They seemed intimidated, but they didn’t seem like they were about to give up so easily. You sighed, shooting Sunghoon an exasperated look.

“Sunghoon, relax,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You turned back to the two Gryffindors, who looked both embarrassed and desperate, and crossed your arms.

“Fine,” you told them, sighing. “Meet me in the library tomorrow. I’ll give you some pointers then.”

The two of them beamed, nodding quickly, and mumbled their thanks before heading off, leaving you alone with Sunghoon, who was still watching them as if they’d offended him personally.

As they turned the corner, Sunghoon glanced at you, a frown tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to agree, you know,” he said, his tone more casual now, though there was still a trace of irritation. “They’re just looking for an easy answer.”

You gave him a look, shaking your head slightly. “Not everything is about competition, Sunghoon. Maybe they actually need help.”

He scoffed, a smirk curling at his lips. “Whatever you say. Are you coming, or are you too busy playing tutor?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation on your part. You hadn’t planned on sticking around with him after class, especially after his little standoff with your would-be students. But as his gaze settled on you, something about his expression—part expectant, part unreadable—made it hard to refuse.

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you gave in. “Fine, lead the way.”

He smirked, clearly satisfied, and turned to walk down the hall. You fell into step beside him, the two of you moving together in silence.

Sunghoon led you through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, weaving up narrow staircases and into passages you were sure most students didn’t even know about. You were tempted to ask him what he was up to, but a strange, quiet curiosity kept you following him, even when you caught yourself glancing back, half-considering turning around. But you couldn’t deny your curiosity—and a reluctant trust in him, strange as it felt.

Finally, you reached a narrow staircase that led up to one of the less-frequented towers. “Here we are,” he said.

You stared at a latch, then at him. “What is this place?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead climbing ahead of you, reaching up to open the concealed latch in the ceiling. With a glance down at you, he climbed up, disappearing through the opening.

You glanced around the empty hallway, biting your lip.

When he poked his head back down and raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming?” you sighed and climbed up after him, finding yourself in a tiny, dusty attic space. The room was cramped, with wooden beams crossing over the low ceiling and tiny, dusty windows letting in a dim glow. There wasn’t a sound in the air; no one ever came up here.

“What’s this about, Sunghoon?” you asked, crossing your arms, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of your voice. But he only smirked, taking your wrist and gently pulling you over to the corner of the room where a small wooden chest lay against the wall.

He lifted the lid, revealing a small creature nestled inside. You took a step closer, gasping softly as you recognized the little, dark-furred niffler, its leg twisted at an awkward angle, clearly hurt. You shot Sunghoon a surprised look, and he rubbed the back of his neck, almost sheepish.

“I, uh… I remembered you seemed to know a lot about magical creatures,” he said, his voice quieter, less sure than usual. “Saw it struggling outside the castle, and I thought… well, I figured you might know what to do with it.”

For a moment, you simply stared, taken aback by his unexpected gentleness. You knelt down beside the chest, assessing the niffler’s condition. “It looks like it twisted its leg pretty badly,” you murmured, brushing your fingers carefully over the creature’s fur as it whimpered, its small, dark eyes wide with trust and pain.

The niffler shivered, glancing up at you before letting out a soft chitter, its tiny paw reaching up to clutch your finger as you whispered calming words.

“It’s okay, little one,” you murmured, gently lifting the niffler into your arms. Sunghoon stepped back a little, allowing you space to work, and you couldn’t help but notice how quietly he was watching you, not saying a word.

You checked its leg, gently feeling around the injury. It wasn’t too severe, but it would need some attention. “The little guy will be okay. You just have to be careful with creatures like these—they can get skittish when they’re hurt.”

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the niffler as you worked. You pulled out your wand, muttering the appropriate healing charms as you carefully mended its leg. The niffler let out a small chirp, its fur fluffing out in relief as it finally settled in your arms.

“You know,” Sunghoon said, breaking the silence, “I didn’t expect you to be so good with magical creatures.” You glanced up, meeting his gaze, which was unexpectedly warm, his usual guarded expression softened.

“Maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Sunghoon smiled faintly, watching as you wrapped the niffler’s leg with careful precision, almost as if seeing you in a new light. “Guess I’ll just have to keep finding excuses to learn, then,” he said.

With a final wave of your wand, the niffler’s leg was mended. Almost immediately, the little creature perked up, chirping happily as if testing out its newfound mobility. A small smile tugged at your lips as the niffler wobbled in your lap, nudging your hand before, quick as a flash, its tiny paw darted toward the shiny badge pinned on your robes.

“Hey!” you laughed, reaching for the niffler as it tugged at your prefect badge, determined to add it to whatever imaginary hoard it was building in its mind.

Sunghoon chuckled from where he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze following the little creature’s antics. “Looks like it has a good eye for treasure,” he said, his tone playful. The niffler, clearly encouraged by his approval, squeaked and tugged harder, and you could only laugh as you tried to wrestle it gently away from your badge.

“Alright, alright, little troublemaker,” you said, scratching behind its ear, “I guess you’re all healed up.” The niffler chirped, clearly satisfied with itself, and settled back in your lap, peering up at you with big, curious eyes.

Sunghoon tilted his head, that faint smile still lingering. “You know, you have to name him now,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the niffler. “Name him? Isn’t he a bit too… mischievous to settle for a name?” But as you looked into its wide, shining eyes, you felt a tug of fondness you couldn’t quite ignore.

Sunghoon shrugged, his tone a bit lighter than usual. “Well, you can’t just heal him and leave him unnamed. Plus, he’ll probably come back to find you if you give him a name.”

You bit back a smile, glancing at the niffler again. “Alright, fine.” After a moment’s thought, you looked back up at Sunghoon, the beginnings of an idea forming. “What about Spark? Since he’s so keen on shiny things.”

Sunghoon’s eyes crinkled slightly as he considered it. “Spark,” he echoed thoughtfully, and then nodded. “I like it. Seems fitting, for a niffler that’s already made it his mission to steal from a Hogwarts prefect.”

The niffler—now dubbed Spark—chirped in approval, as if satisfied with his new name. He scrambled back onto your lap, one paw still reaching toward your badge, his nose twitching.

As you watched Spark dart playfully around the room, you looked at Sunghoon and nodded toward the door. “We should probably take him to Hagrid. He’ll know how to take care of a niffler better than we can.”

Sunghoon nodded, and with a final scratch behind Spark’s ear, you tucked the little creature into the crook of your arm. As you and Sunghoon quietly made your way down the tower’s staircase and through the darkened hallways, Spark scampered excitedly between the two of you, chirping and squeaking in delight. Every now and then, he’d jump from your shoulder to Sunghoon’s, nuzzling close and tugging at a stray lock of his hair.

When you finally stepped out onto the moonlit grounds, Spark scrambled up Sunghoon’s arm and settled atop his head, tugging at the strands as if trying to style his hair. Sunghoon rolled his eyes but didn’t make any real effort to dislodge him.

As you arrived at Hagrid’s hut, Sunghoon reached up to knock on the door, but Spark clung stubbornly to his head, chirping with the excitement of a mischievous child. Hagrid’s warm, booming voice called from inside, and a moment later, he opened the door, his eyes lighting up when he saw the small creature atop Sunghoon’s head.

“What in Merlin’s beard… is that a niffler on yer head, Sunghoon?” Hagrid’s laughter was deep and genuine as he looked between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, reaching up to grab Spark gently from Sunghoon’s head. As you tugged the niffler free, you couldn’t help but notice the state of Sunghoon’s hair—it was thoroughly mussed, thanks to Spark’s playful grasping. “We found him hurt,” you explained to Hagrid as you cradled Spark, who snuggled into your arms with a satisfied chirp. “We patched him up a bit, but we figured he’d be in better hands with you. Could you take care of him?”

Hagrid’s face softened as he looked at Spark, his expression a mixture of fondness and excitement. “Course, I’ll look after the little rascal. Nifflers can be tricky, but they got good hearts.” Beside him, Fang barked happily, his tail thumping against the ground as he trotted up to you.

Grinning, you crouched down, running your hands through Fang’s thick fur as he nuzzled your hand. “Hey, Fang! Missed you too, big guy,” you murmured, scratching him behind the ears. Fang let out a pleased rumble, leaning into your touch.

As Hagrid took Spark from your hands, the niffler let out a mournful little chirp, his dark eyes fixed on you and Sunghoon as if he already missed you. Hagrid chuckled, petting Spark’s head. “Looks like he’s taken quite the likin’ to you two! I reckon he’ll be a handful. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s well cared for.” With a wave, Hagrid gently closed the door, and you and Sunghoon turned back toward the castle.

Walking side by side through the quiet grounds, Sunghoon was still trying to tame his hair, grumbling softly as he ran his hands through it. Smiling, you reached out, gently pushing his hands away. “Let me,” you said softly, reaching up to smooth down his tousled locks.

Sunghoon was silent, watching you as you worked, and when you finally stepped back, satisfied, he looked at you with a softened expression. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice unusually quiet, his gaze lingering on you just a little longer than usual.

You lowered your hand, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, the gentle night air cool against your cheeks. “You’re welcome,” you replied, glancing away as a faint warmth crept up your neck.

For a few steps, the two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound. The castle loomed ahead, its towers silhouetted against the dark, star-strewn sky.

“You know,” Sunghoon finally spoke, his voice low but warm, “you didn’t have to help with Spark back there. Could’ve just let me figure it out on my own.”

You scoffed lightly, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, please. You’d have probably spent half the night just trying to get him off your head,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, I like helping out with creatures. It’s… peaceful.”

Sunghoon gave a soft chuckle, nodding. “Can’t argue with that. You’re a natural,” he added, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Like what?” You turned your head to look at him, slightly caught off guard by his tone.

“Soft. I mean, not that you’re… not usually. Just… different,” he mumbled, running a hand over his head again, his gaze darting to the side as if searching for words. “Maybe it’s nice to see you care about something.”

A quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you shoved your hands into your pockets, your steps slowing. “I care about things. Just not usually things that… require all that much attention.”

Sunghoon stopped, turning toward you, his gaze intense yet gentle. “Well, it seems you’ve got another talent to add to the list,” he said quietly. “Even if I don’t see this… soft side very often.”

You could feel your face warm under his stare, an unspoken understanding passing between you. “Well, maybe I’ll show it a bit more… if you promise to keep your teasing to a minimum,” you countered, smiling slightly.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Only some teasing,” he replied, but there was a warmth behind his usual smirk, a hint of something more.

As you reached the entrance to the castle, you both paused, lingering in the cool shadows of the towering walls. Neither of you seemed ready to break the quiet moment. Eventually, you took a breath, giving him a final look. “Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

He nodded, his eyes still on you. “Goodnight,” he replied softly.

The next day, the routine rivalry between you and Sunghoon was as intense as ever, starting with the very first class. Snape had just handed back a round of potion assignments, and as you flipped through your parchment, you smirked at the sight of your high score. But your satisfaction was short-lived; Sunghoon leaned back in his seat beside you, carelessly waving his own assignment in the air, flashing a score just a fraction higher than yours.

You shot him a look that was equal parts irritation and challenge. “I guess perfection just comes naturally to some,” he murmured, his smirk widening as he glanced at your page. You couldn’t stop your glare from hardening as you rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath.

Throughout the day, this pattern continued in every class. Whenever you scored higher, he’d fall silent, his eyes narrowed in a glare as he examined his own work with a slight pout. If he managed to get the higher score, you’d feel your face flush in annoyance, lips pressed into a thin line as you begrudgingly accepted the tiny triumph. Each question the teachers posed became a mini-battle between the two of you. If you answered first, Sunghoon would scoff and find some way to counter your response with an added detail or correction; if he answered first, you’d find a way to elaborate on it with an extra flourish.

Eventually, in Charms, your constant back-and-forth about the finer points of nonverbal spells escalated to a full-blown debate. You could feel the class’s eyes on you both as you threw arguments back and forth, neither willing to back down until the professor finally cut in, moving to the next topic with an exasperated sigh.

When classes finally ended, you found yourself surrounded by a few Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students, all hoping you’d tutor them in some area or another. But before any of them could get too close, Sunghoon would somehow find his way into the middle, stepping forward with a cool glare that would make them hesitate. Without even noticing his interference, you were too busy rambling to him about magical creatures, hardly noticing as students reluctantly slipped away.

“…And the phoenix? Did you know they have regeneration abilities not just for themselves but that their tears can heal practically anything? It’s almost like a superpower,” you said animatedly, your eyes lighting up as you explained.

Sunghoon’s small, genuine smile went unnoticed by you, his eyes studying your expressions as you spoke. “You know,” he said after a moment, “you really get lost when you’re talking about them.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “Why wouldn’t I? There’s so much to learn, so much to explore. Don’t you ever feel like that about anything?”

His smile grew softer, almost thoughtful. “Yeah… I think I do,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. But you were too caught up in your own excitement to notice the way he looked at you, as if he had found something worth exploring right here.

You barely noticed the way Sunghoon’s eyes softened as you went on about the different habitats of magical creatures, caught up in sharing the things you loved. He seemed entirely focused on you, even as the hallway grew emptier, his usual sharp edge melting into a quieter attentiveness that he rarely showed.

As you two walked, he seemed to subtly steer you, ensuring other students didn’t approach with requests or questions. The few who tried to interrupt received one of Sunghoon’s cool, silent glares, and it was enough to make them think twice. But his attention never wavered from you, and you barely noticed anyone else around.

“…So I’m hoping to go on expeditions one day,” you said with a small smile, glancing up at him as you walked. “I want to see these creatures in the wild and understand their behaviors.”

Sunghoon looked at you, his gaze warm yet intent. “You really mean that,” he murmured.

“Of course I do,” you replied, almost laughing. “I thought everyone knew that by now.”

His faint smile returned. “Maybe not everyone. But… I do.”

You blinked at the sudden seriousness in his tone, and for a moment, you were struck by the way he was looking at you—as if there was something he’d been meaning to say, something he was wrestling with. But as quickly as the moment surfaced, it was gone; he looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Guess I’ll have to find something just as impressive to match that.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to work a lot harder to keep up.”

A smirk flashed across his face. “Challenge accepted,” he said quietly.

As you sat with the two Gryffindor students in the quiet corner of the library, the sunlight filtering through the high windows, you felt a sense of satisfaction in guiding them through the complexities of potions. They were both scrambling to keep up, flipping pages in their textbooks and frantically jotting down notes as you explained each component's properties and how they interacted.

After a moment, you paused to ask a question, gesturing to the list of ingredients for the Draught of Peace. “Which ingredient in this potion helps to reduce anxiety but can cause drowsiness in high doses?”

One of the boys squinted at his notes before raising his hand tentatively. “Um… powdered moonstone?”

You nodded, a small smile crossing your lips. “Exactly. Well done.”

He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself, then gave his friend a smug slap on the shoulder. “See? Told you I was getting the hang of this,” he boasted, earning an eye-roll from his friend.

“Don’t get too cocky,” you warned, a teasing edge to your voice. “One right answer doesn’t make you a Potions Master.”

He chuckled sheepishly, but it was clear he was still basking in your praise.

As the lesson went on, you glanced up for a moment, and your eyes caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the edge of a nearby shelf: Sunghoon. He was watching the entire scene with his usual unreadable expression, arms crossed and a subtle smirk on his face, as if he found the whole situation amusing.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your focus back to the Gryffindors, deciding to ignore him. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the awareness of his gaze. The two Gryffindors seemed completely oblivious to Sunghoon’s presence, but every now and then, you caught him subtly stepping closer, listening in.

Finally, you finished your explanations, assigning them a few practice problems to work on in their own time. They thanked you, relief written on their faces as they gathered their things to leave.

As they left, Sunghoon sauntered over, raising an eyebrow at you. “You seem awfully generous with praise,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, don’t start,” you replied, rolling your eyes again as you closed your textbook. “I’m just trying to help them pass Potions. They don’t have to be my rivals.”

“Lucky for them,” he said, chuckling softly. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, “But I’d like to think I’m the only one who gets to compete with you.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out a worn notebook and a slightly tattered copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander from your bag, flipping to a page you had been absorbed in earlier. Your notes were meticulous and precise, with a small sketch of a selkie in the margin, its sleek form and dark eyes captured with surprising detail.

Sunghoon noticed immediately, his gaze drifting to the open book and your notes. He shifted his chair a little closer, leaning in to get a better look. "What’s all this?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

“Oh, just some of my own notes,” you replied casually, though you couldn’t deny the flicker of excitement at the chance to explain. “I’m copying parts of the book, adding some of my observations. See—” You pointed to a note on selkies. “These markings here help them blend in with the seaweed, which makes them nearly invisible in shallow waters. Clever, right?”

Sunghoon nodded, and you could see the interest in his expression as he continued to study the page. Emboldened, you moved on, “And this—” you pointed to another entry, flipping a few pages to a section on kelpies. “If you ever encounter a kelpie, you should look out for water plants on its back; they often disguise themselves as beautiful horses near the shore to lure people into the water.”

“Or here, in this section on Acromantulas,” you continued, your excitement getting the better of you. “If you ever come across an Acromantula lair, the air will feel damp and oddly warm, almost like a warning. They leave webs that catch the light differently than normal spider webs—they’re shinier, with a silver tint.”

Sunghoon’s smirk softened, replaced by something you couldn’t quite place. “You really know your stuff,” he said softly, the admiration clear in his voice.

You glanced away, suddenly a little self-conscious under his gaze. “I just… really like learning about magical creatures,” you admitted with a shrug. “I think they’re fascinating.”

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle. “I think you’re fascinating,” he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You paused, heart skipping a beat as you processed his words. But before you could respond, he cleared his throat, his expression unreadable once more as he reached for your book. “So… what else should I know about magical creatures, in case we run into one?”

You grinned and continued explaining each creature with passion and detail, and he listened, seemingly content just to sit there, absorbed in every word you said.

You lost track of time as you continued sharing each creature’s traits, fully immersed in the world of magical beasts and their quirks. You explained to Sunghoon how to spot a bowtruckle in the trees, the difference between a griffin’s call and a hippogriff’s, and why nifflers are drawn to sparkly objects. With every fact you shared, his eyes never left your face.

After a while, you realized just how close he’d inched toward you. There was hardly any space between you now, and you were all too aware of his gaze tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your mouth as you spoke. It was almost unnerving, and for the first time, you found yourself stumbling over your words.

When you paused to catch your breath, Sunghoon broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about magical creatures like that before.”

His words caught you off guard, and you felt warmth creeping into your cheeks. “There’s so much out there we don’t understand. I think that’s the best part—the mystery of it all.” You murmured, glancing down at your notebook.

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always thought you’re different from everyone else.” He looked down, almost shyly, as if he hadn’t meant to let that slip.

You blinked, surprised. "Different?"

“Yeah,” he replied, finally meeting your gaze again. “You’re… genuine. Like, you actually care about the things that matter. You don’t just do things because it’s expected, or because someone told you to. You’re… well, it’s hard to explain.” He shrugged, visibly frustrated, and let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle.

You blinked, trying to make sense of what Sunghoon had just said, of the quiet vulnerability in his words. “I… didn’t realize you thought about things like that,” you replied, your voice softer than you’d meant it to be.

But Sunghoon’s momentary openness seemed to vanish as soon as the words left your mouth. His eyes widened slightly, and he immediately turned away, his expression twisting into a frown. "I don’t know why I even—”

Before he could finish, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. You barely had time to react as he took a few steps back, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “beautiful eyes” under his breath, though you couldn’t be sure. Then, without looking back, he turned on his heel and strode out of the library, leaving you staring after him, stunned.

You sat there, watching the tall silhouette of his figure disappear through the doorway, a thousand questions spinning through your mind.

Madam Pince’s voice snapped you out of your daze. She had quietly approached, tidying up the stray books the Gryffindor students had left behind. “It doesn’t take much to see he likes you,” she said, her tone somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Your head whipped around to face her, eyes wide. “Wait—what?”

She glanced at you over the rim of her spectacles, raising an eyebrow as she gathered a stack of books. “Oh, come on. That boy didn’t take his eyes off you for a second. He barely even noticed anyone else in the room.” She shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her. “If he could, I swear he’d have hearts in his eyes. Quite the smitten one, that Sunghoon.”

You felt your face heat up. “I—no, that can’t be.”

Madam Pince gave a noncommittal hum, but her eyes sparkled with something like knowing. “I’ve seen plenty of students in here studying. There’s something different about him.”

ou couldn’t shake the image of Sunghoon’s gaze lingering on you, softer than you’d ever seen it, and the way he’d fumbled over his own words like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Maybe it’s just the way he looks at you,” Madam Pince added as she placed the last book on the shelf. “You’d think he’s looking at his entire world.”

You felt your breath catch, her words lingering long after you left the library.

The next day, you found yourself standing in the hallway before Charms class, nervously glancing at Wooyoung. You’d practically dragged him here to talk about Sunghoon, though you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to ask or how to approach him.

“Come on, Wooyoung, you have to help me figure this out,” you said, your voice a little more frantic than you intended. “Do you think… do you think he likes me?”

Wooyoung, leaning casually against the wall, smiled so wide that his grin nearly split his face. There was a gleam in his eyes—one that you knew all too well. The one he always wore when he had some mischievous plan brewing.

“Like you?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t he? You two are practically a walking cliché. The constant competition, the way you both try to one-up each other… It’s as obvious as your latest Transfiguration assignment.”

You frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. “I—what do you mean by that?”

Wooyoung pushed off the wall, standing up straighter. His smile grew wider, and you immediately recognized that look. The one that meant he’d just come up with something ridiculous, probably to your detriment. “Why don’t you make him show it? Get him to prove he likes you.”

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? How am I supposed to do that?”

He sighed dramatically, as though you’d just asked him a question that was too easy to answer. “It’s simple. Make him jealous using me,” Wooyoung replied, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what? You want me to pretend to like you to make Sunghoon jealous?”

“Exactly!” Wooyoung grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “And don’t worry. I’ll even be the test bunny —free of charge. I’ll stick close to you, spend all the time I can with you, and make it look like I’m all about you. Trust me, Sunghoon will get the message real quick.”

You hesitated, worried. “I don’t know, Wooyoung. This seems like a bad idea.”

He groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “How can someone so smart be so clueless? It’s not like you have to actually date me or anything. Besides, you’re not even doing anything bad, just hanging out with your best friend Wooyoung. You’ll see what happens. Just wait until Sunghoon realizes what’s going on. If he likes you, he’ll show it.”

You bit your lip, not entirely convinced. The idea made you uneasy, but Wooyoung was already grabbing your arm, pulling you towards the classroom. “Come on. You can overthink it later. Let’s go.”

Reluctantly, you allowed yourself to be pulled into class, the moment you found your seat, you looked around, half-expecting to see Sunghoon. When he walked into class, you saw him immediately—tall and confident, his usual smirk in place. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, sitting next to Wooyoung, his entire demeanor shifted. His eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed.

You felt your stomach flip when Sunghoon stalked over, crossing his arms.

“You’re in my seat,” Sunghoon said, his voice cold as his eyes locked onto Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, not missing a beat, tilted his head back and looked at Sunghoon with a smug expression. “I don’t see your name here,” he teased, his voice playful, almost sing-song. He then dramatically pulled you closer to him, as though to stake his claim. “Besides, I’m sitting here now.”

You shot Wooyoung a look, but he was already enjoying this far too much. You glanced back at Sunghoon, who was glaring at Wooyoung with a look that could have burned a hole through him, his jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line. But when Sunghoon looked at you, his eyes softened just a little—though the frown still remained. He sighed in frustration before walking off, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

His eyes then locked onto the desk directly in front of you, where a Ravenclaw student had been sitting just moments ago, quietly taking notes. Without so much as a glance toward you or Wooyoung, Sunghoon walked up to the desk with a purposeful stride.

The Ravenclaw, a young girl with glasses perched on the edge of her nose, looked up in mild surprise as Sunghoon approached her. She was about to ask if something was wrong when he stood before her, towering slightly as he looked down at her desk with an unwavering gaze.

“Move,” he said simply, his voice low and calm, but there was an unspoken authority in it. It wasn’t a question, and there was no room for negotiation in his tone.

The Ravenclaw blinked, unsure of what was happening. “Excuse me?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

Sunghoon’s expression remained neutral. “I’m sitting here,” he repeated, and he placed his bag down on the desk, almost as though he were claiming it.

The girl hesitated, glancing at the seat next to yours where Wooyoung sat, clearly not understanding the situation. She looked at the empty seats around the room, trying to figure out what to do.

“You can find another seat,” Sunghoon added coolly, his gaze unflinching. “It’s not a big deal.”

The Ravenclaw swallowed hard, her face flushing with confusion and embarrassment. She had no idea what was happening. Was this some sort of joke? Was she supposed to just give up her seat because Sunghoon wanted it? She opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could speak, she caught the look in Sunghoon’s eyes—cold, almost daring her to defy him.

“Okay,” she muttered, gathering her things and standing up, clearly unnerved by the tension in the air. Reluctantly, she grabbed her bag, and with a small, defeated sigh, she walked toward a different desk, clearly trying to avoid further confrontation.

You watched the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and discomfort, and you could see Wooyoung beside you, clearly amused by the whole thing. Sunghoon didn’t even spare a glance at the girl as she moved to another desk. He simply adjusted his books, and slid into the chair with a casual ease.

Wooyoung chuckled under his breath as class started, nudging you with an exaggerated wink. “Worked like a charm,” he whispered, grinning.

As Professor Flitwick began the lecture, Wooyoung scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and nudged it toward you, his grin widening when you glanced down.

“I’d say Sunghoon looks about two seconds away from hexing me,” he’d scrawled, complete with a little doodle of a scowling Sunghoon.

You smirked, scribbling back, “More like two seconds from snapping his quill in half.”

Wooyoung had to stifle his laugh, glancing up to make sure Flitwick wasn’t watching. Meanwhile, Sunghoon sat in front of you, stiff and silent, answering Professor Flitwick’s questions with uncharacteristic quietness. Normally, this was the part of the lesson where you’d challenge him, but you were too busy passing notes and snickering quietly with Wooyoung.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon, seemed quieter than usual. It was obvious to you that he wasn’t paying much attention to the lesson now—his usually sharp focus shifted entirely to the students around him. You caught the way he glanced up when another student raised their hand, trying to challenge him. They asked a particularly tricky question about the correct incantation for a charm, but when Sunghoon answered smoothly, there was no cocky attitude, no smug smirk. He answered matter-of-factly, almost quietly, and then fell back into his seat, looking down at his parchment with furrowed brows.

Other students tried to challenge him, pushing for more details, but Sunghoon didn’t rise to the occasion like he usually did with you. He remained reserved, answering them simply and without the usual bite in his voice.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all connected to the game you and Wooyoung had started—testing Sunghoon's reactions, seeing how far you could push him. You watched him for a few more moments, noting how his posture stiffened slightly whenever someone questioned him. It was like he was waiting for something—waiting for you to throw a comment or a challenge his way. But you stayed quiet, not offering him the usual banter or playful disagreement.

Wooyoung passed you another note, his handwriting messier this time from his suppressed laughter. “Guess he only cares if it’s you arguing with him.”

As soon as Professor Flitwick dismissed the class, you barely had a second to pack up your things before Wooyoung seized your arm, yanking you up from your seat and ushering you toward the door with hurried enthusiasm.

“Come on, come on!” he whispered, grinning as he practically dragged you through the aisle, weaving between students as they gathered their things.

You stumbled slightly, barely managing to throw your bag over your shoulder as Wooyoung tugged you along, his grip firm as he steered you toward the corridor. Behind you, you caught a quick glimpse of Sunghoon, his expression darkening as he watched Wooyoung pull you away.

“Wooyoung, slow down!” you protested, trying to keep from tripping as he continued his brisk pace down the hallway. You glanced back, half-expecting Sunghoon to be right behind you, but the corridor was empty, and you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t followed.

Wooyoung just laughed, his mischief only growing as he finally slowed down, his grip loosening as he threw you a victorious smile. “Did you see his face? He was practically glaring daggers at me!”

You rolled your eyes, brushing your hair out of your face as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re going to drive him crazy at this rate. What if he actually loses it?”

Wooyoung smirked, shrugging as if it was no big deal. “Isn’t that the plan? You’ll know for sure if he really likes you.” He wagged his eyebrows at you playfully, nudging you with his shoulder. “Besides, I’ve never seen him that riled up over anything—or anyone, for that matter. And if he’s jealous, it’s because he knows he’s got competition.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Wooyoung was already shooting you a smug grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure Sunghoon hadn’t caught up to you. You hated to admit it, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of getting under Sunghoon’s skin, especially after all the times he’d done the same to you.

Wooyoung didn't hold back over the next few days, sticking by your side at every opportunity, always there with that trademark mischievous grin. He’d slide into the seat beside you during classes, insist on walking you to the Great Hall for meals, and show up at the library to “help” you study—even if he spent more time drawing little doodles on your notes than actually being helpful.

You caught Sunghoon watching the two of you on more than one occasion, his gaze dark and intense, lips pressed into a firm line as Wooyoung leaned close to whisper something that would make you laugh. The frustration on Sunghoon’s face was unmistakable, but he never said anything. He would just look away with a huff, his jaw clenched as he turned his attention back to whatever was in front of him.

During Potions, Wooyoung made a particularly bold move, sliding his chair so close to yours that your shoulders brushed as you worked on a shared project. Sunghoon, who sat across from you, glared at Wooyoung with such ferocity that you were sure he’d burst.

“Are you two always this… close?” Sunghoon finally muttered, barely hiding the edge in his voice.

Wooyoung looked up with an innocent smile, putting an arm over your shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make sure no one distracts her from her studies,” he said with a wink in your direction.

You bit back a laugh as Sunghoon’s expression turned sour, his fingers tapping agitatedly against the desk.

As the days went on, Sunghoon’s patience seemed to fray bit by bit, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a simmering frustration. You could see it in the way he clenched his fists whenever he saw you with Wooyoung, how he’d roll his eyes when he overheard Wooyoung laughing with you in the library. He even began answering questions more aggressively in class, as though trying to reclaim some attention.

One evening, when Wooyoung had just pulled you out of the library after an impromptu “study session,” you spotted Sunghoon watching you from across the corridor, his expression dark. Wooyoung followed your gaze and smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think he’s finally reaching his limit. Just wait—he’ll crack any day now.”

You were sat in the courtyard, finally getting a moment to study in peace with Wooyoung serving detention, a shadow fell over your books. You looked up, blinking as Sunghoon stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, an intense look in his eyes.

“Studying alone for once?” he asked, his voice casual, but the edge in it unmistakable.

You gave him a small shrug, trying to appear unfazed. “Yeah, Wooyoung’s busy.”

Sunghoon sat down across from you without asking, his gaze flickering over your books before settling on you. “So, you and Wooyoung… you’ve known each other for a while, huh?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly fishing for something.

You raised an eyebrow, sensing where this was going. “We’re good friends,” you replied simply. “We’ve known each other since second year.”

Sunghoon’s brows knit together, curiosity—and maybe a hint of jealousy—lingering in his expression. “How did that even happen? You two don’t seem like the most… obvious match.”

You laughed a little at the memory. “Oh, it was something, alright. I found him running from Filch after he’d set off one of those cursed prank fireworks. He practically begged me to hide him, so I did. After that, we just… clicked, I guess. I’d cover for him, and he’d keep me entertained with his ridiculous schemes.”

Sunghoon nodded, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “So you’re telling me you’ve been cleaning up his messes for years.”

You laughed. “Pretty much.”

For a moment, Sunghoon seemed lost in thought, a silence settling between you as he absorbed what you’d shared. He looked down at the book open in front of you—a piece on mythical creatures.

“Sounds like you’re a better friend than he deserves,” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough to hear. And then, without waiting for your reaction, he quickly added, “But maybe you’re just too kind. I doubt you’d turn away anyone if they asked for help.” He leaned forward, arms crossed and a curious look on his face, as if he were ready to seize this moment and talk about anything—everything, even.

“So… this whole mythical creatures thing,” he began, nodding toward the book in front of you. “It’s what you want to do after school, right?”

You hesitated, but then you looked up and caught the way Sunghoon’s gaze softened as he waited for you to answer. There was no trace of his usual smirk or sarcastic tone; he just looked genuinely… interested. Almost desperate to keep this conversation going, like he needed to talk to you, even if it was about the most random thing he could think of.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you nodded. “Yeah… I guess I want to travel, see the world, learn about different creatures out there.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “Makes sense for you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “What about you, Sunghoon? What do you want to do?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly awkward as he considered his answer. “Me? Well… my family expects me to follow in their footsteps and work in the Ministry. Some important role that’ll keep the Park name respectable or whatever.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at how openly he was talking about it. “And… is that what you want?”

He hesitated, glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “Honestly? No. But it’s not like I get much say in it. My parents… they don’t really ask what I want. They just have this… plan. And I’m supposed to go along with it.”

You softened, forgetting all about Wooyoung’s plan. “Maybe one day, you’ll get to do what you actually want. Even if it means disappointing a few people along the way.”

Sunghoon’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Maybe.”

While you and Sunghoon continued your conversation, Wooyoung burst onto the scene, looking a bit disheveled from detention.

"Hey! You promised you’d help me with Astronomy, remember?" he announced, hands on his hips as he gestured toward the library.

You blinked, taken aback. “Did I? I don’t remember promising that, Woo—”

But Wooyoung wasn’t giving you a moment to think. He sidled up to you, giving Sunghoon a mischievous side-eye as he tried to usher you away. That was, until Sunghoon suddenly stood up with startling speed.

“Actually, we’ll both help you,” he said firmly, his voice determined, like he was making a declaration. He looked between you and Wooyoung, and you couldn’t hide your surprise. Sunghoon had never offered to tutor anyone, much less help anyone study.

Wooyoung faltered for a moment, his usual quick wit momentarily stunned. “Wait, you want to help? Since when does Sunghoon Park volunteer to help anyone?” he stammered, clearly thrown off his game.

Without missing a beat, Sunghoon reached out, grabbing your hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and gently pulled you along. He positioned himself slightly in front of you, blocking Wooyoung’s view just enough to hold your attention. His touch was firm, warm, and you could feel the faintest bit of tension in his grip, as though he was reluctant to let you go.

“Come on,” he said, glancing back at you, eyes lit with determination.

You barely had time to process the boldness of his move, your heart beating a little faster at the intensity in his gaze. But then, from behind you, Wooyoung snapped out of his daze.

“Hey! Don’t leave me!” he shouted, sprinting forward to catch up.

Once inside the library, Sunghoon led you to a secluded corner, where the stacks of books created a quiet, private nook. He settled down across from you, pulling out his Astronomy textbook and parchment without a word. You followed suit, just as Wooyoung stumbled in, slightly out of breath and muttering curses under his breath.

"Merlin, Sunghoon, did you have to practically run here? Not all of us have legs that belong on a Quidditch team,” Wooyoung huffed, plopping down in the remaining seat and tossing his Astronomy books onto the table.

You chuckled softly, but Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice. He had already opened his book and was flipping to a relevant chapter, his eyes scanning the page with a quiet focus. The three of you settled in, and soon, you began explaining the constellations and how to identify them, taking a parchment to map out a few diagrams for Wooyoung.

Sunghoon added an occasional word here and there, though you quickly noticed his advice was always directed toward you, not Wooyoung. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered to look at Wooyoung directly, instead choosing to watch you as you spoke. Every so often, he'd chime in at the end of your explanations, repeating or affirming your words like a quiet echo.

"Right," you’d say, finishing up a description of Orion. “That’s why its belt is so distinctive in the night sky.”

"Distinctive,” Sunghoon murmured, nodding slightly as he watched you, his gaze steady.

Wooyoung, however, wasn’t about to let this slide. He shot you a look of exaggerated exasperation, rolling his eyes playfully as Sunghoon added yet another short agreement after your sentence.

“If I’d known studying with the both of you would be this one-sided, I’d have just gone to Hagrid’s for a simpler lecture,” Wooyoung quipped, pretending to grumble. He shot you a grin. “You’re doing all the heavy lifting here. Sunghoon’s just admiring the view.”

You stifled a laugh, glancing at Sunghoon, who simply shrugged and looked away, not even trying to deny it. A faint blush had crept up his cheeks, but he kept his gaze on his notes, acting unbothered as he continued to jot things down.

The table fell quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the rustling of pages and the scratching of quills. Sunghoon had finally turned his attention to his notes, his posture still stiff and focused, while Wooyoung, sitting across from you, began to plot. You could feel the mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced between you and Sunghoon, an idea forming behind that grin of his. You knew that grin well—it was the kind of grin that spelled out nothing good.

And then, as if on cue, Wooyoung shifted in his seat, straightened up, and suddenly leaned forward, all casual-like.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice loud enough to carry across the quiet library. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if Sunghoon here actually smiled when he helped us study? You know, like… with an actual expression, not just his usual ‘I’m-too-cool-for-this’ face?”

You shot him a look, one that made it clear you were aware of what he was doing. You opened your mouth to say something, but Wooyoung was already going for it. He nudged your elbow gently with his, a silent request for backup.

“I mean,” he continued, his voice deliberately drawing out the words, “I bet you could teach him a thing or two about showing some emotion, right? I’ve seen you make him smile once in a while. That’s kind of impressive, considering, you know… he usually doesn't even seem to know how to have fun. Maybe you should be his personal tutor on that.”

You suppressed a laugh, but it was difficult to stop your lips from twitching. Sunghoon, however, didn’t react at first. He kept his eyes on the page in front of him, though the muscles in his jaw twitched slightly, and his posture tightened.

Wooyoung wasn’t done. No, he was just getting started. He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, as if he were speaking casually about the weather.

“So,” he said with a sly grin, “Sunghoon, what's it like, huh? Sitting here and being the epitome of cool? Don’t you get bored sometimes?” He leaned forward, directing his question to Sunghoon directly now. “You ever get jealous? Like when Y/N and I hang out and I make her laugh, but you can’t seem to do the same? Maybe you could learn something from me after all. You know, how to crack a joke here and there. It’d be a good change of pace for you.”

Your eyes widened, realizing the full extent of Wooyoung’s plan. He was making you the center of attention, and Sunghoon was stuck right in front of you, getting teased in a way that was bound to rattle him.

For a moment, it seemed like Sunghoon was going to retort, but then something changed. He looked at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before his gaze flicked back to his notes.

“I don’t need to crack jokes to be effective,” he muttered, the words clipped and sharp, though there was a distinct edge to them. “But you do seem to have a talent for making everything an entertainment show.”

Wooyoung’s grin only widened at the jab. "Well, someone’s gotta keep things interesting."

You were trying so hard not to laugh, your hand pressed against your lips to stifle the giggles. You could tell that Wooyoung was enjoying to push Sunghoon’s buttons, waiting for him to bite, and it was hard to ignore how Sunghoon seemed to slowly crack under the pressure.

Finally, you couldn’t keep it in anymore. You let out a soft laugh, looking at Sunghoon with a teasing smile. “You’re not gonna let Wooyoung get to you, are you?”

Sunghoon paused, his eyes flickering to you, he exhaled, almost like a sigh, and then said, with a quiet edge, “I’ve got more important things to focus on than whatever this is.”

Madam Pince appeared just as you were trying to suppress the last of your laughter, her stern eyes scanning the room. She spotted you from across the library and made her way over, her expression softening a little when she saw you sitting with Sunghoon and Wooyoung.

"Ah, Y/N," she said in her usual clipped tone. "I’m in need of some assistance. There’s a book missing, and you seem to be one of the few students who knows this library well enough to help me track it down."

You nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to step away from the tension growing between Sunghoon and Wooyoung. "Of course, Madam Pince. I'll help you find it."

You were prepared to leave, but before you did, you leaned closer to Wooyoung, who was still watching Sunghoon, his expression one of quiet amusement.

“Play fair, Wooyoung,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear but soft enough that Sunghoon wouldn’t catch on.

Wooyoung gave you a wide, mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with the hint of something else—perhaps a little bit of challenge. "You got it, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice teasing.

Then, you turned to Sunghoon, who had been unusually quiet, his eyes focused on his notes but his body language still tight. You weren’t sure if he was just avoiding Wooyoung’s teasing or if there was something else on his mind.

Leaning in slightly, you whispered to him, just as softly as you had to Wooyoung, “Go easy on Wooyoung, alright?”

Sunghoon didn’t immediately respond, but you could see his eyes flicker with a slight surprise. He gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, though his lips remained pressed together in that tight line he often wore when he wasn’t sure how to express himself.

"Fine," he muttered, his tone as close to a concession as you’d get from him.

With that, you excused yourself from the table, gathering your bag and walking away with Madam Pince, who seemed to appreciate the extra pair of hands.

You handed Madam Pince the book when you found it, her lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Y/N. You’re always so helpful," she said, before disappearing behind a shelf to return the book to its rightful place.

Once that was done, you made your way back to the table where you’d left Sunghoon and Wooyoung. But when you walked up, you noticed that only Sunghoon remained, his focus still on his notes, though he didn’t seem as intense as he had been earlier. His shoulders were slightly hunched over, his quill scratching across the parchment in front of him.

"Where’d Wooyoung go?" you asked, your voice light but curious.

Sunghoon didn’t look up at first, continuing to write something down before responding. "He got too bored and decided to leave. Probably off causing trouble somewhere," he said, his voice flat.

You sighed, shaking your head. "I should've known. He's always up to something."

Sunghoon just shrugged and went back to his work, not saying anything more.

After some time, Sunghoon glanced up from his notes and reached for one of the books you had both been reading. He scanned a passage, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again.

"Here’s a question," he said, reading aloud. "What do you think is the primary trait that allows a Thestral to remain undetected by most students?" He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours. "I think it's their ability to be invisible to those who haven't experienced death. What would you add to that?"

You thought for a second. "I would add that they also have an inherent ability to sense the emotions of others, which could explain why they only reveal themselves to people who have truly understood loss. It’s not just physical invisibility, it’s emotional, too."

Sunghoon nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing at his lips. "I like that. You’ve got a good point."

As you both continued discussing the finer details of Thestrals, your chairs inched closer and closer without either of you noticing. At first, it was just a subtle shift in the way you both sat, both leaning in a little to be closer to the books and each other’s notes. But soon, you were sitting shoulder to shoulder, the space between you so small it almost didn’t matter anymore.

You could feel the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours, a strange sense of familiarity in the way you both fit together in that moment. And when he passed you a book, his hand brushing yours in the process, neither of you pulled away.

The air between you both seemed to shift, subtle yet undeniable. Time seemed to slow for a moment, and you couldn't help but notice the brief flicker in Sunghoon's eyes—like he was aware of the closeness, of the sudden tension that hadn't been there before.

You both locked eyes, your gazes lingering a little longer than they should have. Then, just as quickly, his gaze dropped to your lips, and you felt a slight shift in your chest. You instinctively licked your lips, a nervous habit, and when you did, Sunghoon's gaze followed the motion, his eyes following the path of your tongue. You could almost feel the shift in his focus as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he had caught it, that he had been watching you so intently.

You gave him a soft smile, just a hint of amusement in your expression, before you quickly looked back down at your notes, trying to regain your composure.

Sunghoon, as if breaking free from whatever spell had taken hold of him, seemed to blink and shake himself out of his trance. His gaze shifted back to his notes, though there was a slight tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual collected demeanor.

"Right," he muttered, focusing on the book in front of him as though it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Your hand, poised over your quill, hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to write next. Your thoughts were scattered now—your mind buzzing with a thousand things, none of them having to do with the notes in front of you. You focused on the lines, the words, the shapes of the ink on the page, but it was a challenge. Everything felt so much more present now.

The night had stretched on without either of you noticing. The quiet between you had been comfortable, filled with soft whispers of pages turning and the faint scratch of quills on paper. When you finally stood, stretching your stiff limbs, the weight of the evening pressed down on you. Sunghoon, still by your side, packed his books slowly, as if reluctant to leave.

You both stepped out of the library together, the cool night air hitting you with the suddenness of it, making you shiver slightly. Sunghoon, as usual, was a step ahead of you, walking with that calm, collected air he always carried.

As the doors to the library clicked shut behind you, the portraits along the hallways seemed to come alive, their eyes following you both as you walked. Your eyes flicked over the various faces, and then you noticed a particular painting—two lovers standing close, gazing at each other with love. The two figures in the painting seemed to smirk at you, their eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.

A wave of warmth spread over you, and before you could even think, your face flushed, the embarrassment catching you off guard. You quickly looked away, focusing on the stone floor beneath your feet, trying to hide your blush. That’s when your gaze inadvertently lifted up, and you found yourself looking at Sunghoon.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but you couldn’t help it. His side profile was so striking, every feature seeming perfectly sculpted in the low light of the hallway. His sharp jawline was defined, the angle of it so perfect it almost looked like something out of a painting itself. His nose—straight and sharp—seemed to fit his face so well. You could see the faint moles on his skin, scattered along his otherwise perfect pale skin. His dark hair, messy but somehow perfect, fell effortlessly over his forehead, and the way it framed his face made everything about him seem even more… intense.

But it was his eyes that captivated you the most. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, you could feel them—those eyes that were usually so guarded, now more thoughtful.

When you reached the entrance to your common room, you stopped, both of you hesitant for just a second. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, you looked up at him again, your gaze lingering on his face.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon nodded, and for a moment, neither of you moved. He hesitated before giving you a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice softer than usual, almost unsure.

You tossed and turned in your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, the restless whispers of your bedmates’ snores filling the silence of the dormitory. Despite the rhythmic sound of their breathing, it only seemed to make everything feel more stifling. The night stretched on far too long, the weight of your thoughts keeping you wide awake. No matter how you shifted, how many times you tried to find a comfortable position, sleep refused to come.

It was late. Too late. You should be asleep, but every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts came back, chasing you into a wakefulness that felt almost unbearable. You groaned softly, rubbing your face with both hands.

Sighing in frustration, you finally gave up. With a groan, you sat up, blinking in the dim light that filtered in from the window. You glanced around at your sleeping bedmates, none of them aware of your restlessness. The soft, sleepy murmurs of their dreams only made the weight of your own thoughts feel heavier. You needed to get out.

Quietly, you slipped your legs off the bed and padded across the floor in your slippers. You grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair and threw it on over your pyjamas, the fabric slightly chilly against your skin. Your wand was a comforting weight in your hand as you whispered the slightest incantation under your breath. The quiet "Lumos" from your wand’s tip provided a faint light, just enough to guide your way.

The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet, bathed in shadow, save for the faint glow of your wand. You moved carefully, keeping your footsteps light, aware of the potential danger of being caught. You didn’t want to risk Filch or Mrs. Norris spotting you, so you kept your senses heightened. If you saw anyone, you'd be ready to cast the Disillusionment Charm in an instant, blending into the shadows before they could even register your presence.

Before long, you reached your destination—the Astronomy Tower. You could already feel the calming presence of the stars, even from the base of the tower. You hurried up the winding stairs, each step taking you closer to the quiet peace of the tower. Your breath quickened as you climbed. When you reached the top, you pushed open the door to the tower and stepped out into the cool night air.

The stars twinkled above you, scattered across the sky like diamonds scattered on velvet. The moon hung high and bright, casting a silvery glow over the castle. The familiar peace settled over you, the noise in your head beginning to fade as you stood there, gazing out at the endless night.

As you stood there in the quiet, the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you pulled your attention away from the stars. You instinctively gripped your wand, the spell already forming in your mind, but before you could cast it, a familiar voice rang out, low and quiet, but unmistakable.

“Well, well, didn’t expect to see you here.”

You turned quickly, your heart racing, and found Sunghoon standing just a few feet away. His presence felt like a sudden shift in the air, his gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet steady. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

“What are you doing here?” You tried to sound casual, but your pulse quickened. You had been hoping for solitude, not the unexpected company of someone who seemed to occupy so much space in your mind lately.

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way that made you feel as though he was always observing, always calculating. “Same reason as you, I suspect. Couldn’t sleep.” He took a step closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. “The stars have a way of making everything… quieter, don’t they?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to make small talk or let the silence stretch on.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to sneak out at night,” he added, his voice taking on that teasing tone you were so familiar with.

“I’m not usually,” you replied, though the words felt a little less convincing now. “Just… needed some air. Some time away from everything.”

“Everything?” Sunghoon echoed, his eyebrow raising slightly. “Including me?”

You froze, unsure how to answer, but before you could say anything, he was already standing next to you.

You turned your attention back to the stars, unable to meet his gaze. “No, not you,” you murmured quietly, almost reflexively. “I just… don’t know how to sort all of this out.”

Sunghoon was silent for a beat, then spoke again, his voice softer now, a touch more serious. “You know, you don’t have to figure everything out all at once.”

You met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn’t see a challenge there. “I don’t know if I want to figure it out,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into that familiar smirk, but this time, it was different. There was no teasing edge, just the soft hint of understanding. “Fair enough.”

You exhaled slowly, considering his words.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice almost thoughtful, “I’ve seen you up here before, on some nights.”

You blinked, surprised. “You have?”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving the stars. “Sometimes. I didn’t want to disturb you, though. You looked… peaceful.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that you weren’t sure if you had imagined it. He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he was sitting down on the cold stone floor of the tower, his legs crossed as he looked up at the sky.

You hesitated for a moment, then joined him, sitting a few inches away.

After a long silence, you broke the silence, your voice almost soft. “The stars look beautiful, don’t they?”

Sunghoon glanced at you, but instead of following your gaze to the sky, his eyes lingered on you for a moment. “Yeah,” he agreed. “They are.” His gaze lingered a moment longer.

He never really looked at the night sky at all.

History of Magic class had never been your favorite, but this particular day, you were running late, thanks to a rather inconvenient staircase that decided to shift just as you were climbing it. You had narrowly avoided tripping, but it had definitely delayed your arrival to class.

You stepped into the classroom with a quiet sigh of relief, thankful that Professor Binns was, as usual, sound asleep, floating behind his desk in his usual ethereal state.

Your eyes scanned the classroom for an empty seat, your gaze flicking from student to student until you caught sight of Sunghoon. He was sitting a few rows ahead, his expression calm, though his eyes subtly flickered toward you. He gave you a slight nod and a small gesture with his hand, silently urging you to sit beside him.

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to join him. As you made your way toward him, you felt the weight of your bag on your shoulder, wondering if you’d packed something extra this morning. You dropped into the seat beside him and set your bag down with a sigh.

But as you opened it to grab your notes, you immediately gasped, shocked. There was something extra in there that you hadn’t packed—something that wasn’t supposed to be in your bag. You quickly shut it again, looking around nervously, but fortunately, no one seemed to be paying attention. Most of the class was too busy chatting or goofing off to notice.

Sunghoon, noticing your surprise, raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s wrong?”

You nudged the bag toward him, a questioning look in your eyes. He tilted his head, curious, and then leaned in slightly. Without saying anything, he reached over and opened your bag. When his eyes met yours again, his expression mirrored your own surprise, and he quickly closed it, his eyebrows shooting up in shock.

“What the hell?” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed.

You both kept your voices low, trying to keep the situation between just the two of you. Sunghoon passed you his notes for the rest of the class, a wordless agreement to focus on the task at hand.

By the time Professor Binns finally stirred, slowly waking from his nap, you were practically ready to bolt out of the classroom. Sunghoon, too, had packed up quickly, his eyes flickering over to you as if he shared your urgency.

The moment Binns waved you off with a disinterested dismissal, you were out of your seat in an instant, clutching your bag tightly to your side. Sunghoon followed after you, his footsteps quick and light as he kept pace beside you. The two of you slipped into an empty classroom just down the hall. You quickly shut the door behind you, and Sunghoon locked it, his eyes flicking back to you, unsure of what was about to happen.

You didn’t waste any time. You set your bag on a nearby table and opened it again, and as you reached inside, your fingers brushed against something warm and soft—and then, with a slight tug, you pulled out Spark, the little Niffler, who immediately clung to you with his tiny paws.

You couldn’t help but laugh in surprise as Spark squirmed in your grip, his shiny black eyes gleaming as he wriggled in your arms, his pouch clearly overflowing. “That’s why my bag was so heavy!” you exclaimed in disbelief, shaking your head. “I thought I packed an extra book! How did you sneak in there, little guy?”

Spark tried twisting around in your arms, desperate to get away, but you held him tightly, trying to keep him under control. He was practically a bundle of energy, clearly pleased with himself after whatever little heist he’d gone on.

Sunghoon watched you both for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “How did he even get away from Hagrid?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Nifflers are tricky,” you said, your smile growing as you felt Spark nuzzle against you, clearly satisfied with his haul.

“I imagine Hagrid’s going to be missing something when he realizes.” Sunghoon said, his tone slightly teasing.

“I’ll return whatever he stole,” you said, a little exasperated, but the fondness for the mischievous creature clear in your voice. “If I can ever get him to give it back.”

Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on Spark for a moment longer before he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Only you could have a Niffler hiding in your bag during school.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Well, I don’t make it easy for myself, do I?”

Sunghoon let out a soft laugh, his gaze still fixed on Spark "Definitely not," he said, a teasing tone slipping into his voice.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at the way he looked at you. You adjusted your grip on Spark, who had decided that now was the perfect time to try and escape, wiggling energetically.

"Okay, okay," you said, giving up trying to keep him still. "You win. You can go play, but if you steal anything else, I’m telling Hagrid." Spark let out a small chirp as he scurried off your lap and darted toward a stack of books in the corner of the room, clearly on the hunt for more shiny objects.

Sunghoon’s chuckle faded as he looked over at you, his eyes a little more thoughtful now. "You’ve got a lot going on, huh?" he asked, his voice soft, almost as if he was just realizing something he hadn’t thought about before.

You cut him off with a playful shrug. "It’s nothing I can’t handle," you said, your tone light. "Besides, I’ve got good company to help me through it." You flashed him a grin, hoping to keep things light.

Sunghoon’s eyes softened, his lips curving into a small smile. For a moment, he just looked at you, but before either of you could say anything more, Spark returned with what looked like a shiny button in his mouth, clearly pleased with his new find.

Sunghoon glanced at Spark, then back at you, his expression amused but still thoughtful. "I think you’re more like him than you realize," he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "Getting into trouble, but always figuring it out somehow."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his words. "I wouldn’t say I’m that bad."

He shrugged nonchalantly, his smile lingering. "Maybe not. But you definitely keep things interesting."

Eventually, Spark seemed to grow bored of his treasure hunt and returned to your lap, curling up contentedly. You smiled down at him, your fingers absentmindedly petting his fluffy little head.

"Guess we should probably get back to studying," you said, your voice softer now, more relaxed.

Sunghoon nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Yeah, I suppose so."

You and Sunghoon made your way to the courtyard after packing up your things from the empty classroom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft golden light over the stone pathways. The courtyard was quiet, except for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant chatter of students who had finished their classes for the day. You found a quiet bench near the flowerbeds, your books spread out between you as you settled in to continue your study session.

As soon as you opened your notebook, the challenge began.

"So, what’s this about the Thunderbirds again?" Sunghoon asked, glancing at the page you were studying. "I’ve heard of them, but I’m not sure I get the whole thing."

You couldn’t help but smirk slightly, glad to have an advantage for once. "Thunderbirds are fascinating," you said, your voice animated as you leaned in a little closer to your notes. "They’re massive, magical birds that can summon storms with the beat of their wings. They’re native to North America and are known for being extremely elusive."

Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused smile. "Well, I already knew they could summon storms. But the elusive part? That’s new." He paused, then added, "So, what, they just hide all the time?"

"They’re incredibly protective of their nests," you continued, undeterred by his teasing. "They only show themselves to those they trust, and even then, it’s rare. That’s why spotting one is so special."

Sunghoon hummed thoughtfully, clearly intrigued, but then his gaze shifted to the open page of Defense Against the Dark Arts you had next to you. "Okay, okay. Enough with the Thunderbirds," he said, tapping the page lightly. "What about this spell here? Do you know how to counter the Inferius Charm? Because that’s actually something I’ve been working on in my spare time."

You paused, blinking a little at him. "Inferius Charm?" you asked, your brow furrowing as you tried to recall your lessons. "Isn’t that the one where you reanimate the dead?"

"Exactly," Sunghoon replied, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "It’s really tricky to deal with, but if you know the right counter-curse, you can stop them cold."

You thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I remember the counter-curse is Finite Incantatem, right? But it only works if the Inferius hasn’t fully gained control yet. Otherwise, you need something stronger, like Fiendfyre."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been reading ahead, haven’t you?"

You smiled, a bit smug. "I like to be prepared."

"Well, I can see that," he said, turning his attention back to his notes. "But let me tell you something you might not know," he added, leaning forward a bit. "A strong Patronus works too. It’s not something most people would think about, but the energy from a Patronus is enough to break the dark magic animating the Inferius."

You blinked, surprised. "That’s… that’s actually really clever."

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I don’t just look good, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was something about the way Sunghoon said it, so confidently, that made you smile. "I’ll give you credit, that’s pretty impressive."

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word. "But, you know, for someone who’s so good at Defense Against the Dark Arts," you teased, "you should really know that Fiendfyre is a dangerous last resort. It’s not something to throw around casually."

Sunghoon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I’ll admit it—I was showing off a little."

You both laughed, as you leaned back, taking a deep breath. It was nice, you realized, to have this kind of easy conversation with him.

The cool evening air brushed against your face as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the courtyard in a soft, dusky light. You and Sunghoon continued your quiet study session, each of you focused but every so often exchanging playful glances or little remarks.

You found yourself looking at him more often than you realized, noticing the way the fading light reflected in his dark eyes, how his sharp jawline seemed more defined in the soft glow of the evening.

"So, what’s your favorite magical creature?" Sunghoon asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence between you two.

You blinked, taken off guard by the question. "Favorite?" You thought for a moment, glancing at the magical creatures book on the table between you. "I think I’d have to go with Thestrals."

"Thestrals?" Sunghoon echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Isn’t that a bit dark for you?"

You smirked, tilting your head. "Not at all. They’re misunderstood creatures. They're associated with death, yes, but they’re also symbols of strength, resilience, and the importance of seeing the world for what it is."

Sunghoon seemed to pause for a moment, considering your words. "I get it," he said, his voice softening. "They're like the quiet ones that people forget about or are afraid of, but they're actually kind of… impressive."

You smiled, pleased he seemed to understand. "Exactly. They’re beautiful in their own way."

A comfortable silence stretched between you both after that, the air around you growing cooler as the evening progressed.

As you flipped through your notes, you heard him sigh, and when you looked up, his eyes were still on you.

"You’ve been pretty quiet about your personal life," Sunghoon said after a moment. His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. "What’s something people don’t know about you?"

You raised an eyebrow, half-suspicious and half-curious. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I’m just wondering," he replied, shrugging with a nonchalant smile. "You know everything about me—well, almost everything—so I thought maybe I’d ask you something personal."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You weren’t used to opening up about yourself like this, especially to someone who had been a bit of a puzzle to you until now.

"I guess," you started slowly, glancing down at your notes for a moment, "one thing people don’t know about me is that I actually really enjoy quiet moments like this. Everyone always thinks I’m outgoing, but I like being still. I like the peace."

Sunghoon watched you closely as you spoke, his expression softening. "That’s… kind of surprising," he said, almost as if he were contemplating your words. "But I get it. It’s nice to just… exist in the moment sometimes."

You simply nodded.

As weeks passed and the tension between you and Sunghoon grew, you found yourself wrestling with your thoughts more and more. The plan you’d concocted with Wooyoung had seemed like a good idea at the time—push Sunghoon into showing his feelings by making him jealous. But now, the thought of it made you uneasy. You had seen the signs in Sunghoon—his subtle glances, the way his attention shifted to you whenever you were around. But you realized you didn’t want to force him into a corner, didn’t want to pressure him into confessing if he wasn’t ready.

The truth was, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, just as you wanted to figure out your own feelings. But that didn’t make it any easier. Your heart raced every time he was near you, and your thoughts seemed to trip over themselves when you tried to sort out what you were feeling. You didn’t want to rush things, didn’t want to push him into something that wasn’t genuine, but you were also terrified of staying in this state of tension forever.

Wooyoung, of course, noticed the change immediately. His wide grin faltered when you told him you were cutting off the plan. "You’re really giving up on this, huh?" he asked, a little disappointment creeping into his voice. "I thought you were just waiting for the perfect moment."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I don’t want to force him into something, Wooyoung. I’m tired of all the games." You paused, the weight of your words sinking in. "I don’t even know if I’m ready to confess to him, let alone push him into it."

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, his usual teasing expression softening for once. "You’ve got a point," he admitted. "But you know, you’ve got this… tension. Like the two of you are on the verge of something, and neither of you wants to take that step. How long are you going to let that happen?"

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush. "I don’t know… I’m scared, Wooyoung. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if we mess everything up by saying the wrong thing?"

He watched you for a moment, his eyes softer than usual. "You’re not alone in that fear, you know? But if you never try, you’ll never know. Just… don’t overthink it."

It was advice that made sense, but the doubt still lingered. You had always prided yourself on being confident, on taking things head-on, but with Sunghoon, everything felt so much more complicated. It wasn’t just about your feelings for him—it was about everything else too. The quiet moments you shared, the unspoken tension, the way he made you feel when he was around. You didn’t want to risk losing all of that by moving too quickly or, even worse, by never moving at all.

And yet, the longer the silence stretched between you, the harder it became to ignore. There were times when you would catch Sunghoon glancing at you across the room, when you’d catch his gaze lingering just a moment too long. And each time, you wondered if he was feeling the same things you were.

The months passed, and the tension between you two only seemed to build. Neither of you had confessed, and yet there was this invisible thread that connected you. Every laugh, every glance, every conversation seemed to deepen the unspoken bond between you. You couldn’t tell whether it was a friendship or something more, but the ambiguity felt like a heavy weight.

You still didn’t know what the right choice was. And as the year went on, you found yourself questioning whether you had made the right decision. Should you have taken the leap? Should you have forced Sunghoon into confessing, just like Wooyoung had suggested? Or was your choice to wait, to let him figure it out on his own, the right one after all?

The cool night air wrapped around you as you sat cross-legged on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, your eyes tracing the constellations above. It was one of those nights when the stars seemed to shine brighter, when everything around you felt still and quiet, almost too perfect for the chaotic thoughts running through your mind.

Your focus shifted as you flicked your wand, turning a nearby stone into a delicate flower for only a second before it crumbled back into dust. Sighing, you leaned back, your hands behind you, as you stared up at the sky again, wondering if you would ever find the courage to move past the endless tension with Sunghoon.

Then, just as you had almost settled into the quiet peace of the night, you heard it—a familiar sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You’d recognized the pattern of his steps by now.

Sunghoon’s silhouette appeared at the entrance to the tower, framed by the moonlight streaming in behind him. His figure was tall and steady, his usual confident demeanor not quite as present as it usually was, as if he too had come here to clear his mind.

"You always seem to find your way up here," you said without turning around, your voice quieter than usual, betraying the tension you’d been feeling.

Sunghoon paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until they found you, sitting on the floor, and he walked over. “I could say the same about you,” he replied, his voice softer than it had been in a while. "What’s got you up here alone?"

You shrugged, unwilling to go into details. "Just needed a break," you said, keeping your gaze on the sky. "Thought some quiet would help me clear my head."

There was a silence between you two then, a gap that seemed too long, yet neither of you spoke up to fill it. Sunghoon finally sat beside you, a little closer than you’d expected, but not quite close enough to feel intrusive.

"Practicing spells again?" Sunghoon asked after a while, glancing at the objects around you.

You nodded. "Just keeping my skills sharp. You know how it is."

Sunghoon smirked, but it was softer than usual. "I thought you only did that when you were avoiding something."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the slight teasing tone in his voice, but you didn’t give him an answer right away. Instead, you bent down and flicked your wand again, turning a small rock into a sparkling butterfly. It fluttered around for a moment before landing gently in your palm, disappearing almost instantly. You felt a small sense of accomplishment, though it was fleeting.

Sunghoon watched you carefully, the hint of a smile still on his lips. He leaned back on his hands, settling beside you, his body warm despite the coolness of the night air.

Finally, Sunghoon broke the silence again, his voice more serious this time, a tone you weren’t used to hearing from him. "You know, you don’t have to pretend with me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to face him. His eyes met yours, the usual smirk gone.

“I’m not pretending,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

He shifted closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don’t have to hide from me," he repeated, his voice softer now, with a touch of concern, or maybe something else. "I’m not like the others. You can talk to me, you know."

You were almost caught off guard by his words. Your heart raced, and your mind scrambled for something to say, something to break the sudden weight of the moment. But all you could do was stare at him, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough to make him lean in closer, his gaze softening.

"Yeah?" he said, his breath a little more measured now, as if waiting for something.

But instead of answering, you simply shook your head, unable to find the words that felt right. Instead, you focused on the stars again, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

And Sunghoon, for once, didn’t push you. He simply sat there, his body close to yours, his presence familiar and comforting.

The night air was just as crisp as the night before when you found yourself back in the Astronomy Tower, sitting on the floor, gazing up at the stars. You had come up here again, hoping for some peace and quiet, needing to clear your mind, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was lingering in the air. You were starting to feel like the Astronomy Tower was becoming your place of refuge, even if the company had changed over the past few nights.

As you sat there, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching from behind. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Sunghoon stepped into view, holding a wizard chessboard under his arm, a smirk on his face as his eyes met yours.

“You’re here early tonight,” he said, his tone light but somehow teasing, his usual confidence already in full swing.

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth curving slightly upward. “And you’re late,” you shot back. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Thought we could mix it up tonight,” Sunghoon replied, setting the board down between you. "Wizard's chess."

You chuckled lightly at the idea. “You’re just trying to make this more interesting, aren’t you?”

Sunghoon grinned, shrugging. “Well, I figured it’d be more fun than just staring at the stars again.”

You didn’t argue. The quiet had been nice, but you couldn’t deny that a little challenge wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it was hard to say no when Sunghoon looked so determined to have a little fun.

With that, you both settled down and began setting up the board. It didn't take long for the first round to start. Sunghoon moved with surprising confidence, and it wasn't long before you were both deep into the game. The first round was over before you knew it—Sunghoon had won, and it seemed like he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you about it.

“Looks like I’m just better at this than you,” he said with a cocky grin, clearly pleased with his victory. “Better luck next time.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I’ll make sure to do better next round,” you shot back, your voice filled with mock determination.

The second round began, and you could already feel your competitive streak rising. This time, it was your turn to win, and as the last piece fell, you couldn’t help but smirk at Sunghoon.

“Not bad for a second round, huh?” you teased.

Sunghoon let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you that one. But I won’t make it easy next time.”

The third round began, and with it came a more intense back-and-forth. “You know, if you’d actually focus, maybe you’d have a chance at winning this round,” Sunghoon taunted, leaning forward as he eyed the pieces carefully.

You shot him a smirk, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m focused,” you replied with a wink. “I’m just letting you think you have the advantage.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly amused. “Right. I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

You both continued to play, the tension between you growing more palpable with each move.

“I have to say,” Sunghoon mused after a few more moves, “you’re actually pretty good at this. Maybe you’re not just good at charms and transfiguration.”

You smiled, proud of yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. But don’t get too cocky; I’m still winning.” Sunghoon simply chuckled as the game went on.

The final move had been made, and with a smirk, you leaned back triumphantly, knowing that you had won the third round. "Looks like I’m the champion now," you teased, grinning widely at Sunghoon.

He was sitting back, his posture slouched in defeat, but there was something about the way he pouted that made you laugh softly. His eyes were still on the chessboard, as if pretending to study his loss, but you could tell he wasn’t truly bothered by it.

"Aw, don’t be like that," you teased, your voice taking on a playful tone. “It’s just a game.”

Sunghoon stayed silent, not giving you the usual comeback. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the table, pretending to ignore you. You couldn’t resist the impulse to lean in.

As soon as you leaned in closer, though, his gaze flickered up to meet yours, and in an instant, everything shifted. Both of you froze, you were so close now that you could feel his breath mingling with yours, his eyes dark and intent as he locked onto you.

You were about to pull back, unsure of what was happening, but before you could move, Sunghoon’s hand shot up, his thumb and index finger gently cupping your chin. His touch was tender, almost possessive, as he leaned closer.

"Please… don’t pull back," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes fluttered between your eyes and your lips, clearly entranced by you, by the moment.

And then, before you could fully process what was happening, he closed the distance and kissed you. You widened your eyes in surprise, the shock of it stunning you for a brief moment, before you melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching out to grip his shirt.

It felt like time stopped. The world fell away, leaving only the feeling of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hand still holding your chin as he deepened the kiss.

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any closer, he suddenly moved, shifting beneath you with an ease that surprised you. In a swift motion, he pushed the chessboard aside, sending it tumbling to the floor, and then pulled you onto his lap, your thighs resting against his, while still kissing you deeply.

You gasped, the suddenness of it all catching you off guard. The shock made you stiffen, but Sunghoon only tightened his hold on you, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His kiss became more passionate, and before you knew it, his hand was tilting your head to deepen the kiss further.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless. You stayed there for a moment, your forehead resting against his, both of you just breathing in the air between you.

Sunghoon’s hand gently brushed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His eyes, now softer than before, locked onto yours.

“About time, don’t you think?” he whispered.

You smiled softly, the corners of your mouth turning upward in a genuine expression. “Yeah, I think so,” you replied, shifting slightly, finding a more comfortable position on his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His eyes never left yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. You melted into him, your body relaxing into the familiar embrace.

Sunghoon's hands moved to your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get close enough. His lips moved against yours, exploring, teasing, and demanding. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his neck, pulling him closer.

You could feel Sunghoon's breath against your lips, his chest rising and falling with each heavy exhale. You parted your lips, inviting him in further, and he took the opportunity, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. While your hands roamed freely, tracing the lines of his muscular back, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

When the kiss finally broke, you both were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Sunghoon's hand gently caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your lips. "I could do this forever," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You smiled, a contented smile, and leaned in for another kiss, Sunghoon's hands roamed freely, tracing the contours of your body with a gentle touch. Your own hands moved to his chest, feeling the strong, defined muscles beneath your palms.

Sunghoon's lips became more demanding, more insistent. His tongue traced the outline of your lips, teasing and inviting, before plunging into your mouth, exploring every corner.

You gasped softly into the kiss, your body responding to his every touch and movement.

When Sunghoon pulled back, his eyes never left yours. He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before leaning in and pressing soft kisses along your throat. You leaned your head back, offering him more room to explore, your eyes closed, savoring the sensation.

His kisses became more urgent, more demanding, as he traced a path down your throat, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy, his lips moving lower, sending shivers down your spine, his lips teasing and exploring. His lips left a trail of passionate marks on your skin. His hands tugged at the robes, pulling them down to expose more of your bare skin, his touch becoming more assertive.

As he mumbled against your skin, his words were a mix of jealousy and possessiveness. "Seeing you so close with Wooyoung was driving me insane," he growled, his voice low. "You're mine, know that. I can't stand seeing you with anyone else. You're my perfect match, the woman I want, the woman I need."

His kisses became more fervent, his hands roaming over your body. "You're the only one for me. I belong to you."

Sunghoon's kisses became more demanding, his lips pressing against your throat, his teeth grazing your skin. "I want you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with passion. "I need you. You're mine, and I'll show you just how much."

"I'll always be here for you. You're the only one who can make me feel this way." His eyes locked with yours, a smile played on his lips. You returned the gesture, your eyes sparkling with love.

Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, his touch gentle. He traced the lines of your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, as if memorizing every contour. "I love you," he whispered again, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You're the only one for me. I can't imagine my life without you."

You gazed into his eyes, feeling your heart race as his words sank deep into your soul. A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you cupped his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb over his skin. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you murmured softly. "You're everything to me."

The next morning, everything felt different.

You were both quieter than usual, walking side by side down the corridors toward the Great Hall, you glanced at Sunghoon, his hand slipping into yours, fingers naturally intertwining as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His thumb gently brushed the back of your hand, a small but comforting gesture that made your heart flutter a little each time.

As you entered the Grand Hall together, the usual buzz of conversation seemed to dim, and all eyes were on you both.

You walked to the Ravenclaw table, your eyes scanning the room as people’s faces lit up with surprise and amusement. Some of your friends, like Wooyoung, gave you knowing smiles, while others were just as surprised as the rest of the students.

You sat down with Sunghoon, still holding hands under the table. He looked over at you, his expression soft and affectionate.

“Can you believe this?” you started, leaning toward Sunghoon as you started ranting, your voice low enough not to be overheard by the entire hall. “It feels like everything has been building up forever and then—boom! Suddenly everyone’s waiting for us to spill everything.”

Sunghoon listened attentively, a small smile tugging at his lips, his eyes never leaving you.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft but teasing, “I’m pretty sure everyone had bets on us getting together.”

You paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Wait, what? People bet on us?”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his hand still holding yours under the table. “Oh, yeah. You didn’t know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “We’re that obvious, huh?”

“Apparently,” he said, his smile widening, he gently nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes glinting with affection. Without even thinking, you leaned in and gave him a quick, soft peck on the lips, the sweet, gentle gesture drawing a few surprised gasps and murmurs from nearby students.

You pulled away, grinning as you glanced around the table. “Well, that’s one way to shut them up.”

Sunghoon’s grin matched yours, and he shook his head, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

Some students were staring at you both with wide eyes, while others exchanged knowing glances, happy to see the two of you together. You could hear a few whispers, some offering congratulations, others teasing.

As you ate, you caught sight of Wooyoung at the other end of the table, giving you a thumbs up and a wide grin, clearly excited for the two of you.

“I guess we’re official now, huh?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a little wonder.

Sunghoon nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah. Officially impossible to avoid.”

You laughed, leaning into his side for a moment before picking up your fork and continuing with your breakfast.

Wooyoung, of course, was the one who couldn't resist coming up to you at the given moment, a mischievous grin on his face. “I mean, I knew you two were perfect for each other. Now you have to admit I was right.” He dramatically threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked to class

You simply laughed, shaking your head.

The day of graduation arrived, and while the rest of the students was buzzing with excitement—filled with laughter and celebration—you found yourself slipping away from the crowded common room, seeking something more intimate, something quiet. You made your way up to the Astronomy Tower, the cool night air greeting you as you pushed open the door.

There, sitting by the edge of the tower, was Sunghoon, already waiting for you. His dark hair ruffled in the gentle breeze, and he looked so serene, so at peace in this moment that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him. He turned his head as you approached, his eyes softening with affection when they met yours. Without a word, he opened his arms, and you slid into them, resting your head on his shoulder as you both gazed out at the stars together.

After a while, Sunghoon shifted, reaching into his robes with a faint smile, and pulled out a neatly wrapped box. He handed it to you, his eyes warm and full of anticipation.

"I’ve been meaning to give you this," he murmured, his voice soft in the stillness of the night.

Carefully, you peeled away the paper, revealing a small, elegant box. The surface was silver, polished to a shine, and you could see hints of blue around the edges. You ran your fingers over it for a moment before slowly opening the lid.

When you saw what was inside, your breath caught in your throat.

Two clocks, side by side, each gleaming with silver on the outside and a deep, beautiful blue on the inside. Intricate stars were imprinted on the faces of the clocks, each marking the hours with delicate precision. But it wasn’t just the time they showed. Both clocks also had a compass on it—N, S, E, W—engraved in elegant script.

Sunghoon smiled softly as he watched your reaction, the warmth of his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “It’s for us,” he said quietly. "I wanted to give you something that would remind you of us.”

You stared at the clocks for a moment, overwhelmed by the gesture, before you looked up at him. “Sunghoon… this is…” You didn’t know how to express what you felt, the words stuck in your throat.

“Open it,” he said, motioning to the other clock. With a curious tilt of your head, you reached over and carefully opened the glass of the second clock. The moment you did, a soft golden light began to swirl out, slowly forming into a shape. You watched, transfixed, as the golden light took form and danced in the air, weaving together until it became the image of you and Sunghoon—dancing together, caught in an eternal waltz as a beautiful, melodic tune filled the space around you.

You gasped, your hand going to your mouth in surprise and wonder. It was perfect, beautiful in a way you never could have imagined. You glanced at Sunghoon, your eyes wide, and he smiled back at you, his eyes just as captivated.

He opened his own clock, and the same golden light poured out, swirling in the air before it also took shape, the same dance playing out for him as well. His gaze never wavered from you as the music continued to play from both the clocks.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart full as you looked up at Sunghoon. “This… this is beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Sunghoon’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand reaching to gently cup your face. “I wanted you to have something to remember me by, even when we’re apart,” he said, his voice full of meaning.

Before you could reply, you leaned in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. You felt him hold you back, his embrace warm and steady, the comfort you’d come to rely on. “I’ll never forget this,” you whispered, “I promise.”

The day of your departure arrived with a bittersweet air, the sky painted in soft pastels as dawn crept over the horizon. You stood on the edge of the dock, your packed bags at your feet, glancing back at the shore as you tried to memorize every detail of his face. Sunghoon stood before you, his expression torn between pride and sadness.

Sunghoon had just secured a permanent position at the Ministry—a rare opportunity. But you had your own opportunity, and the call for adventure had been tugging at you for as long as you could remember. You had already been offered a mission that would take you to distant lands and across oceans. It was everything you had always wanted.

Sunghoon’s hand lingered on your arm as he looked at you, his voice a quiet plea, “You really have to go?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. “I do,” you whispered, the words heavy with both excitement and sorrow. “But I’ll come back, Sunghoon. I promise.” Your voice wavered, but you steadied it with a smile, reaching to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Will you… wait for me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course I will,” he replied, his voice strong and certain, as though the very idea of waiting for you was as natural as breathing. His fingers wrapped around yours, his touch warm and grounding. “I’d wait as long as it takes. Just come back to me.”

You nodded, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. Then, his lips found yours in a kiss that held a hundred unspoken promises.

As the final boarding call echoed through the harbor, you reluctantly pulled back, whispering one last, “Goodbye, Sunghoon.”

He offered you a small, brave smile, and with a last squeeze of your hand, he let you go. You climbed onto the boat, joining the other passengers. As the vessel began to pull away from the dock, you stood by the railing, watching him grow smaller with each passing second. Sunghoon lifted his hand in a final wave, and you threw one back, watching as he brought his hand to his mouth and sent you a flying kiss, his eyes never leaving you.

You clutched the railing, feeling the sting of tears but forcing a smile, a mixture of sorrow and exhilaration filling your chest. As the boat carried you into the unknown, you kept your eyes on him until he was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Your days got filled with adventure, traveling through vast, uncharted landscapes, rescuing rare creatures, and studying them closely. You documented each discovery, scribbling notes about their behaviors and habitats. Alongside your journal of field notes, you kept a separate stack of parchment, devoted solely to letters for Sunghoon. Every new place held a piece of him in it, something you wanted to share, some wonder or funny moment that you could only imagine him smiling at.

And he always replied, his letters rich with life back home—updates from the Ministry, stories about mutual friends, and playful teases about your escapades. You looked forward to every letter, savoring the small glimpses of him through the familiar strokes of his handwriting, each one a reminder of the life and love waiting for you.

But one month, his letters stopped coming.

You brushed it off at first, thinking maybe he was just busy or that there was a delay in the postal owls. But when another month passed without a single word, a sense of worry began to settle in your chest. You sent him a new letter, keeping it light-hearted but laced with an unmistakable undertone of concern, hoping he’d notice and send some sort of reassuring response.

But again, nothing came.

With each passing day, the silence grew heavier, until every rustle of feathers outside your tent made your heart race, only to end in disappointment. As more weeks passed, you found yourself sending letters more frequently, each one shorter but more urgent, your worry gradually bleeding into your words.

The unease gnawed at you, your once joyful routine now tainted with an ever-present sense of dread. Every empty day brought more questions—was he hurt? Was he in trouble? Had something happened?

One quiet morning, as you were packing up your campsite nestled in the foothills of the Pyrenees, a Ministry owl swooped down through the trees, its wings stretched wide and a letter clutched tightly in its talons. You straightened up, brushing off a bit of dust as you reached out, and the owl settled onto your forearm with surprising patience. It offered the letter, a pristine parchment sealed with the unmistakable stamp of the Ministry of Magic.

Curious, you took it, feeling the weight of the thick, neatly folded paper as you broke the wax seal.

As you unfolded the letter, a few crisp lines of text caught your attention immediately.

“You are hereby requested to present yourself at the Ministry of Magic for a formal review and trial regarding the research conducted and documented during your travels.”

You read it once, then again, trying to piece together the intentions behind the message. A formal trial? For your research? The Ministry had always been aware of your work with magical creatures, especially since you regularly submitted reports to protect and conserve species that had been neglected. You’d even been granted clearance to travel beyond regulated zones, so why the sudden summons?

You hummed softly, contemplating the letter with a mix of curiosity and unease. It wasn’t every day the Ministry reached out with such formality, and it certainly wasn’t the usual tone you received from them.

You weren’t sure whether to be nervous, intrigued, or just plain confused. You’d spent so much of your time studying and protecting magical creatures, especially those forgotten by the wizarding world, that the thought of a trial for it felt… off. You had no idea why they’d be interested in you, but you were more than willing to go and see what they wanted.

Just as you were about to read it again, you felt a gentle push at your side. With a giggle, you turned and looked at the creature that had nudged you—Erebus, the Hebridean Black dragon you’d rescued some months ago. His large, dark eyes gleamed up at you, and you reached out instinctively to scratch under his chin. His scales shimmered in the late afternoon sun, and his powerful wings rustled with a slight shift, his massive form bending slightly to press against you affectionately.

"Hey, hey, buddy," you said with a soft laugh. "No need to get pushy, I see you there."

You knew full well that Erebus had grown attached to you ever since you had saved him. He was a creature that had been bound, tortured, and left to die in a dungeon before you found him. Healing him had been a challenge, but when you saw the life come back into his eyes, the pride of the dragon slowly awakening as he learned to trust again, it was worth it. Erebus wasn’t just a rescued creature—he was your companion, your friend. And he had stayed with you ever since.

You glanced at the letter again. "I’ve got to go to the Ministry, it seems. They're asking for me."

Erebus snorted at the letter, a cloud of smoke billowing from his nostrils. You coughed and waved the smoke away. "Okay, okay, I get it. Not exactly ideal, right?" You smiled, running a hand over his scales. "But I’m not sure how much of a choice I have."

You looked at the open sky, mentally preparing yourself for the journey ahead.

“Looks like our plans to get you home will have to wait,” you murmured, holding up the Ministry’s letter.

You quickly took out your wand, and with a swish, your camp, all your notes, and the little research station you had set up around you swirled into a tidy, compact form, sucked into your magically expanded suitcase. The suitcase, a nifty little thing inspired by none other than Newt Scamander himself, whose work had been a guiding light for you since your early days as a student. You hoped that one day, you’d be able to follow in his footsteps as a trusted protector of magical creatures.

It had become indispensable during your travels, allowing you to carry your work with you wherever you went. Erebus watched as the suitcase opened and the whirlwind of your belongings was sucked inside, his wings twitching in mild curiosity.

"Alright, buddy," you said with a soft smile, glancing at him. "Time to go home… for a bit."

Erebus made a low rumble and flapped his wings. His deep growl seemed almost resigned, but you could tell he didn’t mind. He had grown used to these travels with you. He flew up effortlessly, circling above your head a few times, before swooping down and slipping neatly into the suitcase as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

"Good boy," you said with a smile, and with a soft click, you closed the suitcase, feeling its weight shift in your hand.

With a deep breath, you started walking, leaving the small, once-familiar encampment behind.

You stepped into the bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic, clutching your suitcase tightly as you navigated the maze of witches, wizards, and magical beings bustling around you. The air was filled with the echoes of conversations, the hum of enchanted typewriters clattering away on desks, and the occasional whoosh of a fireplace activating, delivering someone in a puff of emerald flames.

Keeping a firm grip on your suitcase, you weaved your way through the crowd, nodding politely to a few familiar faces and doing your best to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might delay you. When you reached the elevators, the gate clanged open, and you stepped inside.

A house-elf stood on tiptoes near the control panel, staring up at you with large, curious eyes. “Which floor, miss?”

“Level Ten, please,” you replied, your voice steady despite the knot of anticipation tightening in your stomach.

The elf pressed a large, brass button marked with the number "10." The elevator jolted, and you gripped the suitcase handle a little tighter as the floors began to blur past, each accompanied by a soft chime.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator slowed and came to a halt. The house-elf opened the gate, giving you an encouraging nod. You stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit hallway, your footsteps echoing as you moved. You walked up to a high desk where a stern-looking goblin sat, peering over a thick ledger with tiny, round spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He glanced up as you approached, his sharp eyes narrowing with curiosity as he took in your travel-worn appearance.

“What business do you have here?” he asked, his voice clipped but not unkind.

“I received a letter from the Ministry,” you said, pulling the official notice from your coat pocket and holding it up. “There’s a trial regarding my research.”

The goblin took the letter, inspecting it with a keen eye before nodding curtly. He flipped through a hefty stack of parchment, his long, nimble fingers moving quickly as he scanned each page. Finally, he gave a satisfied grunt and pushed the letter back toward you.

“Please have a seat,” he instructed, nodding toward a row of chairs against the wall. “Someone will come to escort you shortly.”

You thanked him and moved over to the chairs, your suitcase resting against your legs.

You had been sitting quietly in the waiting area, your thoughts whirling, when you saw Jungwon approaching. You recognized him immediately — a Gryffindor from your years at Hogwarts, though you never had much of a chance to get to know him personally. His warm smile caught you off guard, and you blinked as he stopped in front of you, his eyes twinkling with recognition.

"Hey," he greeted, his tone light and friendly. "Please, follow me."

You nodded, standing up as you grabbed your suitcase and followed him down the hall.

“So, how have you been?” Jungwon asked casually, casting a glance over his shoulder as you walked beside him. "It's been a while since Hogwarts, huh?"

You hummed in agreement, trying to place him better. You'd seen him around, but your interactions had always been limited. He was close to Sunghoon, wasn’t he?

“I’ve been well,” you answered, pulling your thoughts together as you walked, eyes flicking to the side. “So, uh… what’s this trial about?”

Jungwon shrugged nonchalantly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Honestly, I’m not really sure. Ministry business, you know?”

Your curiosity couldn’t be quelled, though. “What about Sunghoon? How is he?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

Jungwon froze mid-step, and you followed his lead, watching as he turned to face you. His expression shifted, no longer the light, easygoing one he had worn just moments before. There was a sadness in his eyes, a quiet heaviness that you hadn’t anticipated.

For a moment, he seemed reluctant to answer, then he sighed. “Sunghoon’s… well. I mean, he’s okay. But,” he paused, studying your face carefully, “he found someone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. “What?” The word felt foreign coming from your mouth, like a punch that left you stunned. “He… moved on?”

Jungwon nodded slowly, a faint frown tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A few weeks ago, actually. Sunghoon became… really different. Quiet, withdrawn. Wouldn’t speak much, and then, out of nowhere, he started showing up with Ju-Won. She’s an Auror too, like him. They’re together now. They’re engaged.”

Your chest felt tight, the air suddenly thicker as a lump formed in your throat. Sunghoon had promised. He had promised to wait for you. But here he was, with someone else. A fiancee.

You looked down at the floor, blinking rapidly to clear the stinging sensation behind your eyes. The room felt smaller, like you were suffocating, and you couldn’t understand why the weight of this hurt so much. You hadn’t expected Sunghoon to wait forever, but you didn’t think he’d let go so easily.

Jungwon shifted uncomfortably, noticing the change in your expression, but he didn’t press the issue further.

You felt numb as you followed Jungwon down the long corridor, his words echoing painfully in your mind. Sunghoon… had found someone else? You struggled to maintain your composure as Jungwon walked beside you, keeping a respectful silence.

He eventually stopped in front of a tall, polished door. “This is where they’ll be holding your trial,” he said gently. “You’ll be called in shortly.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Jungwon hesitated for a moment, studying you with quiet sympathy. It felt like he wanted to say something, perhaps offer some kind of comfort, but he seemed to decide against it, only giving you a slight nod before stepping into the room to take his place. You were left alone in the dimly lit hallway, your heart pounding. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the present. Whatever happened with Sunghoon, you would face it later. For now, you had a duty to the creatures you’d studied.

The door opened again, and an official leaned out to call you in. You squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and stepped through the doorway.

The room was silent as you entered, only the shuffling of your footsteps echoing off the cold, stone walls. You took a seat in the lone chair positioned in the center of the room, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes on you. Around you sat a panel of stern-faced Aurors, their expressions unreadable, though a few cast glances at one another as you settled in.

A head Auror, an older witch with sharp eyes and a set jaw, leaned forward. “We’ve received reports about your research,” she began, her voice crisp. “Could you give us an update on the… progress?”

You took a steadying breath and sat up straighter, the words flowing more easily than you expected. "I’ve made significant strides. I’ve been able to identify new species and create methods for safely caring for previously misunderstood creatures. I've also created healing treatments for certain species that were previously unmedicated." You shifted uncomfortably, but you managed to keep your voice steady.

Then came the dreaded question. “And have you rescued any creatures considered… dangerous?” another Auror asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Not dangerous if treated with respect,” you replied slowly, though you could feel their eyes narrowing, their skepticism deepening. The more you spoke, the more their expressions tightened.

After you finished, the lead Auror exchanged a glance with her colleagues before turning back to you. “You must understand, there are serious concerns about the dangers of these creatures. The potential for harm — not only to yourself but to others — is considerable.”

Another Auror stood, arms crossed, his voice dismissive. "You expect us to believe that every dangerous creature can be domesticated, tamed even? You do realize some of them are classified as too hazardous for interaction with the public?"

You met his gaze, trying not to show how much it rattled you. "My research shows that with the right methods, creatures like the Hungarian Horntail or the Manticore can be approached safely. I've helped them—rescued them—from illegal situations, from being exploited and misused." You said firmly.

"They're not dangerous if treated properly. With the right care, understanding, and respect, any creature can be manageable." You said earnestly, hoping they could see your perspective. “The true danger lies in the lack of understanding—”

But your words were cut short as she raised a hand, her tone turning icy. “Regardless, we cannot ignore the potential risks. Until further investigation is completed, you will be placed in custody for the time being.”

Before you could fully register her words, two wizards stepped forward, their expressions unyielding. One reached for your suitcase, wrenching it from your grasp, while the other grabbed your arms, twisting them behind your back. "Let go!" you shouted, trying to twist away, but the grip on your arms only tightened.

"We have our orders," the Auror said coldly, his face stoic as the other wizard snatched your wand away.

"No, please," you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. "I’m not a threat. They’re not a threat! Please, don’t hurt them!"

The Auror didn’t respond, and you felt the heavy presence of the two men as they dragged you from the room, your footsteps stumbling as they led you down the cold stone corridors. They escorted you to a small cell, shoving you inside before locking the heavy iron door with a dull clang.

You sank to the floor, the cold seeping into your bones as the reality of the situation settled over you. The Ministry was truly going to investigate your work, your methods, your intentions — as if you were some criminal. As if the creatures you loved and fought for were merely threats, rather than lives in need of protection.

As you pressed your back against the wall, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down, a tiny warmth stirred in the pocket of your shirt. You looked down and saw Kai, your small fire salamander, peeking out with his bright eyes, looking up at you with a gentle curiosity.

Gently, you cupped him in your hands, letting him sit on your palm as he looked around, with a small, trembling smile, you whispered, “Guess it’s just us for now, Kai.”

You gently placed Kai down on the stone floor, the warmth of his small body still lingering in your hands. You rummaged through your pockets, searching for something that could help, anything that would make sense of the mess you found yourself in. Herbs, a magnifying glass, food for creatures, parchment, ink—nothing useful.

As you sighed and leaned down, when a small fluttering noise caught your attention. Lena, your tiny pixie, had emerged from under your coat and was now fluttering around the cell, her tiny wings flapping excitedly. She squeaked, the sound high-pitched and curious as she zipped around the dim space. You smiled faintly at the sight of her, but your thoughts were too heavy to focus on her antics for long.

Your fingers brushed the cool edges of your pockets until something caught on the fabric. For a moment, you thought it was just some misplaced trinket, but as you pulled it out and saw its familiar shape, your breath hitched.

It was the clock that Sunghoon had gifted you at graduation, still in pristine condition despite everything. You had almost forgotten about it—thinking it misplaced, or perhaps stolen by one of the nifflers in your suitcase. But there it was. The clock.

You ran your fingers over the intricate silver design, the blue inner face still shimmering under the dim light. With a shaky breath, you slowly opened the glass. A soft golden light began to swirl from the clock’s center, and you froze, mesmerized by the familiar vision of you and Sunghoon dancing—just as it had been when you first opened it. The music filled the cell softly, the melody so beautiful and haunting, it almost felt like he was here with you.

Kai curled up beside you, his flame-like body flickering faintly in the dim light. Lena hovered just above your head, watching the clock with curious eyes. You took a deep breath, closing the glass gently, the music fading as you sealed it shut.

But then, unexpectedly, the music played again.

This time, it wasn’t your melody. The sweet, familiar tune was still there, but it felt different. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could process the strangeness of it, Kai’s small squeak interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, and what you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

There, standing on the other side of the bars, was Sunghoon, holding his own clock in his hand, the same golden light flickering from it.

"Sunghoon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, a wave of relief rushing over you, followed by a knot in your throat as you realized he was here.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening, though they weren’t as warm as you remembered. There was something different in them, something you couldn’t quite place. He closed the clock with a decisive motion and met your eyes.

"You’re… okay?" you asked quietly, your heart pounding in your chest as you walked closer to the bars, your hands reaching out instinctively.

"I’m fine," he said, his voice calm but distant. "But you—what happened? Why are you here?"

You tried to explain, your words stumbling out as you told him everything—how you had been summoned by the Ministry, how they had misunderstood your work, how they’d locked you away. You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten as you spoke, but he didn’t interrupt.

When you finished, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing at your mind ever since you’d seen him. "Sunghoon, what happened? Why didn’t you answer my letters? I… I sent so many. Why didn’t you—"

He turned away for a moment, running a hand through his hair. You could see the conflict in his movements, the hesitation, and for a brief second, your heart dropped. It was as if he was trying to find the right words. "I… I waited for you," he finally said, his voice soft, almost too soft. "I waited, but you never came back. I kept writing, but I didn’t hear from you."

You felt a tightness in your chest as you processed his words. "What do you mean? I sent you letters, Sunghoon! I didn’t stop writing! How could you not know?" you asked, your voice rising slightly.

He looked back at you, his face confused. "I don’t know. I thought you just… didn’t come back. Didn’t answer. Then, my parents…" He trailed off, clearly struggling. "They found Ju-Won for me. I—I didn’t know what to do. And then Jungwon came to me after the trial. He told me about you being here, and I couldn’t believe it."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Ju-Won?" you whispered, the name like an icy hand on your heart.

He shook his head slowly. "I never wanted this. But I thought… maybe you had moved on, that you weren’t coming back." His voice cracked just slightly.

You looked at him, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. "No, Sunghoon… I never… I never moved on. I sent you letters because I was coming back for you, I was always coming back."

Sunghoon’s expression shifted, a quiet realization flickering across his features. He took a step forward, his hand trembling slightly before he reached out to gently caress your cheek. The touch was so soft, so tender, that it almost felt like a dream.

“You’re still as beautiful as the day you left…” His voice was low, his words barely more than a whisper, but they cut through the heavy silence between you two, settling in your heart like a soft ache.

A stray tear slipped from your eye, and you didn’t even realize it had fallen until Sunghoon gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said, his voice firm now. "I promise, I’ll get you out of here."

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your heart felt torn, as if it was caught between the relief of seeing Sunghoon again and the panic of the mess you were in. "Please, Sunghoon… don’t let anyone harm my creatures."

He nodded, his gaze softening as he promised, "I won’t let them touch your creatures. I’ll take care of everything."

Then, to your surprise, he took your hand and kissed it softly, the warm pressure of his lips lingering for a brief moment. "I’ll be back soon. Stay safe, okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words as he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading, leaving you alone in the cold cell once again.

You sat back down against the cold stone wall, the silence of the prison pressing in on you.

Kai curled up on your lap, his warmth a small comfort amidst the uncertainty. Lena hovered nearby, her small face full of concern.

You didn’t know what to do now but wait and hope—hope that Sunghoon could undo the mess, that your creatures would remain safe.

After what felt like endless hours, you finally heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. Jungwon appeared at the cell door, a familiar reassuring smile on his face as he unlocked the door and motioned for you to follow. You stood up, heart pounding, and fell into step beside him.

“What happened?” you asked, searching his expression for answers, but he only gave you a gentle smile.

“Come with me,” he said simply, guiding you back through the winding halls of the Ministry to the trial room. The familiar sight of the council waited for you, but this time, the atmosphere was far less severe. You sat down in the chair at the center, your heart hammering in your chest, and looked up at the head Auror as he cleared his throat.

"We’d like to extend our apologies. We received a tip that you were harboring magical creatures with intent to use them against the Ministry," he explained. "After thorough investigation, however, we've concluded that the tip was unfounded. We see now that you only meant to help the creatures in your care."

A wave of relief washed over you, and a smile broke across your face as the head Auror nodded, officially releasing you as innocent. Jungwon stepped forward, his own smile widening, and handed you back your wand. You clasped it tightly, feeling a sense of calm return now that it was back in your hands.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “What about my creatures? Where are they?”

"Follow me," Jungwon said, his tone lighter now. He led you down a quiet corridor, explaining as you went, "Sunghoon took them under his care. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep them safe."

You sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Finally, Jungwon stopped in front of a door, pushed it open, and gestured for you to enter.

Inside, Sunghoon stood by a desk, his expression tense, and his brows knit together in a rare display of anger. He looked up when he heard you enter, his expression softening, though a hint of frustration remained.

“Sunghoon… what happened?” you asked gently, stepping closer to him.

He clenched his jaw before answering, “It was my parents. They were behind everything.” His voice was low, controlled, but you could sense the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “They hid your letters from me. They sent the tip to the Ministry to have you arrested. And they set me up with Ju-won to… try to make me forget you.”

The revelation hit you like a cold wave. You shook your head, barely able to process the extent of what he was saying. "Your parents did all of that?"

Sunghoon nodded, his eyes searching yours. “They wanted me to move on, to find someone ‘suitable’—someone who fit their idea of a perfect match for me.” He took a shaky breath, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned to you. “I'm so sorry… I should have fought harder, questioned things more. I should have known something wasn’t right.”

You stepped forward, reaching for his hand, holding it tightly. “None of this is your fault, Sunghoon. You didn’t know, and neither did I.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing over your hand as he held it, and his expression softened. "I promise, I won’t let anyone keep us apart again." Sunghoon sighed, his eyes hardening as he pulled off the engagement ring, placing it on the desk without a second glance. He turned to you, a reassuring smile replacing the coldness from a moment ago, and handed over your suitcase.

You exhaled a breath of relief, hugging the suitcase close to your chest. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon said with a gentle smile, his hand resting protectively on your back as he guided you out. As you walked, you shared stories about the magical creatures you’d encountered on your travels, and he recounted a few of his more daring Auror missions.

But then, a sudden scream echoed down the corridor. You both turned to see a striking witch with dark hair and a sharp, furious expression storming toward you. Sunghoon’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you close.

“Sunghoon, how dare you!” she spat, her voice venomous. “You broke off our engagement for… for her?” She glared at you, eyes filled with barely contained rage. Her voice turned shrill as she pointed a finger in your face. “Do you know what you’ve cost me? The riches, the influence, the Park name—it was all right there!”

You slapped her hand away, your own anger flaring as you met her gaze unflinchingly. “Maybe you should’ve focused on him instead of what he could give you.”

Ju-won’s face twisted in rage, and you saw her hand rise, ready to strike you. But before she could even get close, Lena darted out of your pocket in a flash of blue light. The little pixie squeaked angrily, grabbing a fistful of Ju-won’s hair and tugging with surprising strength.

Ju-won shrieked, swatting at Lena in a desperate attempt to free herself, but Lena only pulled harder, her squeaks of defiance echoing in the hall. The few Ministry workers nearby stopped, eyes wide, as they took in the scene with shock.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Ju-won screeched, struggling against Lena’s relentless hold.

At last, with a little triumphant squeak, Lena released Ju-won’s hair and zoomed back to you, settling into your shoulder pocket. Ju-won stumbled back, face red with fury and humiliation, her hair in complete disarray.

Ju-won’s face twisted with fury when she suddenly pulled out two clocks from her pocket, dangling them from the strings with a victorious grin. “Oh, I will not be cast aside like this!” she spat, voice rising with a venomous edge. “You think you can have everything, don’t you?” she sneered. “Well, let’s see how it feels when something you want is taken from you.”

Both you and Sunghoon stiffened, the realization hitting like a punch to the gut. You immediately began patting yourself down, confirming what you feared—the clock was missing. She stole them. The heavy weight of anger settled over you as you watched her mockingly dangle them in the air.

“Ju-won. Give them back, now.” Sunghoon’s voice was low and commanding, each word sharp with fury.

You stepped forward, frustration bubbling inside you. “Those belong to us. You have no right to take them.”

“No!” Ju-won shouted, clutching the clocks tightly in her fists. With a spiteful glare, she spun around and hurled the clocks toward the nearest fireplace. The green flames of the Floo Network flared up, threatening to consume them.

Your wand was halfway out of your pocket, ready to cast Accio, but before you could speak, a familiar, small, furry figure leapt through the air. With nimble agility, a niffler intercepted the clocks mid-flight, snatching them away from the flames and landing safely on the floor.

The niffler scurried over to Sunghoon, who leaned down, carefully taking both clocks from its little paws. He gave the creature an affectionate pat. “Thank you, Spark.”

Spark beamed up at you, his eyes shining with the same mischievous glint they had from back at Hogwarts. He darted over to you, leaping up into your arms, and you caught him, laughing. “Hey, long time no see, buddy!”

Ju-won’s face twisted in disbelief as Sunghoon straightened, his eyes fierce. He addressed her with a calm authority that made her shrink back. “Ju-won, what you did today only shows that you don’t belong here,” he said, his voice low and unyielding. He leaned in, murmuring something sharp and private into her ear that made her face go pale.

With a final huff, Ju-won spun on her heel, face flushed with humiliation as she hurried away, avoiding the gazes of everyone around.

Afterwards Sunghoon led you toward a nearby fireplace with a small smile, gesturing for you to step in. Together, you went through the Floo Network, the swirling green flames transporting you both to a room that was both luxurious and filled with a sense of calm.

“Welcome to my room,” he said with a soft smile.

You looked around, taking in the warmth of the space. “I can’t believe Spark stayed with you all this time,” you said.

Sunghoon chuckled, “I could never let him go. He’s been a great companion. Right, Spark?”

Spark squeaked in response to that. “Would you like to meet some other nifflers, Spark?” You asked and watched as his eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly. You laughed, reaching for your suitcase and opening it on the floor. Climbing down into it, you looked back up and beckoned to Sunghoon. “Come on in!”

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, but curiosity won over, and he followed you. Inside, you led him through various sections of your enchanted suitcase, each with unique landscapes and ecosystems for the creatures you cared for. Sunghoon looked around, marveling at the sheer life around him.

Eventually, you reached the area where you kept your nifflers. With a quick call, five of them scampered out, their fur shining under the magical light. Spark chirped in excitement and darted forward, joining his new friends. You straightened up, watching with amusement as Lena, flitted out of your pocket and disappeared somewhere in the terrain.

You turned to Sunghoon, catching the awe in his expression. Smiling, you took his hand, guiding him through the different environments until you stopped by a stone ledge. With a short whistle, you called out, and the ground trembled slightly. Emerging from a large cave opening, Erebus, lowered his head, scales glistening with an otherworldly sheen as he rumbled softly in greeting.

Sunghoon took a small step back, looking at Erebus with a mix of fear and awe. You laughed softly, reaching for his hand again. “It’s okay,” you said gently. “He trusts me, and he’ll trust you, too.”

Sunghoon looked at you, searching your eyes before nodding. Slowly, you guided his hand forward, placing it against the warm, textured scales under Erebus’s jaw. The dragon rumbled again, leaning slightly into Sunghoon’s hand, a deep, pleased purr vibrating through him.

“See?” you whispered, smiling as Sunghoon’s gaze softened in amazement.

Sunghoon kept his hand steady, glancing between you and the massive dragon before him. Erebus leaned further into his touch, his dark eyes half-closing in contentment. Sunghoon exhaled a quiet laugh, a mixture of relief and wonder.

"I never imagined I'd be doing this," he murmured, glancing at you with a warm smile. "You've always had a way with creatures."

You grinned, feeling a swell of pride. "Erebus is special. I rescued him from a terrible situation, and ever since, we’ve had this bond." You gave Erebus a gentle pat before he pulled back, lifting his great head and retreating into the shadows of his sanctuary.

As Erebus disappeared, you turned to face Sunghoon fully. The awe hadn't left his expression. "I can see why you love this work," he said softly. "I missed seeing this side of you."

A warmth blossomed in your chest. "I missed having someone who understood," you replied, voice just above a whisper. "I always wanted to share this with you."

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and without another word, he leaned in slowly, giving you time to close the remaining distance. The world seemed to fade as his lips met yours, gentle at first, then deepening as you both leaned into each other.

When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, but his forehead rested against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s you and me now, Sunghoon,” you whispered.

He nodded, his eyes sparkling as he took your hand. "Forever, if you’ll have me."

As you leaned up, pressing your lips against Sunghoon's, he responded with a passion that ignited a fire within you. His hand cupped your cheek, While his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of your warmth and presence.

As the kiss lingered, Sunghoon's hands moved down to your thighs, his fingers tracing the soft skin. He lifted you up gently, his strong arms supporting your weight, and placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, his touch becoming more assertive, more confident. He traced the lines of your waist, his fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

When the kiss broke, you both were breathless, your hearts pounding in your chests. Sunghoon's hand gently caressed your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your lips. "I want you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, his eyes filled with desire, caressing your legs, his touch gentle yet firm. His fingers traced the curves of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

His kisses became more intense, his lips moving from your neck to your collarbone, leaving a trail of passionate marks. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and lust. "I can't get enough of you." He came up to kiss you again. His lips met yours in a gentle, tender kiss. "You make me feel alive, like no one else ever has," he whispered against your lips, his voice hoarse with passion. "I'll always protect and cherish you." He murmured.

And as the kiss deepened, the sweet, familiar melody of your clocks began to chime, the golden swirls dancing out of their glass coverings on the table where Spark sat proudly, watching the scene unfold. The soft notes filled the room, adding a layer of warmth to your embrace, and you both smiled slightly against each other’s lips.

Sunghoon’s hand brushed along your cheek, wiping away the happy tears that had formed there. He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed out softly. His eyes were filled with love, a love that glowed even brighter than the melody around you. Sunghoon looked down at you, his gaze filled with warmth. He took a steadying breath before murmuring, “Would you make me the happiest wizard in the world by becoming mine…forever?”

Your heart raced, and without hesitation, you beamed up at him, feeling a happiness you hadn’t known could exist. “Yes, Sunghoon,” you replied, voice filled with joy. “A million times, yes.”

His smile broke into a brilliant grin, and before you knew it, he was sweeping you off your feet. You laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “You make me so, so happy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never stopped loving you, not even for a moment.”

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