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acourtofquestions · 4 months ago

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Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

#Chapter 57 #Kingdom of Ash #Sarah J. Maas #Rowan Whitethorn #Aelin Galathynius #Chaol Westfall #First Read along with me NO SPOILERS PLEASE though warning for post & tags up to KoA 57 & more reacts/notes/quotes in tags below #Why didnt it blaze-they burned her-afraid2ask-had Aelin allowed it?Maeve stole&knew-no1had been able to heal past it-how powerful had been #Thought to thought-Hadn’t been able to ask why-She’s afraid too-Noone else-She was out for weeks after-Couldn’t tell her-The marks stayed #Fierce pride-One people-Happy-Breathing-Proof-Chaol didn’t knowWhat he didn’t sayHe knew it was her-Of the wildfire-How could he ask that?#But what had happened?-Training nothing-where is it?Fenrys knew-They didn’t pry-But he saw-Cold Fear hatred bit at him-He said it for her #cause he felt it too-What that’s horrific-No one other then them Knew-that it was that bad-Couldn’t breathe yeah me too-The ice again #That scar held longer than any-And they tried-she tried-Nehemia quick no more cowards-She’d given up and Fenrys knew it Aelin had broken-#before itShe knew they would break herThat’s what that run wasNot one of saving but one of leaving-I won’t go-When she’s lost hope #focus on something else stop wondering-He’ll say it so she doesn’t have to-Let her come when she’s ready-thanks Fenrys-His attitude is fair #but also he knows-Part of why he’d loved her-Should’ve known when she won’t talk it’s something that brutal-Needing wanting her to know #&hear-A mark-She fed him ACOTAR mate style-Laughed4once-the4-Their team-mischief&lovely-every door makes me miss Mort #THE ARMOR AND SWORDS-He reminds-He defends-She’s got a plan-Gods he loved her-my lady-if only gods for hire-the waves of it #lol sorry Lorcy they didn’t fit the armor-what’s her plan?-they know but they know enough to let her do her thing-unreadable-that shield #Aelin what’s the plan babe?-golden-she knows how to make an enterance-It’ll be done shortly so they listened to a queen knowing she’s hidin #Power of a good speech lol-Whether hope remained or fractured-Primping-Break in plan-NO THE TOWERS #Aelin&The/her cadre Breath for battle not gods Something inspiring-You’ve got a pretty face lol-the power of their names-Holygodsliterally #The queen has come-A crown-No fear-Aelin Anielle armor no braid nothing burning-3 months of power storing-she knew what show they needed #love her or hate her the woman’s got style- Rowan babe this is war you can’t just ogle your wife lol-Still he watched her-she is the sun #The queen has come-For this-She was ready-To the queen-Grim unbreaking will-What she without magic could do-Nothing like her #So she would show them-To the people+A reminder;She has never been a helpless princessno lost queenno before anything #the one you want now The Queen of Assassins. The Prince Rowan at her side.Her cadre around her.They’d survive to tell the tale #&the people know it.Hope.How far from the assassin and the captain we’ve come.the right hand man.What about Elide?Her plan1by1 #Defiant not helpless dare I say she felt it too-Never againDeath her melody the one thing they all sharedHer never ending pursuit of Freedo #death her first friend the sun her first gift the question&answerAelins not using her power shes saving it for Maeve&gives that up for them

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nicholasluvbot · 6 months ago

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WE CALL IT LOVE ( H.TS )

( taesan in love > < ) fluff , down bad taesan , fem reader , not proofread and lowercase intended. 426 words. i actually have no idea what this is, just wanted to write something. this is very very self-indulgent btw <33 @onedoornet

taesan’s love for you isn’t loud or flashy; it’s in the quiet moments, the ones that often go unnoticed by others—even by you. it’s in the way he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear when the wind blows it across your face. it’s in the soft hum of his voice as he sings a familiar tune while cooking breakfast, stealing loving glances at you sitting at the counter with that sleepy smile he’s grown to adore so much. he could admire you for eternity.

he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re doing your hair. he loves how adorable you look when your lips are slightly parted, concentrating hard as your hair falls in perfect waves around your face. he smiles to himself when you complain about how you just can’t get the right side to look as good as the left one. he could watch you for hours as you doll up, sitting by the dressing table and watching you with that adoring smile, his eyes turning into little crescents.

taesan could write a hundred songs expressing his love for you and still have so much love that would remain unspoken, buried deep in his heart. he notices and reveres every little thing about you—how you idly doodle on your hand with a pout, or how you put on your already-tied shoes because you're too lazy to tie and untie them. though he always offers to help, he knows you’re too impatient to wait, always too eager to get going.

every time you laugh, he can’t help but join in, even if he doesn’t know what’s so funny. when you’re tired, he presses soft kisses on your cheeks and runs the pads of his thumb along your jaw, then pulls away to admire the shy smile on your lips and the pink hue on your face.

taesan often wonders when he fell so deeply and pathetically in love with you. was it during those quiet mornings when you sat across from him at breakfast, rambling about nothing in particular? or was it one of those moments when you teased him, your eyes sparkling with mischief? he can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but all he remembers is how, one morning before you left his place, you leaned in, your hand pressed against his chest, and kissed him long and sweet, like it was something you planned to do every day for the rest of your life. and in that instant, he knew.

#ㅤ🩰ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𝖧𝖠𝖲 𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖣!ㅤㅤ˃ᗜ˂ㅤ #boynextdoor #onedoornet #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor taesan #boynextdoor taesan fluff #boynextdoor leehan #boynextdoor woonhak #boynextdoor jaehyun #biynextdoor riwoo #boynextdoor sungho #bnd #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #boynextdoor x reader

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elikajinnie · 4 months ago

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HIHI i read your jungwon hogwarts au just now ( i had been planning to read it for a while now ) AND IT WAS SO GOOOOODD 😭🫶🏻‼️ also your ni-ki ones were insanely good too 🥹🫶🏻 i wanted to ask maybe if you have time could write another jungwon hogwarts au? Sorry if its too much ! Thank you forr reading and have a great day/night ahead ^^

Hogwarts in Fur - Y.J

OMG THANK YOU!! This made my day fr. I am very happy that you liked them! its not too much! really :) have a great day and please enjoy this one <3

P: Hufflepuff!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Love Confessions.

Synopsis: After years of secretly admiring your brother's friend Jungwon, a mysterious and overly affectionate black cat appears just after Jungwon goes missing. Now who does this cat belong to? Why does your brother seem nervous? And most importantly, where has Jungwon gone?

masterlist

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You weren't best friends with your brother. As siblings, you had a tendency to bicker, picking fights over the smallest things—whose turn it was to set the table, who had borrowed whose stuff without asking. It was just how things were, and neither of you made much effort to change that. So when the Hogwarts acceptance letters arrived for the both of you, the thought of being sorted into the same house made you cringe.

You couldn’t imagine anything worse than sharing a common room with him, dealing with his sarcastic comments every day, or worse, being seen together like you were… friends. Fortunately, fate, or the Sorting Hat, was on your side. He ended up in one house, and you in another. The relief was instant. You thought that would be the end of it, and the two of you would drift along separate paths without much need to cross each other’s.

At least, that’s what you thought until you saw one of his friends.

It was always by chance—maybe you were walking through the courtyard or passing through the Great Hall—but there he was, standing next to your brother, laughing with that damn dimpled smile. His laugh was low and smooth, something that caught your ear and refused to let go. Your gaze lingered longer than you’d care to admit, taking in the confident way he leaned against the stone wall, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief.

And you couldn’t help but wonder why your brother, of all people, got to be friends with him.

You didn’t really mean to end up meeting your brother’s friend—definitely not after you’d spent years pointedly ignoring their group whenever you saw them in the halls. But here you were, sitting in the library with your brother, who had been pestering you for days—begging, really—about helping him in Transfiguration. At first, you ignored him, telling him to figure it out on his own like everyone else.

He had struggled with some spell that McGonagall had been drilling the class on, and though you initially refused (because who really wanted to give up their free time to help their sibling?), his relentless begging finally wore you down.

"Okay, okay, fine!" you had snapped. "I’ll help you, just stop whining about it."

Now, watching your brother fail the same transformation for the tenth time, you were starting to regret your decision. "No, you’re flicking your wand too fast," you muttered, rubbing your temple. "It’s not a race, slow down and say the incantation clearly."

He groaned, clearly frustrated. "I am doing it right! You’re just a bad teacher!"

You shot him a sharp look, your patience already worn thin from the past hour of back-and-forth bickering. "Oh really? So it’s my fault you can’t turn a teacup into a tortoise?"

He slumped further into the chair, muttering under his breath while absentmindedly tapping his quill against the desk. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he lazily flicked through his notes without even looking at you.

“Are you even paying attention?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Or is this just a waste of both our time?��

He shrugged, not even bothering to lift his head. "I’m trying! It’s not like you’re explaining it any better than Professor McGonagall does."

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Maybe if you focused for five seconds instead of acting like this is some kind of joke, you’d actually get it."

He shot you a glare, the frustration clearly mutual. "Maybe if you weren’t so bossy, I wouldn’t have to!"

"You’re the one who begged me for help!" you snapped back. "If you don’t want it, just say so and I’ll leave."

For a second, there was silence between you, both of you glaring at each other.

“Hey, sorry to barge in. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

You looked up, and there he was - Yang Jungwon. He was standing next to your brother, a relaxed grin on his face as if he hadn’t just disrupted the painfully slow progress of your study session.

Your brother immediately perked up. “Oh, hey, Jungwon! I’ll be done in like… five minutes?” he said, casting a hopeful glance at you.

Jungwon’s eyes flickered over to you, curiosity lighting them up. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a tutor,” he teased, sliding into the chair opposite yours without waiting for an invitation.

You opened your mouth to retort that you weren’t a tutor, but your brother jumped in first. “Yeah, lucky me, right?” he said, grinning cheekily, ignoring the way you glared at him.

Jungwon chuckled softly, leaning back as though he had all the time in the world. “I’m Yang Jungwon, by the way,” he said, his gaze finally locking onto yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the warmth in his voice.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, trying to sound indifferent but feeling a little thrown off. You hadn’t expected him to show up here of all places.

“So, what are you two studying? Transfiguration, right?” Jungwon asked, glancing at the textbook.

“Trying to,” you said, emphasizing the word as you shot a look at your brother. “Though, he’s not exactly the best student.”

Jungwon laughed, the sound easy and light, and you found yourself listening a little too closely. “I’m sure you’re doing fine. You always manage, don’t you?” he teased your brother, though his eyes kept flickering back to you. There was something in his gaze—curiosity, maybe, or amusement—that made it hard to look away.

You tried to refocus on your brother, but the atmosphere had shifted with Jungwon’s presence. And your brother seemed all too happy to let the tutoring session come to an abrupt end. Before you realized what was happening, he had packed up his things, slipping his quill and parchment into his bag with quick, practiced movements.

“Wait—hey, we’re not done,” you said, standing up from your seat, your voice carrying more frustration than intended.

Your brother shot you a cheeky grin, already halfway out the door with Jungwon by his side. “I’ll finish it eventually!" he called back, not even glancing over his shoulder.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but it was too late. The door shut with a soft click, and the sounds of their fading footsteps echoed down the hallway. You let out an exasperated sigh, sinking back into your chair, the weight of unfinished work settling on your shoulders.

Just as you were about to lay your head on the desk in defeat, you caught sight of Madam Pince, walking by with her usual stern expression. She stopped next to your table, clutching a book in her hands. “It’s a struggle, isn’t it?” she said, her voice softer than expected, though there was an unmistakable air of disapproval about her.

You blinked at her, still frustrated. “Yeah, something like that.”

Without another word, she handed you a thick, worn-out book you’d requested earlier—one you had specifically asked for to help your brother with his Transfiguration problems. The irony wasn’t lost on you as you stared at the cover.

"Here’s the book you asked for," Madam Pince added. "I hope it helps."

"Thanks," you muttered, though your enthusiasm had drained. The moment she left, you groaned and let your head fall onto the desk with a thud.

Typical. Your brother was off having fun while you were stuck with the work he was supposed to be doing. Just your luck.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The next day, you headed to the courtyard, spotting your brother lounging with a group of his friends—Jungwon included. You took a deep breath, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up as you approached. In your hand was a rolled-up assignment for Transfiguration that he had yet to complete, and you weren’t about to let him get away with neglecting it.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to the group and dropping the assignment on his lap. “You need to finish this by tomorrow, or Professor McGonagall’s going to have your head.”

Your brother groaned dramatically but grabbed the parchment anyway. You were about to turn and leave when you noticed some of his friends eyeing you, their teasing smiles quickly making you uncomfortable.

“Hey, Y/N” one of them said with a sly grin. “Why haven’t we seen you around more? You should join us sometime.”

Another chimed in, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, maybe we could get to know you better. Bet you’re a lot more fun than your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, already tired of their attempts. But before you could respond, your brother cut in sharply. “Oi, knock it off. She’s off-limits,” he said, his tone protective. “No guy’s good enough for her.”

As much as you appreciated his overprotective attitude sometimes, this was one of those moments when it was more annoying than endearing. You crossed your arms and shot him a pointed look. “Excuse me? I decide when I want a boyfriend, and I sure don’t need your approval.”

He scoffed, leaning back as if he had the upper hand. “Yeah, well, you can’t just pick any random guy. I’m only looking out for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, your annoyance growing. “Looking out for me? You’re just trying to scare off everyone. I can handle myself, thank you very much.”

The bickering began to escalate, the two of you going back and forth as his friends watched with barely concealed amusement. It wasn’t until Jungwon, who had been watching quietly, stood up and approached that the argument came to an abrupt halt.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Jungwon said with a calm smile, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. “I’m walking her to her next class.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but before you could protest, he was already leading you away from the group. “You—wait, what—”

“Trust me,” he interrupted smoothly, glancing at you with that same easy smile, “you’ll thank me later.”

You reluctantly let him guide you through the courtyard, your brother’s protests fading behind you. As you neared the Charms classroom, Jungwon slowed his pace, releasing your wrist and turning to face you.

“Well, here we are,” he said, his smile softening. Then, with a teasing tone, he added, “Though if you want me to walk you to class more often, all you have to do is ask.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling your face heat up slightly at the unexpected flirtation. “Very smooth,” you muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Jungwon grinned, taking a step back. “I aim to please. See you around.” And with a casual wave, he walked off, leaving you standing at the door, your heart racing just a little faster than before.

The day after, you found out your brother had failed his Transfiguration lesson—again. Much to your dismay, you heard about it through one of his friends who casually mentioned it in passing, as though it was no big deal.

When you finally confronted him in the courtyard, his response was as nonchalant as ever.

“I failed, so what?” he said, leaning back and shrugging. “I’ll figure it out eventually. It’s just one lesson.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You do realize that if you fail again, Professor McGonagall will send a letter to our parents, right?”

That seemed to get his attention, but only for a moment. He still didn’t look particularly bothered, which only made your frustration grow.

“And,” you continued, eyes narrowing, “you won’t be allowed to continue playing Quidditch.”

His expression changed instantly, the casual attitude melting away as panic settled in. “Wait, what?”

You smirked slightly, leaning in as if to drive the point home. “Yeah. You think professor McGonagall’s going to let you get away with failing and still keep your spot on the team? Good luck with that.”

Your brother sat up straight, the reality of the situation sinking in. “But—Quidditch is… I can’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely worried now. “If I can’t play Quidditch, I’ll lose my spot for next year, and… and Mum and Dad will kill me if they find out I’ve been failing.”

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the shift in power. “So maybe you should’ve taken our last session a little more seriously, huh?”

He shot you a desperate look, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “Alright, fine! I get it. I messed up.”

You tilted your head, waiting for the inevitable.

“I need your help,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I can’t afford to fail again, not with Quidditch on the line.”

You were just about to refuse—after all, you had warned him plenty of times before. But before you could get the words out, he pleaded, “No distractions this time. No friends, no tricks. Just me, focused, I swear. Please.”

You paused, arms crossed as you studied him. His expression was serious, and the desperation in his eyes was hard to ignore. It was a rare sight—your brother begging for your help without any sarcasm or half-hearted promises.

“I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think it over. “What’s in it for me?”

He groaned but quickly recovered, realizing this was his last shot. “Anything! I’ll do anything you ask, alright? Just… please.”

You smiled smugly, relishing the moment. “Anything, huh?”

He nodded frantically, looking like he’d sell his soul at this point if it meant saving his Quidditch spot.

“Alright,” you said, a slow grin spreading across your face. “I’ll help you… but I’ll be cashing in on that ‘anything’ promise sooner or later.”

He sighed in relief, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. “Fine, whatever you want.”

You smirked, feeling the upper hand. “Deal.”

True to his word, your brother showed up to the library that evening, looking more focused than you’d ever seen him when it came to schoolwork. He set his books and wand down on the table, already prepared to start, though you could still sense a bit of reluctance in his posture.

“Alright,” you said, sitting across from him and opening the Transfiguration book to the chapter on animal transformations. “No distractions. No shortcuts. You’re going to get this right if it’s the last thing I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll try.”

You pulled out a teacup, placing it in front of him as you tapped your fingers on the table. “Okay, you know the incantation. Focus on the form of the animal, not just the spell. Visualize it fully.”

He sighed, gripping his wand tightly. “I know, I know. It’s just… hard.”

“Not an excuse,” you said, not letting him off the hook. “Go on.”

He took a deep breath, aiming his wand at the teacup. “Vera Verto.”

The teacup shook slightly, wobbling on the table before it started to change shape—slowly, very slowly. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually do it. But just as the teacup began to take the form of a small tortoise, it reverted back to its original state with a sharp clink.

He groaned, slumping back in his chair. “See? I can’t do it.”

“You’re close,” you said, keeping your voice calm even though you were starting to get frustrated too. “You’re overthinking the spell. Don’t rush it—focus on the animal’s form.”

He sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. “Okay, okay… let’s try again.”

Over the next hour, you guided him through the steps again and again, watching as he tried—and failed—repeatedly to get the teacup to fully transform. Each time, it got closer, but never quite there. Either the tortoise would have an odd shape, or the spell would falter halfway through.

Your patience started wearing thin, but you pushed through, determined to help him succeed.

“Look,” you said, leaning over the table and pointing at the page in the book. “You’re rushing the incantation. Break it down, slower this time.”

He nodded, taking your advice seriously for once. He aimed his wand at the teacup again, this time speaking the spell more carefully, enunciating each word with deliberate focus. “Vera Verto.”

The teacup quivered again, its edges shifting into a shell. Slowly, the handle morphed into a tiny, clawed foot. You both watched as the tortoise’s form finally solidified. A small, slow-moving tortoise now sat on the table, blinking up at you.

Your brother’s face lit up in surprise, his mouth falling open. “I did it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, despite yourself. “You actually did it.”

He beamed, picking up the tortoise carefully as if he couldn’t believe it. “Finally! Merlin’s beard, I didn’t think I’d ever get it.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, leaning back in your chair, “you only got there because I was a great teacher.”

He snorted, setting the tortoise back on the table. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully swatting him on the arm. “Don’t push your luck. Remember, you still owe me for this.”

He winced, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright.”

You smirked, already plotting.

The next day, your brother returned from his Transfiguration class with a huge grin plastered on his face. He practically burst into the Grand Hall, eyes alight with excitement, and you knew immediately that something had gone well.

“I did it!” he exclaimed, rushing over to where you were seated. “I actually did it!”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book aside. “Wait, you actually passed?”

“Not just passed,” he said, standing tall, practically puffing out his chest. “I nailed it! McGonagall didn’t even have to correct me once. She even said it was one of the best transformations in class!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how giddy he looked, the tension from the past few days completely gone from his shoulders. “I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d pull it off, honestly.”

“Hey, I’m not that hopeless,” he shot back, but his smile stayed wide and bright. “But seriously, thanks to you. If you hadn’t made me practice all those times, I’d still be failing.”

You smirked, giving him a mock-salute. “Well, that’s what good teachers do. And, you know, you can keep playing Quidditch now, so I guess that’s a bonus.”

At the mention of Quidditch, his excitement seemed to double. “Yes! Merlin, if I had to quit the team, I’d be dead. There’s no way I’m telling Mum and Dad that I failed Transfiguration and got kicked off the team.”

You chuckled, watching him bounce on his feet like an overexcited first-year. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Now you can focus on your matches without McGonagall breathing down your neck.”

He nodded eagerly, practically vibrating with joy. “Exactly! I can’t wait for the next practice. I’m going to crush it.”

You shook your head, amused at how his mood had completely flipped from just a few days ago. “Just remember to keep up with your studies, alright? I’m not going to bail you out every time you forget to do your homework.”

He gave you a mock pout. “What, you’re not going to tutor me forever?”

“Not a chance,” you said, laughing. “I’ve got my own work to focus on. You’ll just have to survive on your own from now on.”

He groaned dramatically but was clearly too happy to complain for real. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. I owe you big time.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As he ran off to tell his friends the good news, you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him. Despite all the bickering and the endless complaints, he had finally pulled it off. And, in a way, it felt like a win for both of you.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The courtyard was buzzing with students enjoying a rare free afternoon, and your brother, now full of confidence from his recent success in Transfiguration, had taken it upon himself to show off his newfound skills. With a small group gathered around him, he cast spell after spell, transforming objects into animals with exaggerated flair. He was basking in the attention, especially from his friends, who cheered every time he succeeded.

"Watch this!" your brother said proudly, aiming his wand at a stray quill. “Vera Verto!”

The quill shifted into a small, fluffy rabbit, hopping around on the cobblestone, much to the crowd’s delight. He grinned, feeling invincible now that he had McGonagall’s praise under his belt. Emboldened, he attempted another transformation, but his next spell shot out of his wand faster than he anticipated. It veered wildly across the courtyard, completely missing the intended target.

The errant spell flew in an arc, headed straight for the far end of the courtyard where Jungwon had just been walking, completely unaware of the chaotic show your brother was putting on. Before anyone could react, the spell hit Jungwon square in the back.

In a flash, the Hufflepuff boy wasn’t standing there anymore.

Instead, a small black cat with bright, intelligent eyes stood in his place, looking confused for a split second. Jungwon—or rather, the cat that had been Jungwon—flicked his tail and darted away before anyone in the crowd could notice the commotion. He vanished between the hedges that lined the courtyard, disappearing into the maze of gardens beyond.

Your brother stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide as he realized what had happened. One of his friends nudged him, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. "Nicely done! What did you hit this time?"

“Uh…” he stammered, looking in the direction where Jungwon had been, but the cat was long gone. “I think I might’ve just… hit someone.”

One of the other students burst into laughter, thinking it was part of the fun. “What, you turned someone into a rabbit again?”

Your brother didn’t laugh. “No. Worse. I think I just turned Jungwon into a cat.”

The laughter around him died down quickly as the reality of what he’d done began to settle in. “What do you mean, a cat?” one of his friends asked, their tone becoming more serious.

But before your brother could respond, he was already hurrying toward the edge of the courtyard, scanning the area where Jungwon had disappeared. “We have to find him before anyone else does!” he muttered to himself, a growing sense of dread filling him.

However, Jungwon—or the cat—was nowhere in sight. He had bolted the moment the spell hit, and now he had vanished without a trace, leaving your brother to deal with the consequences of his reckless display.

The problem was, turning someone into an animal was one thing—but reversing it? That was a whole different level of Transfiguration.

Your brother searched frantically, darting around the courtyard and calling out for Jungwon. “Jungwon! Where are you?” he shouted, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. The laughter from his friends had faded, replaced by concerned murmurs as they began to realize the seriousness of the situation.

He sprinted around the corner where Jungwon had vanished, scanning every nook and cranny, every shadow cast by the towering castle walls. “Come on, this isn’t funny!” he pleaded, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Jungwon would pop out from behind a bush or the edge of a statue, ready to reveal that it had all been a prank.

But Hogwarts was vast, and as the minutes stretched on, the reality began to sink in. Jungwon—now a cat—had disappeared without a trace. Your brother ran a hand through his hair, panic rising within him. He couldn't afford to get caught for this.

Turning back to his friends, he lowered his voice, urgency clear in his tone. “Okay, listen. You can’t say anything about this. If any professors find out Jungwon is missing, we’ll all be in trouble. We need to find him before anyone notices.”

His friends exchanged worried glances but nodded in agreement. They understood how serious the situation was. “Right,” one of them said, trying to lighten the mood, though the tension was palpable. “Let’s just act like we’re studying for the next couple of hours. If we can’t find Jungwon, maybe he’ll come back on his own.”

Your brother nodded, but doubt gnawed at him. What if he didn’t? He felt responsible—if he hadn’t been so eager to show off, Jungwon wouldn’t have been turned into a cat in the first place. “We’ll check all the usual spots,” he said, determination sparking in his eyes. “He might head for the Hufflepuff common room or the kitchens.”

They split up, your brother retracing his steps back through the castle, checking every corner, every common area, and even asking other students if they’d seen a small black cat. But the castle was sprawling and labyrinthine; the longer he searched, the more overwhelmed he felt.

As the minutes turned into an hour, frustration bubbled up inside him. “This is pointless!” he muttered under his breath, leaning against a wall in a deserted corridor. “How could I let this happen?”

After another fruitless round, he finally returned to the courtyard, panting slightly. His friends were gathered in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves, and he felt a flicker of hope. “Did you find anything?”

One of his friends shook his head. “No sign of him anywhere. It’s like he just vanished.”

Your brother sighed, frustration and guilt mingling in his chest. “If we don’t find him soon, it’s only a matter of time before someone notices he’s missing from class. Professor McGonagall will have our heads.”

Just then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He turned, but it was only a crow flitting across the courtyard, cawing loudly. Your brother’s heart sank. Hogwarts was just too big; how could he possibly find Jungwon in a castle that could swallow whole entire groups of students?

With a defeated expression, he sank onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. “What am I going to do? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His friends joined him, unsure of how to comfort him. “We’ll figure it out,” one of them said, trying to reassure him. “We just need to keep looking.”

But deep down, your brother couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time. He was the one responsible for turning Jungwon into a cat.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You were sitting on the ground near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. The view was peaceful, and with a gentle breeze rustling the trees around you, it felt like a perfect moment to relax with your book.

Just as you settled into the first chapter, a small rustling sound caught your attention.. You looked up, surprised to see a small black cat making its way toward you, its greenish-gold eyes trained intently on you. The cat was sleek, with a slight glimmer to its fur under the sunlight, and it moved gracefully, weaving through the grass until it was at your feet.

“Hey there, little one,” you murmured, smiling as the cat sat down, regarding you with an almost curious gaze. Without hesitation, it leaped into your lap, settling down with a soft, contented purr.

The book forgotten, you brought a hand up to stroke its head, running your fingers gently over its soft fur. The cat’s purring grew louder, and it nestled into you, pressing its tiny head against your hand as if asking for more.

“Well, aren’t you a friendly one?” you said, chuckling as it leaned into your touch. You hadn’t expected it, but this little black cat was endearing itself to you quickly. Every time you paused in your petting, it would nudge its head under your hand, practically demanding more affection.

You laughed, charmed by the cat’s insistence. “Alright, alright, you win. More pets it is,” you murmured, resuming your gentle strokes.

The cat sprawled out across your lap, stretching its small limbs and settling back down with a sigh, its eyes half-closed as it drifted into a state of utter relaxation.

Minutes slipped by as you sat there, the black cat curled up happily in your lap, and any thoughts of returning to your book faded completely. “What’s a cat like you doing out here all by yourself?” you asked softly, smiling as it nudged its head up to meet your gaze. The cat simply blinked at you, its eyes clear and bright, before it began to purr even louder, pressing its small paws against your legs in a way that was almost… human-like.

You let out a small laugh, rubbing your thumb over the top of its head. “Alright, alright, you’re stealing all my attention,” you murmured. “I should be reading, but you’re just too cute.” The cat looked up at you with an expression that almost seemed like a smirk before closing its eyes again, purring louder than ever.

With a contented sigh, you leaned back against the tree, unaware that you’d just found Jungwon—and that he was thoroughly enjoying your company.

Eventually, the afternoon sun began to dip lower, and you knew it was time to return to the castle. With a sigh, you shifted in your seat, giving the cat a gentle nudge to encourage it off your lap.

“Alright, little one. I have to get back,” you murmured. The cat gave a low, disappointed-sounding meow, but leapt gracefully onto the ground as you stood. Just as you turned to gather your things, however, the cat started to weave between your ankles, pawing at your robes with insistent little meows.

You tried taking a step, but the cat was immediately at your heels, pressing against your leg as though it had no intention of letting you leave. When you moved forward, it darted up and batted playfully at your robes, trying to climb up and cling on as you walked.

“Oh, Merlin, you really don’t want me to go, do you?” you muttered, bending down to scoop the cat into your arms. As soon as you lifted it, it relaxed, its head nuzzling against your neck as it purred deeply, seeming more than content to be carried. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the soft fur warm against your skin and the gentle tickle of its whiskers along your throat.

“Alright, you can come with me,” you said with a soft chuckle, the cat’s wide eyes blinking up at you as though it fully understood. You held it securely, feeling the vibrations of its purring as it squished its head into the crook of your neck. It was surprisingly calming, and you found yourself enjoying the quiet presence of this affectionate little creature as you made your way back through the castle halls.

By the time you reached your common room, you had half a mind to keep it, especially as it snuggled closer, its whiskers brushing against your chin. “I’ll have to find your owner,” you whispered, though the cat gave no sign it wanted to leave your arms any time soon.

With a sigh, you stepped into the common room, glancing around at your fellow housemates and wondering if any of them had ever seen this black cat before. But as you felt the warmth of its tiny body snuggled against you, part of you wasn’t in any hurry to hand it over.

As you asked around the common room, you realized none of your housemates recognized the little black cat nestled in your arms. Some shrugged, while others asked to pet it, and each time you shook your head, a small part of you felt a guilty spark of relief. No one knew where it had come from, and no one seemed to be looking for it.

With the sky darkening outside and a long day behind you, you headed up to your dorm to change, gently setting the cat down as you pulled on your coziest clothes. No sooner had you settled onto your bed than the cat leapt up, its movements silent and smooth. It padded around your blankets, kneading the fabric with its tiny paws and purring so loudly you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, no, no—if the house-elves find fur on the bed, they’ll be mad” you muttered, making a half-hearted attempt to shoo the cat off your bed. But when it turned and met your gaze, its bright eyes watching you with an innocent curiosity, you found yourself softening. The cat tilted its head, curling up against your side, its eyes half-closed as if perfectly content in your presence.

“Fine, you can stay,” you sighed, scooting over to make a little more room. The cat wasted no time, settling down right next to you and resting its tiny head on the blanket as if it belonged there.

With each slow, deep rumble of its purr, a calmness settled over you. You rested a hand lightly on its back, feeling the softness of its fur under your fingers. Soon, its gentle kneading softened, and the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing lulled you into a state of relaxation.

Just as your eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the cat shifted, moving to rest its head against your hand, a contented weight in the dim quiet of the room. You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of the small creature by your side, and drifted into sleep, the cat’s purring accompanying you into peaceful dreams.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Jungwon blinked, his new vision sharper in the dim light, taking in every detail of your sleeping face. The feline instincts were strong—comforting, even—but his human mind lingered just beneath them, stirring with a confusing blend of emotions.

When he’d first bolted from the courtyard, his mind had been clouded with panic. All he could think of was escaping, getting somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. But then he’d picked up on your scent—soft, familiar—and without a second thought, he’d followed it. His cat instincts hadn’t questioned why; they simply led him to you, to the one place that felt right.

Now, as he curled beside you, his heart pounded in a strange mixture of relief and guilt. He should be searching for help, finding someone who could reverse the spell and put an end to this humiliating predicament. But looking at you now, seeing the peaceful expression on your face and the faint smile gracing your lips, he felt something different.

You looked… happy. Content. The way you had opened your arms to him, stroking his fur and letting him stay close—it had made his heart race even in this small, helpless form. In the past, he’d admired you from a distance, always caught off guard by his nerves whenever you were near. But here, under the guise of this small, black cat, he was finally close to you without the hesitance.

He felt torn, his human logic telling him this was ridiculous—he had to find a professor, get back to normal, explain to you what happened. But another part of him—the soft purrs escaping without his control, the way his little paws kept kneading against the blanket—wanted to stay just a little longer. Just until the morning.

For now, he let himself settle into the comfort of your presence, letting his instincts guide him. After all, you looked far too pretty to disturb with a frown when you found out the truth.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The days slipped by, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself no closer to finding the cat’s owner. You’d asked around, stopping classmates in the hall, mentioning the small black cat that had so readily taken up residence on your bed, but no one claimed it. Each time, you received the same answers—shakes of the head, puzzled expressions, a few amused smiles.

With every passing day, the cat became more of a fixture in your life. Each morning before leaving for class, you’d give him a little scratch behind the ears, feeling his soft purrs ripple through your hand. And each evening, you’d return to find him curled up in the same spot on your bed, his little form nestled in the blankets, his tiny paws tucked under his chest as if he owned the place. There was something comforting about his presence, and you noticed how he’d glance up at you with those intense, knowing eyes every time you walked in, as if he’d been waiting for you all day.

The cat—who you’d started calling “Onyx” in your head—seemed perfectly content. He’d stretch luxuriously when you arrived, basking in any attention you or your housemates would give him, blinking slowly and rubbing his head against your hand, as if he were marking you as his own. And he was endlessly spoiled by your housemates, who would sneak in to pet him whenever they could, laughing over his unusual attachment to you.

Meanwhile, your brother seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown. Every time you caught sight of him in the hallways, he was muttering under his breath, eyes darting around as if he expected Jungwon to materialize out of thin air. His friends could barely keep up with his frantic pace as he searched the school from top to bottom, interrogating classmates, making excuses to professors, and even peeking into the kitchens.

One afternoon, when you saw him dashing through the courtyard, you raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re about to explode. What’s going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Nothing, nothing—just… I lost something really important. And if I don’t find it soon, I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he said, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as though he expected it to appear any second.

You patted his shoulder, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Good luck, then. I’m sure you’ll find it,” you said, trying to reassure him. But you had no idea that the “lost item” he was so desperately searching for was happily snoozing on your bed, completely unaware of the chaos he’d left in his wake.

Jungwon, or Onyx, stretched lazily, content to continue napping in the warm scent of your blankets, savoring each gentle pet and scratching his cheek against your hand whenever you came close. His human instincts occasionally tugged at him, whispering that he should reveal himself, that he should find a way back to normal. But the comfort of your presence, the gentle affection, and the sound of your laughter as you spoke to him were too good to leave just yet.

Four days after you’d found the little black cat, it struck you that you hadn’t seen Jungwon around. Usually, you’d spot him at least once a day—sitting with your brother at meals, laughing with his Hufflepuff friends in the courtyard, or even catching him in the hallways. But now that you thought about it, he’d been strangely absent, his cheerful presence nowhere to be found.

Curious, you tracked down your brother between classes, catching him just as he was shoving books into his bag. “Hey, have you seen Jungwon? It’s been days. Is he alright?”

Your brother stiffened ever so slightly before glancing up with what he probably hoped was a casual look. “Jungwon? Oh, yeah, he’s… he’s fine. Just sick. Nothing to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow at his rushed answer. “Really? I thought he’d usually be back by now. He’s not usually the type to miss this much class.”

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry about it,” your brother said quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “He’s probably just lying low until he feels better.”

“Alright… well, tell him I hope he feels better,” you said, giving him a small smile before turning back to your own things.

Your brother nodded, though his face was tight with worry. But you didn’t notice his nervous glances, already distracted by the thought of getting back to “Onyx,” who was likely curled up on your bed, waiting for you. You didn’t give Jungwon’s absence much more thought, trusting your brother’s explanation, but you made a mental note to check in with Jungwon as soon as he returned.

When you slipped into your dorm room, carefully unwrapping the napkin bundle, the savory scent of chicken filled the air, and the cat immediately perked up. The moment you set the pieces down, he eagerly devoured them, tail flicking with excitement. You chuckled softly, watching as he polished off every last bite, licking his lips in pure satisfaction.

As you turned to grab your bag, Onyx suddenly jumped up, landing neatly on your shoulder. Startled, you reached up instinctively to hold him steady, and he nuzzled against you, purring loudly. You couldn’t help but laugh, scratching behind his ear. “You know I have to go, right?”

Onyx blinked at you, his bright eyes wide, and let out a small, soft meow, almost pleading. His paws lightly pressed against your chest as he settled into your arms, curling his tiny body closer as if he had no intention of letting you leave.

“Alright, alright…” you sighed, giving in as he snuggled into your embrace. Muggle Studies could wait, couldn’t it? What were a few facts about telephones compared to this soft, warm ball of fluff purring contently against you? You slipped off your shoes, set your bag down, and climbed onto your bed, pulling the blankets over the both of you as Onyx nestled against your shoulder, his purring a gentle hum in the quiet room.

As you traced gentle patterns along his fur, he stretched his little head up, his whiskers tickling your cheek as he nuzzled closer, eyes half-closed with contentment. The warmth of the moment filled you with a sense of peace, and you drifted off into a light nap, your arm curled protectively around him, wondering absently why this small creature felt so right here with you.

The following day, as you sat nestled in a corner of the library, flipping through your notes, your brother slid into the seat across from you, an odd look on his face. You glanced up, raising an eyebrow at his nervous expression.

“Hey, I need… um, a little help with something,” he started, tapping his fingers against the table.

You set your quill down. “Alright, spill it. What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat, glancing around as if worried someone might overhear. “I just… well, I wanted to know the incantation to reverse… an animal transformation. You know, from animal back to human.”

“An animal transformation?” you repeated, giving him a quizzical look. “Why would you need that? Unless…” You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing transfiguration spells on yourself or your friends.”

He waved his hand dismissively, though his nervous laugh didn’t help his case. “Nothing like that. I’m just… curious! Thought I’d get a head start, just in case we need it for class.” His voice was unconvincing, and you tilted your head, not buying it.

“Uh-huh. Right. So you just need a random incantation for a transfiguration reversal?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

“Exactly,” he said, nodding eagerly. “It’s really just for, you know, future knowledge.”

You weren’t convinced, but he was desperate, and you found yourself softening under his pleading gaze. “Fine, I’ll teach you. But you owe me—no, you owe me two favors for this.” You held up two fingers, your expression firm.

“Deal,” he said instantly, relief flashing across his face.

With a sigh, you gestured for him to take a seat beside you, flipping open your transfiguration notes. “Alright, listen carefully. The reversal incantation isn’t simple. You have to focus on the original form of the person and their essence before casting. If you don’t concentrate, it’ll either fail or, worse, only half-work,” you explained, watching as he nodded along, his expression tense.

As you practiced the incantation with him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this story. But, for now, you focused on teaching him the spell, repeating it until he could say it smoothly, his confidence growing with each repetition.

"Just… remember, don’t go using this on any poor creatures for ‘fun,’ alright?” you added as you finished up, giving him a stern look.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he replied, though his gaze darted away. You rolled your eyes, hoping he’d stick to his word.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

As the days stretched on, Jungwon felt the line between his human and feline instincts beginning to blur. He’d started feeling strange, odd urges pulling at him that he didn’t quite understand but felt impossible to resist. The need to chase things that moved quickly—flickering lights, loose threads, even the feathery tips of your quill as you wrote—all of it stirred a primal thrill in him. His ears perked up at the slightest sounds, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to the cozy comfort of curling up beside you.

At night, he’d stretch out over your stomach or chest, his paws kneading into you as he settled down. The warmth of your body and the steady rise and fall of your breathing soothed him, and he would close his eyes, purring loudly as he drifted off. During the day, whenever you studied in the common room, he would find a spot to settle between your thighs, his little head resting comfortably against your leg, peeking up at you whenever he wanted a little scratch behind the ears.

But the more he settled into his role as your personal shadow, the more possessive he became. If one of your male housemates so much as got too close, his eyes would narrow, his ears flattening as a low, warning hiss escaped him. His back would arch slightly, and they would back off quickly, shooting you wide-eyed looks as they muttered apologies. The second they were gone, Jungwon would leap up onto your shoulders, his tail flicking with satisfaction as he licked your cheek, snuggling against you as if to say, Mine.

When you wore oversized hoodies or sweaters, he couldn’t resist crawling under the soft, cozy fabric, his little head poking out at your collar. It was his favorite spot, snug and warm, and he’d curl up contentedly, letting out a rumbling purr every time you scratched his head. Your housemates couldn’t help but laugh, dubbing him “your son” and teasing you whenever he was glued to your side.

“He’s practically attached to you, isn’t he?” one of your friends laughed as Jungwon, true to form, climbed onto your lap and lay there, eyes half-closed in contentment.

You shrugged, petting him gently. “Guess he just knows he’s found someone who’ll spoil him.”

He would chase after loose threads from your clothes, batting them playfully with his paws as if they were the most fascinating toys in the world. His playful antics brought you endless joy; you often found yourself laughing as he pounced and rolled, completely entranced by his own reflection in a nearby window.

When nighttime fell and you settled into bed, Jungwon would curl up on your chest, his small, warm body rising and falling with each breath you took. In those quiet moments, he would gaze up at you with wide, adoring eyes, completely mesmerized. In his cat mind, you were the woman for him—his perfect companion. He would think about how soft your skin was and how lovely it was to be close to you, relishing the sound of your heartbeat beneath him.

He became clingier than ever, following you around the common room and weaving through your legs, his purring becoming a constant background noise in your life. If you left the room, he’d meow softly, almost in protest, as if urging you to come back. When you weren’t around, Jungwon would curl up on your bed, his eyes half-closed as he waited patiently for your return. Each time he heard the sound of the door opening, he’d perk up, tail flicking excitedly, ready to shower you with affection the moment you stepped inside.

If you were studying or hanging out with friends, Jungwon would find a way to squeeze into your lap or snuggle against your side, his soft fur inviting you to pet him.

He would often steal your attention, meowing softly until you looked down at him, his bright eyes pleading for affection.

Your pet owl, however, became a rare source of conflict. The moment you started cooing to it, stroking its feathers, Jungwon would watch with narrowed eyes, his gaze intent, as if he were sizing up a rival. He’d immediately trot over to you, swatting gently at your hand with his paw, a soft mrrp leaving his mouth as he demanded your attention. If you gave in, he’d snuggle close, basking in the affection as if he’d won some unspoken victory.

To everyone else, it was obvious you had somehow become this little black cat’s world.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

One crisp afternoon, you stepped out of your dorm with your housemates, the sun streaming through the tall windows of Hogwarts. You all laughed and chatted, excitement buzzing in the air as you discussed plans for the weekend. Just as you were about to leave the common room, one of your friends suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no! I forgot my Potions book!”

“I’ll be right back!” they called, dashing back inside the cozy room.

The rest of you continued down the corridor, blissfully unaware that the door had swung ajar, leaving just enough space for a curious little black cat to slip through unnoticed. Jungwon, feeling adventurous, seized the opportunity to dart after your friends, his instincts kicking in as he decided to trust his nose to find you. Your perfume—sweet and comforting—drew him in like a moth to a flame.

Navigating the familiar halls of Hogwarts, he quickly made his way through the bustling corridors, weaving past students and ignoring the occasional glance thrown his way.

Finally, he spotted you in the courtyard, nestled comfortably on a bench with your favorite book in hand. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows around you, and for a moment, Jungwon was mesmerized by how serene you looked, completely absorbed in your reading. He couldn’t help but let out a little meow, excitement bubbling up as he began to sprint toward you.

But just as he was about to reach you, your brother appeared out of nowhere, stepping directly into Jungwon’s path. The sudden block caught him off guard, and he skidded to a halt, a startled yelp escaping his mouth. Your brother crouched down, arms outstretched, attempting to scoop Jungwon up, but he had other plans.

With a quick flick of his paw, Jungwon hissed, his instincts kicking in as he squirmed to escape. “Hey! No!” your brother protested, eyes widening as he struggled to keep a hold on the wriggling black cat.

Jungwon protested, hissing and wriggling in his grip, desperately trying to escape. The sound was startling and unusual, catching the attention of several students nearby who turned to witness the scene unfolding, including yours.

“What’s happening?” you shouted, your heart dropping as you recognized the little black cat your brother was trying to grab. “Onyx!”

At the sound of your voice, Jungwon's ears perked up, and he whipped around to look at you, desperate for help. Before your brother could fully grasp him, Jungwon managed to twist free from his grip, leaping out of his hands and bounding straight into yours.

You caught him with a gasp, the soft weight of him settling against you instantly warming your heart. “What are you doing?” you exclaimed, cradling him protectively as you shot a glance at your brother. Jungwon meanwhile purred loudly, rubbing his cheek against your hand as if to say, Yes, this is exactly where I want to be.

“What’s going on?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you glanced at your brother.

“Uh, it’s nothing, really,” he replied, attempting to brush off the situation with a half-hearted smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Come on, just tell me the truth.”

Your brother sighed, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Okay, okay! The cat you’re holding... it’s Jungwon. I, um, accidentally turned him into a cat during Transfiguration practice.”

Your heart sank as you looked down at Jungwon, who was nestled comfortably against your chest, blissfully unaware of the chaos surrounding him. “Are you sure this is Jungwon?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

He nodded vigorously, a hint of guilt flashing in his eyes. “I swear! It was an accident! I didn’t mean for it to happen, I just—”

With a deep sigh, you set Jungwon down gently, your mind racing. Pulling out your wand, you focused on the spell needed to reverse the transformation. “Alright, just hold still, Jungwon,” you instructed softly. “Reverso Animus!” you said clearly, watching as the familiar golden light enveloped Jungwon.

In an instant, the small black cat began to shimmer and shift, growing in size until you were staring at the unmistakable form of Jungwon himself. Your eyes widened in shock as he stood up slowly, looking at his hands, then down at his body as if he couldn’t believe he was back to normal.

“I’m back!” he exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across his face, laughter bubbling up as his friends and your brother rushed to surround him, excitement and relief evident on their faces.

“I’m so sorry, Jungwon!” your brother shouted over the commotion, his voice filled with a thousand apologies, clearly trying to make amends for his mistake. “I didn’t mean to!”

Jungwon squirmed in the midst of his friends, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you walk away. His heart raced, the familiar urge to be near you pulling at him like a magnetic force. He tried to push through the throng of excited voices and laughter, reaching out for you with desperation, but his friends held him back, oblivious to the intensity of his need to follow.

“Come on, Jungwon! Celebrate with us!” one of them cheered, clapping him on the back, but Jungwon could barely muster a smile. His eyes remained locked on your retreating figure, the sight of you disappearing into the building stirring a pang of disappointment within him.

“Come on, Jungwon! You’ve got to tell us everything!” one of them exclaimed, laughing as they playfully tousled his hair. Another chimed in, “You’ve been a cat for days! We want the scoop!”

He felt the playful nudges and laughter of his friends, but they only served to heighten his frustration. No longer just a cat who sought warmth and comfort, he was a boy desperate for connection, with you. He bit his lip, glancing between your back and the cheerful faces surrounding him, feeling an overwhelming urge to break free.

When you finally disappeared through the doors, Jungwon’s heart sank. With a determined huff, he pushed past the clutches of his friends, murmuring a half-hearted excuse that went unnoticed amidst their excitement.

“Guys, I’ll be right back!” he called out, his voice firm as he took off in the direction you had gone.

He navigated the winding corridors of Hogwarts, his mind racing as he thought of all the things he wanted to say. I’m sorry for the chaos, he wanted to tell you. Thank you for changing me back, and more than anything, I love you.

However, as he rounded a corner near the Great Hall, he lost sight of you. The bustling crowd of students moved like a tide, and just like that, you were gone. A wave of defeat washed over him. He pushed through the throngs, glancing into classrooms and common areas, calling your name softly, but there was no response.

Frustration bubbled within him, mingling with disappointment. Why did I let them hold me back? he berated himself. He felt like a fool for not breaking away sooner, for not insisting on finding you right away.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the cool stone wall, he could picture the look of confusion on your face, the hurt in your eyes when you realized.

“I’ll find you tomorrow,” he promised himself, determination creeping back in. It would have to be enough for now. He knew he had to make it right, to explain everything and show you just how much he valued you.

Resolving to make a plan, Jungwon walked back to the common room, his mind swirling with ideas. He would catch you after class, or maybe in the courtyard where you often read. He’d find a way to make sure you heard him, no matter what it took. Tomorrow, he would not let anything—or anyone—get in the way of what he needed to say.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

The next day, the bustling halls of Hogwarts seemed to stretch endlessly as Jungwon searched for you, his heart pounding with anticipation. After your final class, he spotted you in the corridor, laughter spilling from your lips as you chatted with a few friends. His heart raced at the sight of you, and he felt a surge of determination.

Summoning every ounce of courage, he quietly approached from behind, his nerves buzzing. Before he could second-guess himself, he gently pulled you into an empty classroom, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady yet filled with urgency, “we need to talk.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. The moment felt charged, a whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. Jungwon took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze unwavering. “I’ve wanted to say this for so long,” he continued, stepping closer. “I love being with you. These past days, especially with everything that happened when I was… you know, a cat. I didn’t realize just how much I needed you.”

Your heart raced at his confession. “Jungwon, I… I didn’t know you felt that way,” you stammered, surprised by the warmth blooming in your chest. The memories of cuddling with him as a cat rushed back—his soft purrs, the way he’d nuzzle against you, how safe and happy he made you feel. “You showed me your vulnerable side. I cared for you so much, and I want to be with you too, but I need some time to process everything that happened.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, understanding flooding his eyes. “I get it,” he said gently, taking a step closer. “But I want you to know how I feel. I loved every moment we spent together, even when I was just a cat. You were there for me, and it felt so real. It’s like I could finally be myself around you.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity behind them washing over you like a warm tide, glancing down at your feet for a moment, feeling the weight of your feelings pressing on your chest. “It was confusing at first. But seeing you back as Jungwon… it feels so right.”

Jungwon stepped even closer, his hand brushing against yours, sending a spark of electricity up your arm. “I care about you so much, Y/N. It’s like you’re my safe place, and I want to be able to share everything with you, the good and the bad.”

His sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but lean closer, feeling drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. “I feel that way too,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We can take it slow, see where this leads us without rushing. I just want to be with you, no matter the form it takes.”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. You melted against him, feeling the tension dissolve in the comfort of his presence.

When you both pulled back slightly, Jungwon's expression turned serious. “If you ever feel unsure or need space, just tell me, okay? I want you to feel safe with me.”

You nodded, appreciating his sensitivity. “I promise.”

He smiled, a mixture of relief and affection lighting up his face.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Over the next two days, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Every moment was filled with thoughts of Jungwon, replaying your conversation in that empty classroom. You knew you had to make a decision, and every time you thought of him, your heart swelled with a sense of belonging and excitement.

Finally, the day arrived when you couldn’t hold it in any longer. After your last class, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you made your way through the bustling halls of Hogwarts, searching for him. When you spotted Jungwon leaning against a wall, laughing with a couple of friends, your heart raced.

“Hey, can we talk?” you called, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.

His gaze shifted to you, and the moment he saw you, his smile widened. “Of course!” He excused himself from his friends and walked toward you, the laughter fading as anticipation filled the air.

You took a deep breath, glancing down momentarily to gather your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about the other day,” you began, feeling your heart race. “And I realized… I want to be together.”

Jungwon’s eyes lit up with joy, and before you could react, he stepped forward and twirled you around in an ecstatic hug. “Really? Are you serious?” he exclaimed, laughter bubbling in his voice.

You laughed along, feeling weight lift off your shoulders as you embraced the happiness of the moment. When he set you down, he looked into your eyes, a mixture of surprise and delight on his face. “I can’t believe this!”

His joy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I just… I really like you, Jungwon. I’ve felt it for a while now.”

His expression softened as he stepped closer. “So, can I…?” He hesitated for a moment, then grinned cheekily. “Can I get a kiss?”

Your heart raced again, but you nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. You leaned in, and as your lips met, the world around you faded away. It was gentle at first, but as you melted into the kiss, it deepened, filled with all feelings you both shared.

When you pulled back, breathless and smiling, your thoughts suddenly turned to your brother. You remembered his protective stance, always claiming that no guy was good enough for you. The sudden wave of worry hit you, and you glanced down, biting your lip. “Um, so… about my brother…”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “What about him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. “He can be a bit… overprotective. He’s probably going to have a lot to say about us being together. I just… I hope he doesn’t freak out or anything.”

Jungwon chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think I can handle him. Besides, I’m the one who got turned into a cat. If anything, I should have some kind of clout, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, you do have a unique story. But still, I just don’t want him to think poorly of you.”

“Hey,” he said gently, lifting your chin so you met his gaze. “I promise I’ll do my best to win him over. I care about you, and I want him to see that. Plus, if he sees how happy you are, he might just come around.”

You nodded, comforted by his words. “You’re right."

With a playful grin, Jungwon wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Then let’s tackle this together. How about we talk to him after dinner? Just the three of us?”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Let’s do it.”

After dinner, you felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as you and Jungwon made your way to the courtyard to meet your brother. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the stone path as you approached the familiar spot where your brother usually liked to unwind.

He was leaning against a pillar, casually flipping through a book. When he noticed you both approaching, he closed it and set it aside, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “So, what’s the big news?”

You exchanged a glance with Jungwon, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “We wanted to talk to you about something important,” you began, your heart racing. “Jungwon and I are… well, we’re together now.”

Your brother’s expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, but instead of the angry outburst you feared, he broke into a smile. “Really? You two?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. “Yeah, we just wanted you to know.”

To your astonishment, your brother’s smile grew wider. “Honestly, I couldn’t have picked a better guy for you. I trust Jungwon. He’s the only guy I know who’s worthy of you because I know he’ll treat you right.”

The weight lifted off your shoulders as joy washed over you. You turned to Jungwon, and without thinking, you both leaned in, sharing a sweet kiss under the moonlight. The moment was perfect—until your brother suddenly coughed, breaking the spell.

“Hey! No kisses in front of me!” he declared, mock annoyance in his tone, but there was a teasing glint in his eye.

You and Jungwon pulled back, laughter bubbling up between you. “Okay, okay,” you giggled, feeling warmth spread through you at your brother’s acceptance. “No kisses in front of you.”

With a playful grin, Jungwon stepped forward and pulled you into a warm hug. You melted into his embrace, feeling a sense of comfort and happiness enveloping you. “Thanks for being so cool about this,” Jungwon said softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Your brother crossed his arms, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Just keep the mushy stuff to a minimum around me, alright?”

You laughed again, feeling giddy. “We will, I promise.”

As you pulled back from the hug, you saw the genuine happiness in your brother’s eyes. “Just remember,” he added, a more serious tone creeping into his voice, "treat her right, alright?”

Jungwon nodded earnestly, a serious expression crossing his face. “I promise I will.”

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

Bonus!:

The day of one your brother's Quidditch match had arrived, and the atmosphere around the pitch was electric with excitement. You had made your way to the team tent, filled with an eagerness to support your brother. As you entered, the familiar scent of fresh grass and a hint of waxed wood filled the air, along with the chatter of the team gearing up for the game.

You found your brother pacing nervously inside the tent, his Quidditch gear scattered around him. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He looked up, surprise washing over his face when he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

With a playful grin, you pulled out a bright yellow chicken costume from behind your back, waving it triumphantly. “I came to collect one of the favors you owe me!”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he groaned dramatically. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re making me wear that? Right before the match?”

“Absolutely!” you teased, stifling a laugh. “A chicken mascot would really boost team morale. Just think of it as a strategic advantage.”

He shot you a look that could only be described as a mix of annoyance and resignation. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, snatching the costume from your hands. “Fine! But if I get ridiculed out there, I’m blaming you.”

“Hey, at least you’ll be memorable!” you shot back, unable to hold in your laughter as he started to put on the ridiculous outfit. The fluffy yellow feathers looked utterly absurd against his determined expression.

As he struggled to pull the costume over his Quidditch gear, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Come on, embrace your inner chicken! You’re gonna be the star of the show!”

“I’m going to be the laughingstock of the school!” he retorted, but you could see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the exasperation.

Once he finally managed to get the costume on, you took a step back to admire the spectacle. He looked utterly ridiculous, and you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight. “You make a great chicken! You’re gonna fly out there and peck the competition!”

“Very funny,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he glanced in the mirror. “Alright, let’s just get this over with.”

“Just remember,” you said, suppressing another laugh, “you’ve got a chicken in your corner cheering you on. You’ll win for sure!”

With that, he rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “I better not regret this,” he muttered as he headed out of the tent, his confidence bolstered by your playful energy.

/ᐠ ˵> ˕ <˵マ

You and Jungwon stood in front of your brother, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “So, we have a bit of a favor to ask,” you said, trying to sound as innocent as possible despite the excitement bubbling up inside you.

Your brother looked at you skeptically. “What is it this time? Because I swear if it involves another chicken costume…”

“It’s nothing like that!” Jungwon interjected, stifling a laugh. “We want you to turn us into cats.”

Your brother blinked in disbelief, processing your request. “Seriously? You two want to be turned into cats? Why would you even want that?”

“Because it would be fun!” you replied, barely able to contain your excitement. “I promise, it’ll be worth it!”

He hesitated, clearly torn between disbelief and amusement. “And why would I even consider this?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Jungwon before speaking up again. “Remember that second favor you owe me. This counts, right?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine! But if this backfires, I’m holding you both responsible.”

“Thank you!” you both chimed, practically bouncing on your toes with excitement.

With a sigh, your brother pulled out his wand, muttering the incantation under his breath. A warm light enveloped you and Jungwon, and suddenly you felt yourself shrinking, your limbs transforming as your human forms faded away. When the light dimmed, you looked around with wide eyes, realizing you were both small, furry creatures now.

Jungwon turned to you, his eyes sparkling with delight, and let out a soft, inquisitive meow. You mirrored his expression, feeling the softness of your new form and the thrill of being a cat. You nuzzled against him, your whiskers brushing against his fur, and instinctively, you both began to purr.

Your brother, now looking utterly baffled, shook his head in disbelief. “You two really went through with it…” he muttered, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice. “Just be careful, okay?”

But before he could say anything else, you and Jungwon turned your attention back to each other. Without a second thought, you dashed over to Jungwon, who had already curled up on a nearby cushion. He looked up at you with bright eyes, and you couldn’t resist the urge to snuggle up against him. You nestled into his warm side, feeling the comforting rhythm of his purring resonate against you. He responded by wrapping his paws around you, drawing you closer.

As the two of you settled into a cozy heap, Jungwon began to groom you, his rough tongue lapping at your fur in gentle strokes. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of his actions. You felt safe and content, purring softly as he continued to lick your fur, making you feel warm and loved.

Drifting off to sleep, you felt Jungwon shift slightly, wrapping his body around yours as if to protect you. He looked down at you, his eyes full of affection, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. You were just two cats, snuggled together, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment as you drifted off to sleep in the comfort of each other's warmth.

521 notes · View notes

yooniivrse · 4 months ago

Text

uh oh, i'm falling in love | myg

summary. the night that yoongi realises you might be a lot more than just a close friend to his heart.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, best friends to ??, one sided love? (up to reader's interpretation)

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none <333

notes: this was a request from my love, @perfectlyoongi-main. you can find the ask for this oneshot here. listening to labyrinth by taylor swift on repeat while writing this definitely made me feel very very single, but i loved writing this sm. as always, likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback is so so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

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main masterlist

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You stop in front of the small, old-fashioned photo booth, hands on your hips as you look it over with mild scepticism.

It’s a flimsy structure tucked in a quiet corner of the mall, slightly worn down with chipped paint and a fading sign hanging above it. It’s the kind of booth that hasn’t been updated in years, where the pictures are low-quality and slightly off-colour, but you look at it with the excitement of someone who’s just discovered a hidden gem.

“I don’t think we’ll both fit inside,” you muse, tilting your head as if a different angle might magically increase its size.

Yoongi stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket, eyeing the booth with a barely hidden look of reluctance.

If he's being honest, he’d much rather be back home with you, watching movies in the comfort of his living room, eating pizza, and letting the night pass by as it usually does. It’s how he’s spent his birthdays for the past three years since meeting you, a quiet tradition he’d grown to look forward to. But this year, you’d insisted he get out of the house, brimming with excitement at the idea of taking him somewhere, refusing to tell him what you had planned.

And even though he could’ve turned you down, Yoongi knew he wouldn’t. Not with the way your face lit up when he agreed, that joyful glint in your eyes that made his heart beat just a little faster.

“Maybe we should just do this somewhere else,” he suggests, already eyeing the dim mall corridor as an escape route. “There’s no way we’re both fitting inside unless you sit on my lap or something.”

He means it as a joke, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he realises the weight they carry. His heart skips a beat as you turn to him with that playful smile he knows so well, eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and mischief.

“I don’t think—”

“Oh, come on! It’s your birthday,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “And we’ve been best friends for long enough that it won’t be weird.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but the words seem to disappear before they can reach his lips. The suggestion should feel casual, even funny, but there’s a strange tension that settles in his chest, stopping him from brushing it off like he usually would. It’s the same tension that’s been creeping up more often these days, the one that leaves him feeling almost breathless whenever he’s around you.

“Unless,” you add with a sly smile, your expression feigning innocence, “you’d rather sit on my lap?”

He chuckles, the sound more nervous than he intended. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. But as he steps forward, he feels a strange warmth creeping into his cheeks, something uncomfortably close to anticipation.

You squeeze into the booth first, settling onto the small, tacky leather stool with a satisfied grin. You pat your lap playfully, but Yoongi only shakes his head, stepping into the cramped space behind you.

His heart thrums erratically as he settles onto the stool, his knees brushing against yours as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you both fit within the booth’s limited space. You lean back against him, so naturally that he wonders if you can feel the way his heart races at the contact.

“See?” you say, glancing back at him with a grin. “This isn’t so bad.”

The camera’s light starts blinking, giving a brief warning before the first picture snaps. You immediately turn to him, nudging his cheek to bring him closer, and in the tight space, it’s all he can do to keep his balance as he leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Smile!” you chirp just as the flash goes off.

The light catches him off guard, and he blinks, momentarily dazed by the brightness. He hears you laughing softly, your shoulders shaking against him, and he’s hit with a wave of warmth, one that spreads through him as he watches you, momentarily forgetting about the camera entirely.

With a slight grin, you shift in his lap, angling the two of you for another shot as the timer counts down again.

You’re so close he can feel the faint trace of your perfume, the warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your breathing as it syncs with his. And for some reason, the thought of being this close to you—closer than he ever thought he’d be—stirs something unexpected within him.

Another flash, capturing you mid-laugh, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing within him.

As the countdown begins again, you glance back, your gaze meeting his, and Yoongi feels himself freeze. There’s a hint of something in your eyes—an invitation, perhaps, or maybe a question—that makes his heart race all over again.

His eyes drift to your smile, the soft curve of your lips, the brightness of your gaze, and he can’t ignore the way his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it too.

The timer clicks down to the next flash, and he forces a smile for the camera, though his mind is elsewhere entirely. He’s trying to make sense of the strange rush of feelings flooding through him, feelings that have been building up slowly, subtly, over time.

The booth is quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of machinery and your shared breaths. You tilt your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, and his entire world narrows down to this single moment. Yoongi feels his arms tightening around you, an instinctual gesture that’s both protective and vulnerable.

The timer clicks down to one last shot. "Alright, funny face!" you call out, pulling an exaggerated grin, and he chuckles, trying to shake off the gravity of his own emotions as he mirrors your expression. The flash captures the both of you, frozen in a moment of joy.

As the final picture fades, you stay in his arms a beat longer than necessary, and the realisation hits him like a tidal wave, too strong to ignore. This isn’t just friendship, he thinks, feeling a pang of something so overwhelming that it borders on painful. Somewhere along the line, he’s fallen in love with you, and he doesn’t know if there’s a way back.

But you’re oblivious, still laughing as you climb off his lap, crouching down to grab the strip of photos as they print out. “Look at this!” you say, waving them in front of his face. “I'm definitely hanging these up on my fridge.”

He blinks, his gaze lingering on you as you sort through the photos, laughing at the silly faces, the close-ups of your laughter, and his slightly dazed expressions. You’re so focused on the photos that you don’t notice the way he’s looking at you now, eyes soft with something deeper, something he can no longer deny.

“See, I told you that it'd be fun.” You glance up, still beaming, and he forces himself to nod, plastering a smile over the vulnerability he feels beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice almost lost in the small space. “I guess it was.”

But even as he smiles, the weight of his realisation settles heavily in his chest, pressing down on him with a strange mixture of longing and fear.

He wonders if he’ll ever find the courage to tell you, or if he’ll spend his days hiding this quiet, aching love, content to stay by your side as a friend, the way he’s always been.

You turn to him, still laughing over one of the photos. “Hey,” you say softly, a note of seriousness creeping into your voice. “Thanks for tonight. I know this isn’t your usual birthday thing, but… it means a lot.”

And for a brief moment, he thinks about telling you everything. He thinks about confessing, about admitting that the thought of spending his life without you, without these small moments of joy and laughter, terrifies him more than anything else. But the words catch in his throat, stuck beneath the weight of a love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“Anytime,” he finally says, his voice a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the booth.

You look at him for a moment longer, a soft smile playing on your lips before you hand him one of the strips of photos. As you walk out of the booth, he follows behind you, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, the quiet, unspoken confession that lingers in the space between you.

Maybe one day, he'll find the courage to tell you how he feels; maybe one day, he'll get to be more than just your friend.

But until then, his love will stay hidden in the attic of his thoughts, known only to him.

And for now, that's enough.

485 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 11 days ago

Note

Omg your writings are so scrumptiously delicious 😋 I always come back to read them again And again especially the phainon ones! Agh they are soo good! Also been wondering since you wrote Yan! Phainon× vamp! reader... how about Yan! vamp!phainon×reader..if that's okay... Have a great day/evening/night!

Yandere!Vampire Phainon x Reader

[artist]

The sun dipped low over the village, casting golden light across the cobbled streets. Laughter echoed between stone walls as a group of children ran through the narrow alleys, their feet kicking up dust. You were among them, breathless and grinning, trying to keep up with the boy ahead of you.

“You’re too slow, Y/N!” Phainon teased, turning back with a wide grin. His silver-white hair gleamed under the fading light, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I’m not slow! You’re just unfairly fast!” you huffed, trying to catch him.

Phainon only laughed, effortlessly dodging your outstretched hands. Behind you, the others—Mydei, Anaxa, and a handful of others called out, egging you both on.

“Give Y/N a chance, Phainon!” one of them yelled.

“Yeah, don’t be mean.” Anaxa added, though his voice was laced with amusement.

Phainon slowed just enough for you to reach him, letting you tug on the sleeve of his tunic. “Caught you!” you declared triumphantly.

Instead of pulling away, Phainon tilted his head, smiling. “Guess that means I belong to you now” he said lightly.

“You’re weird.” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve.

The warmth of the evening settled over you all as you made your way to the village outskirts. Beyond the fields, a small grove of trees offered a quiet retreat from the watchful eyes of adults. It was your group’s favorite place, a hidden world where you could be anything you wanted.

Mydei flopped onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. “I’m tired. Someone should carry me home.”

“You have legs” Anaxa scoffed, sitting down beside him. “Use them.”

You chuckled and sat next to Phainon, who stretched out lazily. The golden hour made his pale skin glow, and for a moment, he seemed almost otherworldly. You’d always thought he looked a little different, but then again, all of them did. The village women sometimes whispered about it, about their unnaturally striking features, their strange presence—but you never paid much attention. They were your friends. That was all that mattered.

Phainon leaned close, resting his chin on his palm as he watched you. “You’re staring” he teased.

You blinked, startled. “I was not.”

“You were” he insisted, grinning. “Do I look that handsome to you?”

“You’re annoying” you muttered, lightly shoving his shoulder.

He only laughed.

The conversation shifted to plans for tomorrow, with Mydei complaining about chores and Anaxa suggesting another race through the village. You listened, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Phainon’s eyes were still on you.

You didn’t know then that Phainon had already decided.

Years Later

The group was no longer whole.

Time had worn down the bonds of childhood, and the innocence of those golden days had long since faded. Some had drifted apart, others had changed in ways you could barely recognize. The carefree days of running through the village had been replaced with whispers in the dark—secrets you weren’t privy to.

And yet, Phainon remained.

“You’re quiet tonight” he remarked, setting down a goblet as he leaned back in his chair.

You looked up from your seat across from him, the dim candlelight flickering between you. “Just thinking.”

Phainon studied you, his blue eyes sharp despite his ever-present smile. “About what?”

You hesitated. Should you say it? That you had noticed the strange way the others carried themselves, the way they whispered behind closed doors? That some of them had started keeping odd company—company that left them with faint red marks on their throats?

That the people you once knew felt like strangers?

Instead, you sighed. “I don’t know. Things just feel… different.”

Phainon tapped his fingers against the table. “People change” he said simply. “But I haven’t, have I?”

You glanced at him. No—Phainon hadn’t changed. He was still the same bright, teasing boy from your childhood. Always smiling, always close.

“You haven’t” you admitted, but the words felt strange on your tongue.

Phainon tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. Then, he smiled.

Outside, the night stretched on, and somewhere in the darkness, something shifted.

Something you weren’t meant to see.

The place was hidden, tucked away in the shadows of the city’s underbelly. It wasn’t a tavern, nor a brothel, but something worse—a gathering ground for those who lurked in the dark, where morality had long been forgotten.

Phainon moved through the dimly lit corridors like a specter, his presence drawing wary glances. They knew him here. Knew his name, his strength. Even among vampires, he was a force to be feared.

A low murmur caught his ear.

In the far corner, a vampire, one who owed him a great deal, had cornered a trembling girl. Her breath hitched as the man leaned in, fingers curling around her throat.

Phainon barely spared them a glance.

It wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his concern. The weak suffered, the strong took what they wanted. That was the way of things.

He stepped forward to leave. And then, without warning, the image shifted. For a brief, horrifying second, it wasn’t some nameless girl in that man’s grip. It was you.

His body went rigid.

Would he still walk away? Would he still ignore it?

The thought sent something ugly curling in his chest.

A slow inhale. A measured exhale. He forced his body to relax. It wasn’t you. It would never be you. You weren’t meant for places like this.

Still, the unease lingered.

With a final glance at the struggling girl, Phainon turned and walked away, the thirst in his throat demanding attention. He needed something to quiet his thoughts, someone to satisfy his hunger.

As he stepped deeper into the night, a realization settled within him.

If it had been you, if anyone had dared to touch you, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as you went about your daily routine. It was rare, almost strange, not to have Phainon lingering nearby, flashing that easy smile of his or teasing you about something trivial.

Maybe he was busy.

It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear at times, though he always returned like nothing had happened. You never asked where he went, and he never told you.

Today, the village was as lively as ever. You made your way through the familiar paths, exchanging greetings with the townsfolk and stopping briefly to chat with Anaxa, who seemed preoccupied with something.

“You seen Phainon?” you asked casually.

Anaxa snorted. “No, and I don’t plan on looking for him either.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Just… sometimes, it’s better not to know where he goes.”

The words sat uneasily with you, but before you could press further, someone called your name from across the street.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of small errands, idle conversations, and the comforting normalcy of routine. Yet, beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

By the time evening rolled around, the absence felt heavier.

Phainon always found you before the day ended. Always.

So why wasn’t he here?

The next morning, Phainon appeared as if he had never been gone.

He leaned against the doorway of your home, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his face. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small, relieved breath you let out. “You wish.”

He only chuckled, falling into step beside you as if no time had passed. And just like that, things returned to normal. You didn’t ask where he had been, and he didn’t offer an explanation. That was how it always was.

That evening, your mother handed you a small parcel wrapped in cloth. “Take this to your grandmother, will you? But be careful, don’t linger too long. It’ll be dark soon.”

You reassured her with a smile before setting off. The road was familiar, winding through the outskirts of the village, lined with tall trees that cast long shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon.

By the time you started heading back, the last traces of daylight had faded. The path home felt different at night—quieter, colder. The wind whispered through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

Then, the silence broke.

A rustle.

You stopped, heart thudding in your chest. The trees swayed, their branches casting twisted shadows across the path. It was probably just an animal.

Then you heard it—breathing.

Before you could turn, something slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. A weight pinned you down, cold fingers gripping your shoulders.

“Smells good...” a voice rasped above you.

Your breath caught as you looked up, meeting the hungry, gleaming eyes of a man. No—a vampire. His lips curled, revealing sharp fangs.

“Let go of me!” You struggled, panic surging through your veins.

He chuckled, amused by your resistance. “I haven’t fed in days. Just a little taste—”

Then, in an instant, he was gone- ripped away.

The weight lifted, and before you could process what had happened, a sickening crack echoed through the air. A strangled cry followed, cut short as something heavy hit the ground.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up.

And then you saw Phainon who stood a few feet away, his back turned to you. At his feet, the vampire lay crumpled, twitching weakly. One of his arms bent at an unnatural angle.

“You picked the wrong person” Phainon murmured.

The injured vampire let out a choked whimper. “I— I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” Phainon repeated, tilting his head. “Didn’t know they were mine?”

“Please—”

Phainon sighed. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and crushed the man’s throat beneath his heel.

Your heart pounded as you watched him. He turned to you, his usual warmth still present—but now laced with something darker.

“You’re trembling” he said softly, stepping closer.

You couldn’t move.

Then, ever so gently, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

“You should be more careful, Y/N.”

His fingers lingered.

“I’d hate to lose you.”

Your vision blurred. Your breath came in shallow gasps, but it wasn’t enough—your chest tightened, the world tilting as cold sweat slicked your skin.

Phainon. The vampire’s broken body. The blood pooling beneath him.

“Ah—” Phainon exhaled, amused yet concerned. “I suppose that was a bit much for you.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the serene, almost affectionate smile on his face.

You stirred, eyes fluttering open. You weren’t outside anymore. Dim candlelight flickered against wooden walls—your room.

“You’re awake” Phainon murmured.

He was sitting at your bedside, one arm draped lazily over the chair, watching you with a quiet intensity.

Your body tensed. The memory rushed back all at once—the attack, the vampire, the way Phainon had crushed his throat like it was nothing.

Your fingers clenched the sheets. “You—”

“I carried you home”

Silence stretched between you.

“I took care of it. No one will ever touch you again.”

“You… killed him.”

Phainon didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed almost puzzled by your reaction. “Of course.”

The boy you had grown up with, the one who had laughed with you, teased you, stayed by your side—had crushed a man’s throat without hesitation.

Phainon leaned closer, reaching out slowly, as if not to startle you. His fingers brushed your wrist, light and careful. “You’re safe with me” he murmured.

Days passed.

Phainon left you alone, giving you space to recover, though he never strayed too far. You could feel his presence even when he wasn’t visible—watching, waiting.

But the fear that had once taken root inside you began to shift.

Curiosity gnawed at your thoughts.

Where did he go at night? What kind of life did he lead beyond the smile he showed you?

And more importantly—how much had he hidden from you?

So, when the sun dipped below the horizon, you made your choice.

You pulled on a cloak, wrapping it tightly around yourself before slipping into the night.

Phainon was easy to track. He moved with a confidence that came from knowing no one could touch him, his form barely more than a whisper in the darkness.

You followed carefully, staying just out of sight.

The path led away from the village, past old roads and tangled trees, into the underbelly of a world you had never seen before.

And then—you found it. The Hidden Den.

The place was alive with a dark, pulsing energy. Torches flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows over the twisted gathering.

Vampires lounged on crimson-draped couches, fangs sinking into willing throats as girls draped themselves over their laps. Others inhaled thick, perfumed smoke from ornate pipes, their pupils blown wide with pleasure.

On one side, blood was being poured into goblets like fine wine, passed between hands in hushed trades. In another corner, a vampire licked fresh crimson from his fingers while a dazed-looking woman trembled beside him, her pulse sluggish.

This was what he was part of?

A sick fascination mingled with your horror. You wanted to turn away—but you couldn’t.

A presence loomed behind you.

Before you could react, a hand gripped your shoulder and yanked you back into the shadows. Your back hit a cold wall. A figure loomed over you, silver hair catching the dim light.

Phainon.

But this wasn’t the version of him you knew.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to wander where you don’t belong?”

You looked up at Phainon, at the way the dim torchlight cast shadows over his face—sharpening his features, making him seem even more untouchable. His grip on your shoulder was firm, grounding.

But you weren’t afraid.

You were angry.

"Is this what you're into?" you demanded, voice sharp, cutting through the low hum of sinful indulgence around you. "Is this the kind of place you belong to?"

Phainon's expression didn’t waver, but his fingers twitched slightly against your shoulder.

You continued, ignoring the cold air brushing against your skin. "I don’t want you here. You’re better than this."

His lips parted slightly in surprise. Then, amusement flickered in his gaze. "Better than this?" he echoed. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I know you" you said without hesitation.

A moment of silence stretched between you, taut with unspoken things. Then Phainon exhaled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you. His grip finally loosened, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his eyes drifted downward—toward your exposed wrist, where your pulse beat strong beneath your skin.

"You followed me all this way" he murmured. "Was it just to scold me?"

You hesitated for only a second before speaking.

"If you’re that thirsty, drink from me instead."

Phainon blinked.

And then he laughed.

"You’re unbelievable." he said, voice hushed.

But he didn’t refuse.

Phainon leaned in slowly, watching you carefully, as if waiting for hesitation. But you didn’t flinch. His fingers brushed against your wrist, tilting it slightly. His lips ghosted over your skin.

And then—

A sharp sting, followed by warmth.

Your breath caught as his fangs pierced your skin, precise and careful. It wasn’t painful, not really. A strange, tingling sensation spread through you, your body growing light, unsteady.

Phainon made a quiet sound against your skin, like a sigh of relief, like he had been waiting for this. His grip was gentle, his touch reverent. And just as quickly as it started, it was over.

He pulled back, licking the last drops of crimson from his lips. "You taste too good for your own good" he murmured, almost to himself.

You barely heard him.

Because suddenly, the heavy perfume in the air—the scent of blood, of incense, of whatever drugged haze lingered in this place crashed down on you all at once.

Your knees buckled.

Phainon's arms were around you before you could hit the ground.

"Ah," he breathed, catching you easily. "Didn’t think that one through, did you?"

Your body felt weightless as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

By the time you woke, you were home.

The scent of that place was gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of your own room. Your body felt drained, sluggish, but safe.

And sitting beside you, as if he had never left, was Phainon.

"You’re reckless," he murmured, breaking the silence. "But I like that about you."

His fingers brushed against your wrist again, where his mark remained.

"You should rest," he said softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, despite everything—you believed him.

You barely remembered falling asleep.

After Phainon carried you home from that wretched place, exhaustion claimed you faster than you could think. Your body was too weak, too drained from everything that happened.

But when you woke up—something was wrong.

A hand clamped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Your eyes shot open, heart slamming against your ribs. The room was dark, but you could make out a figure looming over you—a vampire, his breath heavy with the scent of old blood.

"You shouldn’t have been there, little thing." the man sneered.

The one who owed Phainon saw what you both did. So he thought he could take advantage of the situation.

Panic surged through you. You struggled, but his grip tightened.

"You cost me" he hissed, voice low and venomous. "But don’t worry. You’ll be useful in another way."

He yanked you up from your bed, arms locking around you like iron.

The moment Phainon stepped into your house, he knew something was wrong. The air reeked of an unfamiliar scent—bitter, old blood mixed with the distinct stench of someone who didn’t belong.

Your room was a mess. The blankets were thrown aside, your belongings knocked over, and worst of all—

You were gone.

Phainon’s entire expression darkened.

The scent was fresh. They couldn’t have gone far.

His fingers twitched, sharp nails lengthening slightly as he inhaled deeply, locking onto the trail like a predator.

He found you in an abandoned alley, pressed against the cold stone as the vampire loomed over you, fangs bared.

"Don’t struggle" the man sneered. "I just need a little taste—"

Crack.

The vampire was on the ground before he could register what happened, Phainon’s boot pressing down against his throat.

The man choked, clawing at Phainon’s leg, but the weight didn’t budge.

"You made a mistake" Phainon murmured, voice eerily calm.

His foot pressed down harder. The vampire’s struggles weakened.

"Phainon" you rasped, voice hoarse, barely able to move.

That was the only thing that stopped him.

Phainon’s gaze flicked toward you. His eyes softened—just a fraction.

With one last sharp glare at the trembling man beneath him, Phainon finally stepped back.

The vampire gasped, wheezing as he scrambled away.

Phainon didn’t bother watching him flee.

He was already kneeling beside you, fingers brushing over your face, checking for injuries.

"Tch." His voice was light, but you could hear the underlying tension. "I leave you alone for one moment, and this is what happens?"

"Not my fault."

A chuckle. "I guess not."

And before you could protest, he scooped you up again, cradling you against his chest.

Phainon’s home was nothing like yours.

The moment he brought you inside, he didn’t let you out of his sight. You were still rattled, too exhausted to argue as he led you to a bath, forcing you to sit and soak in the warm water while he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

"You don’t have to watch me" you muttered, sinking into the heat.

"I do" he replied smoothly.

You scowled but didn’t push further.

After you finished, you dressed in the spare clothes he handed you, soft and unfamiliar, but comfortable.

But even then, something was off.

Phainon’s expression was unreadable as he stood in front of you, arms still crossed, eyes sharp.

"What?" you asked, frowning.

He exhaled, then leaned in slightly, inhaling.

Your entire body tensed.

"That scent" he murmured.

It took you a second to realize what he meant.

Even after bathing, the vampire’s scent still clung to you.

Phainon didn’t like that.

You barely had time to react before Phainon closed the distance between you.

One hand reached for your wrist, the other sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

"Phainon—?"

"You smell like him," he said, almost absentmindedly. "I hate it."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in further, his nose brushing lightly against the side of your neck.

A slow inhale.

"Phainon—!"

His hands slid down, trailing over your shoulders, gripping your arms just enough to keep you still. He wasn’t rough—no, his touch was slow, intentional.

"You don’t want to reek of someone else, do you?" he murmured against your skin. "Let me fix it."

His lips brushed over the curve of your throat, not quite kissing, not quite biting—just enough to make your pulse spike.

"Stop squirming" he chuckled when you shifted, his voice warm, teasing. "You wanted me to drink from you before. Did you change your mind?"

"That’s not—this is different—!"

Phainon hummed, a soft, knowing sound. "Not really."

His arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you flush against him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

This wasn’t about feeding.

This was about marking.

"Better" Phainon murmured, finally leaning back to meet your gaze. His blue eyes gleamed, satisfied.

"You smell like me now."

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #phainon x reader #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon

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penelopepine · 7 months ago

Text

Elephant in the Room

John Price x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 2234 Content: NSFW, p in v sex, MDNI

When Price walked into the bar he had expected the night to be like any other time. He was going to be going on practically a suicide mission in just few days. The higher ups have given the team the weekend to do as they please off base because of that, and he was planning on drinking the night away before going to his apartment. Spending the next morning nursing a hangover by himself.

That's not what happened though because that is the night he met you. Sitting at the bar all alone looking absolutely stunning. It was clear though that you were waiting on someone based on how you were constantly looking from your phone to the door. Price fully intended to leave you alone because of that, but after 10 minutes with your frown only growing with every second he couldn't stop himself.

“Something on your mind, love?” He slid into a chair at the bar, but not wanting to scare you he left a seat empty between the two of you. “You seem awfully interested in that door over there.”

His sudden appearance and question brings you out of your head, and causes you to slightly jump in your seat. You turn your head to look at him with a gentle but uncertain smile, “Oh! I’m just waiting for a date, but … it seems like he might not be coming.”

“He’s a fool to pass up a chance to get to know you.” He watches as a more genuine smile blossoms on your face now, “Can I buy you a drink? I’ll promise you right now that I’m not a fool.”

It’s then that you shift into the empty seat between the two of you, your body now facing him, and nod your head to his question as well as giving him your name.. Price immediately raises his hand slightly to get the bartender's attention; his eyes never leave yours though as he tells you his name as well.

The night progressed from there with your date nowhere in sight, and even if he did show up Price wasn't going to let you go so easily. Not when just being in your presence has already brought him so much joy. How that bloke let you sit here alone he doesn't know, but he's not going to complain now that it's him who gets to be here with you.

"You know why I'm here, but what about you? Why are you here all by yourself."

Price takes a deep breath before answering; wondering just how much he should reveal to you, "This just seemed like the best thing to do right now. I'm going to be overseas for a few months, military." He explains as best as he can while keeping things vague. It'd definitely be a mood killer if he talked about how this mission might be his last.

"Military? That's gotta be an interesting job, Private." Your voice is filled with mischief as you address him

"Lieutenant actually." Price growls out while leaning towards you. He makes sure to put your legs in between his; effectively caging you into your seat.

You grin up at him, and place one of your hands on his upper thigh, “You’re the one giving the orders then? I’m good at following orders.”

It takes everything in Price to not bend you over this bar counter to see just how good you are at following orders. He wasn’t expecting to spend the night with you, but he wasn’t going to deny himself the opportunity if you were offering.

He gives your body an obvious look up and down, “I’d like to see you prove it.”

It was no surprise soon after that that you two were then stumbling into your apartment

Price clashed his mouth on yours as soon as the door was shut. You lead him to the bedroom while you two throw off your jackets and shoes along the way; never once breaking away from each other.

Hurriedly he removes the clothes that you were wearing along with your bra leaving you in only your panties. With one more sloppy kiss he lifts you up and throws you down onto the bed before removing all of his own clothes. Making sure to take an old condom out of his wallet and place it on your side table for later use.

Standing at the end of the bed he can’t help but just take a few moments to just look how pretty you look splayed out. “You ready, love.” Price groans while stroking his cock; maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

“I’m ready, please just touch me!”

Climbing onto the bed he slowly makes his way up your body. Starting with your ankles, Price kisses up your leg; making sure to suck some deep marks onto your thighs before finally focusing on your clothed pussy. He can’t help himself and sticks his nose deep into your sex and takes a deep sniff. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Before you can even respond, Price is giving your Pussy a wet open mouth kiss; absolutely soaking and ruining the panties that you're wearing.

“Ah, John!” You cry out immediately gripping his hair and wrapping your thighs around his head to keep him in place. “More, please.”

“You’ll take what you’re given sweet thing. Now be patient and just enjoy yourself while I get a taste of this pretty cunt.” He grunted before taking this time to finally remove your panties. Revealing your glistening pussy lips to him.

Not even a second later Price’s mouth is back on your cunt. He teases your hole with his tongue; poking at it with a light amount of pressure. Wanting to feel how your hole twitches every time his tongue enters you.

He reveals in your moans and pleases for more.

When Price is done with his teasing he adjusts his grip on your thighs and plunges his tongue fully inside of you; he even moves his nose so that it directly applies constant pressure to your clit.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum! I can’t- Please!”

“Cum sweetheart, cum on my tongue. Let me taste it.” He begs of you.

Immediately after he says that you’re thighs are practically crushing his skull as he continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm. Not stopping until your body goes limp. Only then does Price move up, stopping at your breast giving each nipple a harsh bite. Finally though he comes face to face with you. “Open up.’

Without hesitation you do as well; allowing him to devour your mouth while his hands move to grope at your chest.

“John, please” You whine between breaths

“I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart don’t you worry. Just keep laying here looking pretty.” Grabbing one of your ankles in hand straight up while the other one rests on his hip. With his free hand he moves it to your cunt, and thumbs your slit up and down. Teasing your clit every time he is close to it; always rubbing around it and never directly hitting it.

After a few seconds of this Price finally slides a finger inside of you, and then a second. “How does that feel sweetheart?” He asks with hard and fast movements.

“It’s- it feels-,” You gasp after a particularly hard thrust, “good! It feels so good; don’t stop!”

He continues to finger your cunt; getting you nice and loose for what’s to come. Once you’re stretched enough for his likeness Price takes his fingers out, and brings them up to your mouth. Obediently you open your mouth and happily begin to suck on them. While you do he begins to lightly thrust his fingers as well.

Price is ready for the main event though, and takes his fingers out to grab the condom to put it on. He then moves both hands to grab an ankle each. Extending them wide, giving him plenty of room to do as he pleases.

Lining himself up he slowly thrusts his hips forward; wanting you to feel every inch he’s giving you.

“John!” You gasp out, “faster, more, please.”

“You want faster, love? Want more?” He growls with a slow drag out of your pussy till just the tip is still inside. “Then take it.”

Price in a flash releases your ankles letting them now rest on his shoulders. Practically putting you in the perfect mating press. Allowing him plenty of movement to thrust harshly back inside of you. He doesn’t go easy on you anymore, he’s not going to stop now, not when you begged so prettily for this.

Your breath stuttered with each hard thrust that was punching straight at your cervix. At the same time Price had shoved his face into your neck, and was determined to leave you with marks that would last for days.

“You’re doing so good, love. Your cunt is squeezing around me so tight.” He moans out into your ear before giving your earlobe a playful nibble.

A breathless laugh escapes you as he does, “I’m so close, John, so close.”

“Do it. Cum on my cock; I want to feel your pussy pulsing on it.”

Following his command perfectly he feels you clench tightly on his cock. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm. Not far behind from his own orgasm he quickly pulls out and cums right onto your swollen cunt.

You both are panting by now, and Price rests his forehead on yours. Your body now lays limp beneath his, and before he rolls over to lay down beside you he slowly gets up. Making his way to the bathroom he grabs a rag, and returns to clean you up.

All you do is give a slight whine when he gently cleans up your lower half. Once done he’s honestly not sure if he should leave or not. That wasn’t really something that was discussed, and that last thing he wants right now is to make the wrong move. Even though leaving is the last thing he wants to do right he knows that in the end it’s probably for the best.

You must have noticed his hesitancy on what to do because the next thing he knows you're grabbing him by the wrist, and tugging him into the bed beside you. Price happily lets you pull him in; he pulls you close to his chest once you're both laying down. He doesn’t think he’s even had such a peaceful sleep before; everything just seems brighter with you. Which makes it all that more painful when he knows that this isn’t going to last forever.

Come morning Price wakes up and the last thing he sees is you curled up into him. He takes his time just taking in your relaxed features. It makes him truly appreciate your beauty. While he does he thinks about what his next move should be. Price can’t leave you just yet.

So what he does then is slowly extract himself from your arms, putting on his boxers, and makes his way to your kitchen hoping he can make some kind of breakfast for the two of you.

It’s some time after when he’s almost done with cooking do you make an appearance; seemingly only wearing his shirt.

“Good morning, handsome.” You mumble your words into his back as you come and wrap your arms around him from behind. “Happy to see you’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me too, sweetheart.” Price means it too, he doesn’t want to leave you just yet.

“And if I want you to stay for the rest of the weekend; maybe have some more fun?”

He turns around in your arms, and brings your body close to his as he goes for a deep kiss, “then I’d say I’m yours for the weekend.”

“I like the sound of that.” You say between kisses and rub one of your hands on his chest. “We could have some more fun now.”

Not needing to be told anymore, Price is turning off the stove; setting the food to the side. Breakfast for dinner was always more fun anyway he thinks to himself as you both go racing to the bedroom once more.

All good things must come to an end though, and before he knew it it was time for him to leave. It was about 5 am, and after he had finished getting himself dressed Price took a few seconds to just look at you. He made his way to your side, and placed a gentle kiss on your head.

He knew you expected at least a goodbye from him after everything, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to give that to you. If he did he knew he would want more, and so he made his way to your front door to leave.

Before Price even finished shutting the door he knew that you would be the one that got away. He had no clue what the future held though, and the last thing he wanted was for his death to affect you. If that means being the asshole that left without a word after a weekend of puppy love and sex then so be it.

If only he had known what he was walking away from at that moment.

12 Years Later…

Taglist: @zarsghost

#john price x reader #john price #x reader #call of duty #fem reader #smut #p in v sex #john price x y/n

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 1 month ago

Note

i just imagine mc loving driving sebastian up the wall by whispering things like I want you inside me or I want to taste you before walking away like nothing all day sebastian and his will power are holding on by a thread

One of Those Days | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

ahhhh anon thank you for this request I had sooo much fun torturing Seb while writing this. I hope you enjoy it too!!

Words: ~5,500

Tags: Implied Smut, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Seventh Year, Angst, Teasing, Longing, Established Relationship

Friday mornings always held a certain promise for Sebastian. The week’s end brought the light at the end of the tunnel: no more late-night study sessions, no looming deadlines, and—best of all—plans for the weekend. And this weekend was shaping up to be exceptional.

He was seated at the Slytherin table across from Ominis, who was currently buttering a piece of toast with his usual meticulous care. Sebastian leaned back, cradling his coffee, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Why are you so smug this morning?” Ominis asked without looking up, his tone laced with suspicion.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s Friday. The weekend awaits. And tomorrow’s plans? Impeccable.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She got me tickets for the Puddlemere United match. Front row.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, still focused on his toast. “Ah, yes. Your doting girlfriend, endlessly spoiling you. Do remind me how the universe decided that you deserved her?”

“Still trying to figure that out myself,” Sebastian replied, taking a sip of his coffee. He grinned despite the jab. Ominis had been endlessly teasing him about your relationship since it had started over a year ago, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He still felt like he was getting away with something by having you in his life.

His gaze drifted to the Great Hall’s double doors for the third time in as many minutes. You were always late to breakfast—perpetually running behind in the morning.

“She’s late,” Ominis said flatly.

“She’s always late,” Sebastian replied, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. “You’d think by seventh year she’d have mastered the concept of time.”

“She must have overslept,” Ominis mused, as if it weren’t the obvious explanation. “Again.”

“She was up late,” Sebastian said defensively. “Studying."

“Is that what she told you?” Ominis asked, tilting his head with a knowing smirk. "Let's be honest, she was probably off fighting acromantulas in the forest again."

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted you slipping through the doors, looking every bit as radiant as he’d expected. His heart did its usual stupid flip at the sight of you.

You glanced around the room, spotting him instantly. That smile widened, and you started toward the Slytherin table.

“Speak of the devil,” Ominis huffed a laugh, though Sebastian barely heard him. His attention was fixed entirely on you as you approached.

“Morning, boys,” you greeted, slipping into the seat beside Sebastian as though you weren’t a solid twenty minutes late. “Miss me?”

Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his shoulder against yours. “Always. Though I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Got caught up,” you replied breezily, reaching for a piece of toast. “You know how it is.”

Ominis sighed. “No, we don’t. Some of us value punctuality.”

You smirked at him, your eyes glinting with mischief. “And yet, I still manage to charm you both despite my flaws. A talent, really.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s charm so much as sheer persistence,” Ominis replied dryly, but there was a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could reply, Imelda Reyes appeared behind him, her usual air of impatience in full force.

“Ominis, did you finish the notes for Professor Binns’ essay?” she asked brusquely, tapping her foot as if she had somewhere more important to be.

Ominis sighed heavily. “Yes, Imelda. Not that I understand why you insist on taking history so seriously. You do realize it’s impossible to impress a ghost?”

As Ominis turned his attention to Imelda’s complaints, you leaned toward Sebastian, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing him as you spoke just low enough for him to hear.

“You know,” you murmured, “I had a dream about you last night.”

Sebastian froze, the casual sip of coffee he’d been mid-swig nearly going down the wrong pipe. He coughed, turning his head away to avoid choking outright. When he finally managed to compose himself, he looked at you, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“And what, exactly, was this dream about?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you picked up your teaspoon, delicately stirring your tea, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. When you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, you tilted your head, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Nothing appropriate for breakfast conversation,” you replied sweetly, dragging the edge of the spoon between your lips.

Sebastian’s brain short-circuited. He stared at you, a faint pink creeping up the back of his neck as you set the spoon down with an air of innocence. You went back to buttering your toast like you hadn’t just shattered his ability to think coherently.

“Everything all right, Sebastian?” Ominis asked, his attention back on him now that Imelda had left.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, biting into your toast to hide your grin. Ominis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further.

You sipped your tea serenely, but Sebastian could feel the amusement radiating off you in waves. He knew that look. The playful light in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips—it was the look you always got when you were about to cause trouble. And Merlin, it was only breakfast, but you’d already decided to make this one of those days.

He sighed internally, doing some quick mental math.

It lined up. Of course, it did.

Three weeks ago, you’d asked him to come with you to the apothecary, dragging him along while explaining that you needed to restock ingredients for a potion you brewed monthly. He had listened with genuine interest, mostly because you had a knack for making even mundane things captivating. You’d laughed when he asked a few questions, calling him “endearingly clueless for someone so brilliant,” and gone on to share more details about how the potion worked to ease period pains. But now, as he connected the dots, realization dawned with the weight of inevitability.

You were ovulating.

Sebastian’s stomach did a little flip, and a faint, involuntary heat crept up his neck. That explained everything: your heightened playfulness, the way you leaned just a little closer, the way your teasing had an edge that sent sparks skittering down his spine. You were always a minx—bold, confident, and unrepentantly mischievous—but there was something about these days that tipped you from charming troublemaker to full-blown menace. And now that he’d caught on, he knew exactly what kind of day this was shaping up to be.

He was in trouble.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur. You kept your hands to yourself, but every glance, every comment, you sent his way held that same spark. It was enough to make him want to tug you into an empty corridor and—

“Ready for class?” Your voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, cheerful as ever. You rose from your seat, brushing crumbs from your skirt as if you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes planting suggestive landmines in his brain. He swallowed hard and nodded, pushing his chair back to stand.

Ominis muttered something about Sebastian being unusually quiet, but Sebastian waved him off, claiming he was still waking up. A complete lie—he was wide awake now.

As the three of you made your way to Charms, Sebastian tried to steel himself. He knew better than to let you get under his skin this early in the day. If he gave in to your antics now, you’d win—and you loved to win.

The moment you slid into the seat beside him, he felt the familiar brush of your knee against his under the desk. He told himself it was unintentional until you shifted just enough to press against him more deliberately. His gaze flicked to you, but you were already pulling out your parchment, looking perfectly innocent.

When Professor Ronen began the lecture, Sebastian attempted to focus. It lasted all of five minutes before you leaned toward him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Your concentration is admirable, really,” you whispered, the soft warmth of your breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His quill faltered mid-stroke, leaving a jagged mark across the parchment. He turned his head, intending to glare at you, but you were already sitting back, your expression unreadable as you scribbled down notes, head tilted in concentration, the very picture of academic diligence. But then he felt it—your hand, light as a feather, brushing against his thigh under the table. His breath hitched. You didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way. Instead, your quill kept moving steadily across the parchment as though you hadn’t just set his pulse racing.

Your fingers rested there for a moment, almost as if testing the waters, before you began to trace slow, deliberate circles against the fabric of his trousers. Sebastian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he gripped his quill. He tried to will himself to focus, to block out the sensation, but you didn’t stop. In fact, you leaned slightly closer, your arm brushing his as you added a flourish to your notes.

“Comfortable?” you murmured, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Sebastian glanced at you sharply, his eyes narrowing in warning, but you didn’t look at him. The only sign of your mischief was the faintest twitch at the corner of your lips.

His hand twitched, tempted to grab yours and stop you before you pushed him any further, but he knew better. Drawing attention to what you were doing would only give you more satisfaction. So instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned slightly away, his voice a hushed growl. “Behave.”

You finally turned to him, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Seb,” you said, your tone sticky sweet. “I’m just taking notes.”

The corners of your lips quirked upward, and Sebastian let out a slow exhale. You were relentless, and this was only the beginning. He shifted slightly in his seat, praying for the class to end quickly before he did something that would land both of you in detention.

But then your hand slid higher, and all thoughts of self-control vanished in a haze of heat and frustration.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he muttered, his voice strained. His hand moved under the desk to still yours.

You leaned in slightly, your lips close to his ear. “What’s the fun in that?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his quill. He managed to hold on until Professor Ronen called for the end of class . You finally withdrew your hand, gathering your things with a pleased smile that only deepened the blush on his cheeks.

When Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, Sebastian had convinced himself that you’d already done your worst for the day. Charms had been a test of endurance, but surely you couldn’t keep it up through another class—especially not with Professor Hecat keeping a watchful eye.

You slid into the seat next to him without a word, a soft hum of a tune under your breath as you unpacked your things. Sebastian didn’t miss the glint of mischief still lingering in your eyes, but he chose to ignore it.

Professor Hecat began the lesson with her usual briskness, outlining the day’s activity: practicing defensive and offensive spells in pairs.

Sebastian exhaled in relief. Partner work meant he could focus on the task at hand, and spell practice was something he excelled at. He cast a sidelong glance at you, waiting for the inevitable quip about how you’d wipe the floor with him. But instead, you gave him an easy smile, looking far too composed for his comfort.

“Alright, partner,” you said, drawing your wand and stepping into position across from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebastian smirked, eager to reclaim some sense of control after the morning’s torment. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for you to make the first move.

You raised your wand, your posture flawless, but before casting, you paused. “It’s so warm in here,” you murmured, loosening your tie and pulling it free with a casual flick. You undid the top two buttons of your blouse, fanning yourself with your hand. “Don’t you think?”

Sebastian stiffened, his smirk vanishing. “I—what?”

You gave him a pointed look, as if waiting for an answer, before shrugging lightly. “Never mind. Let’s get started.”

He barely had time to blink before you cast Expelliarmus, your wand aimed with precision. The spell hit him squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. You grinned triumphantly as you caught it midair.

“Not bad, huh?” you teased, your voice light and smug.

Sebastian huffed, running a hand through his hair to buy himself a moment. “Not bad,” he echoed, stepping closer. “Now, hand it over.”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance. Instead of returning his wand immediately, you held it up, forcing him to move closer. “Come and get it."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, closing the distance between you. His pulse quickened the moment he got close enough to take in the details: the faint flush across your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell just slightly faster than normal, and—Merlin help him—the open collar of your blouse that gave him a perfect view of your collarbones and just enough cleavage to make his mouth go dry.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze flickering to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, and that maddening smirk was still firmly in place. You smelled like your usual perfume, that subtle scent that had been driving him to distraction all day, mixed with the faintest trace of parchment and ink.

Sebastian’s hand shot out to take his wand, but you pulled it back at the last second, your smirk widening. “What’s the matter? You look a bit tense.”

He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. The air between you crackled with tension, and he was certain you could hear the rapid thud of his heartbeat. He locked eyes with you, his voice low and rough. “I’m starting to think you want me tense.”

You shrugged. "Not sure what you're talking about."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread. He reached for his wand again, his fingers brushing against yours as he finally pried it from your grip. For a moment, his hand lingered over yours, his thumb skimming the back of it before he pulled away.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Let’s see if you can disarm me.”

Sebastian let out a slow breath, gripping his wand tighter. Focus, he told himself, though it was easier said than done with the way you were looking at him—like you were daring him to lose control.

“All right,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Ready?”

“Always,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

He raised his wand, channeling every ounce of his frustration into the spell. Expelliarmus! The red jet of light shot toward you, and your wand flew from your hand, clattering to the floor behind you.

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Well done,” you said, your tone dripping with mock defeat. “I suppose I’ll have to get that.”

Sebastian watched, helpless, as you turned and bent over to retrieve your wand, taking your sweet time as you reached for it. His gaze betrayed him, trailing down the curve of your back to your hips and further still. The hem of your skirt rode up as you bent, barely covering what it was meant to, and leaving absolutely nothing to Sebastian's already frazzled imagination.

He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away with an effort that felt almost physical. Merlin, you were going to kill him. He could already feel the warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and he prayed to every deity he could name that no one else was paying attention.

When you straightened and turned back to him, wand in hand, your smirk was firmly in place.

“Enjoy the view?” you asked, tilting your head as if the question were perfectly innocent.

Sebastian couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him as he stepped closer again, his voice a quiet warning. “Keep it up, and you’ll regret it.”

Your grin widened, utterly unrepentant. “Is that a threat?”

For a split second, he considered saying something that would wipe that smirk off your face, but Professor Hecat’s sharp voice cut through the tension. “Back to your positions!” she barked, her gaze darting between the two of you. “Focus, Mr. Sallow, Miss—”

“Yes, Professor,” Sebastian said quickly, stepping back and trying to calm his racing heart. But as he moved into position, he could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, and the image of your teasing smirk was seared into his mind.

He was barely holding it together, and the day was far from over. But surely, over lunch and surrounded by friends, he’d have some semblance of a reprieve. You wouldn’t dare push things in front of an audience—or so he hoped.

He slid into a seat beside Ominis, who was already stirring a bowl of soup to cool it off. Garreth and Natty sat across from them, deep in a lively debate about the Honeydukes confections.

Sebastian exhaled a small sigh of relief as you arrived a few moments later, seating yourself between Natty and Garreth across from him. You greeted everyone cheerfully, plucking a goblet of pumpkin juice from the table with your usual grace. For a fleeting moment, Sebastian thought he might actually survive the meal unscathed.

He was wrong.

You reached for the fruit platter in front of you, selecting a piece of pineapple and popping it into your mouth with a content hum. Sebastian caught himself watching the way your lips curled around your fingers, quickly tearing his gaze away as heat crept up his neck.

He wasn’t fast enough. You noticed, of course, and your eyes gleamed with mischief as you plucked another piece of pineapple, holding it up thoughtfully.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone far too casual, “do you eat pineapple often?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, not really. Why?”

You shrugged, biting into the pineapple and chewing slowly before answering. “Oh, it’s just something I read once. Supposedly, it makes… certain things taste better.”

The words hung in the air for a split second before their meaning hit him like a Stupefy spell. His jaw dropped, and he felt the heat in his cheeks spread like wildfire.

Garreth, who had been mid-sip of pumpkin juice, choked and started coughing, his face contorted with suppressed laughter. Natty’s eyes widened before she covered her mouth with her hand, a muffled giggle escaping. Even Ominis, usually the picture of composure, pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was frozen, torn between mortification and the desperate urge to throttle you—or kiss you senseless. “You—” he spluttered, his voice low and strained. “You can’t just—why would you—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s just a question. I’m curious.”

“Curious,” Sebastian echoed, his voice a growl. His grip tightened on his goblet, knuckles white as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself, and went back to your meal as if nothing had happened. Garreth finally managed to stop coughing, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Merlin’s beard, Sebastian, you’re as red as my tie.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at him before shooting you a dark look.

Ominis sighed again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Do the two of you ever give it a rest? Some of us are trying to eat in peace.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his plate. You, meanwhile, continued to eat with maddening grace, each bite more deliberate than the last. To anyone else, you seemed completely oblivious, but Sebastian knew better. The way your lips lingered on the edge of your goblet, how your tongue darted out to catch the stray drop of pumpkin juice, the slow way you licked your fingers after finishing a piece of fruit—it was all deliberate, and it was driving him insane.

When lunch finally ended, Sebastian practically leapt to his feet, eager to put some distance between you. But as the group began to disperse, you slipped up beside him, your hand brushing against his arm.

“What do you say we use our free period to get a head start on homework?” you suggested, your tone casual but your eyes sparkling with mischief. “The library’s quiet. Perfect for concentration.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Concentration, huh?”

You tilted your head, looking up at him with faux innocence. “What else would we be doing?”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. The library it is.”

Sebastian trailed after you, already regretting his decision to agree to this “study session.” He wasn’t walking to his doom—not exactly—but it certainly felt like you were leading him into a trap he’d willingly sprung. Every step you took ahead of him, your hips swaying just enough to catch his attention, felt deliberate, and his patience was wearing thin.

When you reached the secluded table in the back of the library, you slid into a seat with a satisfied smile, glancing up at him as if daring him to sit across from you. Of course, he did—because, Merlin help him, no part of him could resist you, even when you were driving him out of his mind.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hand, your voice laced with amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply but quickly thought better of it, forcing himself to focus instead on pulling out his parchment and quill. He needed to get this essay done, fast—before you found another way to turn his brain to mush.

“Nothing,” he muttered, not looking up. “Let’s just work.”

You hummed in response, a light, teasing sound that sent a shiver down his spine. When he finally risked a glance at you, you were watching him with that knowing smirk, the one that said you knew exactly what you were doing to him—and you had no intention of stopping.

To your credit, the two of you did manage to work in relative silence for about an hour. It was a miracle, really, considering the way you had been tormenting him all day. The soft scratching of quills and the occasional flipping of pages filled the air, lulling Sebastian into a false sense of security. You even asked him a few legitimate questions about your arithmancy work, and he found himself easing into the rhythm of study.

But of course, it couldn’t last.

You tapped your quill against the edge of the table thoughtfully, drawing his attention as you tilted your head, a curious expression on your face. “Sebastian,” you said slowly, like you were turning something over in your mind.

He glanced up, cautiously optimistic that this might be a real question. “What?”

“If you cast Levioso on something heavy enough, do you think there’s a weight limit?”

Sebastian frowned, considering. “There’s a theoretical limit, I suppose. It depends on the skill of the caster and the strength of the enchantment. Why?”

You propped your chin in your hand as you gestured toward the sturdy oak table in front of you. “Can you cast it on objects to make them stronger, or is that a separate charm altogether?"

Sebastian blinked at you, trying to gauge where this was going. Your expression was innocent enough—curious, thoughtful—but he’d spent far too much time with you to let his guard down completely.

“That’s a separate charm,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Reinforcement charms can strengthen objects, but Levioso isn’t meant for that. It’s just levitation.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the table. “Makes sense,” you mused. “I was just thinking… these tables have probably been here for decades, maybe centuries."

Sebastian frowned, unsure where your train of thought was leading. “I suppose so. Why?”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with a mischief he recognized all too well. “Oh, no reason,” you said lightly, waving a hand. “I was just wondering how much weight they could handle. You know, hypothetically.”

The room seemed to still as your words hung in the air, and Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His quill froze mid-scratch, and he stared at you, his mind racing to keep up.

“Hypothetically,” he repeated, his voice flat, though his pulse was anything but.

"You know," You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with an air of nonchalance that was completely at odds with the gleam in your eyes. "Like the weight of two people."

Sebastian stared at you, half-convinced he was hallucinating. You were far too composed for someone who had just casually suggested something so completely inappropriate in the middle of the bloody library, yet here you were, twirling your quill like the picture of innocence. He wanted to say something clever, something sharp that would throw you off your game, but his mind was stuck on one thing.

Two people. This table.

Sebastian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his quill, his patience dangling by a thread. He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, and you noticed, of course. You always noticed. The way your eyes sparkled with mischief, that faint smirk tugging at your lips—you were daring him to lose control, and you both knew it.

But Sebastian was stubborn, if nothing else. He forced his gaze back down to his parchment, his quill scratching out nonsense as he tried to focus on anything other than the absurdly inappropriate image you’d planted in his head.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, your tone as innocent as ever, “I've had enough of arithmancy for the day. What was the essay prompt again for potions? Something about brewing methods?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The efficacy of different brewing techniques for enhancing potion potency.”

“Right,” you said, nodding thoughtfully, a contemplative look crossing your face. “Hm… I think I know a book that covers this. It talks about how it’s all in the measurements. Every little thing has to be just right. You’ve got to be so careful with how deep you’re going in, or… well, the whole thing can become quite explosive."

Sebastian’s quill snapped in half.

He froze, staring down at the broken pieces in his hands as if they might somehow offer an escape from this torment. But when he looked up, your smirk was waiting for him, smug and triumphant.

“Oops,” you said sweetly, tilting your head. “Did I say something distracting?”

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his patience unraveling by the second. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he growled, his voice low and tense.

“Do I?” you replied, feigning innocence. But the glint in your eye betrayed you. You leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Surely you'll get top marks on this essay... I think you know exactly how deep to go."

Sebastian stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with a heat that made your smirk falter for the first time all day.

“Outside. Now,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your brows lifted in mock surprise, but the flicker of excitement in your expression didn’t escape him. You opened your mouth to say something—no doubt another teasing remark—but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t,” he warned, cutting you off. “Just move.”

For once, you complied without argument, though the playful sway of your hips as you walked ahead of him made it clear you weren’t done yet.

Sebastian followed close behind as you weaved through the bookshelves, his chest tight with frustration and something far more dangerous. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he finally got you alone—but he knew he couldn’t take another second of this.

“You’ve been playing games all day,” he growled as you walked, his voice low and rough. “Do you think I didn’t notice? Do you think I’d just let it slide?”

You raised a brow. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, tilting your head in mock confusion. “I’ve been perfectly well-behaved.”

Sebastian grabbed your wrist, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your jaw. “Well-behaved?” he echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief. “You’ve been driving me mad. Every look, every word, every touch—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair before pinning you with a glare. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

His grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. Without another word, he turned sharply, dragging you through the corridors at a pace that made it clear his patience had completely run out.

You didn’t protest, your steps falling into sync with his as he led you toward the one place he knew you’d have privacy: the Undercroft.

When you finally reached the hidden entrance, Sebastian didn’t even bother with his usual careful precision. He muttered the incantation quickly, his voice rough with impatience, and the hidden door swung open. He tugged you inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud that echoed in the quiet, secluded space.

The silence hung for a moment, broken only by the sound of your unsteady breaths as Sebastian turned to face you. His gaze was dark, intense, and utterly consuming as he stepped closer, backing you up until your spine pressed against the cool stone wall.

“Do you think this is a joke?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with frustration and something far more primal. His hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.

Your smirk returned. “I think you’re overreacting,” you replied, your tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. “All I did was—”

“All you did,” he interrupted sharply, his other hand gripping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “was make me spend the entire day trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You didn’t back down, even as his chest brushed yours. “I was just having fun."

“Fun?” Sebastian echoed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “You think driving me mad was fun?”

You tilted your head, grinning. “I think you like it."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to reach its breaking point. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a deceptively soft gesture that made your breath hitch. “Maybe you're right,” he admitted, his voice gravelly. “But don’t think for a second that you’re off the hook. You’re going to pay for every second of torture you put me through today.”

Your smirk widened, and you leaned up to brush your lips against his, your voice a teasing whisper against his mouth. “Promise?”

Sebastian’s answering smile was dark and full of intent as he guided you toward the sofa. “Oh, you have no idea.”

256 notes · View notes

cookielixie · 3 months ago

Text

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 || 𝐥.𝐟. 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A group of meddling friends, a sprig of mistletoe, and a month full of holiday mischief—what could go wrong? For Y/n and Felix, their obliviousness to their own feelings is only rivaled by their friends’ determination to push them together. As December unfolds, so do a series of awkward, sweet, and unexpected moments that might just make this Christmas unforgettable.

pairing: lee felix x reader

wordcount: 8k

genre/warnings: college!au, best friends to lovers, friends meddling, mistletoe mishaps, awkward encounters, two very oblivious idiots, suggestive content (like a tiny bit), tooth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol and partying and a smidge of angst. I guess minsung if u squint

A/N: This has been a wip for like... three years now lmao. i really hope you guys like it, feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated <3 also english is not my first language... so yeah sorry if there are any mistakes

It all started with something simple—shared morning lattes and soft exchanges of “good morning” during your early lectures. Those small, fleeting moments quietly grew into endless hours spent together, until you and Felix became nearly inseparable. The group noticed quickly. The way your laughter came easier when he was around, the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought no one was looking—it was hard to miss. And though you both insisted it was just friendship, the boys could see the truth: you were smitten, both of you, even if you were too stubborn or oblivious to admit it.

As the year went on, the group quietly rooted for something more to happen. There was an undeniable chemistry between you, a natural ease that left everyone wondering when—not if—you’d finally realize your feelings for each other. But no matter how much teasing or hinting was thrown your way, you both deflected it with flustered laughs and hasty denials. Every attempt to nudge you closer ended the same, with perfect excuses and an almost comical level of obliviousness.

Eventually, the boys eased off, figuring you’d figure it out on your own. But when December rolled around, your dynamic began to shift. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or maybe it was just the closeness that winter seemed to bring, but the two of you became even more inseparable—more clingy, more obviously something.

It was late November when the group gathered at Chan’s place, watching the two of you from afar and exchanging knowing looks. They’d waited long enough. If gentle teasing and subtle hints weren’t going to work, maybe it was time to take matters into their own hands. Armed with a sprig of mistletoe, a little holiday mischief, and a determination to finally get you two to confess, they began crafting their foolproof plan. This Christmas, one way or another, you and Felix would stop denying what everyone else already knew.

December 1st:

To kick off the Christmas season, everyone had gathered at Changbin’s for the monthly movie night. Everyone except you and Felix, of course, who were running late after your evening lecture together. The rest of the group had already settled in: Jisung and Minho were cracking open beers and chatting by the couch, Chan and Seungmin were busy piling blankets and pillows onto every available surface, while Hyunjin and Jeongin hovered over the snacks, stealing bites when they thought no one was looking.

Changbin, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a frantic expression and sweat beading on his forehead. His white t-shirt clung to him, dark spots blooming around the neckline. He’d spent the last hour scrambling to prepare what could only be described as a chaotic masterpiece.

He held the item up in his hands, tilting it left and right under the kitchen light to inspect its durability. It was a long, slender branch, stripped of its excess twigs and carefully wrapped in duct tape. At the tip dangled a sprig of mistletoe, the final touch to what he jokingly called his “cupid’s staff.” After months of teasing, jokes, and failed schemes to push you and Felix closer, drastic measures were now on the table.

“Hey, you almost done in here?” Chan’s head popped around the doorframe, startling Changbin. “They’re on their way.”

Changbin glanced at his creation one last time before sighing. “I have no idea if this’ll work,” he muttered, holding it like a fragile relic.

Chan smirked, his eyes turning into crescents. “It’s worth a shot. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” He gave Changbin an encouraging pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the living room. Changbin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning as he cleaned up the remnants of his “art project.”

When you and Felix finally arrived, your shared giggles preceded you, drawing attention as you stepped through the door. The others didn’t waste a second guiding you both to the loveseat—a small, almost comically cramped piece of furniture. You were forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, your legs draped casually across Felix’s lap. The closeness didn’t seem to bother either of you, and soon a comfortable silence fell over the room as the opening credits of the movie began to roll.

Changbin bided his time, waiting until everyone was engrossed in the movie before slipping away to retrieve his cupid’s branch. “Bathroom break,” he muttered, his heart pounding as he snuck the mistletoe stick out of its hiding spot.

Returning to the room, he carefully hid the branch behind his back as he took his seat. Minho noticed immediately, raising a brow and stifling a laugh, which, of course, drew your attention.

“What’s so funny, Min?” you asked, glancing over.

Changbin shot Minho a deadly glare, silently mouthing, Don’t you dare. Minho, however, didn’t even glance back at him. Instead, he deadpanned, “Changbin’s face. It’s just… always funny.”

The group erupted into laughter, with Seungmin letting out a snort loud enough to shake the pillows. “Minho, I swear, one of these days, I’m going to drop a dumbbell on you at the gym,” Changbin snapped, though the threat lacked any real malice.

Minho gasped dramatically, turning away with an exaggerated pout. “Whatever, I’m cuddling Jisung now. At least he appreciates me.”

Jisung, already sitting beside him, slung an arm over Minho’s shoulders. “I got you, Min,” he said with mock sincerity.

The laughter settled, and everyone turned back to the screen. Everyone except Changbin, who gripped his mistletoe stick like it was Excalibur, waiting for the perfect moment. He threw a quick glance in your direction and couldn’t help but smirk. Your head was now leaning against Felix’s shoulder, your face nestled into the crook of his neck, while his hand rested lightly on your thigh. Felix’s ears were burning red, a clear giveaway of how flustered he was despite his calm expression. You’re making this way too easy for me, Changbin thought, adjusting his grip on the branch.

Unbeknownst to Changbin, your thoughts were far away from the movie. When did he become so beautiful? you wondered for the hundredth time since you’d met Felix. Tonight, though, the thought felt heavier as you stared at the way the TV’s soft light highlighted his freckles, making his eyes shine like little suns. You’d accepted your feelings for him a long time ago, even if you were convinced they weren’t mutual. You’d come to terms with it—being his friend was enough, wasn’t it? But moments like this, so close to him, made it harder to ignore the small ache in your chest.

Meanwhile, Felix was doing everything in his power not to look down at you. His heart raced every time your breath fanned against his neck, and the weight of your legs draped over his lap was making it impossible to think straight. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Stop being ridiculous. She doesn’t like you like that. But even as he told himself that, a part of him wished—hoped—that maybe he was wrong.

That’s when Changbin made his move. Slowly, he leaned forward, positioning the mistletoe just above you and Felix. At first, Felix didn’t notice—his focus was entirely on not pulling you closer. But when a faint movement caught the corner of his eye, his head shot up. His eyes landed on the mistletoe, and his entire body stiffened.

“What the hell, Changbin?” Felix’s voice came out sharper than intended, snapping everyone’s attention to him. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darted from the mistletoe to Changbin’s sheepish grin.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Changbin replied, trying to keep it light. “Tradition, you know?”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Felix said coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He avoided looking at you entirely, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

Your stomach sank at his reaction. Does the thought of kissing me disgust him that much? you wondered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you shifted slightly away from him, your heart sinking as your insecurities bubbled to the surface.

Sensing the tension, Minho quickly stepped in. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to the movie, yeah? Changbin, retire your cupid stick.”

The awkwardness lingered for the rest of the night, though no one dared to mention the mistletoe again. By the time the movie ended, you and Felix left without so much as a word to each other, the comfortable closeness from earlier now replaced with a noticeable distance.

As you walked home in opposite directions, the silence between you hung heavy in the air, leaving you both with thoughts you couldn’t bring yourselves to say aloud.

December 6th:

Minho’s invitation to dinner—just you, Felix, and Jisung—felt like the perfect excuse to shake off the awkwardness lingering from the group’s last gathering. Felix had eagerly agreed, and you didn’t hesitate either. Spending time with him in a smaller, more relaxed setting was always easy. Plus, Minho’s cooking was a draw on its own.

As you stepped into Minho’s apartment, the warmth and delicious aroma of home-cooked food enveloped you immediately. “Welcome to Minho’s Michelin-star kitchen,” he announced proudly, ushering you inside.

Jisung, sprawled lazily on the couch, smirked. “Minho’s been on a mission to impress all day. He even cleaned the stove. You better be prepared to cry tears of joy.”

“Please,” Minho shot back. “You’ll be too busy shoving food into your mouth to cry.”

Laughing, you made your way to the small dining table set beautifully for four. You slid into your seat beside Felix while Minho and Jisung sat across from you. The atmosphere was cozy, made warmer by the soft yellow light spilling from the lamp above the table.

The conversation flowed easily as you started eating, a mix of light teasing and genuine updates. Minho, always perceptive, grinned as he turned his attention to you. “So, Y/n, heard you totally destroyed that exam you were stressing over? What’s your secret? Is it some kind of illegal genius potion? Do I need to call someone?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No genius potion, just sheer panic, too much coffee, and maybe a sprinkle of luck.” You reached for the salt shaker, but your movement froze as your gaze drifted upward. Dangling from the lamp above the table, hanging innocently over you and Felix, was a sprig of mistletoe.

Your cheeks instantly heated. Minho and Jisung exchanged amused glances, poorly concealing their smirks as they watched you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Felix’s grip tighten slightly on his fork, his gaze firmly planted on his plate. He must have noticed it earlier, but he hadn’t said a word. Of course he hadn’t.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment, and continued your original task of grabbing the salt, doing your best to ignore the festive little sprig taunting you from above. Felix didn’t look up once, seemingly invested in rearranging the food on his plate.

For the rest of the meal, your interactions with Felix felt careful and muted, though you couldn’t help sneaking a few glances his way. Whenever Minho wasn’t looking, you narrowed your eyes at him, your silent death glare saying all the things you couldn’t say out loud. But if he noticed your glare—and he absolutely did—he didn’t seem fazed, calmly serving himself another helping of food and chatting with Jisung about the latest drama in their group of friends.

By the time dinner ended, the mistletoe still hung over you like an unanswered question, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it. You and Felix thanked Minho for the food and began your walk home in the crisp December night air.

The silence at first was comfortable, your shoes crunching softly against the pavement. It didn’t take long before Felix cracked a joke about Jisung’s overly dramatic reaction to Minho’s slightly burnt bread rolls, and soon your laughter echoed easily down the quiet street.

Amidst your conversation, Felix slipped his hand into yours. It wasn’t unusual for you two to hold hands—it was something you’d done before—but tonight it felt different. Maybe it was the warmth of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet intimacy of walking side by side under the twinkling streetlights. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, as though his hand belonged there.

Felix glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his soft smile catching the faint glow of the streetlights. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but slightly hesitant, “this kind of feels like… a nice tradition.”

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand lightly. “What does?”

“This,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to your joined hands before he quickly added with a nervous laugh, “You know… just as friends. It’s nice, right? No weird mistletoe stuff this time.”

Your laugh was light, but something tightened in your chest at his words. “Yeah,” you said softly, glancing ahead. “No surprises hanging over our heads.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if he was afraid you’d pull away, but you didn’t. You kept walking side by side, your steps naturally syncing with each other like they always did.

His words lingered in your mind, though, the way he so quickly clarified the moment as just friendly. Did he think you might have assumed something else? Had you been assuming something else? The thought stirred uneasily in your chest, but you shook it off, blaming it on the holiday awkwardness that had been following you both since the start of December.

Beside you, Felix wasn’t any calmer. His heart raced, and he berated himself silently. ‘Why did I say that? Now it’s weird. What if she thinks I’m overthinking? What if she wasn’t thinking about it, but now she is?’ His thoughts swirled in an endless loop of self-doubt, but even amidst the chaos in his mind, he felt the warmth of your hand in his and refused to let go.

The walk continued, the quiet punctuated by shared smiles and lighthearted comments, both of you silently agreeing not to think too much about the moment. For now, it was enough.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho and Jisung stood by their apartment window, watching as your figures grew smaller in the distance. “They’re hopeless,” Jisung said with a laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, smiling fondly. “But this time, I think they’re starting to get it.”

December 12th:

Visits to the dance studio where Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix practiced had become a regular part of your routine. You enjoyed seeing the trio perfect their routines and loved bringing them food and drinks as a small gesture of support. Tonight, you decided to surprise them, knowing how late their rehearsals often ran. The thumping bass and sharp rhythm of the music greeted you as you entered the studio, the trio moving in perfect sync with the beat. The energy in the room was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but admire the sheer dedication in each step. For a moment, you stood in the doorway, watching them in awe, before they noticed you.

Minho spotted you first, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Perfect timing, Y/n! We’re starving,” he announced, cutting the music off as the others collapsed onto the floor in mock exhaustion. Hyunjin dramatically wiped his brow, flopping onto his back. “You’re basically a lifesaver at this point,” he joked, while Felix walked over to you with a shy smile, murmuring a soft “Thanks for coming.”

You sat down with them on the studio floor, unpacking the food and drinks. The conversation flowed easily, filled with playful teasing and updates about your days. Felix, ever the enthusiastic eater, dove into his food with gusto, but it didn’t take long for disaster to strike. “You’ve got sauce on your face, Felix,” you said, stifling a laugh as you reached for a napkin. Without hesitation, you leaned in to wipe it off.

But just as your hand neared his face, Hyunjin leaned over you with an outstretched arm, dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your head. “Oops, look at that,” he said with a mischievous grin. Your hand froze midair, your eyes locking on the mistletoe first, then darting to Felix. His eyes were wide, his cheeks already dusted with pink. The moment stretched out awkwardly, your hand only inches from his face, until the reality of the situation hit you like a jolt. You recoiled sharply, your heart racing. “I—I should go,” you stammered, grabbing your bag and standing up so quickly it almost knocked over a drink. “Lots to do tonight, sorry!” Before anyone could say a word, you rushed out of the studio, the door swinging shut behind you.

The silence left behind was deafening. Felix sat frozen, his hand hovering where yours had been moments before, staring at the door you’d disappeared through. His brow furrowed as a mix of frustration and regret crossed his face. “Hyunjin,” he said slowly, his tone sharp, “what the hell was that? The mistletoe again?”

Hyunjin blinked, startled by Felix’s tone. “I just thought it’d be funny,” he said defensively, holding the mistletoe up like a white flag. But when Felix’s glare didn’t falter, Hyunjin sighed and dropped the sprig onto the floor. “Look, if you hadn’t reacted so… harshly the first time, maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. I mean, do you even know how much she likes you?”

Felix’s jaw tightened. “What?” he asked, his voice lower now, but Hyunjin just shook his head, standing up to grab a drink. “Figure it out, man. We’re just trying to help, but it’s like you’re both running away every time something happens.”

Felix didn’t respond. He stared at the mistletoe on the floor, Hyunjin’s words echoing in his head. If you hadn’t reacted so harshly the first time… maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. Was that true? Had he set this whole thing in motion? He thought back to the first mistletoe incident at Changbin’s—a moment he’d shut down immediately because the idea of forcing you into something like that felt wrong. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured, not when he thought you might find it absolutely weird and deem him a creep or something. But now… was it his reaction that had made things worse? Was he the one creating this distance?

His chest tightened. He’d thought he was protecting you—protecting your friendship—but maybe he’d only made things more awkward. And now you were running out of rooms because of him. The studio fell quiet again, save for the faint sound of Minho munching on chips. After a long silence, Minho glanced up, leaning forward slightly. “Felix, don’t overthink it,” he said gently, his voice less teasing than usual. “You two always bounce back. Just… maybe next time, don’t run away from the moment, yeah?”

Felix nodded slowly, Minho’s words sinking in, but he still couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. As rehearsal resumed, he danced on autopilot, his movements mechanical as his mind replayed the night’s events. By the time the music stopped again, one thought was firmly planted in his mind: I can’t let this keep happening. I’ve got to figure out how to make things right with her.

December 16th:

It had been a few days since the series of awkward holiday encounters—movie night, the dinner at Minho’s, and the fiasco at the dance studio. You and Felix had fallen back into your usual rhythm, or at least, you were trying to. The moments of closeness still felt natural, but there was a tension beneath the surface, a hesitance that hadn’t been there before. You chalked it up to everything that had happened, telling yourself that things would smooth out eventually.

The two of you were standing by your locker that morning, talking like usual, and for once, it felt normal again. Felix leaned casually against the locker next to yours, his freckled cheeks still slightly pink from the cold outside.

“I’m calling it now—Chan’s going to make us rewrite our part of the group project by the end of the week,” Felix said with a smirk. “He’s going to find some tiny typo and have an existential crisis about it.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed a book from your locker. “He’s probably already composing the email. I give him until tomorrow before we get hit with, ‘Just a few more adjustments.’”

Felix laughed along with you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Moments like this were your favorite—easy, light, like nothing had changed. The awkwardness from the last few days felt far away, almost forgotten. Almost.

But then Jisung appeared.

“Wow, if it isn’t my favorite dynamic duo!” he called out, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances from passing students. You turned your head just as he stopped in front of you, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“Jisung…” you began cautiously, narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he gave you and Felix a mockingly sweet look, then reached up and held something over your heads. Your stomach sank the moment you realized what he was doing.

Felix noticed immediately too. His laughter faded, and for a split second, he looked up before his eyes flicked to you. But instead of pulling away or frowning like he had the first time, he hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. His posture softened, his hand twitching at his side as though he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. “Y/n, it’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice quiet and careful.

But you didn’t hear the gentleness in his words. The memory of his sharp reaction the first time flashed in your mind like a warning sign. You panicked, your body stiffening as a heat rose to your face. “Jisung!” you exclaimed, your voice harsher than you intended as you reached out to push him aside.

He stumbled back with a yelp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Whoa, okay! No need to shove!” he said, though his tone was still playful.

“I’m not doing this right now,” you muttered, hastily grabbing your bag. Your eyes didn’t meet Felix’s, even as you felt his gaze lingering on you. “I’ve got to get to class.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix and Jisung standing there in the middle of the hallway.

The silence between them was heavy for a moment, until Jisung let out a low whistle. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he muttered, looking at Felix.

Felix was still staring down the hall, his expression hard to read. His arms hung at his sides, his shoulders tense. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but laced with frustration. “Why do you keep doing that, Jisung?”

Jisung blinked. “Doing what?”

Felix turned to him, his jaw tight. “This. Pushing her like that. It’s not helping.”

Jisung tilted his head, holding his hands up defensively. “Whoa, relax, man. I thought you two were back to normal. You were laughing and talking like nothing was wrong—I figured maybe this time, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Felix ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Well, it is a big deal. She’s already uncomfortable with everything that’s happened, and now she’s just…” He trailed off, his voice growing softer. “She probably thinks I don’t want this. That I don’t want her.”

Jisung frowned, his usual playful expression replaced by something more serious. “You don’t think she knows how you feel?”

Felix let out a short, humorless laugh. “How could she? The first time this happened, I acted like the whole idea was some big joke. She probably thinks the idea of… of anything between us is disgusting to me.” He leaned back against the lockers, his gaze falling to the floor. “But it’s not. It’s the opposite. I just didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Jisung studied him for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Look, man, maybe it’s time to stop trying to protect her from something she doesn’t need protecting from. I mean, she’s clearly as caught up in her head as you are. Maybe instead of freaking out, you could, I don’t know, actually say something next time?”

Felix looked up at him, frowning. “Say what?”

Jisung smirked faintly, patting Felix on the shoulder. “Figure it out. Just… do something before she sprints away again. You’re both miserable, and it’s kind of painful to watch.”

And with that, Jisung walked off, leaving Felix standing alone in the hallway. Felix let out another sigh, leaning his head back against the lockers.

Maybe Jisung’s right, he thought, the idea twisting in his chest. She probably thinks I don’t want her. But what if she… what if she doesn’t want me either?

The thought made his stomach churn, but as he stood there, staring down the hallway where you’d disappeared, he resolved to himself that next time—if there was a next time—he wouldn’t let things end like this.

December 20th:

The soft hum of Christmas music filled the cozy café where you worked, the glow of fairy lights strung along the walls casting a warm, festive ambiance. The evening shift had been slow, with only the occasional customer trickling in, leaving you and Jeongin plenty of time to chat and clean. When the bells above the door jingled, you glanced up, immediately spotting Felix stepping in from the cold. A puff of white breath escaped his lips as he unwrapped the scarf from his neck, his cheeks and nose flushed pink from the chilly December air. He looked tired but happy, and his face lit up when he saw you behind the counter.

“Felix!” you called out, leaning slightly over the counter to greet him. “Done with your last exam?”

He grinned as he approached, his hair falling into his eyes. “Finally. I think my brain is fried, but at least I’m free now.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, his usual casual charm impossible to miss. “I needed a victory coffee, and I figured my favorite barista would hook me up.”

You snorted, grabbing a cup and heading toward the espresso machine. “Victory coffee, huh? Is that what we’re calling it? Be honest—did you crush it or barely survive?”

“Crushed it,” he replied quickly, then laughed. “Okay, fine. Maybe there was a little panic halfway through the essay. But come on, you try remembering six economic theories when you’re running on two hours of sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started making his coffee. “Sounds like someone should’ve had one more latte before heading in. Caffeine solves everything, you know.”

“Ah, yes, the secret to success: caffeine addiction,” he teased, resting both elbows on the counter now as he watched you work. Jeongin, wiping down tables nearby, snorted loud enough to make Felix glance his way.

“She doesn’t give just anyone free coffee, you know,” Jeongin quipped. “You must be special.”

Felix smirked, his gaze flickering to yours. “Guess I’m her favorite.”

You felt your cheeks flush but kept your focus on the coffee machine, pretending his words hadn’t made your heart skip. “Careful, sunshine boy, or I’ll start charging you double.”

Jeongin grinned knowingly but didn’t push it, disappearing into the back as you handed Felix his coffee. He took a sip, sighing dramatically as though it were the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Perfect, as always.”

You leaned forward on the counter, resting your chin in your hand as you laughed. “I’ll take that as a five-star Yelp review.”

“You’d get six stars if you threw in a cookie,” he joked, and just like that, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It didn’t matter how awkward things had been between you recently—when it was just the two of you, everything else seemed to melt away. Felix’s freckled cheeks were still pink from the cold, and the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at you made your stomach flip, though you tried to ignore it.

The café was quiet, the snow falling softly outside making the whole world feel muffled and still. Felix leaned closer over the counter, his chin propped on his hand now, mirroring your posture as you teased him about his exam. He was laughing again, the sound low and sweet, and you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice how close you’d both leaned toward each other. The space between you was practically nonexistent, and your heart was thudding in your chest, though you weren’t sure why.

But Felix did notice. Just as his gaze flickered to your lips, a movement caught the corner of his eye. He stilled, his laughter fading as his focus shifted. There, by the pastry case, was Jeongin. He was leaning casually against the counter, a smug grin plastered across his face as he held something above your heads.

Felix’s stomach twisted when he realized what it was: a sprig of mistletoe, dangling lazily from Jeongin’s hand. His initial instinct was to groan or roll his eyes, to glare at Jeongin for meddling again. But then his gaze returned to you. You were still smiling, your eyes shining as you waited for him to say something, completely unaware of Jeongin’s antics.

Felix hesitated. He knew how you felt about the mistletoe by now—how every prank this month had left you retreating, flustered and unsure. But something about the way you were looking at him right now, so close and unguarded, made him want to push past the awkwardness and take the chance. Maybe this was his moment to show you how he really felt.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. “Can I tell you something?”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued, though you tried to keep your tone light. “You’re not about to say something cheesy, are you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine, and his gaze softened as he leaned in slightly. “Maybe. But you make it kinda hard not to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back some teasing remark, but before you could, Felix closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips spread across your skin, catching you so off guard that you froze. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still, the café quiet except for the soft hum of holiday music. But just as your heart started to flutter, your eyes flicked upward—and you saw it.

There, held high above your heads, was Jeongin’s hand. He was leaning against the counter, the branch in his grip swaying slightly, his grin practically splitting his face in two.

The giddy warmth from Felix’s kiss vanished, replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest. Of course. Of course Jeongin had been watching, meddling, dangling his stupid branch like some kind of cupid. You stepped back from Felix slightly, your hand brushing your cheek where his lips had been moments before, and let out a nervous laugh.

“Wow, smooth, Felix,” you said lightly, though your voice felt hollow even to your own ears. You avoided his gaze, your chest tightening with doubt. He’d kissed you, sure, but was it because he wanted to—or because Jeongin had been standing there, making it impossible not to? The thought twisted painfully in your stomach, and you turned your attention to Jeongin, your expression hardening. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than play cupid?”

Jeongin grinned shamelessly, lowering the branch. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he straightened up. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes and busied yourself behind the counter, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. You could feel Felix’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. The moment had been so sweet, so perfect, but now it just felt like a game—like all the other forced encounters this month. The thought of it being anything other than real made your chest ache.

Felix stood there, his own chest tightening as he watched you. He hadn’t missed the way your expression changed the second you noticed Jeongin, how you’d pulled away like the kiss had meant nothing. His grip on his coffee cup tightened, frustration and regret bubbling inside him. He’d kissed you because he wanted to, but now it felt like everything had been ruined by that stupid sprig of greenery.

Later, as Jeongin wiped down a table nearby, Felix caught his eye. “Really?” Felix said, his voice low as he gestured toward the branch now lying on the counter. “You couldn’t help yourself?”

Jeongin smirked, completely unbothered. “You two were this close. I just gave you a little push.”

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She probably thinks I only kissed her because of you.”

“Well,” Jeongin said, raising an eyebrow, “did you?”

Felix glared at him, his voice soft but firm. “No. I kissed her because I wanted to.”

Jeongin tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost understanding. “Then maybe next time, let her know that. Don’t let me or some stupid branch do it for you.”

Felix stayed quiet, his eyes flicking toward the counter where you stood, your back still turned to him. Jeongin’s words echoed in his head as he finished his coffee, determination slowly building in his chest. If there was going to be a next time, he wouldn’t leave any room for doubt. Not this time.

December 22nd:

The Christmas party was in full swing, and Chan’s apartment buzzed with the energy of a group finally free from the weight of exams. The music pulsed softly in the background—a mix of festive classics and whatever Jisung had decided to throw into the playlist for chaos. Colored lights blinked unevenly from every corner, their soft glow bathing the room in warmth, while an unsteady Christmas tree leaned dramatically in the corner, its precarious decorations the result of Minho’s refusal to let anyone touch “his masterpiece.” The air was thick with the scent of mulled wine, spiked hot chocolate, and cinnamon candles that Minho had insisted were “mandatory for the aesthetic.” Empty bottles and half-eaten snacks littered the table, and Santa hats had somehow found their way onto everyone’s heads, whether willingly or not.

In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, cradling a drink that had gone lukewarm in your hand. Minho stood opposite you, arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched you with laser focus. The noise from the living room spilled faintly into the space—Jeongin’s laughter cutting through Chan’s groan of defeat, the clinking of glasses, and Jisung’s exaggerated rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he studied you. “Alright, what’s going on?”

You blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Minho said, gesturing toward the door with his glass, “that you’ve been glancing at Felix every five minutes like you’re in a cheesy holiday rom-com, and you’ve barely said three words to him all night. Spill.”

You groaned, setting your drink down on the counter with a little too much force. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it. “That’s the problem.”

Minho’s smirk softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze not letting you escape. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m like a free therapist. Minus the therapy license. And the emotional sensitivity.”

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “It’s just… complicated,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “This whole mistletoe thing—it’s made everything so weird. And now I feel like I don’t even know where I stand with him. What if all those moments didn’t mean anything? What if he only kissed me at the café because Jeongin was standing there waiting for him to do it?”

Minho let out a long, exasperated sigh, setting his glass down with a dramatic flourish. “Y/n, listen to me. Felix isn’t the kind of guy who does something just because someone else expects him to. If he kissed you, it’s because he wanted to. End of story. Trust me, I’ve known him for years.”

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I say something, and it ruins everything?”

Minho gave you a rare, sincere look, his tone softening. “Then at least you’ll know. But, Y/n, come on. The guy looks at you like you hung the stars. You’ve seen it, right? He’s just as caught up in this as you are. But if you don’t talk to him, you’re both gonna keep circling each other forever.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” you muttered, picking up your glass again.

Minho grinned, raising his own glass in a mock toast. “And yet, I’m always right.”

Across the room, Felix was perched on the edge of the couch, swirling his drink absently as he stared out the window. The faint glow of the city lights reflected in his dark eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He barely noticed the snow falling in lazy flurries, his mind too busy replaying every moment from the past month—the awkwardness, the misunderstandings, and most of all, the way you’d pulled away at the café after Jeongin’s mistletoe stunt. He kept asking himself the same question: Had he ruined it? Had his hesitation made you think he didn’t care?

Hyunjin plopped down beside him, dragging him back to the present with an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, sunshine boy, what’s your deal?”

Felix blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been sulking in the corner all night,” Hyunjin said, poking him in the ribs with a candy cane. “Which, like, fine, maybe it’s your broody winter aesthetic or whatever, but it’s starting to get depressing. What’s going on?”

Felix let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” Seungmin interjected from across the room, where he was perched on the armrest of the couch. “Even Changbin noticed, and he’s been halfway through that punch bowl for the last hour.”

Changbin, who was indeed holding another cup of punch, nodded sagely. “Yeah, man. You’ve been staring at Y/n like she’s the last piece of cake at the bakery.”

Felix groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not staring.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Right. Sure. You’re just ‘coincidentally’ looking in her direction every thirty seconds.”

Felix dropped his hands, shooting them a glare. “I don’t know, okay? The whole mistletoe thing has been a mess, and I feel like every time I try to fix it, I just make things worse. She probably thinks I only kissed her at the café because Jeongin was watching.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying Felix’s slumped posture. “Or—and hear me out—maybe she’s just as scared as you are. Look, Felix, if you want her to know how you feel, you’re gonna have to stop tiptoeing around it. None of this ‘reading between the lines’ crap. Just tell her.”

Felix’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen, where he could just make out the edge of your figure as you leaned against the counter, talking to Minho. His chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re right.”

Hyunjin grinned, clapping him on the back. “Of course I am.”

The Christmas party had settled into a quieter rhythm, the earlier chaos giving way to a warm buzz of chatter and laughter. Chan’s apartment still brimmed with festive energy—colored lights blinked unevenly from the walls, and the half-decorated tree leaned at an almost comical angle, as though too tired to stand upright after hosting a steady stream of Santa hats and selfies. The scent of mulled wine, cinnamon candles, and something suspiciously burnt wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of Christmas music pulsing from Jisung’s chaotic playlist.

You needed air. The heat of the apartment and the weight of your swirling thoughts had become too much, so you’d slipped out onto the balcony unnoticed. The cold December breeze bit at your skin, sharp and refreshing, as you leaned against the railing and stared out at the snow-dusted city below. The streetlights illuminated the falling snow like glitter, and for a moment, you let the quiet settle over you, a sharp contrast to the hum of energy inside.

Your mind, however, refused to settle. It was caught in a loop, replaying every mistletoe encounter from the past month—the awkward laughter, the stolen glances, the kiss at the café. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, one thought kept returning: Did any of it really mean something? Or had Felix simply gone along with it because he felt like he had to?

The sliding door opened behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder, startled. Felix stepped out, his scarf loosely draped around his neck, and the faint glow from the apartment lit up his freckles like constellations. His cheeks were pink, whether from the cold or the warmth of the party, you weren’t sure. He hesitated for a moment, looking at you like he wasn’t entirely sure he was welcome, before closing the door behind him and stepping closer.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the breeze.

“Hey,” you replied, your breath visible in the cold as you turned back to the view.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you like the snowfall. Felix shifted beside you, leaning on the railing, close enough that his elbow almost brushed yours. You could feel his presence without looking at him, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice hesitant but steady.

You nodded, your pulse quickening. “Yeah. We probably should.”

Felix let out a slow breath, his hands gripping the railing as he looked out at the city. “This whole month has been… a lot,” he started, his voice low. “The mistletoe, the teasing, all of it—it made everything feel so much more complicated than it needed to be. And I know I didn’t exactly handle it well.” He paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “The night at Changbin’s… when I reacted the way I did—it wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you.”

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening. “Then why?”

Felix hesitated, his brows furrowing as he stared down at his hands. “Because I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because they were watching. I didn’t want it to feel like some stupid joke.” His voice softened, and he finally looked up to meet your gaze. “I wanted it to be real. And I didn’t want to ruin anything between us by making it weird.”

Your breath caught, and you felt the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And I didn’t want you to kiss me because of them either,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because of some stupid branch, or a game, or anything else.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “that’s the only reason I’ve ever wanted to kiss you.”

The rawness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart felt like it might burst. The tension between you was electric, the cold air forgotten as his gaze held yours, unflinching and unguarded. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Felix spotted something on the small table beside you.

He let out a soft laugh, breaking the moment as he reached for it. In his hand was a familiar sprig of greenery—another mistletoe branch, as though the universe itself had been conspiring against you all month. Felix raised it above your heads, a playful smile tugging at his lips despite the nervous edge in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “it wouldn’t be Christmas without one of these, right?”

You stared at the mistletoe for a moment, your emotions a tangled mess of warmth, frustration, and something close to defiance. Then, without a word, you grabbed the branch from his hand, stepped back, and threw it over the railing. The sprig disappeared into the night, swallowed by the snow below.

“To hell with that,” you said, your voice steady but breathless.

Before Felix could react, you closed the distance between you, your hands cupping his face as you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were warm despite the cold, soft and tentative for half a second before he responded, his hands gently settling on your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like the two of you were pouring every unsaid word, every missed moment, into it. The rest of the world faded away—there was no snow, no cold, no noise from the party inside. There was only him.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the frosty air. Felix’s eyes fluttered open, and his freckled cheeks were flushed, his lips tugging into a soft, disbelieving smile.

“Wow,” he said, his voice low and full of awe. “That was definitely all you.”

You laughed, your hands still resting against his cheeks. “Yeah, it was.”

The tender moment was shattered by a loud thump against the glass door. Both of you whipped around to see the boys pressed up against the balcony window—Hyunjin, Jisung, Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, Chan, and Minho, all grinning like they’d just won the lottery. Minho smirked as he exchanged a smug high-five with Chan, while Jisung mimed wiping a fake tear from his cheek.

Felix groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as his ears burned red. “They’re the worst.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, wrapping your arms around him as you leaned your cheek against his hair. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as the snow continued to fall softly around you. “But maybe we owe them for this one.”

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