#I still see what we did and how fun that was

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

One hell of a team | In-ho x Wife!Reader |

Summary: You will follow your husband anywhere.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Violence - Different back story for In-ho - Blood - Death - Use of (Y/N) - Reader gets called "love" -

The Frontman, the man with the most power within the island, to who the guards obey without question.

Was currently trembling under his wife poited look.

"You want to enter the games?" You asked him, your tone cold and almost jugdmental.

In-ho calmed himself down. It was an idea that stayed with him after the death of the Chairman and even mor with how player 456 had insisted the last two years in finding them. He had played before and won, he knew how terrible others could be, he had walked out like a new man, used the money for himself and you. Never really gave much thoguht on how life were lost.

But, for some reason he wanted to go again.

"Im going with you"

His glass of wisky fell onto the floor, the loud crash did nothing to bother you while you ate.

"No, thats not happening. I need you here to control the games and guards" In-ho started trying to get a valid reason to why you defenetly should not come.

"Oh, you need me to? Well I need you here. With me. With our family. How do you think I would do seeing you there ? I still remember how you got when you came back from these the first time"

"That was different" The Frontman said taking a deep breath "I wont be just one more player, it will be like when the Chairman went in"

"That still does not ease my mind" (Y/N) responded "Till death do us a part and follow you anywhere" you recited showing him your weeding ring. "Remember?"

In-ho felt his chest got thight at the sight and the memory of the small yet full of love weeding you two had back when life was more simple.

"Alright, you can come with me. Its not like you would wait for my approval" he responded smiling at the end "But no one must know that we are married, you understand that ?" He added now serious

"Of course, its what makes more sense, we will just casually meet there and see how it plays" You nodded to him "And please, better clean up that glass before someone steps on it"

"On it, love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

For the most part pretending not to know each other was easier than expected. While you knew the guards knew who you two were you were still a bit scared. Specially during the green and red light, since both of you had got separated and now you were froze in your spot.

"You need to move" In-ho said from behind his arm playing along "Follow me in the next sing, alright? Just take my hand"

"Im scared, im sorry" You said feeling guilty over wanting to be there with him and starting to fail on the first game no less.

"I know, I was too. But im here, just follow me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You had to hide your smirk when he pressed the circle to go on with the games, you knew he would do it just to piss off Player 456 and make things more cahotic.

He went with the rest and stood besides you trying himself not to smile at you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The first approach to Gi-huns team was tense to say the least. You two had voted circle and even worse In-ho had been the vote that ended the tie.

But with his own charisma and yours you two got to be on his good side.

Till In-ho decided to talk, really you sometimes forgot who sassy he could be.

"And some picked umbrella?" He asked faking suprise when he had seen it on first hand. "Most of them died I assume"

You could see the look on player 456 and decided to be more sensitive

"Hey, dont be like that. Im sure they went in blind and did not know what it was about" You said keeping a safe distance so no one would think you two were together or knew each other before the games.

In-ho was having too much fun.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

That first night they both were in their respective beds. Still keeping their false relationship. However once (Y/N) was sure all were asleep she went towards In-ho who was awake like he knew she would be coming to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a whisper, worried that for her this would be too much.

"Im fine, I wanted to see if you were fine"

He nodded not saying a thing but taking her hand.

"Also, I saw you break that fight, really ? When did you even learn to do that ?" This made him smile and hold her hand thighter "Really! I only see you in your office all the time"

"You think I would come in here without knowing how to defend myself or you?"

She smiled at him, blushing in the dark. "No....I just thoguht all you did was be in your office and give orders"

In-ho rolled his eyes "Just wait till we are out of here, i will show you just how fit im"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The six legs game was both a chaos and funny. Honeslty you could not help yourself on hugging him and player 456 (who was slowly getting on your soft side) as you saw a team win.

However the shoots that came for these who did not survive were too much. You would swear In-ho gave the guards a cold stare because you would flinch sometimes.

"Hey, dont worry they wont shoot the ones who havent played" Player 456 reassured you with a calm tone

You nodded, knowing that even if you lost they wont shoot you or In-ho. It was still sweet to see him trying to calm you down.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Not a word" He said during the night when you two were able to talk again.

"I was not going to say a thing, but you did in on purpose or were you really missing ?"

In-ho closed his eyes knowing you would later get the recording of him missing during the game and use it against him.

"It was all planned" he said trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Whatever you say Honey"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The game of making pairs gave you nausea because of the carousel kept spinning around. And the rounds were stress again. The worse part was getting separated from In-ho who find you seeing how two players were dragging you so they could have the number they needed.

You havent see him get that angry in years, his protective self being on as he pulled one from the neck and punched the other one.

He kept punching almost forgetting there was a game you two were supposed to play.

"Leave him we still need two more" You urged only for a guard to shove two confused and scared players besides you and In-ho.

"We got them" He assured getting your hand and going to one room.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"In-ho!! (Y/N)!!" The worried screams of Gi-hun filled the place as he looked for both of you.

Even if he had promised to try and dont get attached to new players and survive he could not help but feel a connection with both of you.

"Gi-hun!" In-ho's voice called making him look over and see him coming towards the rest with you by hand something that made him curious but decided not to ask.

"Im glad to see you two alright" Gi-hun said seeing just a few bruises on you, and noticing blood on In-ho knuckles.

You catched his eyes and went to explain "He saved me" you told the rest looking at them then at In-ho who was looking back at you "I would have not made it otherwise"

The look of love you two shared was so genuine, some wonder if you two were together but trying to be discrete to protect yourselfs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"They will most likely attack us tonight" Gi-hun explained as he showed the fork the guards had left when the food was given.

The idea only assented itself when the men returned from the bathroom, with blood on them. 

"And what do you propuse us to do?" In-ho asked all of the Xs were in a circle trying to listen to what Gi-hun had to say.

Gi-hun told the others his plan, honestly you thoguht it was nusts, it wont work. They were far suprassed on numbers but you had to shut yourself up.

You could tell your husband was both amazed by it and even kind of respecting it. Or at least that what he showed to him. He needed Gi-hun's trust after all.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Hide well" In-ho said besides you in a low tone "We can trust the guards but till they get here we cant trust the others"

You nodded knowing that very well since this was a typical phase of the game for years.

"We will be safe" You said holding his shoulder. "Do what you have to do, dont worry about me" You tried to make him feel at ease but he could not. The only thing that scared him more than anything were the other players trying to get to you.

"Just hang in there" He responded his forehead against yours.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The fight was on its hot spot. The players were killing each other without a second thought.

Nothing like living it, even if you have seen this type of thing multiple times. Its was unnerving to see them just going at each others troath. The screams and cries were too much for a moment, the dark did nothing to help.

Thats when you felt it. Someone had dragged you out from under the bed and was now on top of you. You saw the player move their left hand ready to Strike at you. You tried to punch and defend yourself but the person on top was too strong.

A cold scream left your mouth as the forker pierced your shoulder.

You could not help it, the adrenaline and anxiety was getting on you.

"In-ho! In-ho help me please" You screamed for him, your husband the love of your life.

"Shut up, the next one will be your neck" The person said and for a moment you saw it. Dying in here and leaving In-ho.

Till you felt the person being pushed and the screams of them. You blinked trying to make sense.

It was In-ho, he had taken the fork from the player and was now piercing the neck of the player, not even leaving a chance for them to survive.

"GO HIDE NOW!!" In-ho ordered, he being scared himself and angry. He saw red when you were dragged and it was for the brutal grip Gi-hun had on his arm that he did not move faster.

You did as told getting under another bed and making sure no one could reach you.

"You fucking scum! How dare you lay hands on my wife" In-ho almost screamed too angry to see that the player was now dead. All his face and hands where covered in blood.

"Stop it!! They are dead, we need to continue the plan, the lights will be back soon" Gi-hun said taking him and pulling him away from the dead player.

"Get (Y/N), and be ready" Gi-hun told him trying to keep himself calm even when he was close to jump over and save you and In-ho. He wondered if he had hear it right, you were his wife?

In-ho did not waste time, searching for you in the dark till he noticed you. He went quick, pulling yourself out from the bed telling you its was him.

"Shh shh its me, its over dont cry Love" He said trying to make you feel better.

"In-ho?" He nodded and you cried harder "In-ho I was so scared"

"I know love I know, just a bit more alright? It will be over soon. Listen once the guards come in and we follow Gi-huns plan do not come. Someone will come and get you"

"Im going with you, im not leaving you in a bullet fight!"

"You know nothings gonna happen to me, I want you here, safe, alright?"

Finally you accepted.

"I love you In-ho"

"I love you too Love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

As In-ho had said when the guards got back after the fight one took you, Player 120 tried to protest but was put back in her place by other guard.

"You are under suspect of have been part of the riot. You are now eliminated from the games"

The guard said playing his role, starting to get you out of the room while you screamed following the act.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Apologies Madam, orders from the Front Man" The guard said bowing once you two were outside and out of reach from the others players.

Even if you were still breathing hard you nodded. "Dont worry, just take me to him". The guard nodded.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

He knew he was needed in the control room but refused to let you alone like that. He went to your share room, his heart broke at your image, bruises and blood over you. A guard was checking your shoulder but left after he order them to.

Silence fell over both of you as he went to you and hugged you careful not to hurt your shoulder.

He removed his mask to look at you properly.

"Im sorry, I should have never let you come, I should have stopped this sooner" He said with pain in his voice

"Dont blame yourself, I told you I was going in with you. This was not your fault In-ho" You reassured him feeling sad and worried over him.

"I cant not blame myself" He gently passed his hand over your cheeck "You are the best thing in my life and I almost lost you because of my own desires, never again"

You two kissed softly grounding yourselfs. You two were safe and together nothing else matters from now. Only the love and devotion you two had for each other.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flirts: Christmas

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Summary: Christmas in the Flirts Universe

"Hey, you," Mapi says," You're home early. I thought you were going to go see Patri."

You just stick your thumb up at her from your position face down on the sofa.

"Come on," Mapi laughs," Up you get. I want a cuddle."

You roll over, lifting your legs briefly to invite Mapi into the space.

"Not even a proper cuddle?" She jokes," Is that what I'm worth to you? Your legs?"

You groan dramatically as she pulls you up, arms wrapping around your body until her head is pillowed on your chest and your fingers are gently carding through her hair.

You don't want to admit it out loud but you need this hug too.

"When's Ingrid home?"

"She's still at that photoshoot," Mapi complains," Sometimes, I wish she wasn't so pretty so she's at home more with us. I don't need photographers trying to steal our girlfriend."

"Funny," You say," I'm sure she thinks the same about the girls that try to chat you up at the bar."

Mapi winks. "And those first time pet owners who just fall at your feet during check ups."

You roll your eyes in mirth. "Well, after the attack you two did to my neck last week, I'm sure all competition has been scared off."

Mapi grins, eyes narrowed as she stares at your neck. The hickeys have all faded now but she can still imagine exactly where they went on your skin - one of her and Ingrid's greatest artworks.

"Are you sure?" Mapi's fingers brush your thigh. "I mean, how can we be sure? Competition can come back."

You give her a look, brows raised pointedly as she nibbles at your neck. "I can't go back into work with my neck uncovered. I'll have to cover it with a scarf."

"it's winter. You should be wearing a scarf anyway. This just gives you a good excuse!"

She pushes you flat on your back, straddling your hips as her mouth reattaches to the sensitive skin on your neck.

That's how Ingrid finds you, thought with less clothing, as she steps through the door.

"You two can't wait for me?" She teases as she hangs up her coat and takes off her boots. "Having all the fun without me?"

Mapi barely pulls away from you, still close enough to feel her breath on your lips, as she responds," You know you're always welcome to join."

"Hmm...I don't think that sofa will fit all three of us, not in the ways I want you two in anyway. Come. We'll take this to bed."

It's hours later when you finally, properly, separate from your lovers, head pillowed on Ingrid's bare chest as she draws absentminded swirls on your arm with her fingertips.

The light glow of the fake Christmas tree in the corner of the room is the only thing illuminating the walls. The light bounces along the curves and angles of Mapi and Ingrid's faces, bathing them in ethereal light so much that you just can't help but stare.

It's so calm and so beautiful that you find yourself relaxing, all tension melting from your bones before you check your phone and the illusion is shattered.

"What is it?" Ingrid asks, feeling your muscles tense against your own.

"It's nothing," You say quickly - too quickly for Ingrid's liking.

"You can tell us," She coaxes gently," What's wrong? We'll help you fix it."

"Unless you're going to be able to fix years worth of parental disappointment..." You say bitterly before sighing," No, it's nothing. I promise. Don't worry about it. Ignore me."

Mapi lifts her head up from where it was resting on Ingrid's shoulder. "You're not looking forward to going home for Christmas?"

"I...I don't know," You admit," Christmas isn't...I mean...I don't know. Patri wants me to come home with her but..." You press your face into Ingrid's skin. "I'm sick of arguing with her about it."

"You're arguing with Patri?" Ingrid asks," I don't think you've ever said that before."

"Every Christmas." You grind out the words. "I was smart enough for medical school, you know. I could have gotten in. I think that's what everyone expected of me."

"But you wanted to be a vet instead?" Mapi's hand captures one of your own, lacing your fingers together tightly and squeezing.

"I don't think my parents ever really got over it. I don't think Patri's parents really got over it either. A footballer and a doctor. It's every family's dream."

Ingrid frowns though you can't see it from the way you've buried your face in her chest.

"Your parents don't deserve you," She says simply," And Patri shouldn't make you go home with her if you don't want to."

"What else am I meant to do?"

"Come with us," Mapi says," I know you said no when we first asked but that's when you were planning on seeing your family. Come to Norway with us. We'll spend Christmas together."

"I don't want to intrude-"

"You won't be," Ingrid cuts in," You're a part of this relationship and if you're not going home then you shouldn't spend Christmas alone. We don't have to go to Norway. We can stay here. Together."

"I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking. We're offering."

"And your parents won't mind one extra?"

"Ingrid's parents have been trying to meet you for months now," Mapi says," And you can finally meet Hector!"

Ingrid laughs. "My parents might make you give him a check up though. He's going deaf, we think."

"Really, I don't have to-"

"We want you there," Mapi insists," If you'll let us take you."

You smile, leaning over Ingrid to kiss Mapi gently before moving back to do the same with Ingrid.

"I'd love to come to Norway with you both."

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

you're still a virgin?

IN WHICH heeseung realizes you're still a virgin after swearing you'd get with someone from the start of the year, so he offers to help solve this problem

PAIRING ⟡ bsf!heeseung x virgin!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ non-idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ mdni, smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first smut fic on this acc... minors avert your eyes

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible,  but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up on going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can almost feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[wonderjanga]

How Do You Just Know My Parental Figure?

Marvel just knows everyone’s mom’s for some reason and gives no explanation as to how. He just does.

Supes: *shows Billy a picture of his parents for whatever reason*

Marvel: “Supes… your mom is Mrs. Martha?”

Supes: “Yes? Do you know her…?”

Marvel: “Yeah! We met in ‘61 at a pie eating competition! She was the one making the pies for the competition.”

Supes: “Why were you at a pie eating competition? Were you participating?”

Marvel: “Uh yeah? I wanted that prize money and pie. Anyways, me and her hit it off when we got to talking. Then, the time bubble happened, but when it burst, we got back in touch and we make pies together now!”

Supes: “Huh. Ma’s never mentioned you.”

Marvel: “Really? i’ve been to the farm and everything.”

Supes: “You’ve been to the farm?!”

Marvel: “Yeah? A bake pies with her and try to help around the farm. By the way, Mr. Jonathan is your dad, right?”

Supes: “Yes?? How come I never knew this…?”

By the way, Billy goes as Billy and not as Marvel because he met like a maybe fourteen year old Ma Kent as Billy at the pie eating competition. Also, Martha knows he’s Cap so since Martha knows his identity, he figured she’d told her son. By the way, whenever Jon comes he’s so happy to see Billy cause wow! His grandma never told him there was another kid here. He figures Billy was a farmhand or something. Jon’s pretty sure that’s a thing anyways.

or

Wondy and Marvel: *sparring*

Marvel: “You know Diana you look just like your mother.”

Wondy: *falters slightly cause that came out of nowhere* “What?”

Marvel: *takes that as his chance to grab and throw her* “Yeah, you do! I guess it makes sense since you’re her daughter and all.”

Wondy: “Wait? you’re saying all of this like you personally know my mother.”

Marvel: “I did! Several thousand years ago. We used to be best friends! Then I was selected as a champion and had to leave and that’s when of our friendship fell out.”

Wondy: “So you’re an Amazonian?”

Marvel: “No, no no no I was an Amazonian.”

That previous champ and Hippolyta were actually besties but a young Hippolyta didn’t want her to go to man’s world because then she wouldn’t be able to come back to Themyscira. The previous champ went anyways and that was taken as a sort of act of betrayal, not that Diana’s mother would admit it. Not to mention, the previous champ couldn’t even come back to apologize considering you forget the island’s location if you leave.

or

Reporter: “Captain Marvel, as a member of the Justice League is there anything you would like to share with us about Bruce Wayne considering he sponsors you all?”

Marvel: “No, I don’t actually know anything about the guy. But you who I do know? Patrick Wayne.”

Reporter: Pardon? Please elaborate?

Marvel: “He was a pretty funny guy. He let me be a test dummy for all his little gadgets. It was fun!”

Meanwhile…

Bruce: *sitting on his couch watching this and remembers how he did research on his grandfather, and how most of those experimental gadgets were deadly*

Patrick and Marvel were actually pretty good buddies. They were like this 🤞. Then, the time bubble happened and by the time Billy got out, both Patrick and his son Thomas were already dead. Billy got really fortunate with Martha still being alive now that he thinks about it.

[elikajinnie]

hii! hope ur doing good I have some ideas in mind hear me out demon sunghoon where he fell in love with reader and tries to protect and keep an eye on her and sunghoon tries to disguise himself as a human to get closer to her will do anything to protect her and love her, buttt what if reader discover’s his true identity. It could be incubus sunghoon BUT ITS UR CHOICE, Hope ur doing good :333

The Incubus's Touch - P.S

a/n: i hope you like it <33

P: Incubus!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Obsession, Teasing, Possession, Seduction, Hurt/Comfort, Temptation, Stalking, Suggestive Content, Mature Content.

Wordcount: 10.2k

Synopsis: Working at the old campus library was fun—except for one rule: never enter the basement. Yet, one day, you found yourself there, holding an ancient book. You read a few words, and now strange things are happening, and a mysterious new student won’t leave you alone. Who—or what—did you awaken?

a/n: i got some inspiration from a new book im reading called The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino - i would recommend it if you can handle slowburn.

now playing: woo by rihanna | sins (let me in) by kanii | temptation by ashley sienna | dont mess with my mind by emo

reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

--

When you first decided to get a job close to campus, you weren’t expecting much. In fact, you didn’t have many choices at all. Most of the cafes and shops near the university had already filled their rosters for the semester, and every rejection you received only added to the growing knot of anxiety in your chest. As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing desperate, spending late nights scrolling through job postings that seemed to disappear before you could even send in an application.

It wasn’t until one quiet afternoon in the campus library that your salvation arrived.

The campus library had always been your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and filled with the smell of old books. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend hours tucked into one of the corners, surrounded by towering shelves of books and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. The librarian, Mrs. Choi, had gotten used to seeing you there almost every day, to the point where she’d started greeting you by name when you walked through the doors.

That day, she had approached your table while you were hunched over your laptop, your screen open to yet another fruitless job search.

“Still looking?” she’d asked, her voice soft but knowing.

You’d sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah. It’s been… rough.”

She’d nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting toward the stacks of books waiting to be shelved. Then, after a moment, she’d said, “How would you feel about working here? As my assistant?”

You’d blinked, thinking you must have misheard her. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” she’d said, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing glamorous, but we could use an extra set of hands. And you seem like the kind of person who’d do well here.”

You didn’t need to think twice. You’d eagerly accepted the offer on the spot.

The job, as it turned out, was exactly what you’d needed. Sorting out books, erasing stray pencil marks and doodles from pages, sitting behind the counter to check books in and out, cleaning shelves, making sure the computers were turned off at the end of the day—it was simple work.

You quickly fell into a routine. Most days, you worked quietly alongside Mrs. Choi, who was as patient and kind. Other times, you found yourself alone.

There were small challenges, of course— like figuring out the library catalog system, dealing with students who were less than gentle with the books, chasing down overdue returns—but they were minor in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn’t the job you’d imagined yourself doing, but it turned out to be exactly what you needed.

But there was one simple rule she had given you: never enter the basement alone.

At first, you thought it was strange. The basement was just a storage space, wasn’t it? A place to keep old supplies, forgotten books, and maybe some outdated equipment. Why would it matter if you were alone or not?

You got your answer the first time Mrs. Choi took you down there.

It had been a quiet afternoon, with only a few students milling around the library. Mrs. Choi had handed you a list of supplies needed to repair a torn book—a delicate process that required some old tools and adhesives she kept locked away downstairs. She led you to a small, unassuming door at the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind one of the towering shelves.

The moment the door creaked open, the atmosphere changed.

The air was heavier, colder. A faint smell of mold hit your nose immediately, mixed with something metallic that made you wrinkle your nose. The single light bulb at the top of the stairs flickered, casting shadows that danced along the narrow stairwell. You hesitated, but Mrs. Choi gave you a reassuring look and motioned for you to follow.

“I know it’s not exactly inviting,” she said with a small smile, descending the stairs, “but the supplies we need are down here. Just stick close to me.”

You nodded and followed her, but the deeper you went, the more uneasy you felt. The basement wasn’t just dark—it was suffocatingly so. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with dust-covered boxes, forgotten stacks of books, and unidentifiable objects. The floor beneath your feet was uneven, cracked concrete, and your steps echoed in the silence.

And then there were the hallways.

You hadn’t expected the basement to be so sprawling. Hallways branched off in seemingly every direction, twisting and turning into darkness. Some of them were so narrow you’d have to walk sideways to squeeze through. Others disappeared entirely into shadows, the overhead lights either burned out or nonexistent.

“This library is older than the campus itself,” Mrs. Choi explained as she rummaged through a shelf near the end of one of the hallways. “The basement used to be part of an old archive building before the university bought the property. They’ve renovated the library a dozen times over the years, but the basement? Well…” She trailed off, gesturing to the decaying walls around you.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose at the sight of a particularly large spiderweb on the wall.

Mrs. Choi chuckled softly. “Exactly. What the students can’t see won’t hurt them—or so the administration likes to think. Just be glad you don’t have to come down here often.”

You nodded, but your eyes kept drifting to the dark hallways. There was something… off about them.

“Mrs. Choi?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Hmm?” she replied without looking up.

“Why don’t you want me coming down here alone?”

She paused, her hands stilling on the box she’d been searching through. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine. When she finally spoke, her tone was casual—too casual.

“It’s easy to get lost,” she said, turning to you with a faint smile. “The layout down here doesn’t make much sense, and it’s not exactly safe to wander around in the dark. The last thing I want is for you to trip and hurt yourself.”

Her explanation made sense, but the way she avoided your gaze left you unconvinced. Still, you didn’t press the issue. You helped her carry the supplies back upstairs, relieved to step back into the library.

After that, you made a point to follow her rule. The basement was creepy enough with someone else—there was no way you were going down there alone.

At least, not until the night you had no choice.

It happened a few weeks later, after a long shift that had stretched past closing time. Mrs. Choi had gone home early, trusting you to lock up on your own. Most of the evening had just been returning books to their shelves, tidying up the counter, shutting down the computers—but just as you were about to leave, you noticed a small stack of books on the repair desk.

You froze, staring at them. Mrs. Choi had asked you to fix those earlier in the week, but you’d completely forgotten. The supplies you needed were downstairs—in the basement.

You hesitated, debating whether you could just leave it for tomorrow, but you knew Mrs. Choi was counting on you. Sighing, you grabbed a flashlight from the front desk and made your way to the basement door.

You hesitated at the door, keys in hand, as a quiet, uneasy thought crossed your mind: Just leave it for tomorrow. But Mrs. Choi... She was counting on you. The supplies were just downstairs. It’d take five minutes at most.

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door.

The heavy, creaking groan of the hinges sent a shiver down your spine as the door swung open. The familiar smell hit you immediately: damp, mold, and that faint metallic. You reached for the light switch, flipping it on without much thought.

Nothing happened.

You froze, your hand still on the switch. You flicked it again. And again. Still nothing.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself the bulb had probably just burned out—though you couldn’t remember a time the light had ever failed before.

“It’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, bringing the flashlight you’d brought along up. The bright beam cut through the darkness as you clicked it on, illuminating the narrow staircase in front of you. You took a shaky breath and began your descent.

The further down you went, the colder it became.

The air felt heavier here, pressing against your skin like a warning. You tried to focus on the flashlight’s beam, watching it bounce against the cracked walls and uneven steps. It helped, a little. But not enough to shake the growing knot of unease curling in your stomach.

When you finally reached the bottom of the staircase, you paused to look around. The beam of your flashlight swept across the basement, revealing the same maze of shelves, forgotten boxes, and darkened hallways you’d seen before. But tonight, it felt different—almost unfamiliar.

A shiver ran up your spine. You adjusted your grip on the flashlight, forcing yourself to move.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Get the supplies and leave.”

You turned toward the shelf where Mrs. Choi always kept the repair tools. They were usually right there—neatly stored in a small wooden crate on the middle shelf. But as you shone the flashlight over it, you froze.

The shelf was empty.

Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly scanned the area. No crate. No tools. Nothing. You crouched down, checking the lower shelves, even though you knew they’d never been there before. Still nothing.

“Where…?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own breathing.

Maybe Mrs. Choi had moved them? That was possible, right? She was always reorganizing things. You straightened up, your flashlight flicking from shelf to shelf, moving to step back, you were about tt turn to check the other shelves nearby. That’s when you heard it.

A faint sound, just on the edge of your hearing. A soft creak, like the sound of a door easing open—or maybe a floorboard shifting underfoot.

You froze, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hand.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice louder than you intended. It echoed through the basement, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the dark hallways. No response.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe just the old pipes settling, or your own footsteps disturbing something. But as you turned back to the shelf, another sound reached you.

This time, it was softer—quieter. Like the faint rustle of fabric.

Your stomach dropped.

You swung the flashlight toward the nearest hallway, its beam cutting through the dark. Nothing. Just more shelves, more shadows. But your instincts were screaming at you now, telling you to leave. To get out of there.

"Okay, nope," you whispered to yourself, backing away from the hallway, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hands.

That’s when you heard it.

A hum.

Soft, almost melodic, like someone humming a lullaby just out of earshot. It floated through the air, carried on a breeze that shouldn’t have existed down here. The sound wrapped around you, tender and strangely inviting, tugging at something deep inside your chest.

You froze, the flashlight beam flickering as your grip loosened. The hum grew louder—not in an overwhelming way, but in a way that seemed to sink into your bones. It felt… warm.

Where were you again?

You frowned, the thought slipping through your mind like water through your fingers. You couldn’t remember. The dim basement around you blurred at the edges, the walls dissolving into a hazy glow. The tight knot of fear in your stomach melted away, replaced by a slow, pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

The hum wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting and wonderful, coaxing you to close your eyes and just… relax. The cold, damp smell of the basement faded, replaced by something sweeter. Flowers? No… vanilla, maybe. Something that reminded you of home.

You let out a soft sigh, your muscles relaxing, the tension in your shoulders fading. Your flashlight slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground, but you barely noticed.

Everything felt so perfect.

You wanted to stay here forever.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the hum stopped.

And everything crashed back into focus.

The warmth in your chest was gone, replaced by a sharp chill that clawed at your skin. The sweetness in the air vanished, leaving behind the bitter stench of mold and metal. Your surroundings solidified, and you realized you were no longer standing where you’d been before.

You were in a different room.

The walls were smooth and gray, completely different from the crumbling concrete of the basement hallways. The shelves were gone, replaced by nothing but cold, empty space. The air felt heavier, colder, and every breath you took made your chest ache.

Your flashlight was nowhere to be seen, but a dim, pale light seemed to seep into the room from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The hum was gone, but the silence it left behind was worse.

You turned in slow circles, your heart hammering in your chest. The room was small, with smooth, gray walls that loomed over you, stretching upward into darkness.

“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

It echoed back to you, warped and distant, as if the room was far larger than it seemed.

The warped echoes of your voice faded into the suffocating silence of the room, leaving only the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

How did you even get here?

You couldn't remember. Your mind was still foggy, fragments of warmth and that eerie hum lingering in the back of your thoughts like an unfinished dream.

Did you walk here?

You felt like you were missing pieces of yourself, as if part of your memory had been swallowed whole.

You were about to take a tentative step forward when something deep inside you shifted—a strange, unnatural pull. It wasn't a sensation you could describe easily. It was as though a string deep within your chest was being tugged, pulling you toward something.

You froze, your breath catching as your eyes followed the invisible tether.

In the center of the room, sitting on a low, ornate stand, was a book.

Your heart stuttered. Had that been there before? You were sure it wasn’t. You would have noticed it immediately, wouldn’t you?

The book seemed to glow faintly, its crimson-red cover almost pulsating, like it was alive. There were no words or symbols on the front, just smooth, worn leather that seemed impossibly pristine for something that felt so… ancient.

You swallowed hard, your feet moving toward it as if on their own. Each step felt heavier, your instincts screaming at you to turn around, to run, but you couldn’t stop.

When you finally reached it, you hesitated.

It was smaller than you expected, almost delicate, as though it shouldn’t have belonged in a place like this. Despite its vivid crimson color, the book radiated a strange sense of calm—like it wanted to be touched.

Before you realized it, your fingers were brushing against the cover.

It felt smooth, almost unnaturally so, and surprisingly light when you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands, the edges soft and perfectly bound, as if the book had been untouched for centuries. But on the back, something caught your attention.

A pink heart.

It was imprinted into the leather, subtle, making it look almost playful.

You huffed, confused and almost annoyed by how strange it all felt. Turning the book back over, you slowly opened it.

The pages inside were blank.

Every single one, clean and untouched, as though the book had never been written in. But when you turned to the first page, something stopped you in your tracks.

There was writing.

It was delicate, inked in looping, elegant script that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. The letters were strange, unfamiliar, but they seemed alive, as though they were moving ever so slightly, shifting and breathing on the page.

Latin, your mind supplied, though you couldn’t remember ever studying the language.

You tilted your head, curiosity overriding your fear as your eyes traced the unfamiliar words. They beckoned to you, pulling you in deeper. Before you even realized what you were doing, your lips parted, and you read them aloud:

"Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum."

Nothing happened.

You stared at the book, waiting for some dramatic effect—a rumble, a flash of light, maybe a ghostly apparition—but there was nothing. Just silence.

You let out an annoyed huff, rolling your eyes. “Great. Real spooky,” you muttered under your breath. Closing the book with a snap, you placed it back on the stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as if to rid yourself of its texture. “What a waste of time.”

Turning around, you glanced around the room again, your frustration growing. It wasn’t like you had time to deal with creepy books in creepy basements. You still needed to get out of here and figure out why the supplies weren’t where they were supposed to be.

Then, you saw it.

A door.

It was open, just wide enough for you to slip through. You frowned. Had it been there before? It must’ve been—how else would you have gotten in here? Still, something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Was that where you came from?

You shrugged. Probably.

With no other options, you headed toward it, slipping through the opening, the faint creak of the hinges echoing unnervingly.

And then you were swallowed by darkness.

“Of course,” you muttered, groaning. Without the flashlight from earlier, the darkness was thick and impenetrable. You could barely see an inch in front of your face, and the faint light from the room behind you did nothing to help.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you switched on its flashlight. The beam wasn’t as strong as the flashlight you’d been carrying before, but it was enough to see the area around you.

The floor beneath your feet was uneven and cold, a mixture of dirt and cracked stone. You shone the light around, trying to get your bearings. The walls were damp and covered in spiderwebs, and the faint scent of mold and rust lingered in the air.

Where even am I?

You took a tentative step forward, the beam of light from your phone trembling as you moved.

The hallway kept stretching forward, narrow and seemingly endless. The farther you walked, the more the walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder with each step. Your phone’s light flickered once, then again, making your pulse spike.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” you whispered, gripping the device tighter.

The light steadied, and you exhaled a shaky breath, your footsteps faltering slightly.

Something felt off.

The air was too still, the silence too absolute. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched, like something was lurking just beyond the reach of your light.

You shook your head, trying to focus. “Get it together,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just find the exit.”

But as you took another step, something caught your attention.

A sound.

It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder the more you listened. A soft, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps… or fingers drumming against a surface.

You froze, the beam of your phone’s light shaking as your hands trembled. The sound echoed faintly through the corridor, coming from somewhere ahead of you.

“Hello?” you called, your voice cracking slightly.

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You waited, holding your breath, your ears straining for any hint of movement.

Then, suddenly, the tapping started again—this time behind you.

Your stomach dropped, and you whipped around, the flashlight from your phone sweeping over the hallway you’d just walked through. It was empty.

Completely, utterly empty.

You took a shaky step backward, your heart hammering in your chest. The tapping grew louder, faster, coming from all around you now, echoing off the walls in a maddening cacophony.

“Stop it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just stop!”

And then it did.

The silence that followed was deafening, almost worse than the sound itself. You took another step back, your pulse racing, and suddenly the floor beneath you gave way.

With a startled cry, you fell, the phone slipping from your hand as you tumbled into darkness.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Dazed and disoriented, you lay there for a moment, your head spinning and your body aching.

When you finally managed to sit up, you realized you were no longer in the narrow hallway.

You were back in the room.

The light was gone, replaced by an suffocating darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly around you.

And in the center of the room, sitting on the stand where you’d left it, was the book.

But this time, it wasn`t red.

It was black.

And it was beating.

You screamed, the sound raw and terrified as it echoed around the room. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Your body felt impossibly heavy, as though some unseen force was pressing down on you, rooting you in place.

Frantic, your eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out, for anything to explain what was happening. But the darkness seemed alive now, shifting and writhing just beyond your vision.

And then, you felt it.

Hot breath, impossibly close, brushing against your ear.

Your breath hitched as warmth spread through you, pooling low in your stomach, and you hated how your body betrayed you, reacting to something you couldn’t even see.

Then came the lips.

Soft, feather-light, trailing along the curve of your neck. The sensation was so vivid, so real, that a groan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body arched instinctively, leaning into the phantom touch, even as your mind screamed at you to fight it, to run, to do something.

“Shh,” a voice purred, its tone soothing. “There’s no need to be afraid, my sweet. You called me, remember?”

Your heart raced, and your hands clenched into fists as you tried to regain control of your body. “What… what are you?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The presence behind you chuckled, the sound low and intimate, like a lover’s laugh shared in the dark.

“I’m yours,” it said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You read the words. You invited me in. And now… we’re bound.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no, this isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is,” the voice replied, amusement lacing its tone. “You wanted something, didn’t you? Why else would you open that book? Why else would you speak those words?”

The weight on your body eased slightly, enough for you to shift and try to crawl away, but the darkness coiled around you like a living thing, keeping you in place.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?” the voice murmured, almost pitying. “Poor thing. You were so eager, so curious. And now…”

A hand—cold yet burning—brushed against your cheek, tilting your head up toward the stand where the book still rested.

“…you’re mine.”

The room seemed to pulse with those final words, the darkness tightening around you like a vice. Your vision blurred as panic clawed at your throat, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the book—its pages flipping wildly on their own—glowing faintly with a sinister crimson light.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, your body jolting upright like you’d been shocked awake. But as you looked around, you realized you were lying in the middle of the hallway.

Your phone was on the floor beside you, its flashlight pointed up at the cracked ceiling.

It was a dream?

You laughed, breathless and shaky, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. “This is insane,” you muttered, your voice trembling. The laughter didn’t last long—it felt hollow, a desperate attempt to convince yourself that what you’d experienced wasn’t real.

You snatched up your phone, and scrambled to your feet. Without wasting another second, you sprinted down the hallway, the weak beam of your phone’s flashlight bouncing with every step. You didn’t care where you were going anymore; you just needed to get out.

The hallways twisted and turned, stretching endlessly, and every shadow seemed to claw at you as you ran. It felt like hours—like the labyrinth was mocking you, refusing to let you leave.

But finally, somehow, you found your way back.

The dim light of the main basement room greeted you, and your breath hitched as your eyes landed on something you hadn’t expected to see.

The box of supplies.

It was sitting on the shelf, exactly where it was supposed to be.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at it. The same box you’d been searching for, on the same shelf you’d checked before.

How had it gotten here?

You didn’t dare question it. Not now. Not after everything that had just happened.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the box, clutching it tightly in one hand while you snatched the flashlight off the ground with the other.

Then you bolted.

Your feet thundered up the stairs, your pulse roaring in your ears as you raced for the exit. When you reached the top, you slammed the basement door shut and locked it, your hands shaking so badly it took you a couple of tries to get the key to turn.

The moment it was locked, you pressed your back against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You glanced down at the supplies in your arms, the mundane, ordinary contents almost laughable now after everything you’d been through.

But as you stood there, something cold prickled at the back of your neck.

You turned slowly, your eyes drifting toward the library’s main floor.

Everything was still. Silent.

And yet, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure standing in the shadows between the shelves.

Watching you.

You blinked, and it was gone.

This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, shaking your head as you clutched the box tighter. You were just tired, that was all. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and the stress of balancing school and work was clearly catching up to you. Yeah, tired. That’s all this is, you thought, repeating it like a mantra.

Ignoring the lingering unease prickling at the back of your neck, you made your way to the counter. The two ripped books Mrs. Choi had left were still there, waiting for you. You dropped the box down with a thud, grabbed the tools you needed, and got to work.

Your hands trembled at first as you smoothed out the torn pages, applying the adhesive carefully. You focused on the process—cutting, pressing, and smoothing out the repair strips—letting the repetitive actions calm your frayed nerves.

This was normal. Fixing books. Doing your job. Nothing weird about that.

Minutes passed. Then longer. The books were almost done, and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe again.

But then, just as you reached for the last tool in the box, a soft tap echoed through the library.

Your hand froze mid-reach, your eyes darting toward the source of the sound.

Tap… tap… tap.

It came from the direction of the shelves, slow and deliberate, like someone tapping their nails against wood.

Your chest tightened as you stared into the rows of books, the library was dark now—darker than it should’ve been. The overhead lights seemed dimmer, casting distorted shadows across the shelves.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was the building settling, or the heating system kicking on. Don’t be stupid. You’re just scaring yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but call out, your voice wavering. “Hello?”

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You stared into the darkness for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then, just as you were about to turn back to the books, a book fell from one of the shelves.

The sound was deafening, the thud reverberating through the library like a gunshot.

You jumped, your breath hitching, and spun toward the source. The book lay open on the floor, its pages splayed out like wings.

You didn’t want to go over there. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to stay behind the counter, to leave it alone.

But your feet moved on their own, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the fallen book.

When you finally reached the book, you crouched down, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

Your fingers brushed over the embossed title, and your stomach dropped.

It was the same book you’d seen in the basement.

You gasped, clutching the crimson book tightly as your eyes darted around the library. Maybe this was some sort of prank? Someone could have grabbed the book from the basement and planted it here to scare you.

“Hello?” you called out again, but the library was still empty, silent.

Your breathing quickened as you scanned the shelves, desperate to catch a glimpse of anyone—a student pulling some cruel joke, or maybe Mrs. Choi coming back to check on you. But there was no one.

You hurried back to the counter, your heart racing, and turned on the computer. Your fingers fumbled as you brought up the CCTV footage, the small screen flickering to life. You scrubbed through the past hour, watching yourself walking back and forth, grabbing the box, and fixing the books.

Nothing.

No one else had entered the library. The hallways and shelves were empty. It was just you, moving around, completely alone.

Well… almost.

You paused the footage, your heart sinking as your eyes locked onto a shadow. It was faint, barely distinguishable, but for one brief frame, something seemed to linger in the corner of the screen. Not a person, but… something.

It was gone in the next frame.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” you muttered under your breath, slamming the monitor off.

You looked at the crimson book sitting on the counter, its cover gleaming faintly under the dim light. It felt wrong—its very presence seemed to thrum.

Without thinking, you grabbed it and tossed it into the nearest trash bin, making sure it landed deep under crumpled paper and leftover scraps.

“There,” you said to yourself, your voice shaky. “Done.”

Forcing yourself to focus, you went back to finishing the torn books, your hands working faster than ever. As soon as the repairs were complete, you shoved the box under the counter and hurried to turn off the lights.

The library plunged into darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the windows barely enough to guide you as you locked the doors behind you.

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside. The campus was quiet, the lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways.

You tightened your coat around you and began the walk home, your footsteps echoing loud. Every so often, you glanced over your shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following you.

But the path behind you was always empty.

Still, the unease stayed with you, like a cold weight settling deep in your chest.

When you finally reached your apartment, you locked the door behind you, double-checking it twice before collapsing onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were just tired, your imagination running wild after a long day.

Before you knew it, sleep had overtaken you. The exhaustion from the long day weighed down on your body like a blanket, pulling you into unconsciousness almost instantly.

But the peace of sleep didn’t last long.

You found yourself in a dimly lit bedroom, one you didn’t recognize. The walls were draped with dark curtains, and the air was heavy with the faint scent of roses. You sat up slowly, blinking in confusion as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“How did I…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off.

Before you could process anything, a voice, smooth and rich like velvet, broke the silence.

“My, you’re even more beautiful up close.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts alluring and unsettling. You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but the shadows in the room seemed to shift and dance, obscuring whoever was speaking to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” the voice continued, closer now, almost right beside your ear. “To touch you… to feel you…”

You gasped as a pair of lips suddenly pressed against yours, soft but demanding.

Your initial instinct was to pull away, but the sensation was overwhelming. Your mind grew hazy, a strange warmth spreading through your chest as the kiss deepened. It felt so intoxicating, so magnetic, that you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever experienced—it was all-consuming, as though the very act of it was pulling you further into the dream.

You felt hands brush against your skin, feather-light but firm, holding you in place.

You tried to pull back, but the hands held you steady, the kiss turning more possessive. The warmth you’d felt earlier now burned, searing through your veins as if something was being poured into you.

Panic swelled in your chest, but just as you were about to scream, the room spun violently, and everything went dark.

When your eyes shot open, you were back on your couch, drenched in sweat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But the lingering warmth on your lips, the faint ache of the kiss, told you otherwise.

And as you glanced toward the door, you froze.

The crimson book was sitting there, completely untouched, resting on the floor as if it had never been buried at all.

Your blood ran cold.

You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding as you stared at the book. How was it there again? You knew you’d buried it deep under the pile of scraps.

“Nope. Not dealing with this,” you muttered, your voice shaking but resolute.

You grabbed the book, your fingers brushing against its smooth, cold cover. A strange, pleasant warmth crawled up your arm at the contact, sending shivers through your body. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—too good. Your grip faltered as a soft sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

No.

Shaking your head fiercely, you tightened your grip and turned toward the window. Without hesitating, you threw it open, the cool night air brushing against your flushed face.

With all the strength you could muster, you hurled the book out. It spiraled through the air before landing with a dull thud on the damp grass below.

You leaned against the windowsill, watching the book. It lay there, unmoving.

Relief coursed through you.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “Stay there. Stay gone.”

Slamming the window shut, you locked it, double-checking the latch before stepping back.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the strange sensations still crawling under your skin. Heading to the bathroom, you stripped off your clothes.

The shower hissed to life, steam rising as the water warmed. You stepped under the stream, letting the heat cascade over you, washing away the sweat and fear clinging to your body.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to convince yourself it was all in your head. Just a bad day. Just a stressful, weird day.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of the water beating against your skin filling your ears as you focused on your breathing. It’s fine. It’s just your imagination. Nothing weird is going on. You’re tired, just tired, you repeated in your mind.

The water seemed colder now, even though the temperature hadn't changed, and a shiver ran down your spine. You’re overthinking it. Just get out of the shower and relax, you told yourself, but your hands felt heavy as you reached for the soap.

Just as you were about to wash your face, a soft tap echoed from somewhere beyond the bathroom door.

You froze, the motion of your hands stalling in midair.

Tap... Tap...

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes darted to the bathroom door.

It was all too familiar. You couldn’t breathe, your chest tightening as the sound echoed louder in your mind.

No. No. It’s just the house settling. Maybe it’s the pipes. Just the pipes.

But the words felt hollow in your mind, the fear building with every passing second. The taps grew louder, clearer, almost closer.

You turned off the water quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. You stood there, motionless, listening, waiting for the sound to stop.

But it didn’t.

And then a creak. Just slightly, but enough for you to hear.

You gasped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you backed away, your legs shaking. Your mind screamed at you to leave the bathroom, to get out of the apartment, but you couldn’t move.

Then, before you could react, the door opened, just a crack.

There was nothing on the other side.

Just the empty hallway beyond.

But you knew. You knew it wasn’t right.

You slammed the door shut and locked it immediately, your breath ragged. The air in the bathroom felt stifling now, the walls pressing in on you, the space shrinking.

Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, desperate to call someone, anyone.

But the screen flickered as soon as you unlocked it. The text on the screen was warped, unreadable. You stared at it for a moment, your stomach dropping. Something wasn’t right with your phone either.

A sharp, guttural whisper curled through the air, a voice so low you barely caught it.

The voice was so faint at first, you thought it was just a figment of your imagination, a trick your mind had played in the silence. But then it came again, clear and sharp, wrapping around your senses like a heavy fog.

“Come closer...”

It was soft, smooth, but there was an undeniable edge to it—laced with something... something tempting.

You froze, the words swirling in your mind. It wasn’t your own voice. It was deeper, resonating through you, the very air around you thick with a strange pull. Your chest tightened, and you felt something shift within you, an involuntary tug deep inside your stomach, urging you forward.

“Just one touch... just one kiss...”

The voice slithered, curling into your ear like a lover’s whisper, and something about it stirred the air around you. Your body was heating up, your skin prickling with a strange energy you couldn't explain.

You swallowed hard, your breath quickening as you stared at the mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you felt it—an undeniable heat at your back.

It burned, searing through you like something alive, something that wanted you. Your breath hitched, and you spun around in a panic, expecting to see someone behind you, but the bathroom was empty, the space cold and silent.

But the heat didn’t fade.

It lingered, crawling across your skin like a heavy presence, sending shivers up your spine. There was no one there, but the sensation of being watched was there. Your body tensed, the warmth spreading through your entire body now, suffocating you, as if someone was right there, pressed against you, whispering into your very soul.

“It’s just us now…”

You glanced into the mirror once more, and there it was again—the figure. This time, it was clearer, its shadowy outline just behind you, impossibly close. The reflection wasn’t yours—it was someone else, standing so close that the hairs on your neck stood on end.

You gasped, heart pounding, but the figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. It simply stood.

The heat intensified, and the whisper grew louder, more insistent, as if it had taken root in your mind.

“Come to me... you know you want to...”

Your pulse raced. The pull in your chest was growing stronger now, as if your body was no longer your own, as if it was being drawn to something that wasn’t just a dream anymore.

The room began to spin, and you had to grip the edge of the sink to steady yourself, feeling dizzy as the desire to obey, to give in, washed over you. But as you fought it, something else caught your eye in the mirror—something that made your blood run cold.

A pair of glowing eyes pierced through the shadows, locked on you. And they were hungry.

You staggered back, heart slamming against your ribcage, and in the corner of your vision, you saw a fleeting glimpse of something—something moving, shifting in the dark.

No… You wanted to scream, to run, but your body wouldn’t move. Your limbs felt like lead, and the heat had become unbearable, pressing into you, dragging you toward it.

With a strangled breath, you finally tore your gaze away from the mirror, blinking furiously to rid yourself of the image. But the voice didn’t stop. It echoed inside your mind, growing louder.

“We’re bound now... there’s no going back…”

You tried to pull away, tried to break free of the suffocating heat and the unbearable pressure, but you couldn’t move. It was as if invisible hands were holding you in place. Your body, already trembling from the overwhelming sensations, was paralyzed as the touch slowly traveled up your arms.

It was light, ghostly, like fingertips grazing over your skin—soft, but burning with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t. The sensation slid up to your shoulders, your neck, curling around you.

The moment it brushed your throat, the pressure seemed to increase, suffocating you. The touch lingered there, just under your jawline, fingers gentle yet firm. And then, before you could think, before you could react, you felt something else—lips.

A kiss.

But not from anyone you could see.

Your eyes snapped shut, your breath shallow as the kiss deepened, warm and intoxicating. It was urgent, burning, and wrong, but in a way that felt too good to resist. You tried to move, tried to pull back, but the invisible force held you in place, pushing you further into the kiss.

It was there, all around you—this overwhelming feeling of being wanted, of being pulled into something. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, fear and desire mingling into a sickening cocktail. The sensation of lips on yours, it felt alive, like the very essence of the kiss was drawing something from you.

A low, satisfied murmur vibrated against your lips, and something deep within you shivered.

No… stop, please… You tried to scream in your mind, but your body didn’t obey. You couldn’t pull away from it.

You were being pulled into it, held captive by something invisible, something that wasn't human. But what? What was kissing you, claiming you like this?

The answer felt just out of reach, like a whisper that barely brushed against your mind, too faint to grasp, too slippery to hold onto. The sensation of lips—too warm, too alive—pressed against yours again, and your strength began to wane. It was as if every breath you took was being drained, pulled out from you with each passing second. You felt weak, too weak to move, too weak to even think.

Your body, once full of fear, had gone completely limp, like a ragdoll strung up and held in place by an invisible force. The pressure around your throat tightened, suffocating, but you could do nothing to fight it. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t even blink—all your energy was consumed, sucked away by whatever was holding you captive, by the kiss that wasn't a kiss.

You could feel your mind slipping, like your thoughts were dissolving into the heat, into the darkness surrounding you. The invisible force—was it a presence? A shadow?—held you in place, guiding you, manipulating you, as if you were a puppet and it was pulling your strings.

But still, the sensation of being claimed lingered, you tried to focus, tried to break free, but it was no use. Every attempt only made you feel smaller, more powerless, like you were losing yourself bit by bit.

Was this what it wanted?

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. It felt... distant. Detached. Like you were a spectator in your own skin, watching as the thing—whatever it was—wove its tendrils around you.

Just as the world around you seemed to fade, a distant whisper echoed through the fog of your mind:

"Mine now."

The words wrapped around you like a heavy chain, pulling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel the floor beneath you anymore.

You were slipping away, your body fading into nothingness, held together only by the force that had claimed you.

"Mine forever."

--

When you woke up, it wasn’t like any other morning. You felt... tired. Groggy, and exhausted. As you stretched, you looked around the room, everything exactly as you left it, nothing unusual. It felt normal.

When you arrived at school, you couldn’t focus. The lessons droned on, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn't shake the feeling from last night. There was a gnawing curiosity deep inside you, a need to know what had happened, to make sense of it. You couldn’t just ignore it—your body wasn’t the same.

You pulled out your laptop in the middle of class, and you typed furiously. Your fingers flew over the keys, searching for any explanation that made sense, some kind of rational answer.

You found nothing but chaos.

The results were all over the place: demons, rituals, ghosts, whispers about curses and creatures from myths, things you thought only existed in horror stories. At first, you dismissed it. This can’t be real, you told yourself. But the deeper you went, the more it all seemed... possible.

And then you found it.

Incubus demons.

Your stomach twisted as you read more. The descriptions, the encounters—everything fit too perfectly. A demon, often seductive, one that could manipulate dreams, feed off your energy, entwine itself with you in the most intimate of ways. It would drain you slowly, filling you with warmth, with need, until it had you completely. Some even said an incubus could bind you to them—forever.

You felt a shiver creep down your spine. Was this what had happened to you? Could it be real? Could the thing you felt, the presence that had been with you, be an incubus?

The deeper you read, the more it made sense. The powerlessness, the way you felt unable to stop it, to resist. The hunger, the overwhelming desire. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn't dream it.

You were still lost in thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You gathered your things mechanically, your mind still reeling from the unsettling information you had uncovered. The words about incubus demons echoed in your head, each sentence making you feel more and more trapped.

As you packed your bag, your hand brushed against something unfamiliar. A cold chill ran through you, and your stomach dropped. You froze for a second, staring at your bag with a creeping sense of dread. Slowly, you opened it, and your eyes widened.

The book.

The crimson-red book. The one you had thrown out the window, the one you’d left behind—it was here, in your bag.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your fingers trembling as you touched the book. It was impossible. How could it be here? You distinctly remembered tossing it out, watching it fall to the ground outside your window. You’d even seen it land on the grass—it couldn’t have just come back.

A deep sense of dread filled your chest as your fingers slowly curled around the cover. You could feel the pull of it again, that same suffocating desire that called to you, whispered to you.

You quickly closed the bag, as if hiding it would make it go away.

How... how was this possible?

Your mind raced, trying to piece it together, but there was no logical explanation. The book had been thrown out. It shouldn’t be here.

And yet, it was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t in control anymore.

Something was toying with you.

You had just sat down in your next class, trying to focus, but your mind kept wandering. How was it possible? What was happening to you? You barely noticed when the seat beside you shifted, and someone sat down, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You turned your head instinctively, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was... stunning.

Tall, with sharp features and thick eyebrows that gave him an almost commanding presence. A few moles dotted his face, and his eyes were dark, almost mesmerizing, in a way which made your heart race in a way that felt unnatural.

But what really made your stomach flutter was the fact that you’d never seen him before.

Was he in this class?

You racked your brain, trying to recall if you had ever noticed him in the hallways or anywhere else on campus, but nothing came to mind.

He seemed to notice you staring at him, and a sly smile tugged at his lips. He leaned a bit closer, as if he didn’t mind the attention at all, his voice smooth and confident when he spoke.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of his tone. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

He chuckled softly, and you felt a strange sensation wash over you, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was unsettling, but you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"I'm Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon," he said, his smile widening slightly.

You blinked again, now fully aware of how close he was. "Oh, uh, nice to meet you."

You forced a smile, but your heart was beating too fast. There was something about him, something that felt off—but also familiar.

Why did it feel like he already knew you?

The class went by as usual, the minutes dragging on in a haze. Sunghoon didn't speak much after you introducing yourself, but every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you, his dark eyes glimmering with something you couldn't quite place. You tried to ignore the unease creeping up your spine and focused on the lesson.

By the time class ended, you were relieved to be able to leave. You needed some time to clear your head.

--

When you arrived at the library, you clocked in and slid behind the counter, but quickly growing bored, you leaned forward and opened the computer, deciding to look up something to distract you. You typed in "demon books," half expecting it to pull up some weird conspiracy theory, but to your surprise, a result popped up. There was a book, right there in the archives—on demons.

Your curiosity flared. This was what you needed.

You grabbed a pen and jotted down the shelf number before heading to the stacks. When you arrived, your eyes searched the shelves, scanning for the number you’d written down. There it was—just out of reach. The book you wanted sat high on the shelf, taunting you. You stretched on your toes, reaching as far as you could, but it was no use. You could feel the frustration rising as you considered your options.

As you were about to give up and turn away, a hand shot up from behind you, effortlessly reaching the book and pulling it down.

You turned around, heart skipping a beat. There, standing just behind you, was Sunghoon. He held the book you had been struggling to get, his expression unreadable.

“Need this?” he asked, his voice casual, almost too smooth.

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. Something about the way he said that sent a strange shiver down your spine. It was as if he knew exactly what you were searching for, as if he had been waiting for you to look it up.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the book from him, but your hand brushed against his for a moment longer than necessary. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, your face flushing.

“No problem,” he replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “Figured you needed a little help.”

You watched him disappear into the rows of books, and the unease from earlier returned, settling deep into your bones.

--

You don’t even realize what you've walked into, do you? Your deliciousness is like a siren's song, luring me in, and I am a lost soul, destined to follow. I've got you now, and I won't let you go. I'll devour every last piece of you, leaving no part untouched, for you're a feast that I'll savor forever.

Your beauty, it's like a spell, casting a shadow over my heart, and I want to take and take, until you give me everything, for I crave the taste of your soul, the essence of your being.

I think of your skin, smooth as silk, and how it feels under my touch. I imagine the taste of your lips, sweet like nectar, and how they'd satisfy my every craving. I envision your body, and how it yields to my every caress.

I'll trace the map of your body with my hands, my lips, and my heart, marking every inch as my own.

I'll feast on your lips, kiss by kiss, until my soul is satiated. I'll drink from the well of your desire, quench my thirst, and be nourished by your passion. I'll explore the depths of your pleasure, discover the peaks of your ecstasy.

And when I've had my fill, my sweet, I'll still want more. For you're an endless ocean, a bottomless pit of pleasure, and I can never quench my thirst. I'll always want to dive deeper, explore further, and discover more.

--

You stared at the book in your hands as you made your way back to the counter. And once you sat behind the counter, you placed the book down in front of you, the sound of the pages flipping echoing softly in the quiet library.

You opened the book, the musty scent of old pages filling your nose as you began flipping through it, scanning the words and images. Each page was filled with descriptions of various demons, their powers, their origins, and their terrifying abilities. But you kept your focus, searching for the section you had come here for.

Incubus demons.

When you finally reached the right section, your heart pounded in your chest. The words jumped off the page, unsettlingly familiar. It was like the book was confirming everything you had felt and the more you read, the clearer it became that this was no coincidence.

Incubi, it said, were demons who thrived on energy—specifically life force. They were known to seduce their victims, using dreams, lust, and an overwhelming need for intimacy to drain them. They were powerful, manipulating their prey until they were completely drained, their energy absorbed by the demon.

But what caught your eye was the last part.

"Once an incubus claims someone, it forms a bond—one that cannot be easily broken. The victim becomes a vessel, their soul linked to the demon’s for eternity."

You froze, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. Eternity. Was that what had happened to you? Had you unknowingly made a pact with something otherworldly?

You could feel your pulse quicken as your mind raced. Had you been claimed by the demon? Was it already too late to turn back?

You closed the book abruptly, the sound of it thudding against the counter loudly. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted, and for a brief moment, you thought you might collapse right there.

Just then, you heard a voice, soft but clear, cutting through the storm of thoughts in your head.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up, startled, and saw Sunghoon standing there, a stack of books in his hands. His eyes were searching your face, brows furrowed in concern.

"Uh... yeah, I’m fine," you stammered, trying to act normal. But you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, the words of the book still fresh in your mind. You quickly gathered your composure and grabbed the books from him, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feelings swirling inside you.

You ran the books through the system, scanning the barcodes one by one, all the while acutely aware of how close Sunghoon was standing.

As you glanced down at the books, you couldn't help but notice the titles—all of them were romance novels. It felt... strange. You glanced back at Sunghoon, trying to read his expression.

"Romance, huh?" you said, attempting to make small talk as you finished scanning the last one. "Didn’t peg you for someone into these kinds of books."

He chuckled softly, a low, smooth sound that made your heart skip again. "I’m not really. But, you know, sometimes it's good to pretend."

You blinked, unsure if you were reading too much into the comment. His smile didn’t help—he always had that air of mystery, like he was saying something and nothing at the same time.

"Thanks for helping with the book earlier," you added, trying to steer the conversation back to something neutral. "I appreciate it."

He shrugged, grabbing the books from on the counter. "No problem. Just looking out for you."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. It felt like more than just a casual statement. Like he knew something you didn’t. Something you didn’t want to know.

You tried to push the feeling down. You had to stay focused. "Anything else you need?" you asked, attempting to keep things professional.

Sunghoon just smiled again, that strange glimmer in his eyes never fading. "For now, no," he said, his tone teasing. "But I’ll be around."

--

When your shift finally ended, the night had already settled in, the streets now cast in shadows. You clutched your bag tightly as you walked, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Eventually, you found yourself at the bridge, standing on the edge, the water below reflecting the lights.

You opened your bag, pulling out the crimson red book, the one you had tried so desperately to get rid of. As you held it, you could feel something radiating from it—a pull, tempting you to keep it, to keep following.

You shook, unable to tear your gaze away from the book, as if it were alive, trying to draw you into its dark power. What had happened to you? What had you gotten yourself into?

A cold sweat broke out along your spine, and for a moment, you thought you might lose control. With trembling hands, you lifted the book to toss it into the water, ready to rid yourself of it once and for all.

But just as you were about to throw it off the bridge, you heard a voice behind you, low and rough.

"Hey," the voice called out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned around.

Standing there was a man—a stranger. His features were sharp, his eyes narrowed in a way that made your stomach turn. There was something off about him, something unsettling in the way he watched you. His gaze was degrading, as if he had already sized you up.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here alone?" he asked, his voice slithering through the air.

You instinctively took a step back, clutching the book tighter in your hands, there was no mistaking the way his eyes lingered on you, his stare lingering a little too long.

His lips twisted into a grin, and it made your blood run cold. "You don't look like you're in a hurry to leave."

His tone, that smile—everything about him screamed danger, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you fought the urge to run, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

Your breath caught in your throat as the man took a step toward you, his hand reaching out with an unsettling determination. This was it. He was going to—

Suddenly, there was a sharp thud, and the man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a pained grunt.

You gasped, startled, and watched in disbelief as a familiar figure stepped besides you.

Sunghoon.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the man, throwing a fist that landed with a sickening crack against the stranger’s face. The man tried to scramble to his feet, but Sunghoon was relentless, his fists moving with precision, each punch landing harder than the last. You could hear the force of each strike, the sound of flesh hitting bone. The man barely had a chance to defend himself, crumpling beneath the force of Sunghoon’s blows.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, transfixed by the brutal scene before you. There was something terrifyingly powerful about Sunghoon right now, his movements were swift and calculated, as if he were punishing the man for something more than just the assault on you.

Your hands shook as you held the book tighter to your chest, you didn’t know why, but it felt like it was alive, pulsing in your grip.

The book was vibrating, faintly at first, but then stronger, almost as though it was purring, responding to the violence — to you.

You ignored it, trying to focus on what was happening in front of you. Sunghoon wasn’t stopping, his anger mounting with each punch.

The man on the ground groaned, clearly dazed, unable to defend himself. Finally, Sunghoon stopped, standing over the man, his breath coming in heavy, measured gasps.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Sunghoon said, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze unwavering. He turned to look at you, eyes locking with yours.

You were still frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t make sense of it all. The way Sunghoon was acting, the way he looked at you—it was like he wasn’t the same person you’d met in the library. This was someone else.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice softer now, though there was still a sharpness to it.

You nodded, though your voice felt stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even find the words to thank him, or to ask why he’d come out of nowhere to help you. Why was he here?

Sunghoon glanced down at the man on the ground, his expression unreadable, before he turned to you again, taking a step closer.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice more comforting this time, though the intensity never fully left his gaze.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the book tighter, trying to shake off the strange feeling it was giving you.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning you before he helped you steady yourself.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone lighter, he glanced at the book in your hands, and that smile of his grew, just slightly, as if pleased.

He led you away from the bridge, the cool night air now feeling heavy around you. His presence beside you was comforting, but at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the sense that he was guiding you in more ways than one.

You looked up at him, and he caught your gaze, his smile widening ever so slightly. "Seems like you’ve taken quite the interest in that," he said, his voice soft but with an edge you couldn’t quite place. "You’re holding it tightly."

Your fingers ached as you continued to clutch the book to your chest, your heart still hammering from the encounter. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"You shouldn’t have to worry anymore," he said, his voice lowering. “You’re safe now.”

Then why did something not feel right? Sunghoon was far too calm, too understanding. As if he already knew everything—everything that had been happening to you.

The way he looked at you, like he was watching, waiting for something.

And for the first time, you realized something that made your stomach twist in unease.

He wasn’t just helping you.

He was guiding you.

--

The moment you stepped through the door of your apartment, you immediately noticed it. The book was still pressed against your chest, and for the first time, it felt almost suffocating. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding onto it the entire time—your knuckles white. It was like it had become a part of you, and that realization twisted something deep within your gut.

You couldn't stand it anymore.

Without even thinking, you hurled the book against the wall, your heart racing as the impact caused it to thud loudly, the book sliding to the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat, as if your body had finally caught up to the chaos inside your mind.

For a moment, there was silence. The book lay on the floor, the cover staring up at you, as if mocking your decision. But you were too exhausted to care anymore. Too worn out by everything that had happened.

You stumbled fowards, your legs giving way, and before you knew it, you were sinking onto the couch. Your mind was foggy, too tired to think. Your body ached, your head pounded, but the exhaustion was overpowering. The last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut was the book, sitting on the floor.

And the only thing you could think of as you drifted off was how you felt that it wasn’t done with you yet.

--

You felt so... relaxed? It was like your body was weightless, wrapped in warmth and comfort. The air was thick, almost too hot, and the bed beneath you felt too soft, like sinking into a cloud. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling above you. A grand queen-sized bed stretched out beneath you, luxurious sheets tangled around your legs.

Your head was still foggy, like you were waking from a deep, dreamless sleep. But the discomfort of the heat around you was immediate, and you instinctively pushed the covers away, trying to breathe through the thick air.

That’s when you felt it.

A weight on your body, pressing down, holding you where you lay. Your breath hitched as the sensation of someone’s lips—warm, urgent—pressed against yours. The shock of it made your chest tighten, and you gasped, eyes wide as you tried to push the figure off of you, only to find you couldn’t move.

A voice, soft but laced with something darker, echoed in your mind, almost like a whisper, “Give in.”

Your body stiffened, the words familiar yet chilling. The lips on yours were insistent, coaxing you into submission. You couldn't understand—how did you get here? Why was everything so warm? And why did you feel this strange pull?

The kiss deepened as your breath quickened, and the moment your hands tried to reach above you, they tightened their grip. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

You wanted to push away. You wanted to scream. But you couldn’t. You were trapped in this sensation, helpless.

You felt so good. So pleasant. Every part of you hummed with a warmth, an overwhelming comfort, like sinking into the softest dream. But with it came an exhaustion, a draining weariness you couldn't fight.

As the lips moved from your mouth down to your jaw, trailing soft, slow kisses, you felt your body go limp beneath them. You tried to stay alert, to keep your mind sharp, but the sensation was too much. The warmth, the pleasure, it was like it was melting you from the inside out. Your energy, your strength, seemed to vanish with every kiss, every press of lips against your sensitive skin. You couldn't fight it. It felt too good.

A small gasp escaped your lips as they moved lower, their touch leaving a trail of warmth on your neck, then your collarbone. The sensation was both soothing and dizzying, like you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep. You felt so tired, but the pleasure pulling you under kept you from fully giving in.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, quickening with each new kiss, each lingering touch. The sound of your breath was louder than the rest of the world, but even that was fading. You could barely hold onto your thoughts, the desire to move, to push, slipped further and further away.

And then you realized—there was nothing you could do. You didn’t want to.

You felt something deep inside you stir, a craving, a hunger that matched the pull of the lips against your skin. You were being drained, yes, but it also felt like it was what you needed.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to it. You let your body go, let the exhaustion wash over you, let yourself fall into the warmth of the kiss. You didn’t even care where it was leading anymore.

You felt your body give in completely as the lips on your neck paused, lingering there, and you could hear the soft hum of approval, a low sound of satisfaction. And just like that, it was too late to resist.

As you surrendered to the moment, the hands, ever so gently, pushed your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, as the heat in the room seemed to rise.

The lips, now free to explore, trailed kisses down your stomach, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to your waist, he squeezed gently, pulling you closer, and you felt his body press against yours.

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Your body was giving in, responding to him, reacting in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was as though you were caught in a web, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

His lips moved from your neck, tracing the sensitive line of your jaw before they found your lips again, kissing you. The kiss was hungry now, deeper. You felt his hands tighten around you, as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

And somehow, it felt... right.

You felt so hazy, your mind clouded by a warm, soothing fog that made it impossible to think clearly. Everything was blurred, all thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The weight of your body felt distant, like you were floating. You couldn’t move your limbs, couldn’t even feel them anymore.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of the lips that pressed gently against yours, warm and insistent. Every time they left, it felt like you were waiting, craving the return of that contact. And when they did, you kissed them back instinctively, your lips parting slightly to welcome them.

"Let go," it murmured softly, the sound of it like silk against your mind. "Enjoy this. Let the pleasure take over. You deserve it."

You shivered, feeling the warmth of the words settle deep inside you, pushing aside any lingering doubts, any hesitation. The voice continued, coaxing you, convincing you that this feeling, this moment, was all that mattered. That you didn’t need to resist, that you could simply surrender and feel everything without fear.

There was no fight left in you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely at peace. You didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to worry— just the feeling of being taken care of, loved, and wanted.

You closed your eyes, lost in the comfort, the warmth, and the voice that guided you deeper into the haze.

--

You woke up suddenly, your mind heavy, still clouded in a haze, and found yourself lying on the couch. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog, and as you looked around, everything seemed perfectly normal.

One thing wasn't normal, though. It was the warmth, the sticky, almost suffocating heat clinging to your skin, like honey trapping you in its sweetness. The sensation was odd, and it was paired with an exhaustion that weighed you down, a tiredness so deep you could barely keep your eyes open.

You managed to sit up and push yourself to your feet, dragging yourself to the bathroom, needing to see your reflection, needing to understand what was happening. The mirror greeted you with an unexpected shock.

Your neck and collarbone were covered in marks—deep, almost bruised-looking impressions, some faint, others dark, like someone had pressed their lips into your skin too hard, leaving their mark. You barely recognized the face staring back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, the kind of flush you’d never get from just a long day, and your eyes looked distant.

You kept staring at your reflection, eyes wide in disbelief, and slowly pulled your shirt off, but what greeted you beneath your clothes made your breath catch in your throat.

Handprints. Dark, unmistakable imprints stretched across your waist, your hips, and even down to your thighs. It was like someone had gripped you there with force, leaving their mark on your skin, as if they couldn’t resist claiming every part of you.

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The more you looked, the more it seemed to confirm your theory.

An incubus had done this.

But the memories were murky, like a dream fading in the light of day. You couldn't remember the specifics, but the evidence was undeniable.

You were cursed.

The thought sent a shiver through your body. There was no other explanation. It was all pointing to something beyond your control, something that wanted you, that had claimed you.

But what did it want from you? Why you?

The mirror reflected your confusion, your unease, and your disbelief. Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the marks, your fingers brushing lightly over your skin. Each touch sent a wave of heat through you, a reminder that something was still there, still affecting you, even when you had no idea what was really going on.

--

Days passed in a strange blur after that. Each time you tried to focus, tried to pull yourself together, the exhaustion dragged you down further. You couldn’t remember when it had started, when your body began to feel like it was no longer your own, but it was now a part of your reality. Every night, you’d find yourself drifting off to sleep, only to wake up once again in that grand bed, under the same warmth, your body burning.

The familiar sensation of lips on yours, the heat of his hands—each kiss drained you, leaving you weak and confused. It felt as though the very life force was being sucked out of you, but you were too tired to resist. Too tired to care. The next morning, you would wake up again, just as exhausted, with the marks on your skin deepening, the imprint of his touch still there. You tried to push through the haze, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand.

And then there was Sunghoon.

He was there for you in ways you couldn’t explain. It started small—offering to walk you to class, making sure you ate something, checking in on you when you seemed too tired to function. You didn’t fight it. You were too exhausted to.

You would often find yourself slumped at the counter, fighting to keep your eyes open, and there he was, showing up with something to drink or a comforting word, offering you a brief respite from the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to cling to your every movement. You didn’t realize at first that you were relying on him, leaning on him without question.

But Sunghoon didn’t mind. In fact, he thrived in this new dynamic, in your dependence on him. He reveled in the way you’d look to him for comfort, for answers, for protection. You didn’t know how much it fed into his desires, how much he enjoyed being the one to offer you care, to have you rely on him completely.

And you? You were too tired to notice. Too lost in the fog of exhaustion, the haze of what was happening to you.

But.. the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the more you began to notice the oddities that you’d once brushed off. He was always there, always watching, always making sure you were okay. But something about him felt... off. It wasn’t just his constant attention—it was the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, before you even asked for it. It was the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, his smile a little too knowing, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did.

Then, there was the issue with his past. Sunghoon never spoke about it. When you asked about his family or where he grew up, his answers were vague, brushing off the topic with a quick change of subject. No traces of a life outside of the moments he spent with you.

It didn’t make sense. You had seen him around campus, so you knew he wasn’t a complete ghost. But there were no photos, no friends tagging him on social media, no history to trace. He was just... there. As if he had stepped out of nowhere and appeared in your life, and now he was all you could focus on.

Something about him felt wrong, and the pieces were starting to fall into place. But you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning on him, allowing him to take care of you. You didn’t know what to think anymore, especially since you were so tired, so lost in the fog of exhaustion that you couldn’t tell if your thoughts were your own or if they were being influenced by something else.

So, you decided to test your theory—to see what would happen if you suddenly started ignoring him. It wasn’t easy. Sunghoon always seemed to find a way to be around you, whether it was sitting next to you in class or showing up at the library while you worked. But you were determined. You stopped texting him back, avoided his gaze, and made excuses to leave whenever he tried to engage you in conversation.

At first, he didn’t seem bothered by it. He would simply smile when you dodged him, as if he already knew why you were doing it. That unnerved you more than anything else. It was like he could see right through you, like he knew your thoughts before you did.

But as the days went on, his demeanor started to shift. His smiles became tighter, his gaze colder, and the once-comforting presence he exuded started to feel suffocating. He wasn’t following you outright, but every time you turned a corner, you’d catch him in your peripheral vision—leaning against a wall, walking just a few steps behind you, always near enough to remind you that he was there.

One night, after a particularly long shift at the library, you came home and collapsed onto your couch, exhaustion washing over you. The moment you closed your eyes, you found yourself back in that bed again.

But this time, there was a whisper. A deep, seductive voice you hadn’t heard before.

"You can’t ignore me forever."

Your eyes snapped open, your heart pounding. You were back on your couch, drenched in sweat, and your hands were trembling. You instinctively gripped the edge of the couch as you tried to ground yourself, but the tremor in your fingers betrayed how shaken you really were. The room was quiet—too quiet. It felt as though something was watching you, just out of sight.

Your gaze darted toward the windows, scanning for any sign of movement, but the curtains were still drawn shut. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table, wanting the comfort of a light, a distraction—anything. As the screen lit up, you noticed the time. 3:03 a.m.

And then you saw it.

A single notification. It wasn’t from anyone in your contacts, just an unknown number. You hesitated before opening it, dread settling in your stomach like a lead weight. The message read:

"Stop running."

You dropped the phone as though it had burned you, the clatter breaking the suffocating silence. Your breaths came shallow and quick as you stared at the device, afraid it would light up again.

No. This had to stop.

You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom, your legs weak beneath you. Splashing cold water on your face, you tried to steady your breathing.

You gripped the edge of the sink, your knuckles turning white as you leaned forward, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror. Your breaths came shallow and uneven as you tried to process everything.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. But your thoughts kept circling back to Sunghoon. His perfect timing, his uncanny presence, the way he seemed to know more than he let on.

Your throat felt dry as you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to say it.

“Sunghoon?”

The sound of his name echoed faintly in the small bathroom. You waited, holding your breath, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest. Nothing happened.

For a moment, you felt ridiculous, like you were spiraling into paranoia. You let out a shaky exhale and closed your eyes, trying to collect yourself. But then, just as you started to relax, you felt it.

A heat began to radiate behind you, warm and heavy, pressing against your back like a presence. The air shifted, and before you could react, a soft whisper brushed against your ear.

“Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snapped open, wide with terror, as you froze in place. The mirror reflected nothing behind you, but the heat remained, and the voice lingered, teasingly low and intimate.

“Y-you’re not real,” you stammered, gripping the sink tighter, refusing to turn around.

The voice chuckled, soft and amused. “Oh, but I am. You called me, didn’t you? Thinking of me? Dreaming of me?”

A shiver ran down your spine as the warmth seemed to creep closer, pressing against you like an invisible embrace. You gasped, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of whatever was behind you.

“I-I wasn’t—”

“Liar,” the voice interrupted, a trace of playfulness in its tone. “You’ve been looking for answers, haven’t you?”

You felt something brush against your shoulder, light as a feather but enough to make your skin tingle. Your breathing quickened as the sensation spread, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

But the voice only hummed in response, low and pleased. “You can’t run from me. You’ve known that all along.”

“I never wanted this!” you shouted, your voice trembling but firm, defiance breaking through your fear. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The air around you grew colder, and suddenly a hand—a firm, invisible grip—wrapped around your throat. You gasped, your hands flying up instinctively to claw at nothing.

“Oh, but you did,” the voice purred, smooth and dark, vibrating through the room. The grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race, but not enough to harm you. It was a warning.

“You put this on yourself the moment you read the words in that book,” the voice hissed, hot breath fanning over your ear. “Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum. Do you even know what that means?”

You shook your head frantically, tears pricking at your eyes as you struggled against the phantom hand holding you in place. The voice chuckled, low and condescending.

“It means, ‘Who reads me, let our bond be eternal.’ You invited me in.”

Your breath hitched as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. The book. The book in the basement. The words you read aloud.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “It’s just a stupid book. It—it can’t be real!”

The laughter that followed was sharp, almost mocking. “Oh, it’s very real. And now, so am I.”

In the mirror, the reflection began to change. The shadow behind you shifted, growing more defined, more solid. Your eyes widened in horror as the silhouette morphed, taking shape, and then—

There he was.

Sunghoon.

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking him. The sharp jawline, the intense gaze, the faint smirk curling his lips. It was him.

Sunghoon stood behind you, his hand still firmly around your throat, his touch searing and impossible to ignore. His other hand came to rest lightly on your waist, and you shivered under the weight.

“Surprise,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his eyes locked with yours in the mirror.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, panic rising in your chest. “This— you’re not—”

“Not what?” Sunghoon interrupted, tilting his head as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Not human? Not the man who’s been taking care of you? Or not the one who’s been in your dreams, night after night?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. The pieces were falling into place, but they painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“You were so lonely,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “So desperate for someone to understand you. And I came to you, didn’t I? Gave you exactly what you needed.”

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, his grip on your throat loosening just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

“But you’re scared now. Why?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if he already knew the answer. “You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you? The attention, the way I’ve made you feel.”

“No,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You tricked me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, his reflection in the mirror impossibly calm, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “But you can’t lie to me.”

“We’re bound now, you and I,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with finality. “You can’t run from me. You can’t hide. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

You stared at him in the mirror, your chest heaving, your mind screaming for you to fight back, to do something, anything. But your body betrayed you, frozen in place as Sunghoon’s reflection smiled, dark and triumphant.

His grip tightened around your arms as he suddenly spun you around effortlessly, your back slamming against the cold countertop. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the impact sent a jolt through your body, and you found yourself face to face with him.

Only... it wasn’t entirely him.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you took in his appearance. Sunghoon was still the same—his sharp features, his impossibly handsome face—but now, his true form was on full display.

Two curved, jet-black horns protruded from his head, his ears were pointed, inhumanly sharp, twitching slightly as though attuned to every sound you made. A pair of massive, leathery wings stretched out behind him. His skin held a faint reddish tint now, and his eyes...

They weren’t what you’d grown accustomed to.

They were blood-red, burning with an intensity that made your knees weak.

As your gaze traveled lower, you caught sight of a sleek black tail swishing behind him, the pointed tip moving back and forth like a serpent poised to strike.

“Like what you see?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with amusement.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you stared up at him, utterly frozen. He leaned in closer, the heat radiating from him making it even harder to think, to breathe.

“You should’ve known,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve felt it. I’ve been hiding in plain sight this whole time, waiting for you to figure it out.”

“Sunghoon...” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like they were moving through water—slow, weak, powerless.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent heat flooding through your chest. “Still clinging to the illusion, huh? Poor thing.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with an almost tender touch.

“This is the real me,” he said softly, his voice dripping with dangerous charm. “And now that you’ve seen it, there’s no going back.” His wings shifted slightly behind him, the sound making your stomach twist in unease. His tail flicked once, curling against your leg in a way that made your skin crawl—and, to your shame, sent a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible. “This isn’t happening...”

Sunghoon tilted his head, his expression softening just enough to make it even more unsettling. “Lying?” he repeated, his voice almost offended. “Sweet thing, everything I’ve done has been the truth. You just didn’t want to see it.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his red eyes locking onto yours with a hypnotic intensity. “But now you can’t ignore it, can you? You can’t ignore me.”

You gasped, your body trembling as his tail coiled tighter around your leg, holding you in place. “You belong to me now,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice final. “And nothing will change that.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you willed it all to disappear. You thought maybe—just maybe—if you denied it long enough, it would go away. That he would go away.

But it didn’t work.

Instead, you heard his low, amused chuckle. The sound was rich and dark, crawling into your ears and embedding itself into your mind.

“You can’t escape me,” he murmured. And before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours, stealing your breath and overwhelming your senses.

The kiss was searing, a fire that burned its way through your body and left you paralyzed. It wasn’t soft or careful—it was commanding, leaving no room for resistance.

Sunghoon...

Sunghoon was an incubus.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight, but your body wouldn’t listen. The warmth from his lips spread through you like molten lava, making you weak, making you feel... good. Too good.

You tried to turn your head, to break the connection, but his hand gripped your jaw firmly, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a skill that made your knees feel like jelly, and the heat radiating off him felt almost suffocating.

When he finally pulled back, your head spun, your breaths shallow and uneven. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the satisfaction etched across his face.

“See?” he purred, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re not resisting me.”

You shook your head weakly, trying to deny it. “You’re not... I won’t...” you stammered, but even as the words left your lips, they sounded hollow.

Sunghoon leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You already gave yourself to me the moment you opened that book.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you struggled to comprehend his words. You’d read the words without understanding what they meant, unknowingly binding yourself to him.

“You belong to me now,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his hand trailing down to rest on your waist. “No running. No escaping.”

His tail flicked lazily at his side, as if he were toying with you, enjoying your fear and confusion.

“I’ll take care of you,” Sunghoon continued, his tone shifting to something almost... tender. “You won’t need anyone else. You won’t want anyone else.”

You clenched your fists, trying to fight against the pull he had on you, the way his words seemed to seep into your mind like poison.

“What do you want from me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have what I want,” he said simply, his hand tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away. “You.”

His hand slid up to your throat again, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control. You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, and before you could think or protest, his lips captured yours again.

This time, the kiss was more intense. It was intoxicating, a dizzying, heady sensation that left you feeling drunk and high at the same time, though there wasn’t a hint of nausea.

Instead, you felt consumed, like your body and mind were being submerged in a warm ocean. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Your hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter behind you, trying to ground yourself, but the heat only grew. It curled in your stomach, spread up your spine, and flooded every corner of your being.

Sunghoon’s lips left yours only briefly, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, tracing a path to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You couldn’t respond, your head spinning, your body trembling. Every word he spoke seemed to sink into your skin, fusing with your very being.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing over your ear. “No one else can make you feel like this. No one else can take care of you like I can.”

When he finally pulled back, his red eyes burned into yours, glowing with satisfaction.

“Say it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. “Say you’re mine.”

You hesitated, your lips parting, but no words came out. Your mind was a swirling mess of emotions, torn between the primal pull he had over you and the small flicker of defiance still burning in your chest.

Sunghoon leaned closer, his smirk returning as he tilted your chin up slightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll say it soon enough.”

With that, he released you, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, though the heat still clung to your skin like a second layer. Your knees felt weak, your body trembling, and you gripped the counter to keep from collapsing.

“Rest for now,” he said, his tone almost affectionate. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

And with a flick of his tail and a low hum of satisfaction, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bathroom, your body still warm and your mind reeling from what had just happened.

--

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Sunghoon’s persistence wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation—it was something far deeper. When an incubus claimed a human, it seemed, their desire turned into a relentless obsession. Sunghoon took every opportunity to have you, to pull you into the haze of his presence, leaving you breathless and weak in his wake.

In the library, you were shelving books in the far corner, but then, you felt it—the familiar warmth crawling up your spine. Before you could turn, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you against the shelf.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as his lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry.

The books nearly toppled from the shelf as his body pinned you in place. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly before lifting you up effortlessly, your back pressed to the shelf. His kisses left you dizzy, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, his voice low murmurs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your body trembling. He smiled, his red eyes glowing faintly. “Couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

In the kitchen, you thought you’d have a moment of peace as you cooked dinner, but of course, he appeared again.

You didn’t even hear him approach before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

“Sunghoon!” you protested, but your voice wavered as his lips found yours, silencing any resistance.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly as he stood between them, his kisses consuming. The heat of the stove was nothing compared to the fire he ignited in you with every touch.

“You taste better than anything you’re cooking,” he teased against your lips, as you shivered under his touch.

Even in class, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. At first, it was subtle—a hand resting on your thigh under the desk. But his touch was anything but innocent. His fingers pressed into your skin, his grip firm enough to leave an imprint through the fabric of your jeans.

One day, you made the mistake of wearing a skirt to class. His reaction was immediate.

His eyes darkened the moment he saw you, his gaze lingering on your legs with a hunger. The skirt seemed to drive him wild, and he didn’t bother to hide the want in his eyes as he took the seat beside you.

During the lecture, his hand found its way to your thigh again, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your bare skin. Every touch sent shivers up your spine, your pulse quickening as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t answer, your face burning as you tried to focus on the professor’s voice. But Sunghoon wasn’t letting you off so easily. His hand slid higher, just enough to make you squirm in your seat.

By the end of class, you were a mess, your legs trembling as you tried to stand. Sunghoon, of course, looked perfectly composed.

But one event made you realize just how far Sunghoon's obsession had gone happened unexpectedly.

You had just finished getting ready, dressed to go out to the club, your outfit on point, and your makeup perfectly done. You were about to put on some music for the drive when suddenly, you heard a soft hum from behind you.

The sound was so familiar, so calming that you couldn’t help but pause. The familiar haze crept in, clouding your thoughts. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt a shift in your surroundings. The next thing you knew, you were no longer sitting in the front seat of your car but instead found yourself in the backseat, sitting on Sunghoon's lap.

“You going somewhere?” he asked, his voice smooth, leaning back, his eyes filled with contentment. He seemed to be enjoying the view of you on his lap, your body pressed against his, all dressed up.

You were about to move off, muttering to yourself about how utterly stupid this situation was.

However, before you could push him away, Sunghoon's hands went around your hips. He pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours, and then, with a sudden thrust, he lifted you off his lap.

The movement was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. You let out a surprised squeal as you found yourself being moved to lay down on the backseat. Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing down on yours, his eyes filled with a fiery passion.

You were on the brink of speaking, your mind filled with thoughts you wanted to express, when suddenly, Sunghoon's lips crashed down on yours, silencing your words in an instant.

His lips, soft yet demanding, devoured yours, a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. Sunghoon groaned into the kiss, a deep, raw sound that reverberated through your core. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. And as his kiss deepened, you felt him wrap your legs around his hips. You could feel the heat of his body, the solidness of his muscles, and the intensity.

You felt a sudden urge to pull away, to regain some sense of control and composure. With a gentle push, you tried to create some distance between you and Sunghoon. But Sunghoon, ever attuned to your every move, wasn’t about to let you escape so easily. As you tried to shift, reaching for the car door, his hands swiftly grabbed your waist, his strong arms pulling you closer. His chest pressed against your back, and you turned your head, your breath quickening as Sunghoon leaned over, his face now inches from yours.

His voice, soft and teasing, broke through your thoughts. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone low, almost playful.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, but you could feel the heat rising between you.

Sunghoon, sensing your hesitation, nuzzled his face against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The soft touch of his lips traced a path along your neck, sending a jolt of warmth through you. You shivered at the sensation, unable to stop the flutter in your chest.

"Sunghoon..." you breathed, trying to push him away again, but his hands tightened around your waist. He didn’t let you move, holding you there.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “You want me to slow down?” he teased, his voice amused.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat between you both. The car, once cool, now felt stifling, the air thick. You glanced over at the windows, noticing that the glass had fogged up, the condensation creeping in.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tried to focus, but it was hard with him so near, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel him pressed against your back, his hands still holding you close.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely a breath, caught between uncertainty and desire. You shifted slightly, trying to pull away, but he gently tugged you back, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Why resist?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it, a quiet demand. His lips brushed against your earlobe, sending another shiver down your spine. “We both know you don’t want to.”

The fog on the windows seemed to grow thicker, the air growing warmer with every passing second, as if the space between you was becoming smaller.

You didn’t answer him right away, just closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to clear your mind.

But Sunghoon's voice broke the silence as he gazed at you. "You look perfect," he said, his eyes roving over your body, taking in every detail. "So delectable, it's as if you're offering yourself on a silver platter."

His hands, which had been resting on your waist, slowly slid downwards, tracing the curves of your hips with a gentle touch.

"I want to ruin your makeup," he said, his voice low. "I want to mark you as mine, to leave my touch on you."

His hands, which had been gently caressing your body, suddenly tightened around your hips. With a swift movement, he flipped you over, and you found yourself lying on your back, staring up at him with surprise.

"I want to look at you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I want to see your beautiful face, your eyes, your lips, as I kiss you."

His lips, soft yet demanding, pressed against yours, a perfect show of passion. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curves of your body. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, a gentle caress that sent a rush of pleasure through your body.

Guess this is what happens when you get claimed by an incubus in love.

a/n: well.. i have no other words. this had been sitting in my drafts for awhile so, yeah :)

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[yuurei20]

Is sebek racist? Only a fun question, do not take seriously

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question, I have been so excited to discuss Sebek's speech patterns since Book 7 reached EN~🥳

Silver says outright that Sebek can be prejudiced at times and Lilia states in the beginning of Book 7 that Sebek is the very picture of his grandfather, from the way he talks to the way he thinks.

We as the players do not realize how literally he means this comment until later in Book 7 when we meet Baul Zigvolt and realize that their speech patterns have a lot in common:

While maybe difficult to put across in the English-language adaptation of the game, Sebek has always spoken very old fashioned.

(Ace: "Okay grandpa, you gonna take her for a buggy ride next?")

He will occasionally say "this Sebek" in reference to himself, which Baul also does. (They are also both canonically quite loud, possibly another trait that Sebek adopted from Baul).

Sebek will also infamously refer to others using the 貴様 form of "you," which doesn't really exist outside of fiction and is such a rude form that it is practically a swear word. More here ->

Sebek uses it constantly, in everyday conversation.

And see Baul using it in Book 7 just all the time, with everyone except his superiors such as Lilia and Maleanor (there is even a time he becomes very angry and uses it with the senate).

Also like Baul, Sebek will switch to the extremely old-fashioned and formal "kiden" to refer to people who have impressed him. More here ->

Sebek's battle cry of "I'll swallow you whole" even seems to come from Baul!

And another thing Baul did in Book 7: refer to Sebek as human rather than by his name until Sebek earned his respect, which we have also seen happen between Sebek and Azul.

(In a Nightmare Before Christmas voiceline Sebek refers to Zero as a ghost and then a dog, eventually settling on his name, while he refers to Jack Skellington as "Bones." Is Sebek not just calling out humans, but referring to everyone by what they are rather than who they are?*)

(Does he simply yell human more than "dog," "ghost," etc., because humans are the species we have seen him interact with the most? It was confirmed in the novels that mermaids, beast-people, etc., are all referred to as "human" within the Twst universe, which has yet to be confirmed by the game but also has yet to be disproved.)

Sebek also refers to Grim as "dire beast."

There is a significant moment where he shifts to calling both Grim and the prefect by their names in Book 7, which the prefect even has the option of acknowledging aloud: "Whoa, you called me by my name?"

In a Harveston sub-plot Sebek even refuses to use an honorific with Epel's grandmother Marja until she proves herself worth of his respect.

Silver calls Sebek out on his inappropriate use of "kisama," while both Riddle and Sebek scold him for referring to people as "humans."

Whereas Epel's rude speech patterns can be explained by how it is a part of the dialect he was raised to speak and therefore he doesn't know any better (more here ->) Sebek is consciously and intentionally speaking down to others until they prove themselves worthy--is this something he learned from Baul?

Sebek says that Baul provided him with "an enriching education," but what exactly did that education entail?

Lilia expresses frustration with Sebek's inability to adapt to society, but canonically Sebek has only been outside of Briar Valley for 6 months, while he's been emulating his grandfather for 16 years.

Lilia says that Sebek has always been close to Baul and Jamil has a line of, "When admiration goes too far, the consequences can be dire."

I always assumed this was meant to be about Malleus, and while it still might be, is it also a reference to Sebek's devoted imitation of his beloved grandfather?

And we can go even deeper if we want, though this goes into theoretical territory:

Sebek was born after Briarland had already fallen to its invaders, but he was raised in a community where the war is still living memory.

Baul fought to protect his home against those who overran the land, exploited its resources, labeled him a monster, and drove them all into a fraction of their former territory.

He remembers what Briarland was before it the invasion, he fought to save it, he failed, and he survived to help put what was left of the country back together.

And then his daughter married someone who is potentially a direct descendent of the very invaders who had spent years killing anyone who looked like him and destroying everything he'd known (with even his native language possibly disappearing: Sebek says that speakers are "somewhat rare" in modern day, as the fae have generally adopted Common as their language of choice).

Sebek: "This has been weighing on me ever since we entered Lilia's dream. That my own father's distant ancestors may very well have been involved in all this too..."

And due to the long lifespans of the fae he isn't the only one with trauma and loss that feels both recent and personal.

Sebek and his siblings were not raised amongst the offspring of those who survived the war but the literal survivors themselves, unlike the humans to whom the wars are ancient history.

Sebek: "You must remember: from Lilia, Grandfather, and Malleus's perspectives...the Dawn Knight is not likely someone they consider to belong to the 'distant past.'"

While not confirmed in-game, it is not too wild to imagine that Sebek has chosen to ally himself with the survivors rather the invaders, and especially when he has been raised to idolize Malleus, whose own mother they killed not very long ago by fae standards.

While humans have been reproducing and dying at such a rapid pace that the current generation might not know that dragons are real, the same fae that managed to escape the slaughter are still there, and are now being met with the people born of those who stole their country but to whom there doesn't seem to be much significance to it all beyond a chapter in a history book.

And that might all be very well tied up in Sebek's use of "human"! (Disclaimer: this is all just a personal analysis and one of many possible explanations!)

Not only does it seem to be a speech pattern that Sebek has adopted directly from the grandfather he adores (and from Lilia and Malleus, who are also known to refer to non-fae as "humans" and whom he idolizes), but it may also be a reminder both to himself and to everyone around that while he may be two worlds in one, he does not approve of those that tore apart the community he grew up in, lest someone wrongfully assume that he agrees with the actions of his human ancestors.

Which would make it a form of self-preservation while growing up in a predominantly fae area.

Sebek's speech patterns and behaviors might be serving as a way for him to assert his loyalty to the fae, the people whom he admires, identifies with and was raised by, and distance himself from the humans who tried to eradicate them.

(If Sebek’s mother brought his father to Briar Valley from somewhere else (possibly Sunset Savanna) as has been implied, it’s possible Sebek’s human lineage isn’t tied to the invaders at all, but this is still vague.)

*Sebek refers to Sally as "Sally" throughout the Halloween event, using her name without an honorific but at least using it, much like he did with Marja. He also chastises Trey for failing to offer his hand to Sally and help her to her feet when she falls to the ground. Does Sebek possibly have a chivalrous side, not dissimilar to Leona? Memo: must check.

[yamumsyadadd]

We meet again

a/n: talks of homophobia, ignore this if that isn’t your thing.

happy New Year’s Eve, it’s 9pm where I live so this will be my last fic of 2024 ;) stay safe, have fun!

It was a warm evening in Barcelona when I saw you again. I still loved you, not that you ever really knew, or maybe you did. 

You were sitting there in the restaurant with your friends. I was there too, waiting for a guy I barely knew but was giving a chance because my father had begged me to. 

It was the same routine. Giving them a ‘chance’ knowing I’d stopped talking to them. I started to realise that I was waiting for you. A forbidden love. 

You hadn’t noticed me yet, I of course noticed you, I always did. My date arrived and we sat down. He was different to you, they all were. Blonde, clean cut, men. I tried not to glance over at you. 

I engaged in conversation, I smiled, I laughed. I did everything you’re supposed to do on a date. But I couldn’t help stealing glancing at you. 

You got up to use the bathroom and as you walked by my table, that’s when you finally saw me. You stopped dead in your tracks, then slowly made your way to me. 

“Hey I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” You asked, eyes genuine, truly curious. 

“Oh I’m good. I didn’t see you either!” I laughed even though it was a lie, somehow I find you in every room, every stadium. 

You look at my date and introduce yourself, you never need an introduction, everyone knows who you are but you do it anyway. “I was just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” You smiled, the kind of smile that isn’t real, just polite. 

“Yeah let’s.” You walk away, and I allow myself to breathe again. I smile at my date and we continue on. I keep thinking about you, I must be a horrible person. A good looking, well educated man sitting in front of me and all I can think about is you, you with the tattoos, the long black hair and cocky smile. The fingers that can make me forget my name. 

When you get back to your seat, we make eye contact, you smile then turn back to your friends. I recognise them all, how could I not. Alexia sits with Olga, Irene with Lucia, Patri and Claudia huddled together listening to whatever drama Maria and Leila have to share. 

There’s this weird thing about loving someone who you never got to love openly. A frightening feeling that your feelings won’t be shared. And a harbouring desire to scream them at you. 

It becomes suffocating knowing it is everything you want but wanting to protect your heart because you’re tired of people not feeling them same or being ashamed. Jenni loved the same way you did, loud, unapologetic and all consuming. No man your father picks could do that. Because no man was Jenni. 

Because of that, it becomes easier to stay quiet. To love from afar, scrolling through her instagram late at night, the shared photos, the messages. To love from a distance is to play it safe. 

My date eventually comes to an end. We get up and walk out, you’re still there laughing loudly. I look back at you one more time and then leave with him. 

I say goodbye to my date, thank him for dinner. He’s a nice guy, and will make a girl happy but he isn’t you. No one is. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, I guess I’m always waiting for you, I shouldn’t though because you won’t come. You never do. 

As I continue my walk home, my phone chimes with a message. I pulled it out, expecting it to be from one of the girls asking about the date, but it’s from you. You texted me a simple ‘get home safe.’ 

I smile, eyes skimming past our last exchange. I text back a simple ‘I will thank you.’ I watch as you start to type more, then it disappears. I convince myself it’s nothing and continue on home and I think about you. I wonder if you think about me too. 

—————————————————————————

It was a tumultuous relationship. Plagued by fighting and jealousy. You were young, only 20 when you met her at some gala your parents were throwing. She was older, closer to 30 than you were to your teenage years. 

You’d seen her before, at one of the many parties your parents had through. She always excluded the same energy, she knew she was hot, and that made her cocky. Always with the same group of people, who you’d come to learn was the football team your parents loved. 

It was the third party they attended that you finally met. You were forced into conversation at the bar, you knew from that first interaction that you were doomed. 

Being gay wasn’t something that was spoken about within your family, they all knew but chose to ignore it. The phrase ‘you just haven’t met the right man’ was burned into your brain. Maybe you hadn’t, but you didn’t want to wait and find out. 

After the last party of the year, that happened to be the Christmas party, you left with her. the way her hand felt on your lower back, the grip her fingers had on your exposed skin, the way she made you chant her name like she was a god. It was addicting. 

Your friends hated her. While she was never outwardly rude to them, you’d always run to them after a fight. Telling them everything she said, leaving out how you were just as bad. But that’s what friends were for, right? 

Most of her friends discouraged the relationship, Jenni loved loudly and unapologetically, you did not. It was two different words, she was a star footballer, older and wiser. You were just some rich kid who had barely started their adult life. 

After a toxic and bitter end to the 18 month relationship, she left for Mexico. Not even bothering to say goodbye. Your heart shattered into pieces. The final words she spoke to you playing over in your mind for months. 

“I’m done loving someone who won’t love me back.” It’s not that you didn’t love her, the opposite in fact, it was that you never said it. She said it within the first few months, and every time it filled you with a sense of dread. 

How would you explain it to your family? The consequences of your love would outweigh anything else, so you kept quiet. 

The multiple parties a year continued on, the Barcelona players continued to come and you’d do everything in your power to steer clear of them. Occasionally it wouldn’t work and you’d be stuck with some of them for a photo or whatever. Alexia and Irene watched you sympathetically, you hated it. 

————————————————————————

Jenni’s pov 

The air in the restaurant was charged. Like two magnets trying to join each other but I couldn’t figure why, until I saw you. 

At first I didn’t think it was you. It had been two years since I last saw you. You were older now, more elegant, still as beautiful as ever maybe even more. But then I realised you were with someone. 

A man, who was the complete opposite of me. He was blonde, no doubt rich, clean cut and probably reached of over priced cologne.

I realised, half way to the bathroom that I’d have to walk past you to get there and took a chance. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” I asked. 

“Oh I’m good! I didn’t see you either.” You laughed and looked down. You were lying. Anytime you lied, you would look down and fidget. It was your tell. 

I introduced myself to your date, wanting nothing more than to be polite but I couldn’t help but feel jealous. For the entire 18 months of our relationship, this is what I wanted. To take you out on dates in the fancy clothes and enjoy the overpriced wine. But he got to instead. 

“I’m just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” I said, giving a small smile. 

“Yeah let’s.” I turned around and continued on to the bathroom. Gripping the sink tightly to calm myself down. It was ridiculous that after all this time, after all the girls, I still wanted you. I still loved you. 

When I returned to the table, I couldn’t help but look over at you and to my surprise you looked back at me. As I turned back to the girls, all I could think about was you. How it would feel to love you loudly like you deserved, to show you off to everyone. It wouldn’t happen though, it couldn’t. 

Most nights, from the comfort of my apartment in Mexico, I’d scroll through your burner instagram account. The one you parents didn’t know you had, it only had a select few on it and I’d like to think you kept me there for a reason, but it was likely you just forgot. 

I watched you leave with him, his hand sprawled across the small of your back like mine used too. You looked back a final time and then you were gone. Out of sight, but not out of mind. 

I took a few minutes before pulling out my phone, rereading the last few messages we had sent each other before sending a simple ‘get home safe.’ You replied quickly, you always did. I wanted to say more, tell you everything that had happened in the last 2 years, how much I still loved you, how no one was you, but I couldn’t. 

When Leila made a joke about me texting a girl, I shook my head and put my phone away. Alexia must’ve seen, giving my shoulder a squeeze and a sad smile. 

You were the one that got away. Maybe it’s better to love you from afar, I wish you nothing but happiness, even if that means finding happiness from someone else. 

—————————————————————————

The first party of the summer had arrived. As always it was a full on affair. Your parent’s house was decked out, over the top in your opinion. The older you got, the more insufferable these parties became. 

Other businessmen bought their wives and children, both the men’s and women’s team were there, celebrating the end of the season and their spectacle winning run. 

Tuxedos and ball gowns littered the main floor and the garden but you were stuck upstairs. A heavy weight weighing on your heart. You knew, the minute you went downstairs your father would try and introduce you to a man, your mother would be making comments about your appearance and your aunts would join in. 

The sound of knuckles on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. A few seconds later she was there, leaning on the doorway. Her usual cockiness was gone and replaced with what seemed to be anxiety. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in Mexico already?” 

“And miss this? Absolutely not.” She studied you with ease, reading you like a book, “your father is waiting for you. He has some guy he wants to introduce you too.” 

“Of course he does.” You stood up, smoothing down your dress. 

“Why don’t they stick?” Perhaps it was a thought she meant to keep in her head or she was actually curious. 

“What?” 

“The guys your father introduces you too? Why don’t they stick? You’re smart, elegant, attractive, so why don’t they stick?” 

“I don’t know.” You looked down towards the floor again. You knew, she knew, but she wanted you to say it. 

“You’re lying. Why don’t they stick?” She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for your reply. 

“Because none of them are you.” 

It was her turn to ask, and with bated breath she did, “what?” 

“None of them are you Jenni! You think I didn’t love you but I did! I do! My father can set me up with a hundred men but that’s a hundred people that aren’t you. So that’s why they don’t stick, because they aren’t you.” 

Her long legs crossed the room in what seemed to be milliseconds. Her lips smashed onto yours, hands holding your face tightly. It took a moment to register what was happening but when it did you couldn’t help up pull her closer. 

It could’ve been seconds or minutes that you were stuck in this battle of tongues and teeth but when the door opened you shoved her away from you, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Your aunt Elsa was standing there, out of all the people she was the best one to catch you. Her own family, your father, considered her the black sheep of them family. Never fitting into the mould, wild and free. Loving whoever she wanted, loudly and unapologetically. It’s what you admire the most about her. 

“Your father is about to come up here and get you. You have two options.” You stared at her, confused, “option 1, you leave this room, separately and go enjoy the party. Option 2, you leave this room together, your father would be mad, your mother disappointed, the countless men waiting to meet you too. If you chose option 2, I have a friend in Mexico who can give you a place to stay, because you’ll need it. The fall out from this won’t be good. If you chose option 1, then we can walk out together, I won’t say anything ever and we’ll just pretend.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” You blurted out, “I’ll have nothing. If I leave I have nothing.” 

“You’ll have me.” Jenni spoke up, “I can support us both, you can live with me.” 

“What if this doesn’t work out? What if it’s too good to be true?” 

“You won’t know unless you don’t try calabaza. If it truly doesn’t work out, then I’m still here. Being the black sheep.” Your aunt winked at you. “Take care of her Jennifer. I have a lot of money and can find you very quickly.” With that she left, you could hear her in the hallway, ushering your father back downstairs. 

“I’m scared.” It came out as a whisper. 

“I know. I am too. But we can do it together. If you don’t want to come to Mexico, you can stay at my apartment in Madrid or we can figure something out. Please just give us a shot. A proper shot.” It wasn’t often that Jenni begged for anything, usually she’d flash her charismatic smile and people would do as she asked. 

“Okay.” 

You left the room, together, hand in hand ready to face whatever was going to happen. The unknown is terrifying. You didn’t know how it would work with Jenni, what the future held, but she was there in your ear calming you down. 

When your father pulled you away she followed, when he exploded saying the relationship wasn’t right, she was there. She stood up for you against your parents, that’s when you realised you shouldn’t have waited so long. 

At the end of the day, all you needed was Jenni. It didn’t matter that your parents barely spoke to you, or that you were outcasted from your family. What mattered was right in front of you. 

[barblaz-arts]

Found out about you and your chaggie art on twt and decided to check out more of it on here! I’ve heard about hazbins hotel before and have seen the pair and fanart of them but haven’t made the decision to watch the show.

Wanted to ask from your perspective, what is it about chaggie that you like? Could be anything about their relationship dynamics, wtv representation that they portray, anything! Should I watch hazbins hotel for them 🤔

Gosh! What do I love about them??

Oh man, welll... On a surface level? The dynamics they display are just so delicious to me, and I especially love that it's always a little subverted with them, yunno? It's angelXdemon, but the demon is the precious sunshine while the angel is the grump with a body count. The princessXknight dynamic they display is subverted too because although Charlie is the one born in the worst realm in Creation, she's still the privileged princess, meanwhile even though Vaggie is the one who came from literal paradise, she's the one who lived a life that wasn't exactly luxurious. They just present dynamics I've already always loved but with a fun little twist.

But on a deeper level, I think I love Chaggie because they're already so far along in their relationship, and you can see it in how comfortable they are with each other, which was such a surprise for me. You see, I'm not very good at fixating on ships when they're already canon. Like, I'd think it's cute, but I wouldn't be itching to find fics about them. And if a ship I've liked finally gets together, I actually... usually... Kinda sorta love the ship a little less... I'd still like them! I just wont be as giddy about them.

But omg Chaggie still manages to give me butterflies, and I think it's because they're way past the honeymoon phase, something that I barely see represented for sapphic couples who are such important characters in a story. Lotsa people didnt like how it wasn't initially obvious that they were a couple, but I actually really loved how the writers and animators showed how deep their bond is without having them making out ang grope each other all the time. God if they were like that, it'd probably give me the ick.

It was just lowkey, because they've been together for years. Charlie would casually rest her arm on Vaggie's thigh and Vaggie isn't flustered because it's probably a habit of Charlie's by now. Vaggie would tuck Charlie's hair out of her face while she's worried about something and it isn't framed as a special thing, but you can tell by how Vaggie looks at Charlie that it wasn't done with any less love than it did over the years. And when Charlie's stressed about a phone call, Vaggie wordlessly offers her hand and Charlie takes it with a quick appreciative smile before holding on tight and bouncing their joined hands up and down like it's a stress reliever.

Their interactions weren't uber sweet with heated physicality, but the show had them display familiarity and comfort instead. And idk i just love that. I love that you can clearly tell they're best friends. Like, the very first scene they appear in for the Pilot, Vaggie is tying Charlie's bowtie for her while Charlie stares at her with a smile on her face. So cute...

Also. I just think both of them are hot lmao

So. Do I think you should watch the show for Chaggie? Idrk. I personally watched for them, but I came into the show expecting not to get much shipping fuel bcuz they were already in a relationship in a show that has a whole dang lot more going on in it. So some people who wanted to get into the ship expecting maybe a lotta smooching felt unsatisfied. But honestly, what did they expect from a 8 ep season that only had a run time of 22 mins per episode, in a show that wasn't even a romance? 😭 I personally thought we got a decent amount without taking away from the actual plot.

I think you should try to watch with the mindset of just having plain ol fun. Try the first 2 episodes, which is only 40 mins of your day. If it doesn't jive with you, that's totally fine. But pls do check out the songs if you dont like the show. The songs are so good. My favorite song from the season has plot stuff, but this one is my second favorite

And since we're talking about Chaggie, here's the reprise of that song sung by them. It's short, but they promised more chaggie songs will be in season 2 so im not too sad about it. Charlie and Vaggie's VA harmonizing is just beautiful.

Edit: for those who saw this post when i accidentally prematurely posted it before adding the links and photos, no you didn't 😐

[negrowhat]

Fave Love Scenes of 2024

Still working on the handful of end of year prompts @babyangelsky 's 2024 wrap up. I have one more to do after this one! It's been fun and the more I do these wrap ups the more I see that I really, really didn't watch as many series this year as I thought I did and quite a few didn't keep my attention after they ended the way I thought they would. My attention span is already short and I found it challenging to recall some of these from my challenged memory.

AlanJeff's Final Love Scene from Pit Babe. Oh it left me OBSESSED! It's highkey the scene that turned me into a full-on AlanJeff girlie. It was gentle and passionate and slow and a bit lazy; very in the moment since Alan had just woken up. Loved when Jeff kissed Alan's forehead while Alan kissed his chest. Loved the close-up of their faces pressed together, they looked like a painting. It was a perfect love scene. I need AlanJeff back ASAP.

PhayaTharn Special Ep Love Scene from The Sign. I was going to say the pink scene (lordt knows I love it)...but I feel like we never talked enough about the one from the special ep and I'm sure it's because of how late the special ep was released internationally. Anyways Tharn really thought he was about to leave that bedroom un-fucked on Phaya's watch??? Naw. Hell Naw! He really had that man up against the door. And of course Tharn likes it because he's dreamt about Phaya pressing him up against hard surfaces. And choking, Tharn has dreamt about that too and Phaya knows what his man likes. Tharn looks so pretty even though it's clear he's a bit annoyed I'm sure he enjoyed the dickdown first thing in the AM. BillyBabe are gorgeous together.

Go Young and Young Su Makeup Sex from Love in the Big City. It's toxic. It's hott. It's relatable. It's well shot and well executed. Absolutely love how feral they became in that scene. Big fan of the manhandling and lifting. I doubt that was the first time Young Su had done that with Go Young. I'm sure it was Young Su's 'Go To' to calm Young down. Sometimes some fire dick will make you temporarily calm down and forget your boyfriend is a hot ass mess...more of a hot mess than you are which is actually crazy to think about.

All of OabPlawan's Love Scenes from Love No Long Beans. Because it would be a crime for me to have a favorite. SailubPon are featured twice on this list because they truly have some insane physical chemistry and their love scenes are up there with BossNoeul for me. I love that OabPlawan rarely had love scenes in bed, just getting down and dirty whenever and wherever they felt like it. It really showed how they just went with it when it hit them. It showed that despite their secrecy, they wouldn't be confined to a bed. Oab seemed to be a huge fan of lifting and bending Plawan over stationary surfaces. I approve of their unapologetic and inappropriate uses of counters.

Horny Miyata Being Mad At Iwanaga from Love is Better the Second Time Around. It was such a great love scene. Iwanaga was very much excited to be intimate with someone he held so dearly. Someone he loved. And though Miyata was a very willing participant he couldn't stop thinking about how good at The Sex Iwanaga was because it reminded him that Iwanaga was this intimate with other men. Why did it bother him? Because he felt like Iwanaga had moved on while he was stuck in the past, unable to give himself to anyone else; equating sex to love.

WayuJao's Love Scene from Two Worlds. We got ONE WayuJao love scene and it was amazing. The two of them in that dark ass abandoned house with the soft glow of candlelight. Jao was looking so incredibly nervous. Wagyu Beef was being very careful because Jao was hurt. I love that they kissed each other all over. The scene was intimate, slow, and passionate. Also who was expecting to see that much ass? Also, also Jao was doing a lot of movement with his punctured leg. I do wish we had more time with them in the series because I loved them together.

HuaiBao Hands Scene from Meet You At the Blossom. Perfection, so much so that it was my banner for a long ass time. Xiaobao had a way of making Huai'en feel shy, possessive, and insane all at once. I just found the love scene to be incredibly sweet and romantic. The hand kiss floored me along with their gentle smiles. The way Huai'en was running his hand down Xiaobao's thigh. The way he lightly raised Xiaobao's wrists above his head and how that turned into clasped fingers???? Pure art. Also I just loved Xiaobao's gold bangles in that scene.

GreatTyme's First Time in Great's Dying Brain from 4 Minutes. Oh it was so incredibly awkward. Great out of breath and laughing while Tyme kinda hovers over him. WHEN HE KISSED HIS FOREHEAD! Their kisses were sweet. I love how we got a lil awkward conversation in the silence while they tried to undress and figure things out. LOVED, LOVED, LOVED the close-up shots of Great's thigh tattoos and that hand pulling Tyme in closer. Great's Cartier bracelet!!! The way they were smiling and panting in each others faces; kissing and laughing. I also loved the golden light around them. It definitely had the ambiance of a dream.

GreatTyme's Actual First Time from 4 Minutes. It was fun. The open mouth kisses excellent. The way Great couldn't even wait until they got inside to go down on Tyme. And I cheered when Tyme pulled him back up for a kiss right after. Let's talk about Tyme eating Great out on the pool table and the way he was kissing all over the back of his neck! Let's talk about him biting that man's ass cheek. When Great put the condom on Tyme and lubed him up???? Oh that was hott!. Loved watching Great ride Tyme. Tyme's hands gripping and caressing Great's neck and chest and that overhead shot so we could see the gorgeous thigh tattoos again! Yea 10/10. IDK why Tyme was looking like he was annoyed because he was having a good time, the best time. I know sex with Great was the best he ever had.

Jack and Joke's First Time from Jack & Joker. Yea when they started off with Jack shoving Joke up against that wall through the clothes on the hangers? He hit the wall so hard I thought they were fighting and I thought Jack had put Joke through the wall. I love the way they kept shoving each other over so they could be on top. I love that they were both so out of breath the whole time. I loved the messy kisses, the choking, and chin grabbing. Loved the way they had to compromise or they would've been flipping each other over the rest of the series. I just know they left hella bruises and scratches all over each other. Those boys were hungry and feral.

ArashiRei's First Time from Love in the Air Koi. The way Arashi's giant ass had Rei pressed up against that wall, face buried in his neck and shoving his hands under his shirt? Rei looked so overwhelmed he really couldn't even respond, thought he was gon pass out. When Arashi lays Rei down and they kiss and Arashi starts licking Rei's lips?????????? We even got a brief shot of Arashi going down on Rei and I love the view we got of Arashi's back when he was pumping into Rei. Also Rei's moaning gave a porno vibe just a bit which I did enjoy.

[razorblade180]

Streamer AU 8

Part 7

Weiss:*concentrating*

Blake:Yooo. Another night, another stream. Where’s she at?

Jaune:Alice in Wonderland. She’s still getting used to the controls.

Blake: Chat should keep count of deaths.

Weiss:Chat, you’ll get timed out. Don’t listen to her.

Blake:Are you at least having fun?

Weiss:Oh definitely! I actually was in a play about Wonderland when I was little. Feels nostalgic.

Sunny Day: “We’re you Tweedle Dee or Dumb?”

Blake:Haha haaaa!

Weiss:Sun stop trying be funny now that Blake is here.

Sunny Day: “I’m always funny.”

Weiss:Wrong.

Ruby:*joins call* How’s our little gamer doing?

Weiss:I wish enemies have health bars.

Ruby:Oh, oh so you don’t know?

Weiss:…What?

Jaune:Remember how you chose a weapon and it affects your stats?

Weiss:Did I cheat myself out of a health bar!?

Ruby:You’ll get it, but you would have it already if you picked the sword. Chat, nobody tell her what level she needs.

Weiss:WHAT!?

xxxxxx

Yang:Sorry I’m late to the-

“DEEP FREEZE!”

Yang watches the Weiss run around enemies blasting blizzard and clearing areas rather proficiently.

Yang:Someone is gaming.

Weiss:Everything changed with this spell.

Yang:I am not surprised.

“Goooo!”

“The spamming begins”

“Literally in her element”

“How she fights in real life”

Jaune:Pfft, Weiss, can you actually shoot ice like this in a fight?

Weiss:Ummm, I don’t see why not.

Ruby:By the end of this game, Weiss is gonna change her entire fight style to be like Sora.

Yang:Honestly that would be a really cool IRL stream! Just a list of abilities that Weiss has to try to do! Weiss! How much money!?

Weiss:*shrugs* I gotta beat the game first.

Ruby:I’m starting a poll in chat.

Blake:For what?

“Who do you think is most worthy of a keyblade?”

Blake:No, don’t do that! I won’t win!

Weiss:This means a lot to you I guess.

Blake:Some people have their dreams of going to Hogwarts; I wanted a keyblade.

Jaune:I wanted to go to Hogwarts.

Lotus Chef: “Just sneak in 👍”

Jaune:Ren!!!!

Yang:Listen, he beat me to it.

Weiss:Ba- *clears throat* Hey how long is every world?

Jaune:Maybe an hour so? Generally speaking.

Weiss:Cool. Maybe we can get two done.

Ruby:Or get stuck on the worst boss in the game.

Weiss:…*looks at Jaune*

Jaune:It’s not the worst boss.

Weiss:*squints*

Jaune:It’s true!!!!

Combat Ready made a prediction poll. Will Weiss beat the boss in 10 or less tries?

Ruby:Oh yeah, betting time! Penny your brain is beautiful!

Weiss:My chat and call are full of enemies.

Sunny Day: “I’m here for you.”

Weiss:Fuck off, Tweedle Dumb.

Blake:Is Neptune Tweedle Dee?

Neptune: *joins call* Neptune has been minding his own business. Sunny Day is acting on his own. *leaves*

Ruby:Leaving your leader like that is crazy work.

Yang:I respect it.

Ruby:Hehe whaaat?

Weiss finally makes it back to the table in the game, spawning Trickmaster.

Weiss:Oh…

Ruby:God, it’s so ugly now. It used to red and black.

Blake:90% voted you’d lose by the way.

Weiss:And just like real life, 10% of people are gonna eat like kings.

xxxxx

5 attempts later, Weiss is staring at the game over screen deeply.

Jaune:…Need a break?

Weiss:I’m just processing.

“You’ll get it in the 11th try”

“Please, I need the points!”

“This is a fucked up boss to have in the beginning.”

“Cheat and use Jaune.”

Weiss:Guys I’m not even mad yet. Also he’s for hints and guiding, not cheating. I beat FFX alone! I can handle this!

Ruby:You’re only level 10, on proud mode. Kinda have to remember that.

Weiss:Yeah…is it cheating if I grind? *hits continue*

Everyone:It’s a JRPG

Weiss:Fair enough. I’ll get a few levels.

Jaune:No more than lvl 14.

Weiss:Oh trust me, I do not plan on being here forever. You guys might have to entertain chat a little bit while I zone out some.

xxxxxxx

Blake:You never did answer who you played as in Wonderland.

Weiss:Cheshire Cat.

Blake:Really!?

Weiss:I was the only one okay with wearing the ears.

Yang:Damn….

Ruby:Are you trying to tell me little kid Weiss was somehow the least racist in her class?

Weiss:Little kid Weiss wasn’t racist.

Cross Hare: “As supposed to grow up Weiss!?”

Weiss:No! I’m not- Velvet we had lunch together today! Look, all I’m going to say is young adolescent Weiss saw a lot of White Fang member incidents and formed opinions…

Blake:That’s fair.

“Sounds suspicious to me.”

Blake:Guys, my parents love Weiss. That might actually be the only approval that matters.

Jaune:Didn’t Weiss amaze all of Menagerie.

Blake:Uuuugghh, why’d you remind meeeeeee.

Weiss:Tell the story.

Blake:Chat? Chat, I love Weiss, but I fucking hate this woman. Historically speaking, she’s a bad cook.

Weiss:“Historically” is insane.

Yang:Blake invited us to Menagerie to meet her parents and take part in what’s essentially an island cookout feast.

Cross Hare: “I REMEMBER THIS DAY!”

Blake:Without telling anyone, Weiss decided she was going to practice cooking this seafood gumbo that’s well known m the island to try and make a good impression.

Ruby:In hindsight, you did invite a Schnee into essentially enemy territory.

Blake:All she had to do was be polite and wave! Instead she asks my own mother if she could use the kitchen and make a traditional cuisine! I was stressed for the first half hour until suddenly…a scent is in the air. Spices. The correct spices. Now there’s an entire community looking around as this petite woman in an apron is swaying to our music and cooking our food.

Yang:I’m going to fucking honest, it’s so easy to forget Weiss is musically trained. Meanwhile Blake has two left feet.

Blake:I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with was when the food- *breathes in mic* When the gumbo was ready, it tasted better than any I ever made. My own mother told me this, and I couldn’t disagree.

Ruby:It was sooooo good!

Blake: Weiss “I had a cake butler” Schnee, showed up to my home island, cooked a dish with my, and danced with my people better than me. She out Faunesed a Faunus and I have sworn I can never let this happen again!!

Weiss:Everyone said bye to me! They were so nice.

Ruby:Weiss I’m letting you know right now if I ever take you back home and I discover you practiced wrangling horses, we are fighting in the dirt.

Yang:You get one time to bake an apple pie for my dad and if it’s better, hands. You don’t see me learning opera.

Weiss:I am an over achiever.

Jaune:Keep in mind, she’s still weak with most dishes.

Weiss:Cooking is hard!

Obtained Ripple Drive

Weiss:Oh, new stuff. *opens menu*

Jaune: *looks*… Weiss? Why isn’t dodge roll equipped?

Weiss:….*covers face*

“Weiss….”

“Girl…..”

“How have you been living?”

“You are throwing!!!!”

Yang:*wheezing* It could be worse. You could’ve beaten the boss first.

Weiss:Alright everyone, back to the boss!

xxxxxx

Attempt number six was practically a joke. She beat the boss in four minutes flat.

Weiss:Are you kidding me!?

Ruby:Shake it off. Now you know to double check. Penny, please pay out the believers.

Ruby:That was half my channel points…

Weiss:YOU BET AGAINST ME!?

Ruby:I hate this boss! I thought it would cause trouble.

Jaune:Imagine if Weiss is better at this game than you?

Ruby:I’d cry.

[amysteryspot]

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony tries to salvage what's left of his marriage and discovers what his wife is truly worth. (Part one)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV Show)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, cheating and lots of angst. English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread.

Word Count: 4648

A/N: After so long, this piece is finally here. Thanks for patiently waiting and thanks @cevansgoodgirl for the help.

There is a mix of a scene with Laurie and Amy in Little Women and another one with Benedict and Tessa (the model/painter in 02x05), just so you know.

He remembers the first time he saw her—really saw her.

The (Y/L/N)s were guests in Aubrey House, and (Y/N) was in the balcony with Benedict while both their mothers and most of their siblings were in the lawn.

Anthony is not even sure what drew his attention when he was passing by, he did not have a habit of eavesdropping, but he got himself held back when his brother commented on (Y/N)’s painting.

"I declare that's rather good." Benedict said making (Y/N) huff.

“We both know that good is not enough, Ben.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Anthony could understand what his brother was talking about. The painting was a rendition of the scene unfolding before them—their siblings playing around while their mothers watched over them. It was rather good, indeed.

"It doesn’t matter, there's no place for me to do art."

Benedict frowned. "That's quite the statement to make at twenty. If you don't think you're good enough you have plenty of time to try some more, do better." He pauses, poking her. "You say that to me all the time."

"Then perhaps inform the academy.” She says, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Although two of the founding members are women, we are still not allowed to enter the classroom. It doesn't matter how much money we do or do not have."

"At least not while clothed." He comments, making (Y/N) throw the rag she was holding at him, which Benedict swiftly catches, changing the subject. "Well, now that you’ve given up all your artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?”

“Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.”

It was as if Anthony was seeing his sister speak.

“You sound like Eloise.” Benedict took the words out of Anthony’s mouth.

“Maybe she has been rubbing up on me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“You are searching for a husband, then?” Benedict asks, helping her pack her things.

“Yes.” She replies sheepishly.

“That's where Mr Scott comes in, I suppose.”

Anthony had noticed how Mr Scott had taken an interest in (Y/N), he never thought she felt the same.

Benedict continued. “You’ll accept him if he comes down properly on one knee?”

“Most likely, yes.” She said, pausing to look ahead for a moment. “He’s rich, respectable.”

When Benedict stifles a laugh, she lightly slaps his arm and Anthony has to fight back a smile. “Don’t make fun.” (Y/N) reprimands him.

"I’m not, I’m not, I promise.” He pauses. “It does sound odd coming from you.”

"I've always known that I would marry rich. Why should I be ashamed of that?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you love him." Benedict answers in a more serious tone.

Once upon a time Anthony would have easily seen himself at his brother's place, talking about love, but not anymore.

"Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person." (Y/N) says, closing the trunk with her paints, pencils and brushes inside.

"I think the poets might disagree." Benedict offers softly.

"Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” She reminds him. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't stand there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me."

For the first time since he stopped to hear the conversation, hiding himself between the curtains, Anthony felt like he had overstepped a boundary, so he made quick work of fleeing the scene, her words echoing inside his head.

Anthony remembers Benedict joking about how him and (Y/N) would make a good match. He listens as his brother tells him about the conversation he had with her and Anthony feigns ignorance to the subject, despite having heard the entire interaction. Benedict’s voice turns into white noise in the background as Anthony is transported back to a conversation he had with Daphne last season.

At the time he didn’t understand his sister’s words—perhaps, he never would. Daphne and (Y/N) shared the same struggles, but his sister had been set in marrying for love, (Y/N), on the other hand, had already resigned herself about having to marry for convenience.

It was then that Anthony recognized that the both of them were, indeed, a good match. (Y/N) was beautiful, well mannered, educated and very good at charming people. She came from a not very rich but respectable family. Anthony knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, despite his fame as a rake. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice to marry (Y/N), which made making the decision so much easier.

Anthony visited her the next day, explaining his proposal to her.

“You listened to us?” She blinked a couple of times, trying to digest the information.

“Yes,” he confessed, “and I’m terribly sorry for it, but we have to recognize that this might have been for the best.”

He observed as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, a little frown on her face. She was beautiful this way. Even more than when she was charming half of the ton in the many social events he had seen her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lord, why marry now?”

Anthony sighed. “My mom has been forcing my hand since Daphne married. Even before that, if I’m being honest. It’s time to find a good wife, settle down, and fulfill my duties.”

“Don’t take my question as an offense, but why me?”

She seemed unable to quite grasp his words. Anthony wondered if she still hoped, deep down, to marry for love and that her conversation with his brother had been only a fickle attempt to protect herself.

“You’re intelligent, (Y/N),” He kneeled in front of her. “You are beautiful and your family is respectable. If you are serious about your words to my brother, we both want the same thing from such a union.” He paused. “Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and Anthony caught himself observing the action with a little more intent than he should.

“No, my lord, I believe it wouldn’t,” she said.

“Then why not make the best we can from a predicament we can’t escape?”

She averted his gaze, looking out to the balcony where her maid was sitting and reading a book, while watching over them.

Anthony took the opportunity to look at her—hair carefully brushed and pinned up, the way the light contrasted with her silhouette, making it easier to see her nose, her lips, the  curve of her neck…

“If I were to accept your proposition, would you be committed to this relationship?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know that for our society standards maybe that’s too much to ask, but if I can’t be loved I’d wish to at least be respected.” She looked straight into his eyes and then Anthony understood what she was asking of him.

“You have my word that once we are engaged the only woman in my life will be you.”

Anthony asked her father for permission to court her in the same day, then he got properly down on one knee a second time to ask for her hand in marriage, the two of them married within months. Benedict had been shocked by the whole ordeal, but all he cared about was seeing his brother and his friend at least a little bit happy.

The process of knowing each other had been smooth, a lot easier than what Anthony first anticipated. (Y/N) took her duties as the lady of the house seriously, making a point of listening to Violet quite often. His siblings seemed to adore her even more than they liked him, and although inexperienced, as he knew she was, (Y/N) had proved herself to be a good lover. For all of those reasons, Anthony thought that keeping his promise wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

Then he discovered that Sienna had never left town and Anthony, who always prided himself in being a man of his word, proved himself to be as bad as the rest of the men he was surrounded by.

He fell back into the sheets with Sienna, and not long after that his relationship with (Y/N) became purely a show. At first, Anthony thought his wife was oblivious to his escapades, but he had clearly underestimated (Y/N)’s intelligence.

They never shared a bedroom, but there was no disguising how his visits to her chambers happened less and less, as there was no denying the gossip of the house staff that could only lead her to his broken promises.

Anthony expected a fight, things being thrown at him, screams and hits, but they never came, and that was somewhat worse.

One night when he got home after meeting Sienna, (Y/N) was sitting in the dressing room between their chambers, knitting. She lifted her eyes from her work to bid him good night. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how her smile fell from her face as she took in his disheveled state. Anthony felt ashamed for the first time in years.

(Y/N) didn’t give him time to explain himself for being so late—maybe it was for the best because he honestly didn’t know if he could find a suitable excuse for that—she just got up, leaving her unfinished work resting in the loveseat, and marched to her room.

Anthony sighed, throwing his coat away carelessly. The force knocked out (Y/N)’s knitting to the ground and Anthony groaned before bending down to take it. He furrowed his brow when he recognized the pattern—an onesie.

Maybe Daphne was pregnant again? She would’ve told him, right? Simon would, for sure. Then it hit him. Holding the unfinished piece between his fingers, Anthony realized that that was the reason why (Y/N) had stayed awake waiting for him until that hour—she was pregnant and wanted to tell him the news. Instead of the happiness she must have expected, she only received the sight of an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage.

(Y/N) never mentioned it to him and Anthony pretended as if he didn’t know, waiting for her to make the first move, tell him at her own time. (Y/N) never said it though, but he couldn’t ignore the knowledge, and the more time he passed observing her, the more evident it became to him that his wife was, in fact, expecting their first child.

In no time she distanced herself from him and all came to the point of no return in the night where she had gone through the loss of their child alone while he was rolling in the sheets with Sienna.

Anthony tried to reach out to her, succeeding only one time, a week after that fateful night, but in the following weeks, there hadn’t been much talking between them. (Y/N) would barely answer his greetings or the occasional question he threw her way trying to start a conversation. They had a few events to attend and these were the only occasions where she would grant him more than a couple of words. Anthony knew that that was all pretend for the sake of their reputation.

She refused every attempt he made to apologize or explain himself—not that there was much to explain. He couldn’t blame her, even if he wanted her forgiveness. It was her right to hate him and not want him around after he broke his promise to her.

They had never talked about it. Not until today.

(Y/N) was holding Augie, smiling down at the baby that smiled back at her, barely blinking with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This one seems really enchanted by you,” Daphne comments, caressing her son’s little fingers.

“He’s just getting used to me,” (Y/N) answered,  smiling at his sister.

“Well, it’s good training, since I guess you and Anthony will probably have one of your own soon.”

Is as if Anthony’s blood turns to ice. He looks at his wife whose expression turns into shock and then sadness in the blink of an eye. He recognizes the tears pooling in her eyes as she gives the baby back to Daphne and excuses herself, leaving the drawing room too quick not to draw attention.

He hurries back after her. Simon gives him an apologetic look to which Anthony answers with an equally sad smile. It doesn’t take him long to find her, bend down in the windowsill of one of the windows of the library, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing while the other rested on her belly.

(Y/N) doesn’t hear his approach, but when he touches her as if she was expecting him too. She jumps as far away from him as she can get as if his touch burned her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” she doesn’t finish the sentence but Anthony could hear it loud and clear in his head.

Don’t touch me with the same hands you’ve touched her just a week ago.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Anthony reassures her, raising his hands so she can see them. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too, but I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” she sobs, hands clutching tightly at her dress.

The sight breaks his heart. Anthony wants nothing more than to take her pain away and make it his, even though he is mourning the loss of their child with her. He knew her pain was fairly worse than his, she did not only lose a child but she had been losing her husband too.

“Why, Anthony? Why us? There are so many couples that don’t love each other and still have children, why can’t we?”

Anthony takes a step forward, then two, and then he’s bringing her into his arms, wrapping her tightly against his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. She struggles against his touch a little, but she’s so worn out that it doesn’t take much for her to relax into him.

(Y/N) fists the lapels of his waistcoat, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself cry.

“I wanted them so bad, Anthony,” she whispers between sobs, “so bad.”

Me too, he wants to answer. Me too.

They stay in the library, in silence, for a while. When (Y/N) finally stops crying, exhausted, Anthony takes her home without even saying goodbye to his family, sending a maid to let them know his wife was not feeling well.

Their relationship shifts after that day. (Y/N) appears so exhausted by the recent events that slowly, she starts to let her guard down again. Anthony is careful when dealing with her, his wife is fragile and the sadness in her runs so deep that he is always afraid to say or do something that will put her through more pain.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” She says, making him look up from his papers to see her already staring back at him.

“I always worry.”

“I won’t break if we talk about it,” she guarantees. “We have to talk about it.”

Anthony is not sure if she’s talking about their baby or Sienna. Either way it wasn’t exactly a conversation he was eager to have.

“How are you?” He asks before he can contain himself. Anthony wanted to ask that for a while but never found the opportunity.

“Healing,” she answers, “or trying to.”

He nods, nervously picking at his nails.

“When did you discover?” She asks.

“The onesie.” He looks up at her.

“The onesie,” she scoffs.

“You were… waiting for me?” His question is almost inaudible, full of regret and shame, but Anthony knows that she heard him.

“Yes,” she answers, “I was.” There’s a pause, and then the blow to his face. “Obviously you were occupied with more important matters, my lord.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I know about her,” she confesses. “I’ve always known, just didn’t want to acknowledge it and have to face the fact that my husband, the one that promised to respect me, at least, had so quickly forgotten his own word.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries to explain but it seems like (Y/N) has had enough of silence.

“Oh, I know, my lord. This is entirely your fault.” She paused. “And hers. Not that it will matter for anyone, I’ll be the one to blame, after all.”

Her words cut through him the same way they did the week after her miscarriage: it’s always the woman’s fault. Hers or Sienna’s, it didn’t matter. Anthony would never understand the full extent of the pain it was to be a woman in their society, he would never fully understand how much he put her through and yet, would never be blamed for it.

There’s no answer to her words, no explanation for his behavior or broken promises. All he can do is watch her swallow the tears that were threatening to fall and take a deep breath. Anthony opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“That night,” she says, “the night I… lost our child. You were with her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anthony felt the need to answer it anyway, his voice low with shame.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she hums.

“If I could go back—”

“The outcome would have been the same.” She says.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there for you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Anthony always knew that, since the moment he put foot inside their house and heard her screams, but hearing her say it had another weight.

“Are you still seeing her?” She asks, looking at him.

“No, it won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) scoffs. “Forgive me if I have trouble believing in it, my lord.”

“I know I haven’t been a good husband. God, I have been barely a good man since we married, but I promise you, I’ll learn from my mistakes and I’ll do better by you. I’ll be a better man, a better husband, one that you deserve and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get close to deserve you.”

The following days, they start to talk more during meals, and the silence that falls between them when they’re both at the drawing room—Anthony working and (Y/N) reading—is not uncomfortable anymore. Each day that passes makes Anthony believe that they can fall back into the friendship they had right after they married.

He doesn’t see Sienna again. Anthony sends her a letter telling her that they should stop seeing each other because he doesn’t want to hurt his wife anymore. Which is the truth. Every time he thinks about the last time he met Sienna, his wife’s cries of pain and sorrow plague his mind and he just can’t see himself hurting her even more than he already had without even realizing it.

Anthony watches her playing with Gregory and Hyacinth in the garden. His younger siblings are fighting for her attention but she doesn’t seem to mind, going back and forth in between the two of them with ease. Then she looks at him, a huge smile on her face that made him smile too. Her attention was quickly snatched from him to his siblings again and Anthony felt a pang of jealousy in his chest—he didn’t want to share her attention.

In the past few weeks, Anthony discovered that his wife was more than the character of the perfect wife that she played for the ton. She was very much real and very much a woman with desires and ambitions. Everything that happened between then made her more bold, she didn’t take his poor excuses anymore, she talked openly about all sorts of things and Anthony caught himself wanting to listen.

“Hum, did you finally realize that you got a diamond in your hands, then?”

Anthony turned his head to look at Benedict, who had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

His relationship with Benedict was stranded since his brother discovered about Sienna. Anthony didn’t blame Benedict, he was friend’s with his wife since they were kids. He only had himself to blame for being so foolish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony answered, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t observing their siblings with (Y/N).

“Keep lying to yourself then,” Benedict smirked, turning away to leave.

Anthony called after him. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Benedict sighed. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you. I just expected more from my brother.”

“I know,” he agrees. Benedict makes a move to go out the door, and then comes back, pulling Anthony into a hug.

“Look, I could say a thousand things to you, but nothing will undo what’s done.” Benedict says when they part, a hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “Just… learn from your mistakes and do better. You’re my brother and I love you, but trust me when I say that you don't deserve (Y/N). Can you imagine what mother would have done to our father if they ever found themselves in the same situation?”

“They loved each other,” Anthony protested to prevent his mind from wandering.

“You are truly oblivious, brother of mine.” Benedict scoffed.

His brother’s word haunted him for the rest of the day and all the way back to their home. Always perceptive, his change in behavior didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N).

“What happened,” she asked when they were alone in the dressing room.

Anthony hummed, turning around to look at her and trying not to get distracted by her beauty as she braided her own hair after taking off the jewelry.

“Nothing.”

Her reflection raises a brow at him.

“Do better,” she warns, getting up and walking up to him, face softening as she stands in front of him. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

He nods, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his face. Anthony’s eyes close.

“Is it about her?”

The question gets him off guard. His eyes open instantly to look at her and he drops (Y/N)’ hand instantly.

“No,” he answers, “no,” he adds firmly, cradling her face in between his hands. “There is no one else in my life but you. There won’t be no one else in my life but you.”

“Anthony…” She breaths, closing her eyes as her delicate hands take hold of his wrists.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but refrains. It’s not the time for that. They’re both healing and he doesn’t want to taint whatever it is they’re creating by getting ahead of himself. Instead, Anthony presses his lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleads, not sure where the urge to stay close to her came from. Anthony expects her to put up a fight, but (Y/N) only nods, murmuring an okay, before guiding him to her room.

It’s the first time since that fateful night that the both of them sleep through it, getting up later than usual the other day.

Their first kiss after everything that threatened to push them apart for good, happens so suddenly that none of them expects it.

(Y/N) had received the news that one of her younger sisters was going to marry the man she loves, her happiness made her throw herself at him and before either of them could realize, they were kissing each other.

It was just a chaste peck on the lips at the beginning. When they realized what had just happened they parted, his wife didn’t bother to step away from him to escape his embrace. They just stared at each other, eyes flicking between their eyes and their lips and then she placed a hand at the back of his neck, bringing him close to seal their lips again.

Anthony responded in kind, his hands on her waist, traveling up her back as he tasted her. It was like he was kissing her for the first time. They were discovering each other again, learning what each other felt like.

Desperately, Anthony wanted to discover what the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was. Since before they married (Y/N) made him feel different, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He pushed it down to the depths of his mind—the last thing he needed was feeling something other than respect and partnership for his wife.

He protested when (Y/N) parted her lips from his and it took him a second to notice Benedict standing at the door, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that our mother is waiting for (Y/N) downstairs. Something about the charity?”

“Oh,” his wife exclaimed, “I had forgotten about it,” she said, wriggling herself away from his arms, making Anthony growl in frustration.

If she noticed, (Y/N) made a good job at ignoring it. The same couldn’t be said about his brother.

“I figured,” Benedict smirked.

“Not a word,” (Y/N) warned as she passed him by, slapping his arm playfully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anthony watched as she turned around, stealing one last glance at him before disappearing and taking his breath away with her.

“Huh,” Benedict hummed, “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony asked, “And what do you see, dear brother?”

“You love her.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “we’re just good partners.”

“Good partners don’t kiss like that.”

The ride home was silent, but Anthony’s heart fluttered in his chest when (Y/N) searched for his hand. Could Benedict be right? Did he really fall in love with his wife? He frowned while looking out of the window of the carriage and (Y/N) might have noticed it, because she made a move to take her hand away from him. Anthony didn’t let her.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

“Something Benedict said to me.”

“If it is about the kiss, don’t mind him. It won’t happen again.”

Anthony looked at her exasperated.

“I surely hope you’re not serious about that.”

“Anthony…”

“How can I live without your kisses again is unknown to me.”

“You lived quite well without them all your life,” she smiles, shyly.

“But now that I know them, I can’t anymore.”

Painfully slowly, she moves closer, giving him the chance to meet her halfway and bring their lips together again.

It’s like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day and Anthony can’t seem to get enough of her. They get so distracted that they don’t even realise the carriage has stopped in front of the house until the door is open.

Recomposing themselves, he observes as (Y/N) giggles at the situation and feels his heart flutter at the image.

As they prepare to retire for the night, Anthony stops for a minute before following her into her room—he has been doing that for quite a few nights.

When she notices that he hasn’t entered the bedroom, (Y/N) looks back at him with a frown.

“Anything’s wrong?”

Anthony smiles, “No, nothing’s wrong,” he answers, as she extends her hand for him to take, and they retire for the night.

[babyboy555777]

3 and then some~ Rafe and Barry

Summary~ you make a proposal to Rafe and Barry. Telling them one of your wishes one late night at a kook party held at Rafe's house.

CW~ Threesome, light name calling, mxm kissing, eating out, unprotected sex, rough rafe, soft barry. (Should be all)

~rafe! x barry! x female reader!~

You, Rafe, and Barry had always been somewhat close. Well, whenever Rafe and Barry actually got on decent terms again. It was always the three of you hanging out at Rafe’s house. Them doing drugs and you sitting back watching them snort lines off the table. Barry always came to Rafe’s party as 1. A supplier of course. 2. As a friend of yours and his. And 3. Well simply because he filled the empty air in the parties and made it all the more fun.

You and Rafe, like any other day before a party, drove to Barry’s to talk with him about what drugs he should bring. You laid on Barry’s couch legs propped up onto the back scrolling on your phone as they talked. “Some pot of course. Mostly sell it outside because last time people started smoking that shit in the house.” Rafe leaned back into the chair spreading his legs covering his mouth with his hand.

“I don’t know how much though I guess leave it up to you.” Rafe spoke up again. “As for the powder. Just for us to carry around. Sell it at the table and watch them do it like always. We don’t need people doing dumb shit with it.” Barry nodded his head at Rafe’s words. “I got it man don’t worry. We do this every time I don’t see why you still drive over here man.” Barry huffed and shook his head.

You looked from your phone looking at them both. “Both of you stress each other the hell out. It’s so unbelievable” you chuckled at your own words and shook your head going back to your phone. “Oh, now princess pipes up. Didn’t even talk the whole 20 minutes you’ve been here.” Barry rolls his eyes, and you do the same.

“Oh, bite me I’m just bored. Plus, Rafe told me not to chime in this time.” Rafe nodded his head with a slight smirk appearing on his lips. “Yeah, well that I did. I don’t need to be clouding my head with that blabber mouth running.”

“Oh, you can bite me too Cameron.” You rolled your eyes getting back onto the phone. He let out a sigh standing up from his seat walking over to you. “Come on don’t be that way.” He looked down at you. “Anyway, get up we got to go shopping.” He patted your thigh turning his head back to Barry.

“Call me if you need anything before tomorrow.” Barry nodded his head dabbing up Rafe. You got off the couch walking over to Barry giving him a hug from the side. “See you tomorrow night. Let us know when you’re on the way over.” He nodded his head once again and with that you and Rafe left to go shopping for tomorrow night's events.

You sat in Rafe's room curling your hair on his floor. The party is supposed to start at 8 p.m. you opened your phone checking the time. 7:15. You had enough time to finish your hair and get dressed up. You didn't want to overdo it, but you always wore a somewhat "casual" dress. Although Rafe and Barry always had a word or two to say to each other about what you were wearing.

As quickly as you could you finished up your makeup, since you got sidetracked by your phone, and started to undress and change into your black dress. It reached just below the mid of your thighs. Hugging your curves ever so tightly.

Once last look into the mirror you quickly grabbed your phone slipping it into your bra after checking the time 8:27 and heading downstairs. The house was already filled with many people taking shots, eating some of the snacks, and walking outside to smoke. You saw Rafe hanging in the living room with Topper and Kelce.

You placed yourself on the arm of the couch beside Rafe resting your arm behind his head. He placed his arm on your thigh continuing his conversation with Topper. You looked around the house as more people filled the area one by one.

It was all starting and you were ready. Each shot you poured down your throat the more you loosened up. Each one feeling more and more inviting as the burning liquid slid it's way down your throat.

Your phone buzzed in your bra. You pulled it out looking down at the text from Barry saying that he was finally here. You took your seltzer and made your way outside seeing his small black car parked on the curb. "Hey." You said excitedly making your way over to him.

He chuckled as he shoved his keys into his pocket walking closer to you as well. "Looks like little miss princess is already getting started." You chuckled pulling Barry into a hug. One of his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him. He took a long drag of the smell of your hair and soon released you.

Soon you, Rafe, and Barry all sat in the living room talking with anyone who had sat down. They did their sells, Barry occasionally walking outside to sell some one the pot he had brought with him, and Rafe stayed in the living room with you as he watched person after person snort a line.

Growing bored you made your way upstairs to Rafe's room having an idea of a lifetime. You pulled your phone out of your bra once again and opened up the group chat with the three of you. "You guys come upstairs to Rafe's room when you have the chance." you hit send and sat down on the chair at the desk waiting for them both.

Rafe and Barry both saw the text looking at each other from across the room. A slight nod from both of them and they made their way up. Rafe opened the door slowly with Barry walking behind him. You smiled at them gesturing them take a seat on the bed.

They sat side by side knees touching each other, both looking at you. "I want to propose something. And neither of you have to agree right now or agree at all really. We don't have to do it."

They both looked at you confused knowing you there was no telling what words would fall out of your mouth next. Barry nodded his head letting you go on. "I want to..." You tried to find the words and also tried to think if you should just straight up say it or lead into it. "I want to have a threesome with you two."

Both of their eyes widened a little bit. Rafe soon chuckled. "I'm sorry run that back." He pressed his lips together and furrowed his brows. "I want to have a threesome. With you guys. I've literally thought about it for so long and I don't know I just can't keep it in."

You sighed. "I can't even stop thinking about it. Every time the three of us are together, I want nothing more than this." Barry shook his head, and a chuckled snort left him. "Barry I'm being serious."

You sighed once more. "It's not even drunk thoughts, okay? I truly want this and like I said neither of you have to do it." Rafe and Barry paused looking at you. Rafe looked you up and down biting his lower lip. Barry stared at you simply shocked. "Yeah, I'll do it why not?"

Barry turned to Rafe. "Really?" He cocked his head. "We've all been friends long enough and I mean who are we if we both lie saying we haven't wanted her for so long. Come on Barry."

A slight blush appeared on your face and Rafe's words slipped his mouth. Barry nodded his head. "Okay yeah. I'll do it." He looked back at you and so did Rafe. their stares felt like hungry predators ready to pounce. Their eyes had delighted, and both of them started to breath heavily.

"Tonight?" You said standing up. "I mean it's late and not like it really matters right?" Barry and Rafe nodded their heads saying they'd do it now. Their stares sent a cold shiver down your spine making you want to crawl out of your skin. You turned to Barry moving your hair out of the way. "Unzip me please."

He brought his hands up slowly sliding the black zipper down your back watching as the tight dress now lost it's shape. You slipped the straps off your shoulders slowly letting the dress fall to the floor exposing your back to the both of them. Your black lingerie with lace laid still on your body.

You walked away from the dress standing between them. They both moved making room for you to sit in the middle of them on the bed. You sat down placing a hand on each of their thighs.

You turned to Rafe, then Barry, then back to Rafe. You slowly leaned in connecting your lips with his. In an instant he grabbed the bottom of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss.

Barry watched as you and Rafe made out. You slipped your hand up and down Barry's leg soon making your way over to his now showing budge. Your hands slowly rubbed through the fabric of his shorts making him throw his head back letting out a small groan.

You pulled back from Rafe giving him one last peck before turning to Barry. He pulled you in the same as Rafe did kissing you ever so softly. You rubbed Rafe's leg up and down earning a sigh from him.

Rafe moved closer to you planting small kisses on your shoulders. He moved your bra strap down off your collarbone soon moving in closer to your neck leaving small love bites below your ear.

You groaned into Barrys mouth making you move your head back releasing the kiss from him. Barry did the same as Rafe making his way to your neck leaving the same but also different bites. You bit your lip holding back a moan as the two fought at war over your neck.

You grabbed them both removing them both from you. Rafe's hands roamed your waist. As Barry looked his now formed bites on your neck. You scooted back onto the bed and both of them looked back at you.

"You two." Barry and Rafe looked at each other confused. "Kiss." They looked shocked and could barely form words. "Come on like you guys don't already think about it." You chuckled.

They looked at each other a moment and nodded their heads scooting closer to each other. Neither of them had done this before, and truly they were nervous. Both of them leaned in grabbing each other's face with one hand. Barry slowly closed the kiss making their lips connect.

At first, they were both hesitant to even go but soon enough they started. Their lips moving at a slow pace. Rafe pulled Barry in even more making them deepen the kiss. You truly bit your lip at the sight of them.

You leaned back taking in the sight of them. Each of them hungrily fighting for the next move. You moved closer pulling them apart to take off their shirts as swiftly as possible. "Eager are we princess." Barry chuckled.

"Shut it." you huffed out. You pulled them further onto the bed sitting on your knees between the two of them not sure of what to do. Rafe and Barry smirked at each other as they started to roam your body with their hands.

Rafe pulled your back closer to his chest. He quickly unclasped your bra letting it fall of your shoulders just like the dress did moments ago. “You don’t need this.” He whispered in your ear.

Barry moved your legs straight helping you slide off your underwear. “Or these.” Suddenly you had felt so exposed in front of the two men. Heat rose up your body to your face. “Come on darling don’t get so nervous now. Isn’t this what you always dreamed about?” Rafe said as his hands moved up and down your arms.

It all did feel like a dream. The absolute best dream you could ever have. You truly prayed this was real. You shut your eyes tight as Barry ran his hands up and down your legs. “Looks like she’s already falling weak.” Barry said with a smirk planted on his lips.

Drew chuckled lightly in your ear. His hands finally made their way to your breast slowly massaging them in his hands. “God who knew you wanted us so bad. And here we thought we’d never have you like such a mess.” Rafe said before planting small kisses on the back of your neck.

Barry bent down leaning closer to your cunt. His breath hitting your entrance caused you to shift. Barry held your legs open looking up at you and your now opened eyes. “Fuck.” You said quietly biting your lip at the sight of him. He planted kisses all over your thighs as he held your legs open.

“God and to think we’d be so lucky to have her all for us right country club.” Rafe chuckled at the words that left Barry’s mouth but agreed. “Can’t believe she didn’t give us this idea sooner. And who would have thought she’d be so wet at the sight of us making out.”

Barry chuckled back leaning further toward your cunt. He placed a small kiss on your clit making you shutter and buckle your hips. You were at a loss for words. The image of Barry between your legs and Rafe gripping your chest leaving kissing all over your shoulders and neck. It was all so much.

“Fuck.” Barry groaned before flicking his tongue all around. Your head fell back into Rafe’s shoulder taking in a gasp of air. Rafe turned your face to him slowly making out with you as Barry’s tongue worked like magic. You moaned lightly in Rafe’s mouth.

Barry’s mouth moved at such a heavenly speed. Sucking on your clit and moving his tongue up and down and in circles. He pulled away making you pull back from Rafe’s now plumped lips.

Barry then soon slid two fingers in you moving in and out making you throw your head back again. Rafe took this as an opportunity to massage your clit. Moving his fingers in circles. listening to your moans in his ears made his dick rise even more. You could feel his boner poking you in the back making you want so much more than was being offered. You felt so needy and greedy with these men. God you just wanted so much more.

“She’s falling apart.” Rafe chuckled as he looked at you. Not a single word left your lips. Moan after moan erupted through the air making them both turned on so much more. “Let me get a taste hmmm.” Rafe slowly moved you off his chest replacing himself with Barry.

He leaned down just as Barry did and immediately got to work moving his tongue as best as he could. The newfound pleasure made it hard for you to even be reasonable at this moment. Your vision blurred and your mind was fuzzy. You grabbed Barry’s face pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Fuck me.” You groaned out against his lips. You could feel Rafe smirk against your folds as the words left your mouth. Soon he stopped his movements getting off the bed. He nodded at Barry to do the same. Both of them stripping down to nothing. They had you in awe.

Both of them side by side rocked your world. They fit so well together, and they couldn’t help but torment you. They both climbed back on the bed looking at just each other. They moved in close like they had did previously slowly leaning into yet another kiss. All you could do was watch as each one fought for dominance.

Their heads turning every so often not moving from each other. Lips now swollen and hungry for more. Barry was the first to pull away and Rafe patted Barry’s face as a way to say good job.

Both of them smirked before crawling on each side of you. "All fours now." Rafe said behind you. you obeyed throwing your ass in the air and your forearms resting in front of Barry's knees. Both of them stoked themselves at the sight of you.

"Fuck." Rafe grunted out. He moved his hands over your hips slightly gripping them. You took a hold of Barry's dick swirling your tongue around the tip making. He grabbed all of your hair bunching it up into a makeshift ponytail.

Rafe soon aligned his rock-hard cock to your folds. Swiping his tip up and down your folds making you moan on Barry's cock as you bobbed your head up and down.

Without warning Rafe slammed into you filling you up with cock make you let out a loud yelp. "Fuck." you huffed out. Barry grabbed your chin making you look up at him. He slowly slid his cock in and out of your mouth. Rafe continued his movements in the back.

Thrusting faster and harder than Barry was on the other side. "So fucking tight. Shit Barry you have to feel her." Rafe grunted as he gripped your hips harder leaving marks. Barry removed his cock from your mouth letting you sit up more in the bed.

With a few more hard trust and loud moans escaping your lips he pulled out switching places with Barry. Rafe planted his hips in front of you. With your shaky hands you reached for his cock sliding it in your mouth and stroking the rest with what couldn't fit.

Barry was gentler with you. He held your hips just as Rafe did but his stokes where slow at first not trying to hurt you. You hummed against Rafe making him bite his lip and throw his head back. "Fuck good girl." He smirked looking down at you.

"Faster Barry." You looked behind you as Barry thrusted in and out of you. He gave a slight nod adjusting himself before pushing further into you at a faster pace almost reaching Rafe's.

Everyone in the room panted and moaned. The room feeling steamy and almost suffocating in a good way. Soon you could feel your high reaching its peak. Barry felt your walls clench around his cock making his shut his eyes muttering words to himself.

You let out a gospel like moan as Barry slammed into you once more making all your walls crumble. He pulled out quickly and Rafe moved himself from your mouth both moving off the bed. Quickly you followed getting on your knees in front of them.

You grabbed both their cocks stroking them at a fast pace. Both of them a moaning and grunting mess as they too were reaching their high. "Fuck, come on baby." Rafe moaned out grabbing your hair.

Barry continued to shut his eyes tightly as he felt himself building up. Soon both of them shot their hot liquid onto your chest. Both of them grunting and breathing heavily looking down at you.

Rafe grabbed the back of your neck pulling you into a sloppy kiss against his swollen pink lips. After he pulled away Barry did the same. He pushed the hair from your face and quickly grabbed his shirt off the ground wiping you off. Rafe grabbed his shirt handing it over to you to slip on.

Both of them slipped their shorts back on as you sat down on the edge of the bed. "Fuck who would have known country club?" Barry chuckled at Rafe. "Who knew this be the best night of my fucking life. Fuck the party were staying up here the rest of the night."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hehe I had so much fun writing this hope you enjoyed

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~10k+ Summary: Words are misheard, choices are made, and things begin to unravel. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining Author’s Note: Sorry it's such a long chapter.😅 This was just really fun to write, and I’m excited for everyone to read it! Just a few more chapters left! Comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated. 🫶

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The morning sun cast a pale light across the grounds, and Cregan found himself walking alongside Sara, his thoughts heavy with the events of the past few days. His mind lingered on the night of the feast two nights ago—the moments he had spent with you, the words he had finally spoken, words that had taken so much to admit.

He had taken your maidenhood that night and spent the hours after confessing his love for you, promising to make things right, and even vowing to give up the North to be with you. But now, as he walked beside Sara, he could not escape the conflict within him. The weight of his promise and his duty to Arra pressed on him, pulling him in two different directions. His chest tightened just thinking about it.

“I must confess something, Sara,” he started, his voice low, almost reluctant.

“Then confess,” she said, already sensing what it was he was going to say.

“The night of the feast… I… I went to see her.”

Sara’s brow furrowed, and her pace slowed. She glanced at him sharply. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“I… I told her that I loved her. I finally told her, Sara,” Cregan confessed. “And – “

“And? How did she respond?”

“Her heard me. She listened, but… I fear that she may not believe my words.”

“Well, of course not. You and I both know why she would think that.” Cregan sighed, the weight of his choices sitting heavily on his shoulders.

“I know, but I want to make things right. I promised her that I would make things right.”

Sara scoffed. “Your promises mean nothing. You have shown that they mean nothing, Cregan. Do you think she would easily forget everything you have done to her? The heartache you have put her through time and time again?”

“I – “

“We have spoken about this before, brother, yet you still cannot fathom the hurt you have caused. And now, you have tainted her. Do you understand what you have done?” Cregan sucked in a breath and looked down at the ground.

“So, you know.”

“Of course I know. She told me of what had happened the morning after, and I must say, you are an idiot. What were you thinking?!”

“I – I do not know. All I know is that I love her, and it took me seeing her at the feast with all those lords, with Cerwyn, for me to realize it.” Sara rolled her eyes at his stupidity and jealousy.

“So, it took you seeing her with another man to realize that you love her? After everything you have put her through?” Cregan did could not reply, knowing his sister was right. It had taken him seeing you happy with someone else that he finally knew what you had been feeling for so long whenever you saw him with Arra.

“I know it was selfish of me,” he sighed, wringing his hands. “I did not mean for it to happen, it just did. I could not help myself. I needed to have her, if just for that one night.”

“Yes, and now you have dishonored her. Should anyone find out, there would be dire consequences. Not only for you, but her as well.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” Sara affirmed. “You should not have gone to her. You should not have taken her maidenhood and given her false hope.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cregan countered.

“Then what? Speak plainly. My patience is wearing thin.”

“The engagement with Arra… It was a mistake.”

Sara’s expression softened. She knew Cregan well—knew the burden of his responsibilities. And although he made mistakes, she understood the quiet torment he carried.

“You have been torn for some time,” she said gently, her voice a quiet comfort. “Especially after that night.”

“I have tried,” Cregan admitted, his voice strained. “I have tried to convince myself that I could make it work. That I could marry her and be the man I am supposed to be. But deep down, I know… it is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

Sara studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with both understanding and frustration. “Then why have not you ended it?”

Cregan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Do you think I have not thought about it? Do you think I have not woken up and wondered how I let it get this far? It is not that simple, Sara. This marriage is not just about me or her—it is about the North. It is about strengthening alliances, securing the future. If I end it, what happens then? Weakness? Division? I cannot risk that.”

“You mean you will not risk it,” Sara corrected sharply. “Because you are afraid. Afraid of what people will think, afraid of what it will mean for your position as Warden of the North. You are using duty as an excuse to avoid making a choice. You continue to use it as an excuse.”

He glared at her, his jaw tightening. “You think it would be so easy? That I could simply cast aside everything I have been taught, everything I have been raised to believe in? Duty is everything, Sara. Without it, who am I? What am I?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with quiet indignation. “Is that not what you told her? That you would throw everything away for her? That you would forsake it all—the North, your duty, everything—to be with her?” She shook her head. “You said those words, Cregan. But did you mean them? Or were they just more empty promises made in the heat of the moment?”

He flinched at her accusation, guilt slicing through him. “I meant them,” he said quietly.

“Then why are you still here?” Sara countered. “Why are you still clinging to this engagement, to this sense of duty, if you truly believe she is worth it? You cannot have it both ways, Cregan. Either you meant what you said, or you did not. And if you did not, then you owe her the truth, because she deserves better than your half-measures.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened, the truth of her words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“I want you to be honest, Cregan” Sara said firmly. “With yourself, with Arra, with her. Stop hiding behind your duty and figure out what you truly want. Because right now, all you are doing is making things worse for everyone involved. Do you not see the pattern here? You are so caught up in trying to do what is right that you are doing everything wrong.””

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words would not come. Deep down, he knew she was right. He had been running from the truth for too long, and now it was catching up to him, threatening to swallow him whole.

“Arra also deserves more than this,” Sara continued, her voice gentler now. “She deserves a husband who loves her, who sees her as more than a means to an end. And you? You deserve to be happy, Cregan. But you must make the choice. No one else can do it for you.”

Cregan nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling over him. “I just… I do not know if I am strong enough,” he admitted quietly.

“You are,” Sara said with quiet conviction. “You have to stop running from it. Stop running from yourself. And you had better figure it out soon. Because you will lose her. And this time, you will not get her back, brother.”

The words echoed in his mind, the same words Cerwyn had spoken to him. He had not wanted to admit it, but the truth was undeniable. Now, more than ever, he realized that he could not keep making excuses. Cerwyn had been right. And Sara, despite her harsh words, was right as well.

It was time to stop running.

“I know what I must do.”

The morning air was frigid, biting against your skin as you balanced the bundle of firewood in your arms. The stables were quiet, but your thoughts were anything but. You had spent the past two days trying to make sense of everything—of Cregan’s promises, his confessions, and the turmoil he had left in his wake.

Your ears caught the sound of voices drifting across the yard. You had not intended to listen, but the tone of Sara’s voice—sharp and cutting—drew your attention. You turned your head slightly, heart sinking as you recognized the low timbre of Cregan’s voice.

“It is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

For a moment, a sliver of doubt crept into your mind. Was there a chance that you had misheard him? Perhaps it was not as it seemed—maybe he had meant something else, maybe there had been some misunderstanding. The hope flared for the briefest of moments, like a flicker of warmth in the cold. But then it crushed you as reality set in, and all the doubts vanished. It was no misunderstanding. You had heard his words correctly.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat. Your hands suddenly grew cold, the firewood slipping from your arms and clattering to the ground.

Cregan had never truly loved you.

It was all a mistake.

The weight of those words crushed your chest as you stood frozen, stomach tightening with a surge of anguish. You thought of his promise that he would choose you, that he would make things right between you. You had believed him, trusted him. But now it seemed that all of it had been nothing but a lie. Just like before. And you had been a fool to hope differently.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. No. You could not allow yourself to be vulnerable again, not after everything you had already been through. Cregan had made his decision, and now you had to make yours.

You forced yourself to move, to gather the fallen firewood despite the shaking in your hands. Each piece you picked up felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding as though trying to escape your chest. The cold air stung your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You could not stay here. Not now. Not after hearing those words. Without thinking, your feet carried you away from the stables, away from the sound of Cregan and Sara’s voices. You did not know where you were going—only that you needed space, air, something to dull the storm raging within you.

The godswood.

The ancient trees loomed ahead, their branches bare against the winter sky. You stepped into the quiet sanctuary, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound. It was a place you had often come to when the weight of your thoughts grew too heavy, and now, it seemed the only refuge from the chaos in your heart.

You sank to your knees beneath the heart tree, the red leaves stark against the white of the snow. Closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead against the rough bark and let out a trembling breath.

What a fool I have been.

I should have known it meant nothing to him.

That I meant nothing to him.

The memory of Cregan’s touch, his words, his promises—they all burned through you, leaving behind a raw, open wound.

You had wanted to believe him.

Needed to believe him.

But it was clear now that his love—if it could even be called that—was as fleeting as the warmth of the sun in the land of the North.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. Your first instinct was to leave, to avoid whoever it was, but before you could rise, the figure stepped into view.

“Cerwyn.”

The name escaped your lips before you could stop it. He stood there, his expression soft but filled with concern, as though he had been searching for you.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Sara told me you were not at the stables. Are you unwell?”

You looked away, wiping at your face even though no tears had fallen. “I just needed some space to think.”

Cerwyn crouched beside you, his presence steady and grounding. He did not press you to speak, did not ask the questions that you were not ready to answer. Instead, he simply sat there, waiting, offering his quiet support.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Have-have you ever believed in something so much… only to realize that it was never real?”

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching your face. “I have,” he said after a moment. “And it is a pain I would not wish upon anyone.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing tighter. “I thought I knew him,” you whispered. “I thought��� I thought what we had meant something. That I meant something.”

“It does mean something,” Cerwyn said, his voice firm but gentle. “Do not let his mistakes take that away from you. Whatever he said, whatever he did—it does not erase what you feel. That was real, even if he did not deserve it.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warming the parts of you that had felt frozen since this morning. You turned to him, meeting his gaze. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay so kind, even when everything around you seems so… cruel?”

Cerwyn gave a small, sad smile. “Because the world is cruel enough without me adding to it. And because you deserve kindness, even if you do not see it right now.”

You let out a shaky breath, lowering your gaze to the snow at your feet. “I do not know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could move on. I thought I could be strong enough, but… everything feels so broken. I feel so broken.”

Cerwyn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered your words. “Sometimes, things do break,” he said softly. “And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, they cannot be put back the way they were. But that does not mean they are beyond repair.”

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the heart tree behind you, its ancient bark scarred and weathered by time. “Look at this tree,” he said. “It has stood here for generations, living through storms, snow, and fire. It has been marked and scarred, but it still stands. Stronger, even, because it has endured.”

You followed his gaze to the tree, its gnarled roots and branches reaching out in quiet defiance of the elements. For a moment, you let yourself imagine being like that tree—steady, resilient, untouched by the pain of betrayal and heartbreak.

“But what if I am not strong enough?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if I cannot endure this?”

Cerwyn turned to you, his expression earnest. “You are strong enough. You have already survived more than most people could bear. You have stood with your head held high countless times. You will get through this. I know you will.”

His words stirred something in you, a warmth that pushed back against the cold that had settled in your chest. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not just a friend who had always been kind to you, but someone who had never given up. Someone who saw your pain and did not turn away. Someone who, despite being best friends with the one who broke your heart, in some way had always looked out for you.

“I do not know if I’ll ever be whole again,” you said quietly.

“You do not have to be whole right now,” Cerwyn replied. “You just have to take it one day at a time.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything you had carried lightened just enough to let you breathe. Finally, you turned to him, gathering the courage to voice the thoughts that had plagued you. “Then I must marry,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I have suitors,” you went on. “Lords who have made their interests known. Of course, I have much to consider before making a choice, but… I cannot linger in this place of uncertainty any longer. I must move forward, even if it feels impossible. Cregan has made his choice, and so must I.”

Cerwyn studied you for a long moment, his dark eyes filled with something you could not quite name. “And do you believe that marriage will help you move on?” he asked gently, his voice free of judgment.

“I do not know,” you admitted, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. “But I know that staying here, waiting for a future that will never come, waiting for a man that will never love me the way I love him, will destroy me. I cannot keep holding on to something that was never mine to begin with.”

Cerwyn nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You are wise to think of your future,” he said. “But do not rush into something simply to escape the pain, it will only delay it for a while. Whoever you choose, make sure they are someone who will cherish you. Someone who will fight for you. Someone who will make you happy.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. “And what if I do not know who that is yet? What if they cannot make me happy no matter how hard they try? No matter how hard I try to be happy?”

Cerwyn’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “Then take your time. Your heart has been through so much, for so long, but with time, it will heal in its own way. And when it does, you will know what you want—and what you deserve.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the load of your burdens seemed just a little lighter. Cerwyn had always been a steady presence in your life, and now, as you sat beside him beneath the heart tree, you realized how much his support truly meant to you.

“I will try,” you said quietly. “I will try to move on.”

“And you will succeed,” Cerwyn replied, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You sat in silence for a moment longer, watching as a gentle breeze stirred the branches of the heart tree above. The crimson leaves fluttered like quiet whispers against the pale gray sky, their movement calming in its constancy. For the first time in days, the ache in your chest eased, just a little.

“Cerwyn,” you began, breaking the quiet. “You have always been kind to me. You have stood by me even when… even when I did not deserve it.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression softening. “You have always deserved kindness. Even on your darkest days.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you had to swallow hard to keep your voice steady. “I just wanted to say… thank you. For everything. For being here when I did not even know I needed someone. For reminding me that I am stronger than I feel. For not judging me for my mistakes.”

Cerwyn’s smile was warm but tinged with a sadness that you could not quite place. “No thanks are needed” he said softly. “I only did what any friend would do.”

Friend.

The word settled in your chest, both comforting and bittersweet. There was a part of you that wanted to reach for him, to let his unwavering presence steady you through the storm of your emotions. But another part of you hesitated, unsure if you were ready to open your heart again—to anyone.

“I do not know what the future holds,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But I want to believe that it will get better. That I can… rebuild. That I can one day heal.”

“It will get better,” Cerwyn said firmly. “And when it does, I am certain you will find the happiness you deserve.”

You nodded, letting his words settle over you like a protective cloak. “I hope so too.”

Cerwyn’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more. But whatever it was, he kept it to himself, rising to his feet and brushing the snow from his cloak.

“Shall I walk you back to the keep?” he asked, offering you his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, then reached up to take it. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you in a way that surprised you. “Thank you,” you said softly, allowing him to help you to your feet.

The two of you walked in companionable silence, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound between you. As you approached the keep, you could not help but glance back over your shoulder at the heart tree, its ancient branches standing resolute against the cold winter sky.

Cerwyn caught your movement and followed your gaze. “It is a good tree,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “A reminder that even in the harshest of winters, life finds a way to endure.”

You smiled faintly, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the heaviness still lingering in your chest. “I think I will come back here,” you said quietly. “When I need to think.”

“It will be here,” Cerwyn replied, his voice steady. “As will I.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet conviction in his words. There was no expectation in his tone, no pressure—just an unspoken promise that you were not alone. And for the first time in a long while, that thought brought you a measure of comfort.

As you stepped inside the warmth of the keep, the heavy wooden doors closing behind you, you realized that while the path ahead was still uncertain, you were not walking it alone. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

The low hum of activity in the kitchens greeted you as you stepped inside, your stomach growling softly. The warmth of the hearth and the scent of fresh bread were a welcome reprieve from the cold, and for a moment, you let yourself savor the simplicity of it. You had spent so much time dwelling on heavy thoughts that you had barely noticed your own hunger.

Reaching for a warm roll from the counter, you heard the distant sound of horses outside. Curious, you moved to the small window above the worktable, brushing aside the frost on the glass to peer outside. In the courtyard below, a group of riders was preparing to leave.

Your breath caught when you spotted Cregan among them, his familiar form unmistakable even in the muted light of the overcast morning. He was already mounted, his posture straight and proud despite the evident tension in his shoulders. Cerwyn was there too, speaking to one of the other hunters, but your eyes lingered on Cregan.

For all the turmoil he had caused you, for all the pain he had left in his wake, you could not stop yourself from looking. Watching him felt like pressing a hand to an old wound, testing the ache to see if it still hurt. It did. More than you wanted to admit. But a piece of you still felt the undeniable heat of love for him. Regardless of what he had said to Sara. Your heart wanted him, but you knew you could never have him. Not anymore.

He shifted in the saddle, his hand adjusting the reins as if preparing to ride out. You told yourself to look away, to turn your attention back to the kitchen and the simple act of eating your roll. But your feet were rooted to the floor, your gaze refusing to leave him.

As if sensing you watching him, Cregan suddenly turned. His head tilted slightly, his eyes sweeping the courtyard before locking onto yours. For the briefest of moments, the two of you were frozen, caught in the silent tension that had been building for so long. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held something raw, something that made your chest tighten.

What could he possibly be thinking?

Panic set in, and you quickly ducked below the window, your heart hammering in your chest. You pressed your back against the stone wall, clutching the roll in your hands as if it could ground you. The warmth of the kitchen felt stifling now, your thoughts a tangled mess.

Why had he looked back?

Had he known you were watching?

And worse, had he seen the sadness in your face, the longing you had tried so hard to bury?

Out in the courtyard, Cregan lingered for a moment longer, his stare fixed on the window where you had just been. He felt a pang of something he could not quite name—regret, guilt, loss? Maybe all of it. The heaviness of the past few days bore down on him, and though he knew he should focus on the hunt, he could not shake the image of you from his mind. He needed to speak with you, and soon.

Finally, with a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse and rode out with the others, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.

You remained in the kitchen, looking down at the roll in your hands as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in your head. The warmth of the bread had gone cold, much like the fragile hope you had once carried.

Somehow, seeing him look back had made it worse. It was not just the pain of knowing he was engaged to another; it was the lingering thread of connection between you, frayed but unbroken, that refused to let go.

And for the first time in days, you wondered if it ever truly would.

- THE FIRST DAY -

The next day dawned cold and quiet, the absence of Cregan and Cerwyn noticeable in the stillness of the keep. Though the halls bustled with the usual morning activity, there was a strange void, as if their presence had been a thread woven into the daily fabric of life that had suddenly been pulled loose.

You spent most of the morning trying to keep yourself busy, yet no matter what task you turned to, your thoughts were tethered to the sight of Cregan riding away. The way his broad shoulders had squared against the chill, the faint plume of his breath in the frigid air, and, most of all, the look he had given you when your eyes had met lingered in your mind. That fleeting, unreadable glance had stirred something raw and painful within you, a fresh wound atop the scars you thought had begun to heal.

By midday, the air within the keep felt suffocating. You wrapped your cloak tightly around yourself and wandered outside, drawn by the faint light of the winter sun. Snow crunched softly beneath your boots as you made your way to the godswood, the air sharp and crisp against your skin. The heart tree stood as it always did, ancient and steadfast, its red leaves a stark contrast against the white of the snow.

You sat beneath its sprawling branches, leaning back against the gnarled trunk as you stared out at the snow-covered ground. The quiet of the godswood felt like a balm, though it could not fully soothe the turmoil within you. Your breath came in soft puffs, mingling with the stillness around you, as your thoughts turned inward once more.

Cregan’s words to Sara echoed in your mind, sharp and unrelenting.

“It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

You had replayed them a hundred times, each repetition dragging you deeper into doubt. When you had first overheard them, a part of you clung to the hope that he had been speaking of Arra, lamenting the arrangement of marriage to her. But as the hours passed, that hope wavered, replaced by a suffocating fear. What if he had been speaking about you? What if all his promises, all his confessions, had been nothing more than fleeting moments of weakness?

You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself, the cold seeping into your bones. Cregan had once told you he would give up everything for you—the North, his duty, his pride. You had believed him then, believed in the fire in his eyes and the conviction in his voice. But that fire seemed so distant now, snuffed out by the gravity of his decisions.

And yet… that glance. The way he had looked back at you as he rode off. You had felt it, as if his eyes carried all the things he could not say aloud. It was the same look that had once drawn you in, the look that made you feel as though you were the only person who mattered to him. But now, it only confused you. Did it mean he still cared? Or was it simply a reflection of his own guilt, his own regret for what could never be?

Your fingers curled into fists in your lap as you fought against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You wanted to hate him, to turn your back on him as he had seemingly done to you. But you could not. Despite everything, your heart still ached for him, still held on to the memory of the man who had once been your world. Who was still your world. But could not be.

You looked up at the heart tree, its scarred bark and weathered branches a testament to its endurance. It had stood here for generations, battered by storms and blanketed in snow, yet still, it stood. Strong, unyielding. You wanted to be like that tree, to find strength in your scars and endure the storms of your own life. But right now, you felt anything but strong. You felt fragile, as though one more blow might shatter you completely.

Snow began to fall lightly, delicate flakes settling on your hair and cloak. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his focus likely on the hunt and not on the storm of emotions raging within you. Did he think of you, even for a moment? Or had he truly moved on, as his engagement to Arra seemed to suggest?

Your chest tightened at the thought. You wanted to believe that there was still a part of him that loved you, that regretted the choices that had pulled you apart. But his actions told a different story. And yet… you could not stop hoping, could not stop clinging to the fragile thread that connected you.

“Why could not you have chosen me?” you whispered into the stillness, your voice barely audible over the rustling branches. The words hung in the air, unanswered, fading into the cold.

You tilted your head back against the trunk of the heart tree, staring up at the canopy of red leaves. Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the anger consume the love you still felt. But you could not. You loved him too much, even now, even after everything. And maybe that was the worst part of all—that no matter how much he hurt you, your heart still beat for him, still yearned for him.

You let out a shaky breath, snow falling steadily now, and closed your eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where things had been different—where Cregan had chosen you, and you had not been left standing in the cold, discarded and forgotten. But the fantasy slipped away as quickly as it had come, replaced by the stark reality of your situation.

As you opened your eyes, you looked out at the snowy expanse of the godswood, the silence pressing in around you. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, its cry breaking through the stillness like a reminder that the world moved on, whether you were ready or not.

For now, all you could do was wait. And hope that when the time came, you would find the strength to choose a path forward.

- THE SECOND DAY -

The following morning arrived with pale, wintry light filtering through the frost-covered panes of your chamber window. You lay in bed for a long while, staring at the faint patterns etched by the cold, your thoughts as tangled as the blankets wrapped around you.

You had dreamed of Cregan that night. In the dream, he had kept his promise—he had given up everything to be with you. You remembered the way his arms had felt around you, the warmth of his breath as he whispered that nothing else mattered but you. It had felt so real, so achingly perfect, that waking up had been like falling from a great height.

Yet the dream had shifted, as dreams often do, and suddenly, he was not there anymore. You were alone in a vast, empty hall, the sound of your footsteps echoing as you searched for him. No matter how far you ran or how loudly you called his name, he never appeared. The warmth had turned to cold, the promise to ash. You had woken with tears on your cheeks and the bitter taste of longing on your tongue.

Now, as the sunlight crept into the room, you pulled yourself from bed, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like cobwebs. You dressed slowly, wrapping your cloak tightly around you before crossing to the window. Your breath misted the glass as you looked out at the snow-covered grounds, the quiet of the morning only amplifying the turmoil in your heart.

Marriage.

The word weighed heavily in your mind, as it had so often these past few weeks. The prospect loomed closer with every passing day, and though you had once dreamed of a life with Cregan, that future was gone, shattered by duty and circumstance. And yet, you knew that a choice would have to be made. The thought filled you with unease—not because you were afraid to marry, but because you did not know who to choose.

The thought of Cregan lingered like a wound that refused to heal. Could you ever love anyone else as deeply as you had loved him? The very idea felt impossible, as though your heart could never truly belong to another. But you also knew that love, as rare and precious as it was, was not the only foundation for a good marriage. There were other things to consider—trust, respect, companionship. Those things mattered too, perhaps even more than love.

Your thoughts turned, inevitably, to Cerwyn. His name had been whispered in the quiet corners of your mind ever since the feast, and now, it came to the forefront.

Could you marry him?

Could you try to build something with him, even if it was not the love story you had once imagined for yourself?

Cerwyn had always been understanding, always patient. He had never asked for more than you could give, and though he knew the full extent of your history with Cregan, he had never turned away. That kind of steadiness, that kind of loyalty, was rare.

Could you trust him to help you heal?

Could you trust yourself to let him in?

You moved to the small table by the window, tracing the grain of the wood with your fingertips. The dream lingered in your mind, a cruel reminder of how deeply Cregan had burrowed into your soul. But it also reminded you of something else—the emptiness, the loneliness that had followed. You did not want to feel like that anymore. You could not.

“Perhaps I could try,” you murmured aloud, the words soft but steady. They did not feel like a decision, not yet. But they felt like a start.

The keep was still and quiet, but outside, life moved on. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his thoughts likely far from you. Perhaps he had already made his peace with what was expected of him. Maybe he had already let go.

The thought sent a pang through your chest, sharp and cold, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. Letting go was not something that happened all at once—it was a process, a series of small, painful steps. You did not know if you could ever truly stop loving him, but you knew you could not wait for him forever. Life would not wait for you to make peace with your heart.

And maybe, just maybe, Cerwyn could help you take those steps. He had always been there, steady as the seasons, willing to shoulder your burdens when they grew too heavy. Could you take that chance? Could you trust him enough to try?

As you sat by the window, the frost slowly melting away under the pale light of the sun, you allowed yourself to wonder—not hope, not yet, but wonder.

- THE THIRD DAY -

The morning air was crisp and unyielding, the faint scent of pine carried on the breeze as the hunting party broke down camp. Cerwyn was tying up his saddlebag when Cregan approached him, his expression set with a determination that had been absent the past few days.

“Cerwyn,” Cregan began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “I have made my decision.”

Cerwyn paused, turning to face him. “What decision?”

“I am going to tell her,” Cregan said, his dark eyes unwavering. “I am going to tell her that I choose her—that I love her, and that I will fight for her. I am going to break off the betrothal to Arra.”

He paused, his jaw tightening as he thought of the consequences that awaited him. “I know there will be repercussions. There will be anger, disappointment, and many people will not be happy, but I cannot keep hiding behind duty and obligation. I cannot keep letting her believe that I do not care about her. That I do not, and have not, loved her. I am willing to face whatever comes if it means I can be with her.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something more thoughtful. “Are you certain?” he asked, his tone measured. “This is not a decision to make lightly. You know your honor will be questioned. Ending an engagement like this—it will not just be a personal matter. It will cast a shadow over your house, your alliances, your name, Cregan.”

Cregan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he met Cerwyn’s gaze. “Do you think I do not know that?” he said, his voice low but firm. “But my honor? I forgot that long before any of this. I unknowingly broke my oath to her when I pledged myself to Arra. I did not realize it at the time, but by choosing duty over her, I betrayed the promises I made to her—even if they were spoken as children.” His voice softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. “If I must bear the shame of setting things right, so be it. I would rather face the consequences of my truth than live a lie for the rest of my life.”

Cerwyn studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze assessing before he gave a small nod. “If that is truly what you want, then I support you,” he said quietly. “But…” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words.

“But what?” Cregan pressed, frowning.

“There is something you should know” Cerwyn said carefully, his voice gentler now. “She does not think you love her. She believes everything has been a lie—that you have made another promise you do not intend to keep. And because of that, she has begun considering a different path.”

Cregan stiffened, his heart sinking. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she is entertaining the idea of marrying someone else,” Cerwyn said plainly, though his tone was laced with empathy. “She is trying to move on, to find the peace and stability she does not believe you can offer her anymore.”

The words hit Cregan like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his chest. “Who?” he demanded, his voice taut with a mix of anger and desperation.

“I do not know, and it matters not.” Cerwyn answered quietly. “What is important is that she thinks you have made your choice, and she is doing what she feels she has to in order to protect herself.”

Cregan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I never wanted her to think that,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I never wanted her to feel like she was not the most important thing to me.”

“Then tell her that,” Cerwyn said firmly, stepping closer. “Do not let her continue to question you and what you feel for her.”

Cregan nodded, his resolve hardening. “I will,” he said. “I will fix this. I will make her see that I have chosen her, that I will always choose her. The gods can punish me as they see fit, but I will not abandon my love for her.”

Cerwyn’s gaze softened, though there was still a hint of disappointment lingering in his eyes. “Good,” he said quietly. “But do not wait too long, my friend. Just as I told you the morning after the feast—action must be taken before it is too late. If you do not, she will believe she was right to doubt you. And once she truly lets go, there will not be anything left to fix.”

Cregan swallowed hard, the harsh truth of Cerwyn’s words settling heavily on him. “I will not let that happen,” he said, his voice steady with determination.

Cerwyn gave him a faint smile, his hand resting briefly on Cregan’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he said simply. “For both your sakes.”

As the camp stirred to life and the hunting party prepared to ride back to the keep, Cregan’s thoughts were consumed by the task ahead. He could not lose you—not now, not ever. And this time, he was determined to make things right. He had to make things right.

- THE HUNTING PARTY RETURNS -

The stillness of the morning shattered as the distant thundering of hooves echoed through the keep. You were elbow-deep in a mound of potatoes in the kitchens, the rhythmic scrape of the knife against their skins a poor distraction from the turmoil within you. The sound of riders approaching pulled you from your thoughts, the heavy cadence stirring something in your chest.

The hunting party had returned. And with it, Cregan.

Your heart quickened as you set down the knife, wiping your hands on your apron before slipping out the back door. The icy air bit at your cheeks as you stepped into the courtyard, drawn by the sound of voices and the sight of riders cutting through the snow. The hunting party moved in steady formation, their horses’ breath visible in the crisp winter air.

At the front of the group rode Cregan, his broad shoulders straight and his jaw set. Even from a distance, he carried an air of quiet authority, a natural ease that drew your eyes to him. His dark cloak billowed slightly with the motion of his horse, the edges dusted with snow. You told yourself not to look, but it was impossible to resist.

As if sensing you, he turned his head toward you, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with startling intensity. The moment stretched, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you, suspended in that searing glance. You could not read his expression—was it regret? Determination? Something else entirely?

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing as panic began to well up as he dismounted his horse and began to walk towards you.

Shit.

Without giving him the chance to catch you, you abruptly turned, slipping back through the kitchen door and into the safety of the bustling warmth inside. But even as you busied yourself with mundane tasks, the weight of his stare lingered, like the press of a hand against your back.

For the rest of the morning, you kept your distance, not giving him the opportunity to speak to you. You stayed to the corners of the keep, always moving, always finding some excuse to keep you as far away from his as you could. But it was impossible to ignore the quiet pull of his presence. He was there, in the great hall as you passed through with a tray of food. In the courtyard, speaking to one of the stable hands. He seemed to be everywhere, and it was getting harder and harder to avoid him, but you managed to slip away every time.

Each time you found yourself in the same vicinity as him, you would swiftly leave before he could catch your eye, unwilling to face him. Unwilling to confront what his return might mean.

And yet, the ache in your chest grew with every fleeting glimpse.

Your heart longed for him.

By the time midday approached, you felt like a shadow of yourself, worn thin by the effort of avoidance.

How much longer could you keep running?

And would he let you?

The restlessness of the morning had followed you into the early afternoon, each passing moment stretching longer than the last. Seeking some semblance of peace, you found yourself wandering toward the library—a quiet refuge from your tormenting thoughts. The room welcomed you with the soft glow of the hearth, the scent of aged parchment, and the gentle stillness that always seemed to linger there.

You spotted Cerwyn seated at one of the long tables bent over a book. His finger traced the lines of text, his expression one of quiet focus. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening. “You have been hard to find today,” he said lightly, though there was a note of concern in his voice.

You offered a faint smile as you moved closer, sinking into the chair across from him. “I have been trying to clear my head,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, closing the book but keeping his hand resting on its cover. “And have you found any clarity?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the grain of the wooden table. “Some,” you said at last. “Enough to make a decision.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, giving you the space to continue. His silence was a quiet reassurance, a steadying presence that you had not realized you needed until now.

“I cannot keep living like this,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “Holding onto something that is… slipping away. I have been clinging to the past, to memories of what could have been, but it is not fair. Not to him, not to anyone. And not to me.”

His expression did not change, though you noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw. “What are you saying?” he asked softly.

You drew in a slow breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I want to move forward. To heal. To find happiness. And I believe… I believe you may be best suited to provide that, Cerwyn.”

Cerwyn blinked, his sharp features softening as your words sank in. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours as if to confirm what he had just heard. When he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Are you sure? This is not something to decide so quickly. It may not be wise to make such a choice without fully understanding all that is at stake.” He paused, his expression softening. “That said, I am honored that you would choose me. But I think it would be best to speak to Cregan first.

“I have thought about it,” you said, your hands twisting in your lap. “You have always been there for me, Cerwyn. You have seen the worst of me, and you have never turned away. Even when I did not deserve your kindness, you were there.” You hesitated, your voice softening. “You know the truth about me, about my past. You know that I am not… a maiden. And yet, you have never judged me for it. You have never made me feel less because of it.”

Cerwyn’s gaze held steady, unwavering in its warmth. “Why would I?” he said quietly, his voice gentle yet firm. “You are more than the mistakes you have made, or the choices forced upon you. You are strong, resilient, and deserving of love—not in spite of those things, but because of who they have shaped you to be.”

Your breath caught, his words reaching a part of you that had long been buried beneath layers of guilt and self-doubt. For so long, you had carried the weight of your choices and the consequences that followed, believing that they defined you. Yet, here was Cerwyn, seeing you not as broken but as whole, not as damaged but as someone worthy of love and respect.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to let yourself break under the tenderness of his gaze.

Cerwyn leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table as though he wanted to reach for you but held himself back. “However, before you make any decision, it would be prudent to speak to Cregan. I know that this is not easy, and I understand why you feel the way you do, but you should listen to what he has to say. There is something he needs to say, something important. It is not my place to tell you what it is, but you must talk to him before you choose to marry anyone else.”

You shook your head slowly, the words you had been holding back coming out in a rush. “I do not wish to talk to him. I do not want to hear any more empty words. I have made my decision, Cerwyn. I have waited long enough, and I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Cerwyn’s expression softened, but you saw a flicker of something more in his eyes—something like disappointment. “I understand. But I will not pretend that this is not difficult for me. You deserve to know the truth, to hear it from him directly, even if it changes things between you. It could be the key to finding peace in your heart, no matter what you choose afterward.”

His voice remained calm, but you could sense the heaviness of his words taking root. Still, you stood firm. “I have made up my mind. I want to move forward. No, I need to move forward, and I believe that you can help me with that.”

Cerwyn exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment as though he were weighing the consequences. Then he met your eyes again, his expression both resolute and gentle. “If this is truly what you want, then I will support you, and I will do everything in my power to give you the life you deserve.”

You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, grateful for his understanding, even as you felt the tug of something unresolved in the back of your mind. He reached across the table, his hand brushing yours, and although it was a simple gesture, it held the weight of everything you both stood to gain—or lose—in the days to come.

The dim glow of lantern light flickered off the rough-hewn stone walls of the cellar, casting long shadows across the rows of barrels and crates stacked neatly along the walls. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and aged wood. You ran your fingers along the edge of a barrel as you walked, letting the texture ground you as your thoughts swirled. Sara’s footsteps echoed softly behind you, her arms crossed as she watched you with quiet concern.

“You have been hard to find these past few days,” she said lightly, breaking the silence. Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of worry beneath it. “It is like you have been avoiding everyone.”

You stopped near a row of wine barrels, glancing over your shoulder at her. “I have not been avoiding anyone,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt unconvincing. “I have just needed some time to think.”

“Most people come to the cellars to escape, not to think.”

You managed a faint smile as you turned to face her. “Maybe I needed both.”

Sara raised a brow, stepping closer. “What has been on your mind?”

You hesitated, tracing the grain of the wood beneath your fingers. “A lot of things,” you admitted. “But I think I have made up my mind about one of them.”

Sara’s expression softened, her sharp eyes searching yours. “And what is it that you have decided?”

You nodded, leaning against one of the support beams. “I will marry, and I think Cerwyn is the best choice. Cerwyn is… what I need. He is steady, kind, and patient. He has always been there for me. Through everything.” Your voice faltered, but you pushed forward. “I feel like I could find happiness with him, perhaps even build something real.”

Sara tilted her head, studying you. “And yet, something tells me that there is more.”

A sharp pang tightened in your chest, and you looked away, your gaze dropping to the cool stone floor. “It is not about what I want, Sara. It is about what is best for me. I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Sara’s expression grew more serious, and she stepped closer, placing a hand gently on your arm. “You deserve to be happy. But are you sure this is the right decision? It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I do not have the luxury of waiting for someone who chose something else. Cregan made his choice when he pledged himself to Arra, and I am making mine now.”

Sara did not reply immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line. The faint flicker of the lantern light reflected in her eyes as she considered her next words. “Cerwyn is a good man,” she said carefully. “He has always been there for you, and he has never judged you. I will not argue with you on that. But…” She hesitated, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “I think you and Cregan should speak before making any final decisions.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away. “What good would that do? Give him more opportunities to lie and deceive me? To give me false hope? To whisper words of love and loyalty only to take it all away again? Cregan has already chosen. I am simply trying to move forward. To heal what he has broken. What I have allowed him to break.”

“It is not that simple,” Sara said quietly. “There are things you do not know—things he may need to tell you. And while it is not my place to say what, I think you owe it to yourself to hear him out. If only so you can move forward without any regrets.”

You hesitated, her words echoing Cerwyn’s from earlier. “You sound like Cerwyn,” you muttered, glancing at her from the corner of your eye. “He said the same thing when I told him I had chosen to marry him. To speak with Cregan before making my choice.”

Sara tilted her head, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Then perhaps you should listen to Cerwyn. It sounds like he has more wisdom than you give him credit for.”

Your stomach churned, and you hugged your arms around yourself. “The two of you advise me to seek Cregan out yet tell me nothing of what he has to say. But it matters not.  I do not wish to speak with him,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It is too late. I have already decided. Nothing he says will change my mind. Cerwyn may not be who I want, but he is… he is what I need.”

Sara’s hand fell away, and she sighed softly, her expression a mix of understanding and frustration. “If that is how you feel. But you know as well as I that some things have a way of coming back around, whether we want them to or not.”

You did not respond, your thoughts too tangled to form a coherent reply. The silence between you stretched, the dim light flickering over the barrels and stone.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow lingered in the farthest corner of the cellar, hidden just beyond the reach of the lantern’s flickering light. Cregan stood motionless, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his breath shallow as he strained to catch every word that passed between you and Sara.

His chest tightened with each sentence, and the weight of your words sank deep into him, heavy and suffocating.

She is choosing Cerwyn… because she thinks I do not love her.

That I have chosen Arra.

That I have been lying to her.

The realization gnawed at him, his heart hammering in his chest as the echoes of your voice reverberated in his mind, sharp and cruel. He had been too blind, too slow—had allowed himself to believe that time would mend things when in truth, it had only pushed him further from you.

When Sara spoke of things left unsaid, of truths that needed to be shared, his throat tightened painfully. She was right—he had waited too long. The silence between you, the things left unspoken, had built a wall between you both. Now it seemed insurmountable.

He could hear you clearly now, your voice resolute, cutting through the fog of his confusion.

“Cerwyn is what I need.”

The certainty in your words sent a jolt of despair through him.

Cregan swallowed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his knuckles white against the stone wall. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, willing himself to stay still, to remain silent, but the weight of your decision pressed down on him like a storm. His throat burned, and a tear slipped down his cheek, unnoticed in the dim light as his world came crashing down around him.

Your words hit him harder than any blade ever could, each one driving deeper into the heart he thought he still had a chance to save. He stood there, trapped in the shadows, torn between revealing himself and retreating further into the darkness of his own failures. He remained hidden, knowing that no words could undo the damage, no confession could heal what had already been broken.

The pain was suffocating, relentless—a tidal wave that swept him under, drowning him in a sorrow he could not escape.

I am too late.

I have lost her.

Cregan’s heart cracked under the weight of his realization, his body shaking with the force of it. He wanted to scream, to demand that things be different, but all that remained was the crushing silence, and the knowledge that he had waited too long to fight for what mattered most.

I have lost her.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[okaysonny]

how easy is it for the crew heads to crush on you? (lookism)

A/N: i was contemplating...pondering...thinking...and i wanted to make a post about it. contains spoilers for the current story!

✦ imagine you don't like them back at this point + you're unaware of how they're feeling :')

1. ELI

out of all of them...he'd fall for you the easiest imo. it wouldn't take a lot 🥹 not much to expand on here, because we've seen it with crystal. (what a time that was)

he realised that he 'liked' crystal because of the reminders about heather, and thinks it's not exactly healthy for either of them. afterwards, he finds himself being drawn to you. not because you remind him of happier times, or someone else, you're just...great on your own.

being good with children + liking them is an (obvious) essential for him. if yenna is having fun with you, you'll have his heart pounding. he just wants someone kind and caring, someone who'll be there for him. you don't have to be the best thing since sliced bread.

because of the whole forgiveness scene with heather's mom, eli would feel less bad about liking you. he starts thinking that maybe he can be happy with someone. that he can feel another person's affection.

he would still feel guilty about heather. because is three years too soon to move on? but i can totally imagine some corny moment where she appears to him in a vision, saying: are you scared i'll be mad or something? don't worry, eli. be honest about how you feel. you deserve to be happy.

and then she walks off into the horizon 😭 it's the exact type of thing ptj would do.

if you love being around yenna, if you're nice to him, if you compliment him for shouldering the responsibilities...you'll have his cheeks red 24/7.

and yes! that doesn't necessarily mean you'd want a relationship with a child present...or that you'd even like him back...but eli decides to take a leap of faith.

2. JAKE

oh brother. he's a little more complex i feel. but yes, i did rank him 2nd 😅

buying him food is a good place to start. he's an absolute foodie. unfortunately, managing big deal's finances means his diet consists of energy drinks + instant noodles.

and if you see his eyes light up at the sight of a sweet treat and decide: maybe i'll do this regularly? well...then he'll take a liking to you. just slightly.

but no, food would obviously not be be enough 😭

jake has many insecurities about his father, and how he gets compared to him all the time. he does not want to be! the man was a hoe. but it is what it is. he's accepted he'll never escape those shackles. he sees it as punishment for getting involved in this life.

he's barely heard anyone praise him for him. sooo, if you genuinely compliment jake kim, not jake kim the leader, or jake kim, the son of gapryong... maybe you think he's funny, or that you love playing word chain with him, or that he's easy to talk to... things he didn't get from his father... he'll start getting tiny butterflies in his stomach.

jake is smooth with his words too! we saw it in the third affiliate. (when he was talking to the girls at the club 🫡) he doesn't have experience in dating, but you'd think he does with the way he talks. and as time goes on, his way with words is a disguise for something deeper.

something small, but i think he's into smart people! not necessarily in the street smart sense - the book smart sense. he admires that, because he was the exact opposite in school. if you're studious and humble about it, he'll find it really attractive.

jake isn't stupid btw, if he likes you, he'll know.

but getting him to like you isn't difficult, getting him to confess is what is. jake is very aware of how his position would impact a relationship. he'll have very little time to spend with you. and...he's not really someone you can bring home to your parents. (surprise mom and dad, i'm dating a gangster!) and for all he's done, he doesn't think he deserves it.

he also wants to keep you safe. aka eugene would use you as leverage 😭

so, he bites his tongue.

also, with jake you have to consider: do you know what he does? what he's done?

if you don't, and just think he has a regular job, then he'll try (and fail) to push you away. when that doesn't work...and he spends more and more time with you...he even thinks about coming clean. maybe you'll accept him and all the bad things he's done for his people. but in the end, he knows it's unrealistic. you wouldn't. because this isn't a romance movie.

if you do, well...that just makes it more clear to him that it's better not to say anything. you've seen what leading a crew is like, how much it takes up his time. it's better for him - and for you.

still, when jake thinks of the people he wants to protect, he can't help but picture your face too.

if this man likes you, it's an angsty ride of longing looks + gentle smiles.

3. JOHAN

johan and jake are interchangeable in rankings...but i just put him 3rd.

firstly, (and most importantly) be a dog person.

similarly to eli, i don't think it would take much. buying food is a nice start. unlike jake though, he's just a starved victorian child 💔

we sorta saw this in one night arc with jace...but do something nice for him, something you don't even think twice about, and he'll have it ingrained in his mind.

he likes generous people with nice smiles.

similarly to jake, he'd be very hesitant to profess any feelings. but for johan, it's because he's shy 😅 he hates the cliché's and confessions that come with relationships.

definitely expresses his feelings through actions first. he does stuff that he thinks will make you smile.

yes, he'd be studying for himself + his mother, but he also wants to see your reaction when he shows you the test he did well on. (he barely passed)

he's the silent protector type! just a cutie patootie tbh 🫰🏽

he's also still getting used to the idea of letting people in, so it's for hard for him to grasp romantic feelings.

but he will confess to you...eventually.

4. SAMUEL

samuel would never like you. his secret dream is making sweet italian love with jake in the big deal RV.

A/N: last post of 2024! 🎉 happy new year :) fingers crossed for a crystal resurgence in 2025🤞🏽

[marsdql]

Skating on thin ice

♡ 𝒥 — [ 양정원 ] ⊹₊⟡⋆ jungwon ── .✦ f!reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ . . . 𝒲𝒸 2.1𝒦

──── eyes full of 𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃𝓈, we walk past eachother, pretending there’s no 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓃ℯ𝒸𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 . . . { a lot of teasing, frenemies to lovers, fluff, crack, low self esteem, highschool drama, romance, bullying, self doubt, light angst? }

────୨ৎ────

“Y/n, I swear if I have to ask you to finish your homework once more, your phone will be on the side of the road!” Your mother yelled from across the kitchen.

Highschool has been on your back this year, everything becoming more and more difficult as the days fly by. You were never a math girl—science, sure. But math? Never. Definitely your worst subject. Nothing really ever made sense, well sometimes it did, but only in budget related stuff—of course you were only good in budgeting, shopping addict.

To make things better—Yang Jungwon, a boy who transferred just a year ago, would always pick on you for your math grades each time he’d see your note from the corner of his nosey eye. If you knew better, you’d make fun of him too—his science grade was trashy, while yours were always colourful.

He never meant any harm from it, he only does it because of the time you humiliated him in PE class when you got higher than him in the beep test, infront of all of his friends who were watching from outside your gym class. Although, your sensitive self cannot handle any insults towards your grades—especially when you’re trying all you’ve got—and still getting so low.

“Another 5? Comon now y/nnie, we’re IB students! You shouldn’t be getting this low now… didn’t you want to become a doctor?” Jungwon whispered in your ear from behind. You quickly yanked his head from your shoulder, making him jump back into place onto his seat behind you. ‘Do you ever get tired of making fun of me? Go focus on your own things.’ ‘I can’t focus on my own things when you have too many flaws…’ he said as he gave you a wink and plopped a lolly into his mouth.

As you were walking to the bus to go home, you were stopped again—by jungwon. “What do you want now, jungwon?” You said in an annoyed tone. “Hey, what’s with the attitude… I’m not here to say anything mean, unfortunately. My friend Sunghoon told me to ask you if you did ice skating, he said he saw your instagram profile and you had something about it in your bio” You were obsessed with figure skating, you claimed that you knew how to skate—when in reality, you fell the last time you tried it and now too scared to try it again. Yet, you still had it in your bio and made it seem as if you were a skater…

As a child, you didn’t do much sports like most people. You wanted to do taekwondo—too boyish for your parents. You wanted to do basketball—lost passion for it after 4th grade. You did gymnastics/dance—wasn’t as flexible as your other friends and got discouraged, slowly growing out of it. Now as a teenager, you felt the need to know a sport, but you knew that it’s only good to be actually amazing at a sport if you started it when you were young.

You went to a sports school and you were one of the only ones who never tried out for anything, too scared of people being better than you because of them doing the sports from a young age. —— “Y/n? Hello? Are you even listening to me? You loser… why are you zoning out at this time? Don’t make me scare you out of it!” Yelped the boy right next to you. “No! Okay? Get out of my face jungwon! I don’t know what you’re saying but whatever it is, no!” You forgot what he even said—too lost in thought to care. It was your stop so you had to hop off anyway.

Days pass by, it’s depressing during winter, nothing to do, especially on Christmas break. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive knock on your door catches your attention. Coming from behind it, “y/n! Y/n! Comon! I know you’re there, I can hear your grumpy sighs from here!”

As you opened the door, you were welcomed by his huge smile—jungwon’s. “Now, what on Earth are you doing here? Is it to tell my mom that-“ as you were about to finish your sentence, you spot your mom and another woman—who seems to be jungwon’s mother—walk from the driveway to your front door.

“Y/n, please welcome our guests with respect and go get the kettle ready. Now miss Yang, what do you prefer? Tea or coffee?” Said your mother before you were even able to process what was happening.

Jungwon stared at you with the biggest grin on his face—as if he planned this from the start. He stayed behind you in your house as you walked towards your kitchen, being the good daughter you are and doing what your mother telling you to do.

“Okay, so, care to tell me what you’re doing here? Did you convince your mother to become friends with mine so that you could annoy me in my own house aswell?” You asked him, avoiding eye contact at all costs—because the last thing you needed, was to add something on his list of “things to hate on y/n”.

As you turned on the kettle, filling it up with water, he responded with a more serious tone than usual “no seriously this time, they saw eachother at the supermarket near our school and recognized eachother from social media.. I didn’t believe it either when I saw my mom pull into your drive way.” How did he even know it was your house.. “and don’t ask me how I know it’s your house, you practically run off the bus and make it to your door before it can even driving.”

As Jungwon sat at the kitchen table, his usual smirk returned. “Anyway, back to the real question. Do you ice skate or not? Sunghoon won’t stop bugging me about it.”

You sighed, suddenly regretting every choice that led to you putting “figure skater enthusiast” in your Instagram bio. Avoiding his gaze, you muttered, “No, I don’t actually ice skate.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up, his teasing grin reappearing. “Wait—what? But your bio—”

“I know, okay?” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively. “I just… I like watching figure skating, and I wanted to seem interesting, okay? People who are good at sports always seem so… cool. And I’m not good at anything.”

His grin faded, replaced by an unusually soft expression. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re good at plenty of things.”

You scoffed. “Name one.”

He leaned back, pretending to think. “Well, for starters, you’re great at making me laugh. Even when you’re mad. And you crushed me in that beep test, remember?”

“That doesn’t count,” you muttered, though your lips twitched upward. “I’m still not good at sports. Or anything else, really.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “Stop putting yourself down, y/n. You’re good at science, better than I’ll ever be. And honestly? Half the school’s scared of your sarcastic comebacks. That’s a skill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Sarcasm queen—what a talent.”

“Hey, it’s better than lying in your Instagram bio,” he shot back, smirking again. “But seriously, if you want to learn to ice skate, I can ask Sunghoon to help. He’s a pro.”

Your face flushed. “No way. That’s way too embarrassing.”

Jungwon leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eye. “What, afraid he’ll fall for you when he sees how graceful you are on the ice?”

“Shut up, Jungwon!” you said, shoving his shoulder, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But for the record, you don’t have to be good at sports to be cool. And you definitely don’t need a fake bio to impress anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Jungwon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, popping another lolly into his mouth. “Just don’t expect me to stop teasing you anytime soon. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends? The word lingered in your mind, leaving a strange warmth in its wake. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all.

As the days went on, Jungwon started acting… differently. It wasn’t immediate, but you noticed. The sharp teasing comments he usually threw your way softened, replaced by subtle jokes that didn’t sting as much. He even started helping you with your math homework after class, though he made it clear it was only because he “couldn’t stand watching you struggle so much.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this some elaborate scheme to catch you off guard? Or had he genuinely decided to be nice? Either way, you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by how much time he suddenly spent around you.

It was late on a snowy Thursday afternoon when it happened. You were sitting on a bench outside the school, waiting for the bus. The air was crisp, your breath visible as you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Jungwon appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to you, his usual lolly in his mouth.

“Waiting for the bus again? You know, one day you’re going to freeze to death out here,” he said, nudging you with his elbow.

“Thanks for the concern,” you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You look tired.”

“Wow, such a compliment,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Long day, that’s all.”

“Bet you’re overthinking something again,” he said casually, leaning back on the bench.

You hesitated. “Maybe. You’re being weirdly nice lately, and I don’t know why. It’s kind of throwing me off.”

Jungwon glanced at you, his expression unreadable for once. “Weirdly nice? Wow, thanks. I didn’t realize I was such a villain before.”

“You kind of were,” you teased, though your voice was quieter this time. “But seriously. Why are you being… like this? Did you get bored of making fun of me or something?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re so dense sometimes, y/n.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, frowning.

He turned to face you fully, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something softer—something you couldn’t quite place. “It means… maybe I just like spending time with you. Maybe I like seeing that little smile you try to hide when you think I’m being funny. And maybe I realized I didn’t want you to think I only know how to annoy you.”

Your heart stuttered. For a second, you forgot how to breathe. “Jungwon… what are you saying?”

He sighed, his breath fogging up in the cold air. “I’m saying.. just, never mind—see you later y/n!” were the last thing he said before he left—your bus arriving at the same time.

t . . . b . . . c . . .

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 17)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2500

A/N: wow she's back? Hello if you're still reading thank you so much, it's been a year since I posted the NYE chapter and it's once again NYE which I consider unofficial Secret Smokes day so I'm back, I can't promise regular updates but I promise the chapters are just gonna get longer and jucier from now on. I plan to make this 20 chapters so the countdown to the end starts now. I've missed you all!

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 17, Next Chapter

Sirius opened the door with a big grin, then you saw surprise, than an even bigger grin. "Y/N!" He exclaimed hugging you.

"Hello." You said in a cheery voice slightly overwhelmed by the greeting.

"I'm so glad you came, Remus you can leave." He said as a joke stepping out the way to let you both in. Remus and Sirius did hug hello after you walked in, it warmed your heart to see Remus loved by someone. You settled in the first floor in the drawing room which had two large sofas a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets, and an entire wall covered with a tapestry of the Black family tree. You sat down next to Remus and Sirius sat opposite you after serving you with tea, he was excited to have you there, giddy almost. "I've been waiting for Remus to finally bring you over so we can chat." Sirius explained as he put an abnormal amount of sugar cubes in his tea. "He says he's worried someone from the order will bump into you but I think he's scared of all the embarrassing stories." Sirius explained, Remus rolled his eyes.

"You know I think you're right, but finally we have the opportunity for you to tell me everything." You replied matching Sirius's energy and shooting him a wink.

"First tell me how did you convince this loser to change his mind as no matter how hard I tried nothing worked."

"I guess I have my ways."

"She's very charming." Remus chirped in.

"Oh is she, tell me more?" Sirius said with a suggestive tone.

"Sirius, get your mind out the gutter." Remus said sternly but still in a friendly way.

"Anyway, those embarrassing stories please." You requested and Sirius's face lit up. Remus shook his head lightly, kissed you on the forehead as he stood up and walked over to the record player in the corner of the room. As Sirius began telling you a story of Remus's prank going wrong in fifth year and ending up with him burning off a part of his eyebrow. Remus flicked through the records and put on one you loved, it was a T.Rex vinyl. "You can actually still see the burn mark here." Remus said as he sat down next to you and you looked closely at his eye brow which had thinner hair in one part, you slowly examined it running your finger over it, sharing a small moment of intimacy. You moved your finger away and chanted "Tell me more, tell me more." Both the guys laughed in response. The tea soon changed to fire whiskey and the stories got juicer. It felt so comfortable sitting relaxing with the two of them. You and Sirius got increasingly drunk while Remus kept his composure however he relaxed more and more. Sirius served you some more whiskey but Remus put his hand on top of the glass signifying he doesn't want anymore and Sirius nodded in response. "Remus you bring me here and you don't even want to join in on the fun?" You teased.

"Don't be offended Y/N. He doesn't drink." Sirius remarked.

"Hm and New years was what?" You poked Remus's side teasingly.

"Correction he doesn't drink unless he's nervous and even then he won't get drunk." Sirius replied and Remus nodded while filling his glass up with some water.

"Well now you're wrong..." you began but Remus shook his head. "He's not. I wasn't drunk. Tipsy and reckless at most. But the last time I was really drunk as James and Lilly's funeral."

"So you kissed me sober?"

"Well under the influence of a little fire whiskey and a lot of testosterone."

"You drank as much as me!" You accused him confused as to how he could've remained sober.

"He's a wolf." Sirius said and howled jokingly. At that moment Remus jokingly made a wild sound before pouncing on you to tease you and pretending to bite you before pecking your cheek.

"Oh Merlin I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically. And you and Remus rolled your eyes. "Y/N do you have any cute friends?" Sirius began.

"Stop it old man." Remus remarked beginning another round of teasing between the two men.

You were laying down on the sofa with your legs draped over Remus's as your back rested on the arm of the sofa, his hand was lightly stroking your leg in a loving manner and the cure played in the background. It was a song you particularly liked and due to the confidence caused from the uncountable glasses of fire whiskey you began to quietly sing along as Remus and Sirius debated something stupid. "I don't care if Monday's blue Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too Thursday, I don't care about you." You sang quietly to yourself under your breath

"It's Friday, I'm in love" Remus joined in quietly almost a whisper, he glanced at you and you both shared a smile as he gently squeezed your leg where his hand was resting.

"Oh you guys are gonna make me throw up, I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically, making you and Remus blush this time but by this point in the night all sense of embarrassment had left your body and there was enough public displays of affection, then there was a knock on the door downstairs. "Ooo pizza." Sirius said excitedly and jumped up.

"Do you need help carrying it up?" Remus asked.

"No just don't do anything on my sofa while I'm downstairs." Sirius said with a wink.

"I can't promise anything." Remus whispered to you as soon as Sirius left the room. The alcohol was pulsing through your bodies, yours more than his as he hadn't had a sip of alcohol in about a hour, but the ease of the evening made you feel ever so infatuated by Remus. He moved closer to kiss you slowly. "I really care about you." He whispered.

"I care about you too." You whispered back.

"Thank you for coming here with me."

"Thank you for finally letting me in." You whispered back and he pecked your lips once more before going back to sit in the same position.

"I don't know what I was scared of, this is one of the best evenings I've had in a very long time."

"Me too, Sirius is lovely, and funny. I understand why you're friends." You said.

"He's great, I'm lucky to have him."

"And he's lucky to have you."

"You know when I first met Sirius I thought-" Remus began before you heard Sirius arguing with someone. "Hold on-" he said.

"Everything okay."

"Shh." He said and you both went silent. It was two male voices one was Sirius the other was familiar, a low tone and slow speech. You began to hear a quick walk up the stairs followed by Sirius. Remus quickly moved your legs off of him and moved to the other sofa as at the very moment Snape stormed through the door. "What do we have here?" Miss L/N outside school property, drinking. With a Hogwarts professor?"

"Snivellus, why have you stormed into my bloody house?" Sirius walked through the door annoyed.

"Well apparently you're busy drinking with a student."

"Not my student, I'm not a teacher." Sirius said sarcastically, Remus looked angry and frozen you didn't know what to do you just kept looking at Remus for support avoiding eye contact with Snape.

"Lupin, a man with your condition sleeping with students is not very wise." Remus didn't say anything he stood up to say something but at that very moment Sirius spoke.

"Why have you stormed into my house on a Friday evening? To make up some illusions to help your life be a little less miserable?" Sirius walked closer to Snape, it looked like Remus and Sirius were both ready to punch Snape. You had a lump in your throat, you were half expecting to wake up from this nightmare at any moment.

"Dumbledore called an emergency meeting, and if you haven't forgotten this is the headquarters for the order."

"Doesn't justify you walking through my house?"

"I had to check what you were hiding up here. I look forward to hearing how your furry friend will talk his way out of this one." Snape said with a vile tone.

"There's nothing to talk out of, it's Friday evening and I'm having a drink with my friends, shoot me." Sirius snapped, thank god Sirius was here.

"You're awfully quiet." Snape said turning around to face Lupin.

"There's nothing to say, I'm here for the meeting like you are."

"With a Hogwarts student smelling like alcohol?" Snape said accusingly.

"I can't help if she's friends with Sirius or not." Lupin said sitting down and talking another sip of his drink which was luckily water as he acted as if nothing is wrong. You looked down at the floor. Another knock on the door was heard. "Pizza! Snape you're welcome to leave." Sirius said before running downstairs. "Miss L/N I was wondering how your grades went up so quickly-"

"Oh fuck off." Remus slammed his glass on the table, stood up and in that moment Snape was hit with a stunner. He pulled his wand out and Remus disarmed him in a second. At this moment Dumbledore walked into the room, Remus was disarmed and had a look of horror on his face as he knew he had fucked up.

"Gentlemen, please stand up and explain yourselves."

"Well only one isn't standing." Sirius chipped in standing behind Dumbledore looking at Snape on the floor.

"Thank you Mr Black, I am aware." Dumbledore replied.

"I just wanted to say as far as duels go there's an obvious winner." Sirius continued. Remus's eyes were glued to the floor like a school boy who's been told off. "Remus, when you stand like that you remind me of when you were miss L/N age." Dumbledore mentioned shooting you a glance. "Now would you like to explain yourselves as to the disturbance?"

"Professor, I believe I have caught Professor Lupin doing inappropriate activities with a Hogwarts student."

"You believe?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Well yes, they were both alone here smelling of alcohol."

"Excuse me I was here too." Sirius interrupted.

"Therefore they weren't alone." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"But Miss L/N is a Hogwarts student outside campus without permission." Snape argued.

"I see she is escorted here with Professor Lupin." Dumbledore said calmly sitting down and pouring himself a drink using wandless magic.

"But they've been drinking." Snape continued.

"Well everyone here is legally an adult and it's Friday night, what else would you expect? Besides I see a glass of water right here." Dumbledore pointed to Remus's glass.

"I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore, but I don't understand how you can be so relaxed about this. We're meant to have a meeting and we find a student drinking with her professor outside Hogwarts grounds how are you allowing this?" Snape kept protesting.

"I do agree that Miss L/N shouldn't have left Hogwarts grounds during term time however she's an adult and thankfully she did have a guardian with her. Unfortunately, I'm sorry Miss L/N Professor Snape does have a point, I'm going to have to give you detention in Professor Lupin's office on Monday for leaving Hogwarts with no notice."

"And you're not punishing the teacher who allowed the student to leave?" Snape asked.

"Well I am making him run the detention aren't I?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can't believe you are so relaxed about this they are obviously involved with each other in some way."

"Whatever may happen outside Hogwarts grounds between adults does not concern me, I have no reason to believe anything inappropriate is happening in the hallways or corridors of Hogwarts."

A knock again on the door. "I hope it's pizza this time." Sirius said in a tired tone as he walked away.

"I'll escort Y/N back to Hogwarts I'm sorry professor." Remus said standing up.

"Perfect problem solved don't you think Professor Snape?" Dumbledore said with a smile. Snape did not respond. "Now let's head downstairs for that pizza." Words you never thought you would hear Dumbledore say. While waking downstairs you saw Sirius thanking the mildly concerned pizza man for it being him this time, it made you finally relax for the first time all evening. Remus walked in front of you without a word, when he reached the bottom of the stairs he simply announced. "I will be back shortly Headmaster." Before grabbing your arm and taking you back to Hogwarts. He walked you to your dorm room, there he spoke his first words to you. "I need to go. I'm sorry." And just like that he turned around and left.

You knocked on Remus's office door the next morning. You were greeted by a tired face and a slouched body, he looked alike the night after a full moon but you knew the next one was still quite a while away.

"Can we talk?" You asked and he nodded stepping aside to let you in.

"Tea?" His words were weak.

"No thank you." You said, not sitting down. "Are you going to loose your job?" You asked blatantly trying to keep a firm and controlled tone.

"No, I don't think so." He said over his shoulder while closing the door and making sure to lock it.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"I believe he's known for quite a while." Remus ran his hand through his hair.

"But he doesn't care?"

"He made it seem like he doesn't see an issue with it as long as it doesn't affect my teaching or your learning." Remus explained.

"So business as usual? We're okay?"

"No... I'm afraid not Y/N." He said finally sitting down in his chair.

"Why? Everything is okay. Worst case scenario happened and it's all okay." You reasoned standing on the opposite side of the desk.

"Y/N we have flown too close to the sun. I am a fool for taking you there yesterday I put us in danger."

"Remus don't be-"

"I'm not being anything but honest."

"Remus the only issue here is your own fears, and it seems as though the reality is not as bad as you were afraid. Snape knows, Dumbledore knows. And you're still here, I'm still here. You didn't get fired. No one cares, why can't you let yourself be happy this one time?"

"Because when I feel happy, I let me guard down and every time, every single time something bad happens. I didn't want you to go see Sirius because I knew when it happens something bad will follow but I couldn't resist. And just like that not only Snape but Dumbledore and the whole order showed up."

"And we're okay why can't you see that? Neither of us are in trouble don't run away from a good thing when you have the chance to enjoy it."

Remus shut his eyes and rubbed his temple with his hand. No words came.

"I can't keep going through this back and forth, you need to stop hating yourself so much you're being an asshole." You snapped.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Do you know what hurts me? One day sitting in your office holding your hand and feeling happy, then the next you ignoring me in the corridors, than suddenly listening to vinyls on your best friends sofa to once again you telling me you want to start ignoring me again."

"It hurts me too."

"You have the power to stop it Remus. Just accept that we both like each other and allow it."

"I like you very much you know that." He pleaded.

"You have a pretty awful way of showing it." You confessed allowing your anger to show.

"I'm an old man."

"Ancient." You rolled your eyes. "I don't care."

"Your reputation will be tarnished."

"Tarnish it." You didn't break eye contact.

"I want you to be able to enjoy your youth, live it to the fullest."

"And a high school romance with my teacher isn't living to the fullest? Do you know how many other girls would die to touch you the way I do." His cheeks flushed red.

"The novelty will wear off girl, you'll get bored of me."

"Then let me get bored." You said leaning on his desk in front of him as he stayed sat on his chair. You were looking down at him and he was looking up at you, his legs spread wide under the desk.

"Darling are you forgetting what I am?"

"A hot professor with low self esteem?"

He laughed rolling his eyes and nodding. "A wolf." He made a howling side and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him so now you were sitting on his legs starring intently into each other's eyes.

"You know very well that I'm not scared of wolves."

"My body is covering in scars." He broke eye contact.

"I know. And I find them all very attractive." You kissed the one on his neck that was peeking over his shirt collar.

"You know there's stigma that comes with dating a werewolf, people don't like people like me."

"Perfect filter for bigots, if they don't respect you, I don't want them in my life. And now Mr are you finished with the self loathing?"

"I've got a little left in me." He said playfully and you crashed your lips into his. "I'm finished we can move on to the part where I show you all the scars I hate."

"Perfect." You began to unbutton his shirt kissing his chest.

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NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

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